Publisher's Synopsis
MATTHEW Cuthbert and the sorrel mare jogged comfortably over the eight miles to BrightRiver. It was a pretty road, running along between snug farmsteads, with now and again a bit ofbalsamy fir wood to drive through or a hollow where wild plums hung out their filmy bloom. Theair was sweet with the breath of many apple orchards and the meadows sloped away in the distanceto horizon mists of pearl and purple; while"The little birds sang as if it wereThe one day of summer in all the year."Matthew enjoyed the drive after his own fashion, except during the moments when he metwomen and had to nod to them-for in Prince Edward island you are supposed to nod to all andsundry you meet on the road whether you know them or not.Matthew dreaded all women except Marilla and Mrs. Rachel; he had an uncomfortable feeling thatthe mysterious creatures were secretly laughing at him. He may have been quite right in thinking so, for he was an odd-looking personage, with an ungainly figure and long iron-gray hair that touchedhis stooping shoulders, and a full, soft brown beard which he had worn ever since he was twenty. Infact, he had looked at twenty very much as he looked at sixty, lacking a little of the grayness.When he reached Bright River there was no sign of any train; he thought he was too early, so hetied his horse in the yard of the small Bright River hotel and went over to the station house. Thelong platform was almost deserted; the only living creature in sight being a girl who was sitting on apile of shingles at the extreme end. Matthew, barely noting that it was a girl, sidled past her as quicklyas possible without looking at her. Had he looked he could hardly have failed to notice the tenserigidity and expectation of her attitude and expression. She was sitting there waiting for somethingor somebody and, since sitting and waiting was the only thing to do just then, she sat and waitedwith all her might and main
