In the dim moonlight, as she sat with her head bent a little over
Jims, the lamplight glinting on her pearls until they glistened like a
slender nimbus, he thought she looked exactly like the Madonna that hung
over his mother's desk at home. He carried that picture of her in his
heart to the horror of the battlefields of France. He had had a strong
fancy for Rilla Blythe ever since the night of the Four Winds dance; but
it was when he saw her there, with little Jims in her arms, that he
loved her and realized it. And all the while, poor Rilla was sitting,
disappointed and humiliated, feeling that her last evening with Ken was
spoiled and wondering why things always had to go so contrarily outside
of books. She felt too absurd to try to talk. Evidently Ken was
completely disgusted, too, since he was sitting there in such stony
silence.
Hope revived momentarily when Jims went so thoroughly asleep that she
thought it would be safe to lay him down on the couch in the
living-room. But when she came out again Susan was sitting on the
veranda, loosening her bonnet strings with the air of one who meant to
stay where she was for some time.
"Have you got your baby to sleep?" she asked kindly.
Your baby! Really, Susan might have more tact.
"Yes," said Rilla shortly.
Susan laid her parcels on the reed table, as one determined to do her
duty. She was very tired but she must help Rilla out.
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