such a
contrast between us, you see. And oh, it's
perfectlymagnificent that you're going to marry
Gilbert. Roy Gardner wouldn't have done at all, at
all. I can see that now, though I was horribly
disappointed at the time. You know, Anne, you did
treat Roy very badly."
"He has recovered, I understand," smiled Anne.
"Oh, yes. He is married and his wife is a sweet
little thing and they're
perfectly happy. Everything
works together for good. Jo and the Bible say that,
and they are pretty good authorities."
"Are Alec and Alonzo married yet?"
"Alec is, but Alonzo isn't. How those dear old days
at Patty's Place come back when I'm talking to you,
Anne! What fun we had!"
"Have you been to Patty's Place
lately?"
"Oh, yes, I go often. Miss Patty and Miss Maria still
sit by the
fireplace and knit. And that reminds
me--we've brought you a
wedding gift from them, Anne.
Guess what it is."
"I never could. How did they know I was going to be
married?"
"Oh, I told them. I was there last week. And they
were so interested. Two days ago Miss Patty wrote me a
note asking me to call; and then she asked if I would
take her gift to you. What would you wish most from
Patty's Place, Anne?"
"You can't mean that Miss Patty has sent me her china
dogs?"
"Go up head. They're in my trunk this very moment.
And I've a letter for you. Wait a moment and I'll get
it."
"Dear Miss Shirley," Miss Patty had written, "Maria
and I were very much interested in
hearing of your
approaching nuptials. We send you our best wishes.
Maria and I have never married, but we have no
objection to other people doing so. We are sending you
the china dogs. I intended to leave them to you in my
will, because you seemed to have
sincereaffection for
them. But Maria and I expect to live a good while yet
(D.V.), so I have
decided to give you the dogs while
you are young. You will not have forgotten that Gog
looks to the right and Magog to the left."
"Just fancy those lovely old dogs sitting by the
fireplace in my house of dreams," said Anne
rapturously. "I never expected anything so
delightful."
That evening Green Gables hummed with preparations for
the following day; but in the
twilight Anne slipped
away. She had a little
pilgrimage to make on this last
day of her girlhood and she must make it alone. She
went to Matthew's grave, in the little poplar-shaded
Avonlea graveyard, and there kept a silent tryst with
old memories and
immortal loves.
"How glad Matthew would be to
morrow if he were here,"
she whispered. "But I believe he does know and is
glad of it-- somewhere else. I've read somewhere that
`our dead are never dead until we have forgotten them.'
Matthew will never be dead to me, for I can never
forget him."
She left on his grave the flowers she had brought and
walked slowly down the long hill. It was a gracious
evening, full of delectable lights and shadows. In the
west was a sky of mackerel clouds--
crimson and
amber-tinted, with long strips of apple-green sky
between. Beyond was the glimmering
radiance of a
sunset sea, and the
ceaseless voice of many waters came
up from the tawny shore. All around her, lying in the
fine, beautiful country silence, were the hills and
fields and woods she had known and loved so long.
"History repeats itself," said Gilbert, joining her as
she passed the Blythe gate. "Do you remember our
first walk down this hill, Anne--our first walk
together
anywhere, for that matter?"
"I was coming home in the
twilight from Matthew's
grave--and you came out of the gate; and I swallowed
the pride of years and spoke to you."
"And all heaven opened before me," supplemented
Gilbert. "From that moment I looked forward to
to
morrow. When I left you at your gate that night and
walked home I was the happiest boy in the world. Anne
had
forgiven" target="_blank" title="
forgive的过去分词">
forgiven me."
"I think you had the most to
forgive. I was an
ungrateful little wretch--and after you had really
saved my life that day on the pond, too. How I loathed
that load of
obligation at first! I don't
deserve the
happiness that has come to me."
Gilbert laughed and clasped tighter the girlish hand
that wore his ring. Anne's
engagement ring was a
circlet of pearls. She had refused to wear a diamond.
"I've never really liked diamonds since I found out
they weren't the lovely
purple I had dreamed. They
will always suggest my old
disappointment ."
"But pearls are for tears, the old legend says,"
Gilbert had objected.
"I'm not afraid of that. And tears can be happy as
well as sad. My very happiest moments have been when I
had tears in my eyes-- when Marilla told me I might
stay at Green Gables--when Matthew gave me the first
pretty dress I ever had--when I heard that you were
going to recover from the fever. So give me pearls for
our troth ring, Gilbert, and I'll
willingly accept the
sorrow of life with its joy."
But tonight our lovers thought only of joy and never of
sorrow. For the
morrow was their
wedding day, and
their house of dreams awaited them on the misty,
purpleshore of Four Winds Harbor.
CHAPTER 4
THE FIRST BRIDE OF GREEN GABLES
Anne wakened on the morning of her
wedding day to find
the
sunshine winking in at the window of the little
porch gable and a September
breeze frolicking with her
curtains.
"I'm so glad the sun will shine on me," she thought happily.
She recalled the first morning she had wakened in that
little porch room, when the
sunshine had crept in on
her through the blossom- drift of the old Snow Queen.
That had not been a happy wakening, for it brought with
it the bitter
disappointment of the
preceding night.
But since then the little room had been endeared and
consecrated by years of happy
childhood dreams and
maiden visions. To it she had come back
joyfully after
all her absences; at its window she had knelt through
that night of bitter agony when she believed Gilbert
dying, and by it she had sat in
speechless happiness
the night of her betrothal. Many vigils of joy and
some of sorrow had been kept there; and today she must
leave it forever. Henceforth it would be hers no more;
fifteen-year-old Dora was to
inherit it when she had
gone. Nor did Anne wish it
otherwise; the little room
was
sacred to youth and girlhood--to the past that was
to close today before the chapter of wifehood opened.
Green Gables was a busy and
joyous house that forenoon.
Diana arrived early, with little Fred and Small Anne
Cordelia, to lend a hand. Davy and Dora, the Green
Gables twins, whisked the babies off to the garden.
"Don't let Small Anne Cordelia spoil her clothes,"
warned Diana anxiously.
"You needn't be afraid to trust her with Dora," said
Marilla. "That child is more
sensible and careful
than most of the mothers I've known. She's really a
wonder in some ways. Not much like that other
harum-scarum I brought up."
Marilla smiled across her chicken salad at Anne. It
might even be suspected that she liked the harum-scarum
best after all.
"Those twins are real nice children," said Mrs.
Rachel, when she was sure they were out of earshot.
"Dora is so womanly and helpful, and Davy is
developing into a very smart boy. He isn't the holy
terror for
mischief he used to be."
"I never was so distracted in my life as I was the
first six months he was here," acknowledged Marilla.
"After that I suppose I got used to him. He's taken a
great notion to farming
lately, and wants me to let him
try
running the farm next year. I may, for Mr. Barry
doesn't think he'll want to rent it much longer, and
some new
arrangement will have to be made."
"Well, you certainly have a lovely day for your
wedding, Anne," said Diana, as she slipped a
voluminous apron over her
silken array. "You couldn't
have had a finer one if you'd ordered it from
Eaton's."
"Indeed, there's too much money going out of this
Island to that same Eaton's," said Mrs. Lynde
indignantly. She had strong views on the subject of
octopus-like department stores, and never lost an
opportunity of airing them. "And as for those
catalogues of
theirs, they're the Avonlea girls' Bible
now, that's what. They pore over them on Sundays
instead of studying the Holy Scriptures."
"Well, they're splendid to amuse children with," said
Diana. "Fred and Small Anne look at the pictures by
the hour."
"_I_ amused ten children without the aid of Eaton's
catalogue," said Mrs. Rachel severely.
"Come, you two, don't quarrel over Eaton's catalogue,"
said Anne gaily. "This is my day of days, you know.
I'm so happy I want every one else to be happy, too."
"I'm sure I hope your happiness will last, child,"
sighed Mrs. Rachel. She did hope it truly, and
believed it, but she was afraid it was in the nature of
a
challenge to Providence to flaunt your happiness too
openly. Anne, for her own good, must be toned down a
trifle.
But it was a happy and beautiful bride who came down
the old, homespun-carpeted stairs that September
noon--the first bride of Green Gables,
slender and
shining-eyed, in the mist of her
maiden veil, with her
arms full of roses. Gilbert,
waiting for her in the
hall below, looked up at her with adoring eyes. She
was his at last, this evasive, long-sought Anne, won
after years of patient
waiting. It was to him she was
coming in the sweet
surrender of the bride. Was he
worthy of her? Could he make her as happy as he hoped?
If he failed her--if he could not
measure up to her
standard of manhood--then, as she held out her hand,
their eyes met and all doubt was swept away in a glad
certainty. They belonged to each other; and, no matter
what life might hold for them, it could never alter
that. Their happiness was in each other's keeping and