Once, when Jane had been sitting in the Cadillac, one dark, dingy morning in a snowy world, waiting for Frank to take her to St. Agatha’s, as he did every day, she had heard two women, who were standing on the street-corner, talking about it. “Did you ever see such a dead house?” said the younger. “It looks as if it had been dead for ages.” “That house died thirty years ago, when Robert Kennedy died,” said the older woman. “Before that it was a lively place. Nobody in Toronto entertained more. Robert Kennedy liked social life. He was a very handsome, friendly man. People could never understand how he came to marry Mrs. James Anderson . . . a widow with three children. She was Victoria Moore to begin with, you know, old Colonel Moore’s daughter . . . a very aristocratic family. But she was pretty as a picture then and was she crazy about him! My dear, she worshipped him. People said she was never willing to let him out of her sight for a moment. And they said she hadn’t cared for her first husband at all. Robert Kennedy died when they had been married about fifteen years . . . died just after his first baby was born, I’ve heard.” “Does she live all alone in that castle?” “Oh, no. Her two daughters live with her. One of them is a widow or something . . . and there’s a granddaughter, I believe. They say old Mrs. Kennedy is a terrible tyrant, but the younger daughter . . . the widow . . . is gay enough and goes to everything you see reported in Saturday Evening. Very pretty . . . and can she dress! She was the Kennedy one and took after her father. She must hate having all her fine friends coming to Gay Street. It’s worse than dead . . . it’s decayed. But I can remember when Gay Street was one of the most fashionable residential streets in town. Look at it now.”

Once upon a time—which, when you come to think of it, is really the only proper way to begin a story—the only way that really smacks of romance and fairyland—all the Harmony members of the Lesley clan had assembled at Cloud of Spruce to celebrate Old Grandmother’s birthday as usual. Also to name Lorraine’s baby. It was a crying shame, as Aunt Nina pathetically said, that the little darling had been in the world four whole months without a name. But what could you do, with poor dear Leander dying in that terribly sudden way just two weeks before his daughter was born and poor Lorraine being so desperately ill for weeks and weeks afterwards? Not very strong yet, for that matter. And there was tuberculosis in her family, you know.

Anne Shirley has now been married to Gilbert Blythe for 15 years, and the couple have six children: Jem, Walter, Nan, Di, Shirley, and Rilla. After a trip to London, Anne returns to the news that a new minister has arrived in Glen St. Mary. John Meredith is a widower with four young children: Gerald (Jerry), Faith, Una, and Thomas Carlyle (Carl). The children have not been properly brought up since the death of their mother, with only their father (who is easily absorbed by matters of theology) to parent them. The children are considered wild and mischievous by many of the families in the village (who tend only to hear about the Meredith children when they have gotten into some kind of scrape), causing them to question Mr. Meredith's parenting skills and his suitability as a minister...

It was a clear, apple-green evening in May, and Four Winds Harbour was mirroring back the clouds of the golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind came piping down the red harbour road along which Miss Cornelia’s comfortable, matronly figure was making its way towards the village of Glen St. Mary ... Miss Cornelia was rightfully Mrs. Marshall Elliott, and had been Mrs. Marshall Elliott for thirteen years, but even yet more people referred to her as Miss Cornelia than as Mrs. Elliott. The old name was dear to her old friends, only one of them contemptuously dropped it. Susan Baker, the gray and grim and faithful handmaiden of the Blythe family at Ingleside, never lost an opportunity of calling her “Mrs. Marshall Elliott,” with the most killing and pointed emphasis, as if to say “You wanted to be Mrs. and Mrs. you shall be with a vengeance as far as I am concerned.”

Dzieci Ani są już prawie dorosłe, z wyjątkiem ślicznej, pełnej temperamentu Rilli. Nikt nie potrafi się oprzeć jej jasnym, orzechowym oczom i olśniewającemu uśmiechowi. Rilla ma prawie piętnaście lat i nie może myśleć o niczym innym niż o pójściu na swój pierwszy bal i pierwszym pocałunku z przystojnym Kennethem Fordem. Jednak nad Złotym Brzegiem zawisa widmo wojny, a bracia Rilli idą walczyć. Rilla wplątuje się w domu w kłopoty, gdy przemyca osierocone niemowlę w… wazie na zupę. Każdy dzień wystawia na próbę jej odwagę i zmienia ją na zawsze.

It was a rainy afternoon, and we had been passing the time by telling ghost stories. That is a very good sort of thing for a rainy afternoon, and it is a much better time than after night. If you tell ghost stories after dark they are apt to make you nervous, whether you own up to it or not, and you sneak home and dodge upstairs in mortal terror, and undress with your back to the wall, so that you can't fancy there is anything behind you. We had each told a story, and had had the usual assortment of mysterious noises and death warnings and sheeted spectres and so on, down through the whole catalogue of horrors—enough to satisfy any reasonable ghost-taster. But Jack, as usual, was dissatisfied. He said our stories were all second-hand stuff. There wasn't a man in the crowd who had ever seen or heard a ghost; all our so-called authentic stories had been told us by persons who had the story from other persons who saw the ghosts ...

The Golden Road is the magical sequel to Bev - The Story Girl, in which Bev, Dan, Cecily, Sara Ray, Sara Stanley, and Carlisle's other colorful characters return for more misadventures ...

The Golden Road by L. M. Montgomery libreka classics – These are classics of literary history, reissued and made available to a wide audience. Immerse yourself in well-known and popular titles!

A Case of Trespass - A Christmas Inspiration - A Christmas Mistake - A Strayed Allegiance - An Invitation Given on Impulse - Detected by the Camera - In Spite of Myself - Kismet - Lillian's Business Venture - Miriam's Lover - Miss Calista's Peppermint Bottle - The Jest that Failed and m. m. ------

One evening, when the faraway hills and fields were scarfed in gauzy purples and the intervales were brimming with golden mists, Eric carried to the old garden a little limp volume that held a love story. It was the first of its kind he had ever read to her; it was a beautiful and passionate idyll, exquisitely told. He read it to her, lying in the grass at her feet; she listened with her beautiful hands clasped on her lap and her eyes on his face. It was not long and when he had finished he shut the book and looked up at her questioningly. “Do you like it?” he asked. Very slowly she took her slate and wrote. “Yes, I liked it. But it hurt me too. I did not know before that a person could like anything that hurt her. And I do not understand it very well. It is about love and I do not know anything about love. Mother told me once that love was a curse and that I must pray that it would never enter my life. She said it very earnestly and so I believed it. But that book teaches that it is a blessing. Which am I to believe?”

Avery Sparhallow was conceded to be a beauty, and had no rival in Burnley Beach. She was very pretty, with the obvious, indisputable prettiness of rich black hair, vivid, certain colour, and laughing, brilliant eyes. Nobody ever called Janet a beauty, or even thought her pretty. She was only seventeen—five years younger than Avery—and was rather lanky and weedy, with a rope of straight dark-brown hair, long, narrow, shining brown eyes and very black lashes, and a crooked, clever little mouth. She had visitations of beauty when excited, because then she flushed deeply, and colour made all the difference in the world to her; but she had never happened to look in the glass when excited, so that she had never seen herself beautiful; and hardly anybody else had ever seen her so, because she was always too shy and awkward and tongue-tied in company to feel excited over anything.

Piąty tom przygód Ani z Zielonego Wzgórza.

Ania wychodzi za mąż za Gilberta Blythe’a. Razem przenoszą się do Glen St. Mary, urokliwej wioski nadmorskiej nieopodal Zatoki Czterech Wiatrów, gdzie Gilbert rozpoczyna pracę jako lekarz. Ania szybko znajduje wspólny język z mieszkańcami Zatoki Czterech Wiatrów, nawiązując bliższe relacje z panną Kornelią Bryant, pracownikiem latarni morskiej kapitanem Jimem i małżeństwem Fordów.