Another new family besides the Mercers had come to Avonlea in the
spring--the Maxwells. There were just Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell; they
were a middle-aged couple and very well off. Mr. Maxwell had
bought the lumber mills, and they lived up at the old Spencer
place which had always been "the" place of Avonlea. They lived
quietly, and Mrs. Maxwell hardly ever went anywhere because she
was delicate. She was out when I called and I was out when she
returned my call, so that I had never met her.
It was the Sewing Circle day again--at Sarah Gardiner's this
time. I was late; everybody else was there when I arrived, and
the minute I entered the room I knew something had happened,
although I couldn't imagine what. Everybody looked at me in the
strangest way. Of course, Wilhelmina Mercer was the first to set
her tongue going.
"Oh, Miss Holmes, have you seen him yet?" she exclaimed.
"Seen whom?" I said non-excitedly, getting out my thimble and
patterns.
"Why, Cecil Fenwick. He's here--in Avonlea--visiting his sister,
Mrs. Maxwell."
I suppose I did what they expected me to do. I dropped
everything I held, and Josephine Cameron said afterwards that
Charlotte Holmes would never be paler when she was in her coffin.
If they had just known why I turned so pale!
"It's impossible!" I said blankly.
"It's really true," said Wilhelmina, delighted at this
development, as she supposed it, of my romance.
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