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Updated: June 22, 2025
"Why should I care what you do?" asked the painter, scornfully. "Well, you can't, on my account," Durgin allowed. "But you do care on her account." "Yes, I do," said Westover, sitting down again, and he did not say anything more. Durgin waited a long while for him to speak before he asked: "Then that's really your advice, is it?" "Yes, break with her." "And stick to Miss Lynde."
"They changed their minds when I wrote them I was going to be married. I had a letter from Paul today. He says he MUST come to my wedding, no matter what happens to Europe." "That child always idolised you," remarked Mrs. Rachel. "That 'child' is a young man of nineteen now, Mrs. Lynde." "How time does fly!" was Mrs. Lynde's brilliant and original response.
As Hutchinson was acting governor at the time, the chief responsibility fell on Benjamin Lynde, the senior associate, who was by good fortune tolerably competent. He was the son of the elder Lynde, who, with the exception of Paul Dudley, was the only provincial chief justice worthy to be called a lawyer.
At length he went home, a prey to stormy emotions. He realized at last that he loved Lynde Oliver. He wondered how he could have been so long blind to it. He knew that he must have loved her ever since he had first seen her. The discovery amazed but did not shock him. There was no reason why he should not love her should not woo and win her for his wife if she cared for him.
"She has not the remotest suspicion of the misfortune which befell her three years ago." "Miss Denham does not know it?" repeated Lynde in a dazed way. "That that seems impossible! Pardon me. How did it happen, Dr. Pendegrast?" "I assume that you are not asking me through idle curiosity," said the doctor, looking at him attentively. "I have vital reasons for my question, Doctor."
"On the fourth day there are some persons crossing on the ice," said Lynde, interrupting himself. "Never mind the persons on the ice!" "On the fourth day I came to a wild locality among the Ragged Mountains, where there was not a human being nor a house to be seen. I had got up before breakfast was ready that morning, and I was quite anxious to see the smoke curling up from some kitchen chimney.
Dora was waiting in the hall for him, having been made ready by Mrs. Lynde. Davy had attended to his own preparations. He had a cent in his pocket for the Sunday School collection, and a five-cent piece for the church collection; he carried his Bible in one hand and his Sunday School quarterly in the other; he knew his lesson and his Golden Text and his catechism question perfectly.
Davy, arriving home at nine o'clock from the Boulter place, explained why. "I met Mrs. Lynde and some strange woman in the Hollow," he said, "and gracious, how they were talking both at once! Mrs. Lynde said to tell you she was sorry it was too late to call tonight. Anne, I'm awful hungry. We had tea at Milty's at four and I think Mrs. Boulter is real mean.
The girl ought to marry every woman ought to marry, it is her one mission; but between their affections and their apprehensions, my friends have allowed Ruth no opportunity to form attachments." "I'm glad of that," said Lynde quietly. "Are you!" snapped the doctor. "I am not. I would like to see her married some day. Meanwhile I would like to see a dozen lovers about her.
When Matthew came to think the matter over he decided that a woman was required to cope with the situation. Marilla was out of the question. Matthew felt sure she would throw cold water on his project at once. Remained only Mrs. Lynde; for of no other woman in Avonlea would Matthew have dared to ask advice. To Mrs.
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