course, he had insulted her
terribly, but still--! Altogether,
Anne rather thought it would be a
relief to sit down and have a
good cry. She was really quite unstrung, for the
reaction from
her
fright and cramped clinging was making itself felt.
Halfway up the path she met Jane and Diana rushing back to the pond
in a state
narrowly removed from
positivefrenzy. They had found
nobody at Orchard Slope, both Mr. and Mrs. Barry being away.
Here Ruby Gillis had succumbed to hysterics, and was left to
recover from them as best she might, while Jane and Diana flew
through the Haunted Wood and across the brook to Green Gables.
There they had found nobody either, for Marilla had gone to
Carmody and Matthew was making hay in the back field.
"Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, fairly falling on the former's neck and
weeping with
relief and delight, "oh, Anne--we thought--you
were--drowned--and we felt like murderers--because we had
made--you be--Elaine. And Ruby is in hysterics--oh, Anne, how
did you escape?"
"I climbed up on one of the piles," explained Anne
wearily, "and
Gilbert Blythe came along in Mr. Andrews's dory and brought me to land."
"Oh, Anne, how splendid of him! Why, it's so romantic!" said Jane,
findingbreath enough for
utterance at last. "Of course you'll speak
to him after this."
"Of course I won't," flashed Anne, with a
momentary return of her
old spirit. "And I don't want ever to hear the word `romantic' again,
Jane Andrews. I'm
awfully sorry you were so
frightened, girls. It is
all my fault. I feel sure I was born under an
unlucky star. Everything
I do gets me or my dearest friends into a
scrape. We've gone and lost
your father's flat, Diana, and I have a presentiment that we'll not
be allowed to row on the pond any more."
Anne's presentiment proved more trustworthy than presentiments are
apt to do. Great was the
consternation in the Barry and Cuthbert
households when the events of the afternoon became known.
"Will you ever have any sense, Anne?" groaned Marilla.
"Oh, yes, I think I will, Marilla," returned Anne optimistically.
A good cry, indulged in the
gratefulsolitude of the east gable,
had soothed her nerves and restored her to her wonted cheerfulness.
"I think my prospects of becoming
sensible are brighter now than ever"
"I don't see how," said Marilla.
"Well," explained Anne, "I've
learned a new and
valuable lesson today.
Ever since I came to Green Gables I've been making mistakes, and each
mistake has helped to cure me of some great
shortcoming. The affair
of the amethyst
brooch cured me of meddling with things that didn't
belong to me. The Haunted Wood mistake cured me of letting my
imagination run away with me. The liniment cake mistake cured
me of
carelessness in cooking. Dyeing my hair cured me of vanity.
I never think about my hair and nose now--at least, very seldom.
And today's mistake is going to cure me of being too romantic.
I have come to the
conclusion that it is no use
trying to be
romantic in Avonlea. It was probably easy enough in towered
Camelot hundreds of years ago, but
romance is not appreciated now.
I feel quite sure that you will soon see a great
improvement in me
in this respect, Marilla."
"I'm sure I hope so," said Marilla skeptically.
But Matthew, who had been sitting mutely in his corner, laid a
hand on Anne's shoulder when Marilla had gone out.
"Don't give up all your
romance, Anne," he whispered shyly,
"a little of it is a good thing--not too much, of course--but
keep a little of it, Anne, keep a little of it."
CHAPTER XXIX
An Epoch in Anne's Life
Anne was bringing the cows home from the back
pasture by way of
Lover's Lane. It was a September evening and all the gaps and
clearings in the woods were brimmed up with ruby
sunset light.
Here and there the lane was splashed with it, but for the most
part it was already quite
shadowy beneath the maples, and the
spaces under the firs were filled with a clear
violet dusk like
airy wine. The winds were out in their tops, and there is no
sweeter music on earth than that which the wind makes in the fir
trees at evening.
The cows swung placidly down the lane, and Anne followed them
dreamily, repeating aloud the battle canto from MARMION--which
had also been part of their English course the
preceding winter
and which Miss Stacy had made them learn off by heart--and
exulting in its rushing lines and the clash of spears in its
imagery. When she came to the lines
The
stubborn spearsmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood,
she stopped in
ecstasy to shut her eyes that she might the better
fancy herself one of that
heroic ring. When she opened them
again it was to behold Diana coming through the gate that led
into the Barry field and looking so important that Anne instantly
divined there was news to be told. But
betray too eager
curiosity she would not.
"Isn't this evening just like a
purple dream, Diana? It makes me
so glad to be alive. In the mornings I always think the mornings
are best; but when evening comes I think it's lovelier still."
"It's a very fine evening," said Diana, "but oh, I have such
news, Anne. Guess. You can have three guesses."
"Charlotte Gillis is going to be married in the church after all
and Mrs. Allan wants us to
decorate it," cried Anne.
"No. Charlotte's beau won't agree to that, because nobody ever
has been married in the church yet, and he thinks it would seem
too much like a
funeral. It's too mean, because it would be such fun.
Guess again."
"Jane's mother is going to let her have a birthday party?"
Diana shook her head, her black eyes dancing with merriment.
"I can't think what it can be," said Anne in
despair, "unless
it's that Moody Spurgeon MacPherson saw you home from prayer
meeting last night. Did he?"
"I should think not," exclaimed Diana
indignantly. "I wouldn't
be likely to boast of it if he did, the
horrid creature! I knew
you couldn't guess it. Mother had a letter from Aunt Josephine
today, and Aunt Josephine wants you and me to go to town next
Tuesday and stop with her for the Exhibition. There!"
"Oh, Diana," whispered Anne,
finding it necessary to lean up against
a maple tree for support, "do you really mean it? But I'm afraid
Marilla won't let me go. She will say that she can't encourage
gadding about. That was what she said last week when Jane invited
me to go with them in their double-seated buggy to the American
concert at the White Sands Hotel. I wanted to go, but Marilla
said I'd be better at home
learning my lessons and so would Jane.
I was
bitterly disappointed, Diana. I felt so heartbroken that
I wouldn't say my prayers when I went to bed. But I repented of
that and got up in the middle of the night and said them."
"I'll tell you," said Diana, "we'll get Mother to ask Marilla.
She'll be more likely to let you go then; and if she does we'll
have the time of our lives, Anne. I've never been to an
Exhibition, and it's so aggravating to hear the other girls
talking about their trips. Jane and Ruby have been twice, and
they're going this year again."
"I'm not going to think about it at all until I know whether I
can go or not," said Anne
resolutely. "If I did and then was
disappointed, it would be more than I could bear. But in case I
do go I'm very glad my new coat will be ready by that time.
Marilla didn't think I needed a new coat. She said my old one