₁.₀ SUPERCUT; gilbert blythe ✔

INTERLUDE

DEAR MARIANNE,

if this is something You need - I forgive you for being silent so long. I must admit, there were nights when I would wonder about the reasons behind it. I thought myself a fool for doing so - after all, You were right stating that there is no close bond existing between us. That alone could be a reason for You being little occupied with my person, especially with me being gone for so long. Relying on the words exchanged during our last meeting (however trustworthy I think You to be) suddenly occurred to me to be unwise, as though I was expecting too much.

For that I ask forgiveness, too. It was never my intention to pressure You into thinking that You are obliged to pursue correspondence with me. You are a kind person, one I admire greatly, and the thought of having made You feel uncomfortable is a thorn in my side.

But let us not think of it anymore. Looking on the bright side, all those months spent away from Avonlea gave me the needed time to reflect on some matters. And now I know the right words I wish to say (write, actually) to You in this letter.

I shall try to capture them the best I can.

I believe the choice to leave was the right one. Many times have I missed the comforts of home, but I never came to regret it. The thought of my father's passing still makes my heart ache, but grief is not something I need to tell you about. However, the pain is not so acute anymore - now it is possible for me to think about him with gratitude, appreciating all the good memories I have left of him. He was always there for me, wishing me all the best, and I've come to the conclusion that dwelling on the sad past would be dishonouring his memory.

I see him often, Marianne. Even in the smallest things, I notice him: in a train passing rapidly in front of my eves, in a seagull, in a smile of Bash, my new companion. And I think of how he would react if he could experience it, too, and I know he would be glad. I'm sure now I can become the man he would be proud of.

Having mentioned Bash, I feel like I must tell You some more about him. My recent and current experiences wouldn't be the same without him. In truth, I believe he's the one making the work on the steamship bearable. Otherwise, I would have no one to open my mouth to, and seeing all the wonders of the world would be worth less with no one to share them with. I treasure his company, despite the fact that Bash tends to laugh at the way I react to things that are new to me. But he's a good man, of that I have no doubt, and a good friend. A little unusual, but all the things I experience out of Canada seem to be so.

(I could try to describe them to You now, but, and forgive me for taking a rather playful tone here, I need to keep some things to myself in order to encourage You to inquire about them in Your next letter. Because I hope you will choose to write back to me.)

However, I shall reveal to You the most unusual event of all, one that happened to me quite recently. I came across a woman in need of help, one that I could provide. I shall not describe it in detail, but, however unbelievable it may sound, I played my part in welcoming a new person into the world. And nothing I've seen during my journey could compare to that, Ruth's (for that was the woman's name) child was the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes upon.

I can bet the baby would make a fine competition for those calves You mentioned in Your letter.

Back to the merit, I believe I would hesitate if something alike would come to be in the future - without the required knowledge, I could have done more harm than good. But she was in pain, scared and alone, and I acted without thinking. Even though Bash was there to remind me of how inexperienced and unfit to do such a thing I was.