Music Welcome to snoozecast. The podcast is on to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Handsome Auburn Hair. Tonight, we'll read the 14th chapter to Anne of Green Gables, the classic 1908 novel by Lucy Maud MontgomeryGumry. This chapter is titled Anne's Confession. In the last episode, titled The Delights of Anticipation, Anne excitedly shares with Marilla her plans for a Sunday school picnic. Eager for her first taste of ice cream, Anne persuades Marilla to let her attend. Who agrees to prepare a basket of food? Despite Morilla's attempt to temper Anne's excitement and insists on embracing anticipation, rather than heating advice from conservative figures like Mrs. Rachel, she also admires Marilla's brooch, her most treasured possession, and requests to hold it briefly. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. and your body and the softness of your bed.

Now take a few deep breaths. 10. Chapter 14. Anne's confession. On the Monday evening before the picnic, Marilla came down from her room with a troubled face. And she said to that small person who was shelling peas by the spotless table and singing nelly of the hazel-dell with a vigor and expression that did credit to Diana's teaching. Did you see anything of my amethyst brooch? I thought I stuck it in my pincushion when I came home from church yesterday evening, but I can't find it anywhere. I saw it this afternoon when you were away at the aid society, said Anne. I was passing your door when I saw it on the cushion, so I went in to look at it. Did you touch it? Said Morilla, sternly. Yes, admittedly, Anne. I took it up and I pinned it on my chest just to see how it would look. You had no business to do anything of this sort. It's very wrong in a little girl to metal. You shouldn't have gone into my room in the first place. And you shouldn't have touched a brooch that didn't belong to you in the second. Where did you put it? Oh, I put it back on the bureau. I hadn't it all on a minute, truly. I didn't mean to metal, Marilla. I didn't think about it's being wrong to go in and try on the brooch. But I see now that it was. And I'll never do it again. That's one good thing about me. I never do the same naughty thing twice. You didn't put it back, San Marilla. That brooch isn't anywhere on the bureau. You've taken it out or something and... I did put it back, said Anne quickly, partly, more or less thought. I dont just remember whether I stuck it on the pincushion or laid it in the china tray, but I'm perfectly certain I put it back. I'll go and have another look," said Marilla, determining to be just. If you put that brooch back, it's there still. If it isn't, I'll know you didn't. That's all. Marilla went to her room and made a thorough search. Not only over the bureau, but in every other place she thought the brooch might possibly be. It was not to be found, and she returned to the kitchen. And the brooch is gone. By your own admission you were the last person to handle it. Now what have you done with it? Tell me the truth at once. Did you take it out and lose it? No, I did not. Sadean, solemnly, meeting Marilla's angry gaze squarely. I never took the brooch out of your room and that is the truth. If I was to be led to the block for it, although I'm not very certain what a block is, so there, Marilla. Anne's so there was only intended to emphasize her assertion, but Marilla took it as a display of defiance. I believe you are telling me a falsehood, Anne. She said sharply, I know you are. There now. Don't say anything more unless you are prepared to tell the whole

truth. Go to your room and stay there until you are ready to confess. Will I take the And peas with me said Anne, meekly, no, I'll finish shelling them myself.

Do as I bid you. When Anne had gone, Marilla went about her evening tasks in a very disturbed state of mind. She was worried about her valuable brooch.

One of Anne had lost it, and now wicked of the child to deny having taken it, when anybody could see she must have, with such an innocent face too. I don't know what I would sooner have had happened happened. Thought Marilla, as she nervously sheld the peas. Of course I don't suppose she meant to steal it or anything like that. She's just taking it to play with her help along that imagination of hers. She must have taken it. That's clear. Further hasn't been a soul in that room since she was in it. By her own story, until I went up tonight. And the brooch is gone. There's nothing sure. I suppose she has lost it and is afraid to own up for fear that she'll be punished. It's a dreadful thing to think she tells falsehoods. It's a far worse thing than her fit of temper. It's a fearful responsibility to have a child in your house you can't trust. Slineness and untruthfulness, that's what she has displayed. I declare, I feel worse about that than about the brooch. If she'd only have told the truth about it, I wouldn't mind so much. Marilla went to her room at intervals all through the evening and searched for the brooch, without finding it. A bedtime visit to the East Gable produced no result, and persisted in denying that she knew anything about the brooch, but Marilla was only the more firmly convinced that she did. She told Matthew the story the next morning. Matthew was confounded and puzzled. He could not so quickly lose faith in Anne, but he had to admit that circumstances were against her. sure it hasn't fell down behind the bureau? Was the only suggestion he could offer? I've moved the bureau and I've taken out the drawers and I've looked in every crack and cranny. Was Marilla's positive answer. The brooch is gone, and that child has taken it and lied about it. That's the plain ugly truth Matthew Cuthbert, and we might as well look it in the face. Well now, what are you going to do about it? Matthew asked, for lonely, feeling secretly thankful that Marilla and not he had to deal with the situation. He felt no desire to put his ore in this time. She'll stay in her room until she confesses," said Mariela Grimley, remembering the success of this method in the former case. Then we'll see. Perhaps we'll be able to find the brooch if she'll only tell me where she took it. But in any case, she'll have to be severely punished Matthew. Well, now you'll have to punish her. Said Matthew, reaching for his hat. I have nothing to do with it, remember. You warned me off yourself." Morilla felt deserted by everyone. She could not even go to Mrs. Lind for advice. She went up to the east gable with a very serious face, and left it with a face more serious still. And steadfastly refused to take in fast, she persisted in asserting that she had not taken the brooch. The child had evidently been crying, and Marilla felt a pang of pity, which she sternly repressed. By night she was, as she expressed it, beat out. You'll stay in this room until you confess, Anne. You can make up your mind to that," She said firmly. But the picnic is tomorrow, Marilla. Cry'd hand. You won't keep me from going to that, will you? You'll just let me out for the afternoon, won't you? Then I'll stay here as long as you like afterwards cheerfully. But I must go to the picnic. You'll not go to picnics, nor anywhere else, until you've confessed to him. Oh, Marilla, gaspan, but Marilla had gone out and shut the door. Wednesday morning dawned as bright and fair as if expressly made to order for the picnic. Birds sang round green gables. The Madonna lollies in the garden sent out whiffs of perfume that interred in on viewless

winds at every door and window, and wandered through halls and rooms like spirits of benediction. The birches in the hollow waved joyful hands, as if watching for Anne's usual morning reading from the yeast cable.

But Anne was not at her window. When Marilla took her breakfast up to her, she found the child sitting primly on her bed, pale and resolute, with tight shut lips and gleaming eyes. Marilla, I'm ready to confess. Oh, Marilla laid down her tray. Once again her method had succeeded, but her success was very bitter to her. Let me hear what you have to say then, Ann. I took the brooch," said Ann. As if repeating a lesson she had learned, I took it just as you said. I didn't mean to take it when I went in, but it did look so beautiful, Marilla. When I pinned it on my shirt, that I was overcome by an irresistible temptation, I imagined how perfectly thrilling it would be to take it to idle wild, and play I was the Lady Lady Cordelia Fitzgerald. It would be so much easier to imagine I was the Lady Cordelia if I had a real amethyst broach on. Diana and I made necklaces of Roseberries, but what are Roseberries compared to amethysts? So I took the broach. I thought I could put it back before you came home. I went all the way around by the road to lengthen out the time. When I was going over the bridge across the lake of shining waters, I took the broach

off to have another look at it. Oh, how it did shine in the sunlight. And then, when I was leaning over the bridge, it just slipped through my fingers. And it went down, down, down, all purply sparkling, and sank forevermore beneath the lake of shining waters. And that's the best I can do at confessing Marilla. Marilla felt hot anger surge up into her heart again. This child had taken and lost her treasured amethyst brooch, and now sat there calmly reciting the details thereof without the least apparent compunction or repentance. Hey, Anne, this is terrible. She said, trying to speak calmly, you are the very wickedest girl I ever heard of. Yes, I suppose I am. Agreed, Anne. Tranqually. And I know I'll have to be punished. It will be your duty to punish me, Marilla. Won't you please get it over right off because I'd like to go to the picnic with nothing on my mind. Picnic indeed, you'll go to no picnic today, Anne Shirley that shall be your punishment, and it isn't half severe enough either for what you've done. Not go to the picnic, and spring to her feet, and clutched Marilla's hand, but you promised me I might.Marilla, I must go to the picnic. That was why I confessed. Punish me anyway you like, but that O'Marilla, please, please let me go to the picnic. Think of the ice cream. For anything you know, I may never have a chance to taste ice cream again. Morilla disengaged Anne's clinging hands stonely. You needn't plead Anne. You are not going to the picnic and that's final. No, not a word. Anne realized that Morilla was not to be moved. She clasped her hands together, gave a piercing shriek and then flung herself face downward on the bed, crying and writhing in an utter abandonment of disappointment and despair. For the land's sake, Gaff's gorilla hastening from the room, I believe the child is crazy. No child in her senses would behave as she does. If she isn't, she's utterly bad. Oh dear, I'm afraid Rachel was right from the first, but I've put my hand to the plow and I won't look back. That was a dismal morning. Marilla worked fiercely and scrubbed the porch floor and the dairy shelves when she could find nothing else to do. Neither the shelves nor the porch needed it, but Marilla did, then she went out and raked the yard. When dinner was ready, she went to the stairs and called Ann. A tear-stained face appeared, looking tragically over the banisters. Come down to your dinner, Ann. I don't want any dinner, Marilla. Said Ann, soppingly. I couldn't eat anything. My heart is broken. You'll feel remorse of conscience someday, I expect for breaking it. But I forgive you, Marilla. Remember when the time comes that I forgive you. But please don't ask me to eat anything, especially boiled pork and greens. Boiled pork and greens are so unromantic when one is in affliction. Exasperated, Marilla returned to the kitchen and poured out her tale of woe to Matthew, who, between his sense of justice and his unlawful sympathy with Anne, was a miserable man. Well, now she shouldn't have taken the brooch, Marilla.

We're told stories about it. He admitted, mournfully surveying his plateful of unromantic pork and greens as if he, like Anne, thought it a food unsuited to crisis of feeling. But she's such a little thing, such an interesting little thing. Don't you think it's pretty rough not to let her go to the picnic when she's so set on it? Matthew Cuthbert. I'm amazed at you. I think I've let her off entirely too easy, and she doesn't appear to realize how wicked she's been at all. That's what worries me most. If she'd really felt sorry, it wouldn't be so bad, and you don't seem to realize it neither. You're making excuses for her all the time to yourself, I can see that. Well now she's such a little thing, feebly reiterated Matthew, and there should be allowances made Marilla. You know, she's never had any bringing up. While she's having it now, retorted Marilla. The retort silenced Matthew if it did not convince him that dinner was a very dismal meal. The only cheerful thing about it was Jerry Boone, the hired boy, and Marilla resented his cheerfulness as a personal insult. When her dishes were washed and her bread sponge set and her hands fed, Marilla remembered that she had noticed a small rent in her best black lace shawl when

she had taken it off on Monday afternoon on returning from the lady's aid. She would go and mend it. The shawl was in a box in her trunk. As Marilla lifted it out, the sunlight falling through the vines that clustered dickly about the window struck upon something caught in the shawl, something that glittered and sparkled in facets of violet light.

Morales snatched at it with a gasp. It was the amethyst brooch hanging to a threat of the lace by its catch. Dear life and heart, said Morilla blankly, What does this mean? Here's my brooch safe and sound that I thought was at the bottom of Barry's pond. Whatever did that girl mean by saying she took it and lost it? I declare I believe green gables is bewitched. I remember now that when I took off my shawl Monday afternoon, I laid it on the bureau for a minute. I suppose the brooch got caught in it somehow. Well, Marilla took herself to the East Gable, brooch in hand, and had cried herself out and was sitting dejectedly by the window. The end surely said Marilla, solemnly.

I've just found my brooch hanging to my blackly shawl. Now I want to know what that Rigamarole you told me this morning meant. Why? You said you'd keep me here until I confessed. and Ayan, wearily. And so I decided to confess because I was bound to get to the picnic. I thought out a confession last night after I went to bed, and made it as interesting as I could. And I said it over and over so that I wouldn't forget it. But you wouldn't let me go to the picnic after all, so all my trouble was wasted. Marilla had to laugh in spite of herself. But her conscience pricked her. And you do beat all. But I was wrong. I see that now. I shouldn't have doubted your word when I'd never known you to tell a story. Of course it wasn't right for you to confess to a thing you hadn't done. It was very wrong to do so, but I drove you to it. So if you'll forgive me, Anne, I'll forgive you and we'll start square again. And now get yourself ready for the picnic. Anne flew up like a rocket. Oh Marilla isn't it too late? No, it's only two o'clock. They won't be more than well gathered yet, and it'll be an hour before they have tea. Wash your face and comb your hair. All fill a basket for you. There's plenty of stuff baked in the house, and I'll get Jerry to hitch up the sorrel and drive you down to the picnic ground. Oh, Marilla, exclaimed Anne, flying to the washstand. Five minutes ago I was so miserable I was wishing I'd never been born, and now I wouldn't change places with an angel. That night, a thoroughly happy, completely tired out A and returned to green gables in a state of beatification impossible to describe. Oh, Marilla, I've had a perfectly scrumptious time. Scrumptious is a new word I learned today. I heard Mary Alice Bell use it. Isn't it very expressive? Everything was lovely. We had a splendid tea, and then Mr. Hormann Andrews took us all for a row on the lake of shining waters. Six of us at a time, and Jane Andrews nearly fell overboard. She was leaning out to pick water lilies, and if Mr. Andrews hadn't caught her by her sash, just in the nick of time she'd fallen in, and probably been drowned. I wish it had been me. It would have been such a romantic experience to have been

nearly drowned. It would be such a thrilling tale to tell. And we had ice cream. Words failed to describe that ice cream, Marilla. I assure you it was to supply that evening Marilla told the whole story to Matthew over her stalking basket. I'm willing to own up that I made a mistake. She concluded candidly, but I've learned a lesson. I have to laugh when I think of Anne's confession. although I suppose I shouldn't for it really was a falsehood, but it doesn't seem as bad as the other would have been somehow. And anyhow, I'm responsible for it. A child is hard to understand in some respects, but I believe she'll turn out all right yet.

And there's one thing certain.

No house will ever be dull that she's in.