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Astounding Stories of Super-Science, January 1930, by Astounding Stories is part of HackerNoon’s Book Blog Post series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Phantoms of Reality - Chapter VIII: "Why, This Is Treason!" Astounding Stories of Super-Science, January 1930: Phantoms of Reality -  CHAPTER VIII. "Why, This Is Treason!" There was a gasp. The audience sat frozen. On the stage, with no one lifting a hand to stop her, the crimson murderess made a leap and vanished. A moment, and then the spell broke. A girl in the audience screamed. Some one moved to stand up and overturned a seat with a crash. The amphitheater under the canopy broke into a pandemonium. Screams and shouts, crashing of seats, screaming, frightened people struggling to get out of the darkness. The torches on the stage were dropped and extinguished. The darkness leaped upon us. Derek and I were gripping Hope. We were struck by a bench flung backward from in front. People were rushing at us. We were swept along in the panic of the crowd. I heard Derek shout, "We must keep together!" We fought, but we were swept backward. We found ourselves outside the canopy. Torchlight was here. It glimmered on the pool of water. People were everywhere rushing past us, some one way, some another. Aimless, with the shock of terror upon them. Under the canopy they were still screaming. I was momentarily separated from Derek and Hope. I very nearly stumbled into the pool. A girl was here, crouched on the stone bank. Her wet crimson veils clung to her white body. Her long, wet hair lay on her. I stumbled against her. She raised her face. Eyes, wide with terror. Mute, painted red lips.... I heard Derek calling again, "Charlie!" I shoved my way back to him. The crowd was thinning out around us. Girls were climbing from the pool, rushing off in terror, to mingle with the milling throng. Among the crowd now, down by the edge of the bay, I saw the sinister figures of men come running. The toilers, miraculously appearing everywhere! I saw, across the pool, a terrified girl crouching. A huge man in a black cloak came leaping. The colored lights in the trees glittered on his upraised knife blade as it descended. The girl fell with a shuddering scream. The murderer turned and whirled away into the crowd. "Charlie!" I was back with Derek and Hope. Hope stood trembling, with her hand pressed against her mouth. Derek gripped me. "That cloak, get it off!" He ripped his crimson cloak from him and tossed it away. He jerked mine off. "Too dangerous! That's the crimson badge of death to-night." We stood revealed in the clothes of our own world. My business suit, in which that day I had worked in Wall Street. Derek in his swagger uniform. He stood drawn to his full height, a powerful figure. The wires of our mechanism showed at his wrists. They dangled at the back of his neck, mounting to that strangely fashioned electrode clamped to his head. Strange, awe-inspiring figure of a man! We were momentarily alone under the colored lights of the trees. Hope murmured, "But they will see us—see you...." Derek's face was grim, but at her words he laughed harshly. "See us! What matter?" He swung on me. "It forces our hand; we've got to come out in the open now! This murder—this king! My God, what a fool to let himself get into such a condition as this! His people—this chaos—what a fool!" He had drawn his dirk. I realized that I was holding mine. Near us the body of a crimson noble was lying under a tree. A sword was there on the ground. Derek sprang for it, waved it aloft. I think that no more than a minute or two had passed since the murder. Down by the water the boats were hastily loading and leaving the dock. One of them overturned. There were screams everywhere. Red forms lay inert upon the ground where they had been trampled, or stabbed. But the prowling figures of the toilers now seemed to have vanished. Derek gestured. "Look at the palace! The garden!" Beyond the canopy I could see the dim gardens surrounding the palace. I glimpsed the high fence, and the gateway in front. A mob of toilers was there. The guard at the gate had fled. The mob was surging through. Men and women in the vivid garments of the fields, armed with sticks and clubs and stones and the implements of agriculture. They milled at the gate; rushed through; scattered over the garden. Their shouts floated back to us in a blended murmur. We were standing only a dozen feet from the edge of the pavilion. No one seemed yet to have noticed us. A few straggling lights had come on under the canopy. I could see the dead lying there in the wreckage of overturned seats. Derek said, "We can't help it—it's done. Look at them! They're attacking the palace!" This mob springing miraculously into existence! I realized that the toilers had planned that if Sensua were chosen they would attack the festival. The murder of Blanca had come as big a surprise to them as to us.... "Come on! Can you get into the palace, Hope? The king must have gotten back there. Get your wits, girl!" Derek stood gripping her, shaking her. "Yea, there's an underground passage. He probably went that way." From the palace gardens the shouts of the mob sounded louder now. And from within the building there was an alarm bell tumultuously clanging. Hope gasped, "This way." She led us back into the pavilion. We clambered over its broken seats, past its grewsome huddled figures. Some were still moving.... We went to a small door under the platform. A dim room was here, deserted now. Against the wall was a large wardrobe closet; stage costumes were hanging in it. The closet was fully twenty feet deep. We pushed our way through the hanging garments. Hope fumbled at the blank board wall in the rear. Her groping fingers found a secret panel. A door swung aside and a rush of dank cool air came at us. The dark outlines of a tunnel stretched ahead. "In, Charlie!" I crouched and stepped through the door. Hope closed it behind us. The tunnel passage was black, but soon we began to see its vague outlines. Derek, sword in hand, led us. I clutched my dirk. We went perhaps five hundred feet. Down at first, then up again. I figured we were under the palace gardens now, as the tunnel was winding to the left. There were occasional small lights. Derek whispered to Hope, "The toilers don't know of this?" "No." "Where does it bring us out?" I whispered. "Into the lower floor of the castle. The king must have gone this way. There might be a guard, Derek. What will you do?" He laughed. "I can handle this mob. Disperse it! You'll see! And handle the king." He laughed again grimly. "There is no Blanca to choose now." The tunnel went round a sharp angle and began steeply ascending. Derek stopped. "How much further, Hope?" "Not far," she whispered. We crept forward. The tunnel was more like a small corridor now. Beyond Derek's crouching figure, in the dimness I could see a doorway. Derek turned and gestured to us to keep back. A palace guard was standing there. His pike went up. "Who are you?" "A friend." But the man lunged with his pike. Derek leaped aside. His sword flashed; the flat of it struck the fellow in the face. Derek, with incredible swiftness, was upon him. They went down together and before the man could shout, Derek had struck him on the head with the sword hilt. The guard lay motionless. Derek climbed up as we ran forward to join him. I noticed now, for the first time, that in his left hand Derek held a small metal cylinder. A weapon, strange to me, which he had brought with him. He had not mentioned it. He had produced it, when menaced by this guard. Then he evidently decided not to use it. He shoved it back in his pocket. He whirled on us, panting. "Hurry! Close that door!" We closed the door of the tunnel. "Charlie, help me move him!" We dragged the prostrate figure of the unconscious guard aside into a shadow of the wall. We were in a lower room of the palace. It seemed momentarily unoccupied. Overhead we could hear the footsteps of running people. A confusion in the palace, and outside in the garden the shouts of the menacing throng of toilers. And above it all, the wild clanging of the alarm bell from the palace tower. Derek said swiftly, "Get us to the king!" Hope led us through the castle corridors, and up a flight of steps to the main floor. The rooms here were thronged with terrified people—crimson nobles in their bedraggled finery of the festival. In all the chaos no one seemed to notice us. We mounted another staircase. We found a vacant room; through its windows we looked a moment, gazing into the garden. It was jammed with a menacing mob, which milled about, leaderless, waving crude weapons, shouting imprecations at the palace. At the foot of the main steps the throng stood packed, but none dared to mount. A group of the palace guards stood on the platform over the moat. Derek turned away impatiently. "Let's get to the king." We mounted to the upper story. The castle occupants stared at Derek and me as we passed them. A group of girls at the head of the staircase fled before us. "The king," Derek demanded, "Which is his apartment? Hurry, Hope, we've no time now!" We found the frightened king seated on a couch with his counsellors around him. It was a small room in this top story of the castle, with long windows to the floor. I saw that they gave onto a balcony which overlooked the gardens. There were perhaps twenty or thirty people huddled in the room. A confusion existed here as everywhere else—no one knowing what to do in this crisis. And that cursed alarm bell wildly adding to the turmoil. We paused at the doorway. "Now," whispered Derek. He drew himself to his full height. His eyes were flashing. It was a Derek I had not seen before; he wore an air of mastery. As though he, and not the frightened, trembling monarch on the couch, were master here. And as I stared at him that instant in this primitive chaotic environment, the power of him swept me. A conqueror. The strange electrode clamped to his head gave him an aspect miraculous, awe inspiring. He strode forward across the apartment. The king was just giving some futile, vague command to be transmitted to his guards down below. A hush fell over the room at our appearance. The king half stood up, then sank back. "Why—why—who—" I saw Rohbar here. His long crimson cloak hung from his shoulders, with its hood thrown back. Beneath it, as it parted in front, his leather uniform was visible. A sword was strapped to his waist. He was striding back and forth with folded arms, frowning, but his gaze was very keen. Rohbar was not frightened. He seemed rather to be gauging the situation, pondering how he might turn it to his own ends. He stopped short and swung about to face us. His jaw dropped with surprise, amazement, at our strangeness. Derek confronted him. His bulk, and huge weight towered even over Derek. The king gasped and sat helplessly staring. Rohbar spoke first. "Who are you?" "This mob must be dispersed. Don't stand looking at me like that, man!" Derek spoke in friendly fashion, but vehemently. "This is no time for explanations." They were menacing each other. Rohbar's heavy hand fell to his sword, but Derek boldly pushed him away. He faced the king. "Your Majesty...." The king stared blankly at him. The title was no doubt strange to this realm, but no stranger than Derek's aspect. "Your Majesty...." But the noise from the garden, the confusion which now broke out in the room, and that damnable clattering bell, drowned his words. The king found his voice. "Be quiet, all of you!" He was on his feet. He demanded of Derek again, "Who are you?" Derek said swiftly, "I'll show you. I can disperse this mob! Charlie, come." It seemed as though the gaze of everyone in the room went to me. I drew myself up and flashed defiance back at them. And I followed Derek to one of the balcony windows. He went through it, with me after him. I stood at the threshold, watchful of the room behind us. Rohbar was standing aside, and I saw now the woman Sensua with him. They were whispering, staring at me and Derek. I had been wondering why, when Sensua must have known that the king would choose her—why she had dared to murder her rival. I thought now—as I saw her with Rohbar—that I could guess the reason. She loved Rohbar, not the king. Rohbar was plotting to put himself on the throne, using Sensua as a lover to that end. He had doubtless persuaded her to this murder, knowing it would arouse the toilers, precipitate this chaos which was what he wanted. Scheming scoundrel! I could not forget the look of desire on his face as he had accosted Hope.... And now Derek appeared, to add an unknown element to Rohbar's plans. There was no way he could guess who or what we were. I saw that he was puzzled, was whispering to Sensua about us, doubtless wondering how to handle us. I saw too, that there were half a dozen crimson cloaked men here who were not frightened. They had gathered in a group. They stood with hands upon their swords, eyeing me, and watching Rohbar—as though at a sign from him they would rush me. On the balcony Derek stood with the light from the room upon him. The crowd saw him. The main gateway of the palace was just under his balcony. The crowd had now started up the steps to where the guards were standing at the top. At the sight of Derek the mob let out a roar, and those on the steps retreated down again. Derek stood at the balcony rail, silent, with upraised arms, gazing down upon the menacing throng. There was a moment of startled silence as he appeared. Then the shout broke out louder than before. The crowd was milling and pushing, but still leaderless. An aimless activity. Someone threw a stone. It came hurtling up. It missed Derek and struck the castle wall, falling almost at my feet. Derek did not move. He stood calmly gazing down; stood like an orator waiting for the confusion to die before he would speak. From the platform, just beneath Derek, the guards were staring wonderingly up, awed, startled. To the right a wing of the building turned an angle. The castle tower was there: it rose perhaps a hundred feet higher than our balcony. On the railed platform-balcony girding its top I saw the figures of other guards standing, gazing down at Derek. The clanging bell up there was suddenly stilled. I became aware of the king close behind me. His voice rang out: "What are you doing? How dare you?" Derek whirled, "You fool! To what a pass you have come! Your people in arms against you...." His violent words brought the king's anger. "How dare you! This is treason!" I stood alert, with my hand upon my dirk. There would be conflict here, I felt that we could not hold it off more than a moment longer. My mind leaped to that metal cylinder Derek had concealed. A weapon? Then why did he not have it out now? His eyes were flashing. The aspect of power, of confidence, upon him was unmistakable. It heartened me. I took a step toward him. He smiled faintly. "Wait, Charlie." The king gasped again. "How dare you? Why, this is treason! Rohbar, seize him!" Hope was beside me, her eyes watching the room. Rohbar came striding forward. Derek rasped, "You perhaps have some sense! Lead His Majesty away. Take care of him until this is over." They stood with crossing glances. And upon Rohbar's face a look, queerly sinister, had come. A smile, sardonic. He said abruptly to the king, "I think we should let him have his way. What harm?" He gestured and Sensua came forward. The crimson murderess! Her voluptuous figure was shrouded in a crimson cloak. Her heavy painted lips smiled at the King. Her rounded white arms went over his shoulders. "Leonto, do as Rohbar says. Let this stranger try. It can do no harm." The king yielded to her; I watched as she and Rohbar urged him through an archway that gave into the adjoining apartment. No wonder Rohbar was sardonically smiling! Derek had played into his hand. We did not know it then, but we were soon to find it out. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various. 2012. Astounding Stories of Super-Science, January 1930. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved May 2022 from https://www.gutenberg.org/files/41481/41481-h/41481-h.htm#Phantoms_of_Reality This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

"Why, This Is Treason!"

While it doesn’t really sound like much, we all know that you definitely need a backlit keyboard if you’re buying your laptop for gaming or office work. Both of these activities can keep you occupied until late at night, so keyboard backlighting can prove to be pretty useful. With that being said, today, I’ve compiled together a list of the 9 best laptops with a backlit keyboard that are also decently affordable. 1. Lenovo Yoga (2018) Image credit: Pinterest While the 2020 variant of Lenovo Yoga might not be the most budget-friendly option, the is something that you should consider if you are looking for an easy-to-use laptop. With an 8th Gen Intel i5 processor, this laptop can handle most basic tasks quite easily. Just as the name suggests, the screen of this laptop can be pushed all the way back, and you can get a tablet-like experience. The laptop is also very thin and light, so portability is not a problem! Lenovo Yoga 2018 laptop 2. ASUS VivoBook 15 Image credit: Gadget Diary Now, let us look at the most budget-friendly option on the list that is perfect for light office work and surfing the internet. You can customize the components of this laptop according to your own needs and budget. The has a fingerprint reader, and it comes with pretty powerful processors. The screen of this laptop is not too good, but it is still okay for the low price. ASUS VivoBook 15 3. HP Pavilion Image credit: Lifewire Of course, we can’t just make a list of the 9 best laptops with a backlit keyboard without including . This powerful laptop is perfect for all kinds of office work, and you can also use it for all of your everyday activities. The HP Pavilion comes with an 11th gen core i5 processor, and 8GBs of DDR4 RAM, which can be upgraded. While it is a great option, the HP Pavilion is not as thin and light as some of the other options on my list, so some of you might dislike it. HP Pavilion 4. Acer Aspire 5 Image credit: Laptop Mag is the second most budget-friendly option on the list, but I like it more than the ASUS VivoBook 15 because of its better screen quality and design. The Acer Aspire 5 comes with a lot of customization options, so if your budget allows it, you can even go with a Ryzen 7 processor. This laptop should be your go-to option if your budget is low! Acer Aspire 5 5. ASUS TUF Gaming Image credit: Laptop Mag Let us also take a look at a few gaming laptops in this list as they are not only powerful enough to handle all of your office work, but they can also be used to play some entertaining games. is one of the most affordable gaming laptops, and its build quality is amazing. While staying under the 800 USD limit, you can get this laptop with a 1650 graphics card that will be able to run most modern gaming titles. ASUS TUF gaming laptop 6. HP Pavilion Gaming Image credit: hp We’ve already talked about the normal ; however, this list of the best laptops with a backlit keyboard can never be complete without its gaming counterpart which is better in a number of ways. The HP Pavilion gaming laptop is one of the most well-designed gaming laptops on this list. The laptop comes with an Nvidia 1650 GPU and the 9th gen Core i5 processor. HP Pavilion laptop 7. Acer Nitro 5 Image credit: CNET is a very flashy laptop that is not really good for office work, but it is perfect for every gamer. This affordable laptop comes with a 144hz display that is perfect for all kinds of esport titles. There is a lot of room for customization, so the components of this beast can be as powerful as you want them to be. The Acer Nitro 5 8. Lenovo IdeaPad Gaming 3 Image source: BC Group is the perfect laptop for office workers as it doesn’t look too flashy and is very easy to handle. This laptop is pretty powerful, and it can handle all kinds of modern games. You can get the Lenovo IdeaPad Gaming 3 laptop with an Intel or AMD processor and an Nvidia GTX 1650 GPU. The Lenovo IdeaPad Gaming 3 9. ASUS ZenBook 13 Image credit: BC Group is one of my most favorite laptops of all time as it offers a lot of features at a very affordable price. This is probably the only laptop under 800 USD that comes with an OLED display. The backlit keyboard is extremely comfortable to type on, and the entire laptop is pretty thin and lightweight making it a perfectly portable device. Despite being such a small and lightweight laptop, ASUS ZenBook 13 packs a lot of power! This laptop comes with an 11th gen Intel Core i5 processor and 8 GBs of DDR4 RAM. ASUS ZenBook 13

9 Best Laptops with a Backlit Keyboard Under $800

Scientific American Supplement, No. 711, August 17, 1889, by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . THE ADER FLOURISH OF TRUMPETS. here THE ADER FLOURISH OF TRUMPETS. Although telephonic novelties are not numerous at the Universal Exposition, telephony—that quite young branch of electric science—is daily the object of curious and interesting experiments which we must make known to our readers, a large number of whom were not yet born to scientific life when the experiments were made for the first time at Paris in 1881; and it is proper to congratulate the Société Générale des Téléphones on having repeated them in 1889 to the great satisfaction of the rising generation. We allude to the Ader system of telephonic transmissions of sounds in such a way that they can be heard by an audience. The essential parts of this mode of transmission consist of two distinct systems—transmitters and receivers. The transmitters are four in number, and are actuated by the same number of musicians, each humming into them his part of the quartet (Fig. 1). This transmitter, represented apart in elevation and section in Fig. 2, is identical with the one used in the curious experiment with the singing condenser. At A is a mouthpiece before which the musician hums his part as upon a reed pipe. He causes the plate, B, to vibrate in unison with the sound that he emits, and this produces periodical interruptions of varying rapidity between the disk, B, and the point, C. The button, D, serves to regulate the distance in such a way that the breakings of the circuit shall be very complete and produce sounds in the receivers as pure as allowed by this special mode of transmission, in which all the harmonics are systematically suppressed in order to re-enforce the fundamental. This transmitter interrupter is interposed in the circuit of a battery of accumulators, with the five receivers that it actuates, in such a way that the four transmitters and five receivers form in reality four groups of distinct autonomous transmission, the accordance of which is absolutely dependent upon that of the artists who make them vibrate. The five receivers are arranged over the front door of the telephone pavilion, near the Eiffel tower (Fig. 3). Each consists of a horseshoe magnet provided, between its branches, with two small iron cores having a space of a few millimeters between them (Fig. 4). Each of these soft iron cores carries a copper wire bobbin, N, the number of spirals of which is properly calculated for the effect to be produced. Opposite the vacant space left by the two cores, there is a small piece, , of rectangular form, and also of soft iron, fixed to a vibrating strip of firwood, L, of about 4 inches section. The periodical breaking of the circuit produced by the transmitter causes a variation in the magnetization of the iron cores of the five receivers and makes the firwood strips vibrate energetically. These vibrations are received and poured forth as it were in front of the telephone pavilion, by large brass trumpets arranged in front of each receiver, as shown in Fig. 3. t It would be difficult for us to pass any judgment whatever upon the musical and artistic value of these transmissions of trumpet music to a distance; we prefer to confess our incompetency in the matter. But it is none the less certain that these experiments are having the same success that they had at their inception in 1881 at the Universal Exposition of Electricity, and they allow us to foresee that there is a time coming in which it will be possible to transmit speech to a distance with the same intensity that the present trumpet flourishes have. Although all the tentatives hitherto made in this direction have not given very brilliant results, we must not despair of attaining the end some day or other. Less than fifteen years ago the telephone did not exist; now it covers the world with its lines.— La Nature. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2004). Scientific American Supplement, No. 711, August 17, 1889. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/16972/pg16972-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

THE ADER FLOURISH OF TRUMPETS

Anne of the Island by L. M. Montgomery, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Deals with Weddings Chapter XXXIX - Deals with Weddings Anne felt that life partook of the nature of an anticlimax during the first few weeks after her return to Green Gables. She missed the merry comradeship of Patty’s Place. She had dreamed some brilliant dreams during the past winter and now they lay in the dust around her. In her present mood of self-disgust, she could not immediately begin dreaming again. And she discovered that, while solitude with dreams is glorious, solitude without them has few charms. She had not seen Roy again after their painful parting in the park pavilion; but Dorothy came to see her before she left Kingsport. “I’m awfully sorry you won’t marry Roy,” she said. “I did want you for a sister. But you are quite right. He would bore you to death. I love him, and he is a dear sweet boy, but really he isn’t a bit interesting. He looks as if he ought to be, but he isn’t.” “This won’t spoil our friendship, will it, Dorothy?” Anne had asked wistfully. “No, indeed. You’re too good to lose. If I can’t have you for a sister I mean to keep you as a chum anyway. And don’t fret over Roy. He is feeling terribly just now—I have to listen to his outpourings every day—but he’ll get over it. He always does.” “Oh—always?” said Anne with a slight change of voice. “So he has ‘got over it’ before?” “Dear me, yes,” said Dorothy frankly. “Twice before. And he raved to me just the same both times. Not that the others actually refused him—they simply announced their engagements to some one else. Of course, when he met you he vowed to me that he had never really loved before—that the previous affairs had been merely boyish fancies. But I don’t think you need worry.” Anne decided not to worry. Her feelings were a mixture of relief and resentment. Roy had certainly told her she was the only one he had ever loved. No doubt he believed it. But it was a comfort to feel that she had not, in all likelihood, ruined his life. There were other goddesses, and Roy, according to Dorothy, must needs be worshipping at some shrine. Nevertheless, life was stripped of several more illusions, and Anne began to think drearily that it seemed rather bare. She came down from the porch gable on the evening of her return with a sorrowful face. “What has happened to the old Snow Queen, Marilla?” “Oh, I knew you’d feel bad over that,” said Marilla. “I felt bad myself. That tree was there ever since I was a young girl. It blew down in the big gale we had in March. It was rotten at the core.” “I’ll miss it so,” grieved Anne. “The porch gable doesn’t seem the same room without it. I’ll never look from its window again without a sense of loss. And oh, I never came home to Green Gables before that Diana wasn’t here to welcome me.” “Diana has something else to think of just now,” said Mrs. Lynde significantly. “Well, tell me all the Avonlea news,” said Anne, sitting down on the porch steps, where the evening sunshine fell over her hair in a fine golden rain. “There isn’t much news except what we’ve wrote you,” said Mrs. Lynde. “I suppose you haven’t heard that Simon Fletcher broke his leg last week. It’s a great thing for his family. They’re getting a hundred things done that they’ve always wanted to do but couldn’t as long as he was about, the old crank.” “He came of an aggravating family,” remarked Marilla. “Aggravating? Well, rather! His mother used to get up in prayer-meeting and tell all her children’s shortcomings and ask prayers for them. ’Course it made them mad, and worse than ever.” “You haven’t told Anne the news about Jane,” suggested Marilla. “Oh, Jane,” sniffed Mrs. Lynde. “Well,” she conceded grudgingly, “Jane Andrews is home from the West—came last week—and she’s going to be married to a Winnipeg millionaire. You may be sure Mrs. Harmon lost no time in telling it far and wide.” “Dear old Jane—I’m so glad,” said Anne heartily. “She deserves the good things of life.” “Oh, I ain’t saying anything against Jane. She’s a nice enough girl. But she isn’t in the millionaire class, and you’ll find there’s not much to recommend that man but his money, that’s what. Mrs. Harmon says he’s an Englishman who has made money in mines but I believe he’ll turn out to be a Yankee. He certainly must have money, for he has just showered Jane with jewelry. Her engagement ring is a diamond cluster so big that it looks like a plaster on Jane’s fat paw.” Mrs. Lynde could not keep some bitterness out of her tone. Here was Jane Andrews, that plain little plodder, engaged to a millionaire, while Anne, it seemed, was not yet bespoken by any one, rich or poor. And Mrs. Harmon Andrews did brag insufferably. “What has Gilbert Blythe been doing to at college?” asked Marilla. “I saw him when he came home last week, and he is so pale and thin I hardly knew him.” “He studied very hard last winter,” said Anne. “You know he took High Honors in Classics and the Cooper Prize. It hasn’t been taken for five years! So I think he’s rather run down. We’re all a little tired.” “Anyhow, you’re a B.A. and Jane Andrews isn’t and never will be,” said Mrs. Lynde, with gloomy satisfaction. A few evenings later Anne went down to see Jane, but the latter was away in Charlottetown—“getting sewing done,” Mrs. Harmon informed Anne proudly. “Of course an Avonlea dressmaker wouldn’t do for Jane under the circumstances.” “I’ve heard something very nice about Jane,” said Anne. “Yes, Jane has done pretty well, even if she isn’t a B.A.,” said Mrs. Harmon, with a slight toss of her head. “Mr. Inglis is worth millions, and they’re going to Europe on their wedding tour. When they come back they’ll live in a perfect mansion of marble in Winnipeg. Jane has only one trouble—she can cook so well and her husband won’t let her cook. He is so rich he hires his cooking done. They’re going to keep a cook and two other maids and a coachman and a man-of-all-work. But what about you, Anne? I don’t hear anything of your being married, after all your college-going.” “Oh,” laughed Anne, “I am going to be an old maid. I really can’t find any one to suit me.” It was rather wicked of her. She deliberately meant to remind Mrs. Andrews that if she became an old maid it was not because she had not had at least one chance of marriage. But Mrs. Harmon took swift revenge. “Well, the over-particular girls generally get left, I notice. And what’s this I hear about Gilbert Blythe being engaged to a Miss Stuart? Charlie Sloane tells me she is perfectly beautiful. Is it true?” “I don’t know if it is true that he is engaged to Miss Stuart,” replied Anne, with Spartan composure, “but it is certainly true that she is very lovely.” “I once thought you and Gilbert would have made a match of it,” said Mrs. Harmon. “If you don’t take care, Anne, all of your beaux will slip through your fingers.” Anne decided not to continue her duel with Mrs. Harmon. You could not fence with an antagonist who met rapier thrust with blow of battle axe. “Since Jane is away,” she said, rising haughtily, “I don’t think I can stay longer this morning. I’ll come down when she comes home.” “Do,” said Mrs. Harmon effusively. “Jane isn’t a bit proud. She just means to associate with her old friends the same as ever. She’ll be real glad to see you.” Jane’s millionaire arrived the last of May and carried her off in a blaze of splendor. Mrs. Lynde was spitefully gratified to find that Mr. Inglis was every day of forty, and short and thin and grayish. Mrs. Lynde did not spare him in her enumeration of his shortcomings, you may be sure. “It will take all his gold to gild a pill like him, that’s what,” said Mrs. Rachel solemnly. “He looks kind and good-hearted,” said Anne loyally, “and I’m sure he thinks the world of Jane.” “Humph!” said Mrs. Rachel. Phil Gordon was married the next week and Anne went over to Bolingbroke to be her bridesmaid. Phil made a dainty fairy of a bride, and the Rev. Jo was so radiant in his happiness that nobody thought him plain. “We’re going for a lovers’ saunter through the land of Evangeline,” said Phil, “and then we’ll settle down on Patterson Street. Mother thinks it is terrible—she thinks Jo might at least take a church in a decent place. But the wilderness of the Patterson slums will blossom like the rose for me if Jo is there. Oh, Anne, I’m so happy my heart aches with it.” Anne was always glad in the happiness of her friends; but it is sometimes a little lonely to be surrounded everywhere by a happiness that is not your own. And it was just the same when she went back to Avonlea. This time it was Diana who was bathed in the wonderful glory that comes to a woman when her first-born is laid beside her. Anne looked at the white young mother with a certain awe that had never entered into her feelings for Diana before. Could this pale woman with the rapture in her eyes be the little black-curled, rosy-cheeked Diana she had played with in vanished schooldays? It gave her a queer desolate feeling that she herself somehow belonged only in those past years and had no business in the present at all. “Isn’t he perfectly beautiful?” said Diana proudly. The little fat fellow was absurdly like Fred—just as round, just as red. Anne really could not say conscientiously that she thought him beautiful, but she vowed sincerely that he was sweet and kissable and altogether delightful. “Before he came I wanted a girl, so that I could call her ANNE,” said Diana. “But now that little Fred is here I wouldn’t exchange him for a million girls. He just couldn’t have been anything but his own precious self.” “‘Every little baby is the sweetest and the best,’” quoted Mrs. Allan gaily. “If little Anne had come you’d have felt just the same about her.” Mrs. Allan was visiting in Avonlea, for the first time since leaving it. She was as gay and sweet and sympathetic as ever. Her old girl friends had welcomed her back rapturously. The reigning minister’s wife was an estimable lady, but she was not exactly a kindred spirit. “I can hardly wait till he gets old enough to talk,” sighed Diana. “I just long to hear him say ‘mother.’ And oh, I’m determined that his first memory of me shall be a nice one. The first memory I have of my mother is of her slapping me for something I had done. I am sure I deserved it, and mother was always a good mother and I love her dearly. But I do wish my first memory of her was nicer.” “I have just one memory of my mother and it is the sweetest of all my memories,” said Mrs. Allan. “I was five years old, and I had been allowed to go to school one day with my two older sisters. When school came out my sisters went home in different groups, each supposing I was with the other. Instead I had run off with a little girl I had played with at recess. We went to her home, which was near the school, and began making mud pies. We were having a glorious time when my older sister arrived, breathless and angry. “‘You naughty girl” she cried, snatching my reluctant hand and dragging me along with her. ‘Come home this minute. Oh, you’re going to catch it! Mother is awful cross. She is going to give you a good whipping.’ “I had never been whipped. Dread and terror filled my poor little heart. I have never been so miserable in my life as I was on that walk home. I had not meant to be naughty. Phemy Cameron had asked me to go home with her and I had not known it was wrong to go. And now I was to be whipped for it. When we got home my sister dragged me into the kitchen where mother was sitting by the fire in the twilight. My poor wee legs were trembling so that I could hardly stand. And mother—mother just took me up in her arms, without one word of rebuke or harshness, kissed me and held me close to her heart. ‘I was so frightened you were lost, darling,’ she said tenderly. I could see the love shining in her eyes as she looked down on me. She never scolded or reproached me for what I had done—only told me I must never go away again without asking permission. She died very soon afterwards. That is the only memory I have of her. Isn’t it a beautiful one?” Anne felt lonelier than ever as she walked home, going by way of the Birch Path and Willowmere. She had not walked that way for many moons. It was a darkly-purple bloomy night. The air was heavy with blossom fragrance—almost too heavy. The cloyed senses recoiled from it as from an overfull cup. The birches of the path had grown from the fairy saplings of old to big trees. Everything had changed. Anne felt that she would be glad when the summer was over and she was away at work again. Perhaps life would not seem so empty then. “‘I’ve tried the world—it wears no more The coloring of romance it wore,’” sighed Anne—and was straightway much comforted by the romance in the idea of the world being denuded of romance! About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. L. M. Montgomery (2006). Anne of the Island. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/51/pg51-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html. The lead image was generated using HackerNoon's Stable Disffusion Al Image Generator feature, via the prompt "Anne of the Island".

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