Anne's House of Dreams

by

Lucy Maud Montgomery

"To Laura, in memory of the olden time. "

CONTENTS

Chapter

 1 IN THE GARRET OF GREEN GABLES 2 THE HOUSE OF DREAMS 3 THE LAND OF DREAMS AMONG 4 THE FIRST BRIDE OF GREEN GABLES 5 THE HOME COMING 6 CAPTAIN JIM 7 THE SCHOOLMASTER'S BRIDE 8 MISS CORNELIA BRYANT COMES TO CALL 9 AN EVENING AT FOUR WINDS POINT 10 LESLIE MOORE 11 THE STORY OF LESLIE MOORE 12 LESLIE COMES OVER 13 A GHOSTLY EVENING 14 NOVEMBER DAYS 15 CHRISTMAS AT FOUR WINDS 16 NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE LIGHT 17 A FOUR WINDS WINTER 18 SPRING DAYS 19 DAWN AND DUSK 20 LOST MARGARET 21 BARRIERS SWEPT AWAY 22 MISS CORNELIA ARRANGES MATTERS 23 OWEN FORD COMES 24 THE LIFE-BOOK OF CAPTAIN JIM 25 THE WRITING OF THE BOOK 26 OWEN FORD'S CONFESSION 27 ON THE SAND BAR 28 ODDS AND ENDS 29 GILBERT AND ANNE DISAGREE 30 LESLIE DECIDES 31 THE TRUTH MAKES FREE 32 MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR 33 LESLIE RETURNS 34 THE SHIP O'DREAMS COMES TO HARBOR 35 POLITICS AT FOUR WINDS 36 BEAUTY FOR ASHES 38 RED ROSES 39 CAPTAIN JIM CROSSES THE BAR 40 FAREWELL TO THE HOUSE OF DREAMS

CHAPTER 1

IN THE GARRET OF GREEN GABLES

"Thanks be, I'm done with geometry, learning or teaching it, " said AnneShirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped a somewhat batteredvolume of Euclid into a big chest of books, banged the lid in triumph, and sat down upon it, looking at Diana Wright across the Green Gablesgarret, with gray eyes that were like a morning sky. 

The garret was a shadowy, suggestive, delightful place, as all garretsshould be. Through the open window, by which Anne sat, blew the sweet, scented, sun-warm air of the August afternoon; outside, poplar boughsrustled and tossed in the wind; beyond them were the woods, whereLover's Lane wound its enchanted path, and the old apple orchard whichstill bore its rosy harvests munificently. And, over all, was a greatmountain range of snowy clouds in the blue southern sky. Through theother window was glimpsed a distant, white-capped, blue sea--thebeautiful St. Lawrence Gulf, on which floats, like a jewel, Abegweit, whose softer, sweeter Indian name has long been forsaken for the moreprosaic one of Prince Edward Island. 

Diana Wright, three years older than when we last saw her, had grownsomewhat matronly in the intervening time. But her eyes were as blackand brilliant, her cheeks as rosy, and her dimples as enchanting, as inthe long-ago days when she and Anne Shirley had vowed eternalfriendship in the garden at Orchard Slope. In her arms she held asmall, sleeping, black-curled creature, who for two happy years hadbeen known to the world of Avonlea as "Small Anne Cordelia. " Avonleafolks knew why Diana had called her Anne, of course, but Avonlea folkswere puzzled by the Cordelia. There had never been a Cordelia in theWright or Barry connections. Mrs. Harmon Andrews said she supposedDiana had found the name in some trashy novel, and wondered that Fredhadn't more sense than to allow it. But Diana and Anne smiled at eachother. They knew how Small Anne Cordelia had come by her name. 

"You always hated geometry, " said Diana with a retrospective smile. "Ishould think you'd be real glad to be through with teaching, anyhow. "

"Oh, I've always liked teaching, apart from geometry. These past threeyears in Summerside have been very pleasant ones. Mrs. Harmon Andrewstold me when I came home that I wouldn't likely find married life asmuch better than teaching as I expected. Evidently Mrs. Harmon is ofHamlet's opinion that it may be better to bear the ills that we havethan fly to others that we know not of. "

Anne's laugh, as blithe and irresistible as of yore, with an added noteof sweetness and maturity, rang through the garret. Marilla in thekitchen below, compounding blue plum preserve, heard it and smiled;then sighed to think how seldom that dear laugh would echo throughGreen Gables in the years to come. Nothing in her life had ever givenMarilla so much happiness as the knowledge that Anne was going to marryGilbert Blythe; but every joy must bring with it its little shadow ofsorrow. During the three Summerside years Anne had been home often forvacations and weekends; but, after this, a bi-annual visit would be asmuch as could be hoped for. 

"You needn't let what Mrs. Harmon says worry you, " said Diana, with thecalm assurance of the four-years matron. "Married life has its ups anddowns, of course. You mustn't expect that everything will always gosmoothly. But I can assure you, Anne, that it's a happy life, whenyou're married to the right man. "

Anne smothered a smile. Diana's airs of vast experience always amusedher a little. 

"I daresay I'll be putting them on too, when I've been married fouryears, " she thought. "Surely my sense of humor will preserve me fromit, though. "

"Is it settled yet where you are going to live?" asked Diana, cuddlingSmall Anne Cordelia with the inimitable gesture of motherhood whichalways sent through Anne's heart, filled with sweet, unuttered dreamsand hopes, a thrill that was half pure pleasure and half a strange, ethereal pain. 

"Yes. That was what I wanted to tell you when I 'phoned to you to comedown today. By the way, I can't realize that we really have telephonesin Avonlea now. It sounds so preposterously up-to-date and modernishfor this darling, leisurely old place. "

"We can thank the A. V. I. S. For them, " said Diana. "We should neverhave got the line if they hadn't taken the matter up and carried itthrough. There was enough cold water thrown to discourage any society. But they stuck to it, nevertheless. You did a splendid thing forAvonlea when you founded that society, Anne. What fun we did have atour meetings! Will you ever forget the blue hall and Judson Parker'sscheme for painting medicine advertisements on his fence?"

"I don't know that I'm wholly grateful to the A. V. I. S. In thematter of the telephone, " said Anne. "Oh, I know it's mostconvenient--even more so than our old device of signalling to eachother by flashes of candlelight! And, as Mrs. Rachel says, 'Avonleamust keep up with the procession, that's what. ' But somehow I feel asif I didn't want Avonlea spoiled by what Mr. Harrison, when he wants tobe witty, calls 'modern inconveniences. ' I should like to have it keptalways just as it was in the dear old years. That's foolish--andsentimental--and impossible. So I shall immediately become wise andpractical and possible. The telephone, as Mr. Harrison concedes, is 'abuster of a good thing'--even if you do know that probably half a dozeninterested people are listening along the line. "

"That's the worst of it, " sighed Diana. "It's so annoying to hear thereceivers going down whenever you ring anyone up. They say Mrs. HarmonAndrews insisted that their 'phone should be put in their kitchen justso that she could listen whenever it rang and keep an eye on the dinnerat the same time. Today, when you called me, I distinctly heard thatqueer clock of the Pyes' striking. So no doubt Josie or Gertie waslistening. "

"Oh, so that is why you said, 'You've got a new clock at Green Gables, haven't you?' I couldn't imagine what you meant. I heard a viciousclick as soon as you had spoken. I suppose it was the Pye receiverbeing hung up with profane energy. Well, never mind the Pyes. As Mrs. Rachel says, 'Pyes they always were and Pyes they always will be, worldwithout end, amen. ' I want to talk of pleasanter things. It's allsettled as to where my new home shall be. "

"Oh, Anne, where? I do hope it's near here. "

"No-o-o, that's the drawback. Gilbert is going to settle at Four WindsHarbor--sixty miles from here. "

"Sixty! It might as well be six hundred, " sighed Diana. "I never canget further from home now than Charlottetown. "

"You'll have to come to Four Winds. It's the most beautiful harbor onthe Island. There's a little village called Glen St. Mary at its head, and Dr. David Blythe has been practicing there for fifty years. He isGilbert's great-uncle, you know. He is going to retire, and Gilbert isto take over his practice. Dr. Blythe is going to keep his house, though, so we shall have to find a habitation for ourselves. I don'tknow yet what it is, or where it will be in reality, but I have alittle house o'dreams all furnished in my imagination--a tiny, delightful castle in Spain. "

"Where are you going for your wedding tour?" asked Diana. 

"Nowhere. Don't look horrified, Diana dearest. You suggest Mrs. Harmon Andrews. She, no doubt, will remark condescendingly that peoplewho can't afford wedding 'towers' are real sensible not to take them;and then she'll remind me that Jane went to Europe for hers. I want tospend MY honeymoon at Four Winds in my own dear house of dreams. "

"And you've decided not to have any bridesmaid?"

"There isn't any one to have. You and Phil and Priscilla and Jane allstole a march on me in the matter of marriage; and Stella is teachingin Vancouver. I have no other 'kindred soul' and I won't have abridesmaid who isn't. "

"But you are going to wear a veil, aren't you?" asked Diana, anxiously. 

"Yes, indeedy. I shouldn't feel like a bride without one. I remembertelling Matthew, that evening when he brought me to Green Gables, thatI never expected to be a bride because I was so homely no one wouldever want to marry me--unless some foreign missionary did. I had anidea then that foreign missionaries couldn't afford to be finicky inthe matter of looks if they wanted a girl to risk her life amongcannibals. You should have seen the foreign missionary Priscillamarried. He was as handsome and inscrutable as those daydreams we onceplanned to marry ourselves, Diana; he was the best dressed man I evermet, and he raved over Priscilla's 'ethereal, golden beauty. ' But ofcourse there are no cannibals in Japan. "

"Your wedding dress is a dream, anyhow, " sighed Diana rapturously. "You'll look like a perfect queen in it--you're so tall and slender. How DO you keep so slim, Anne? I'm fatter than ever--I'll soon have nowaist at all. "

"Stoutness and slimness seem to be matters of predestination, " saidAnne. "At all events, Mrs. Harmon Andrews can't say to you what shesaid to me when I came home from Summerside, 'Well, Anne, you're justabout as skinny as ever. ' It sounds quite romantic to be 'slender, 'but 'skinny' has a very different tang. "

"Mrs. Harmon has been talking about your trousseau. She admits it's asnice as Jane's, although she says Jane married a millionaire and youare only marrying a 'poor young doctor without a cent to his name. '"

Anne laughed. 

"My dresses ARE nice. I love pretty things. I remember the firstpretty dress I ever had--the brown gloria Matthew gave me for ourschool concert. Before that everything I had was so ugly. It seemedto me that I stepped into a new world that night. "

"That was the night Gilbert recited 'Bingen on the Rhine, ' and lookedat you when he said, 'There's another, NOT a sister. ' And you were sofurious because he put your pink tissue rose in his breast pocket! Youdidn't much imagine then that you would ever marry him. "

"Oh, well, that's another instance of predestination, " laughed Anne, asthey went down the garret stairs. 

CHAPTER 2

THE HOUSE OF DREAMS

There was more excitement in the air of Green Gables than there hadever been before in all its history. Even Marilla was so excited thatshe couldn't help showing it--which was little short of beingphenomenal. 

"There's never been a wedding in this house, " she said, halfapologetically, to Mrs. Rachel Lynde. "When I was a child I heard anold minister say that a house was not a real home until it had beenconsecrated by a birth, a wedding and a death. We've had deathshere--my father and mother died here as well as Matthew; and we've evenhad a birth here. Long ago, just after we moved into this house, wehad a married hired man for a little while, and his wife had a babyhere. But there's never been a wedding before. It does seem sostrange to think of Anne being married. In a way she just seems to methe little girl Matthew brought home here fourteen years ago. I can'trealize that she's grown up. I shall never forget what I felt when Isaw Matthew bringing in a GIRL. I wonder what became of the boy wewould have got if there hadn't been a mistake. I wonder what HIS fatewas. "

"Well, it was a fortunate mistake, " said Mrs. Rachel Lynde, "though, mind you, there was a time I didn't think so--that evening I came up tosee Anne and she treated us to such a scene. Many things have changedsince then, that's what. "

Mrs. Rachel sighed, and then brisked up again. When weddings were inorder Mrs. Rachel was ready to let the dead past bury its dead. 

"I'm going to give Anne two of my cotton warp spreads, " she resumed. "A tobacco-stripe one and an apple-leaf one. She tells me they'regetting to be real fashionable again. Well, fashion or no fashion, Idon't believe there's anything prettier for a spare-room bed than anice apple-leaf spread, that's what. I must see about getting thembleached. I've had them sewed up in cotton bags ever since Thomasdied, and no doubt they're an awful color. But there's a month yet, and dew-bleaching will work wonders. "

Only a month! Marilla sighed and then said proudly:

"I'm giving Anne that half dozen braided rugs I have in the garret. Inever supposed she'd want them--they're so old-fashioned, and nobodyseems to want anything but hooked mats now. But she asked me forthem--said she'd rather have them than anything else for her floors. They ARE pretty. I made them of the nicest rags, and braided them instripes. It was such company these last few winters. And I'll makeher enough blue plum preserve to stock her jam closet for a year. Itseems real strange. Those blue plum trees hadn't even a blossom forthree years, and I thought they might as well be cut down. And thislast spring they were white, and such a crop of plums I never rememberat Green Gables. "

"Well, thank goodness that Anne and Gilbert really are going to bemarried after all. It's what I've always prayed for, " said Mrs. Rachel, in the tone of one who is comfortably sure that her prayershave availed much. "It was a great relief to find out that she reallydidn't mean to take the Kingsport man. He was rich, to be sure, andGilbert is poor--at least, to begin with; but then he's an Island boy. "

"He's Gilbert Blythe, " said Marilla contentedly. Marilla would havedied the death before she would have put into words the thought thatwas always in the background of her mind whenever she had looked atGilbert from his childhood up--the thought that, had it not been forher own wilful pride long, long ago, he might have been HER son. Marilla felt that, in some strange way, his marriage with Anne wouldput right that old mistake. Good had come out of the evil of theancient bitterness. 

As for Anne herself, she was so happy that she almost felt frightened. The gods, so says the old superstition, do not like to behold too happymortals. It is certain, at least, that some human beings do not. Twoof that ilk descended upon Anne one violet dusk and proceeded to dowhat in them lay to prick the rainbow bubble of her satisfaction. Ifshe thought she was getting any particular prize in young Dr. Blythe, or if she imagined that he was still as infatuated with her as he mighthave been in his salad days, it was surely their duty to put the matterbefore her in another light. Yet these two worthy ladies were notenemies of Anne; on the contrary, they were really quite fond of her, and would have defended her as their own young had anyone else attackedher. Human nature is not obliged to be consistent. 

Mrs. Inglis--nee Jane Andrews, to quote from the Daily Enterprise--camewith her mother and Mrs. Jasper Bell. But in Jane the milk of humankindness had not been curdled by years of matrimonial bickerings. Herlines had fallen in pleasant places. In spite of the fact--as Mrs. Rachel Lynde would say--that she had married a millionaire, hermarriage had been happy. Wealth had not spoiled her. She was stillthe placid, amiable, pink-cheeked Jane of the old quartette, sympathising with her old chum's happiness and as keenly interested inall the dainty details of Anne's trousseau as if it could rival her ownsilken and bejewelled splendors. Jane was not brilliant, and hadprobably never made a remark worth listening to in her life; but shenever said anything that would hurt anyone's feelings--which may be anegative talent but is likewise a rare and enviable one. 

"So Gilbert didn't go back on you after all, " said Mrs. Harmon Andrews, contriving to convey an expression of surprise in her tone. "Well, theBlythes generally keep their word when they've once passed it, nomatter what happens. Let me see--you're twenty-five, aren't you, Anne?When I was a girl twenty-five was the first corner. But you look quiteyoung. Red-headed people always do. "

"Red hair is very fashionable now, " said Anne, trying to smile, butspeaking rather coldly. Life had developed in her a sense of humorwhich helped her over many difficulties; but as yet nothing had availedto steel her against a reference to her hair. 

"So it is--so it is, " conceded Mrs. Harmon. "There's no telling whatqueer freaks fashion will take. Well, Anne, your things are verypretty, and very suitable to your position in life, aren't they, Jane?I hope you'll be very happy. You have my best wishes, I'm sure. Along engagement doesn't often turn out well. But, of course, in yourcase it couldn't be helped. "

"Gilbert looks very young for a doctor. I'm afraid people won't havemuch confidence in him, " said Mrs. Jasper Bell gloomily. Then she shuther mouth tightly, as if she had said what she considered it her dutyto say and held her conscience clear. She belonged to the type whichalways has a stringy black feather in its hat and straggling locks ofhair on its neck. 

Anne's surface pleasure in her pretty bridal things was temporarilyshadowed; but the deeps of happiness below could not thus be disturbed;and the little stings of Mesdames Bell and Andrews were forgotten whenGilbert came later, and they wandered down to the birches of the brook, which had been saplings when Anne had come to Green Gables, but werenow tall, ivory columns in a fairy palace of twilight and stars. Intheir shadows Anne and Gilbert talked in lover-fashion of their newhome and their new life together. 

"I've found a nest for us, Anne. "

"Oh, where? Not right in the village, I hope. I wouldn't like thataltogether. "

"No. There was no house to be had in the village. This is a littlewhite house on the harbor shore, half way between Glen St. Mary andFour Winds Point. It's a little out of the way, but when we get a'phone in that won't matter so much. The situation is beautiful. Itlooks to the sunset and has the great blue harbor before it. Thesand-dunes aren't very far away--the sea winds blow over them and thesea spray drenches them. "

"But the house itself, Gilbert, --OUR first home? What is it like?"

"Not very large, but large enough for us. There's a splendid livingroom with a fireplace in it downstairs, and a dining room that looksout on the harbor, and a little room that will do for my office. It isabout sixty years old--the oldest house in Four Winds. But it has beenkept in pretty good repair, and was all done over about fifteen yearsago--shingled, plastered and re-floored. It was well built to beginwith. I understand that there was some romantic story connected withits building, but the man I rented it from didn't know it. "

"He said Captain Jim was the only one who could spin that old yarn now. "

"Who is Captain Jim?"

"The keeper of the lighthouse on Four Winds Point. You'll love thatFour Winds light, Anne. It's a revolving one, and it flashes like amagnificent star through the twilights. We can see it from our livingroom windows and our front door. "

"Who owns the house?"

"Well, it's the property of the Glen St. Mary Presbyterian Church now, and I rented it from the trustees. But it belonged until lately to avery old lady, Miss Elizabeth Russell. She died last spring, and asshe had no near relatives she left her property to the Glen St. MaryChurch. Her furniture is still in the house, and I bought most ofit--for a mere song you might say, because it was all so old-fashionedthat the trustees despaired of selling it. Glen St. Mary folks preferplush brocade and sideboards with mirrors and ornamentations, I fancy. But Miss Russell's furniture is very good and I feel sure you'll likeit, Anne. "

"So far, good, " said Anne, nodding cautious approval. "But, Gilbert, people cannot live by furniture alone. You haven't yet mentioned onevery important thing. Are there TREES about this house?"

"Heaps of them, oh, dryad! There is a big grove of fir trees behindit, two rows of Lombardy poplars down the lane, and a ring of whitebirches around a very delightful garden. Our front door opens rightinto the garden, but there is another entrance--a little gate hungbetween two firs. The hinges are on one trunk and the catch on theother. Their boughs form an arch overhead. "

"Oh, I'm so glad! I couldn't live where there were no trees--somethingvital in me would starve. Well, after that, there's no use asking youif there's a brook anywhere near. THAT would be expecting too much. "

"But there IS a brook--and it actually cuts across one corner of thegarden. "

"Then, " said Anne, with a long sigh of supreme satisfaction, "thishouse you have found IS my house of dreams and none other. "

CHAPTER 3

THE LAND OF DREAMS AMONG

"Have you made up your mind who you're going to have to the wedding, Anne?" asked Mrs. Rachel Lynde, as she hemstitched table napkinsindustriously. "It's time your invitations were sent, even if they areto be only informal ones. "

"I don't mean to have very many, " said Anne. "We just want those welove best to see us married. Gilbert's people, and Mr. And Mrs. Allan, and Mr. And Mrs. Harrison. "

"There was a time when you'd hardly have numbered Mr. Harrison amongyour dearest friends, " said Marilla drily. 

"Well, I wasn't VERY strongly attracted to him at our first meeting, "acknowledged Anne, with a laugh over the recollection. "But Mr. Harrison has improved on acquaintance, and Mrs. Harrison is really adear. Then, of course, there are Miss Lavendar and Paul. "

"Have they decided to come to the Island this summer? I thought theywere going to Europe. "

"They changed their minds when I wrote them I was going to be married. I had a letter from Paul today. He says he MUST come to my wedding, nomatter what happens to Europe. "

"That child always idolised you, " remarked Mrs. Rachel. 

"That 'child' is a young man of nineteen now, Mrs. Lynde. "

"How time does fly!" was Mrs. Lynde's brilliant and original response. 

"Charlotta the Fourth may come with them. She sent word by Paul thatshe would come if her husband would let her. I wonder if she stillwears those enormous blue bows, and whether her husband calls herCharlotta or Leonora. I should love to have Charlotta at my wedding. Charlotta and I were at a wedding long syne. They expect to be at EchoLodge next week. Then there are Phil and the Reverend Jo----"

"It sounds awful to hear you speaking of a minister like that, Anne, "said Mrs. Rachel severely. 

"His wife calls him that. "

"She should have more respect for his holy office, then, " retorted Mrs. Rachel. 

"I've heard you criticise ministers pretty sharply yourself, " teasedAnne. 

"Yes, but I do it reverently, " protested Mrs. Lynde. "You never heardme NICKNAME a minister. "

Anne smothered a smile. 

"Well, there are Diana and Fred and little Fred and Small AnneCordelia--and Jane Andrews. I wish I could have Miss Stacey and AuntJamesina and Priscilla and Stella. But Stella is in Vancouver, andPris is in Japan, and Miss Stacey is married in California, and AuntJamesina has gone to India to explore her daughter's mission field, inspite of her horror of snakes. It's really dreadful--the way peopleget scattered over the globe. "

"The Lord never intended it, that's what, " said Mrs. Rachelauthoritatively. "In my young days people grew up and married andsettled down where they were born, or pretty near it. Thank goodnessyou've stuck to the Island, Anne. I was afraid Gilbert would insist onrushing off to the ends of the earth when he got through college, anddragging you with him. "

"If everybody stayed where he was born places would soon be filled up, Mrs. Lynde. "

"Oh, I'm not going to argue with you, Anne. _I_ am not a B. A. Whattime of the day is the ceremony to be?"

"We have decided on noon--high noon, as the society reporters say. That will give us time to catch the evening train to Glen St. Mary. "

"And you'll be married in the parlor?"

"No--not unless it rains. We mean to be married in the orchard--withthe blue sky over us and the sunshine around us. Do you know when andwhere I'd like to be married, if I could? It would be at dawn--a Junedawn, with a glorious sunrise, and roses blooming in the gardens; and Iwould slip down and meet Gilbert and we would go together to the heartof the beech woods, --and there, under the green arches that would belike a splendid cathedral, we would be married. "

Marilla sniffed scornfully and Mrs. Lynde looked shocked. 

"But that would be terrible queer, Anne. Why, it wouldn't really seemlegal. And what would Mrs. Harmon Andrews say?"

"Ah, there's the rub, " sighed Anne. "There are so many things in lifewe cannot do because of the fear of what Mrs. Harmon Andrews would say. ''Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true. ' What delightfulthings we might do were it not for Mrs. Harmon Andrews!"

"By times, Anne, I don't feel quite sure that I understand youaltogether, " complained Mrs. Lynde. 

"Anne was always romantic, you know, " said Marilla apologetically. 

"Well, married life will most likely cure her of that, " Mrs. Rachelresponded comfortingly. 

Anne laughed and slipped away to Lover's Lane, where Gilbert found her;and neither of them seemed to entertain much fear, or hope, that theirmarried life would cure them of romance. 

The Echo Lodge people came over the next week, and Green Gables buzzedwith the delight of them. Miss Lavendar had changed so little that thethree years since her last Island visit might have been a watch in thenight; but Anne gasped with amazement over Paul. Could this splendidsix feet of manhood be the little Paul of Avonlea schooldays?

"You really make me feel old, Paul, " said Anne. "Why, I have to lookup to you!"

"You'll never grow old, Teacher, " said Paul. "You are one of thefortunate mortals who have found and drunk from the Fountain ofYouth, --you and Mother Lavendar. See here! When you're married IWON'T call you Mrs. Blythe. To me you'll always be 'Teacher'--theteacher of the best lessons I ever learned. I want to show yousomething. "

The "something" was a pocketbook full of poems. Paul had put some ofhis beautiful fancies into verse, and magazine editors had not been asunappreciative as they are sometimes supposed to be. Anne read Paul'spoems with real delight. They were full of charm and promise. 

"You'll be famous yet, Paul. I always dreamed of having one famouspupil. He was to be a college president--but a great poet would beeven better. Some day I'll be able to boast that I whipped thedistinguished Paul Irving. But then I never did whip you, did I, Paul?What an opportunity lost! I think I kept you in at recess, however. "

"You may be famous yourself, Teacher. I've seen a good deal of yourwork these last three years. "

"No. I know what I can do. I can write pretty, fanciful littlesketches that children love and editors send welcome cheques for. ButI can do nothing big. My only chance for earthly immortality is acorner in your Memoirs. "

Charlotta the Fourth had discarded the blue bows but her freckles werenot noticeably less. 

"I never did think I'd come down to marrying a Yankee, Miss Shirley, ma'am, " she said. "But you never know what's before you, and it isn'this fault. He was born that way. "

"You're a Yankee yourself, Charlotta, since you've married one. "

"Miss Shirley, ma'am, I'm NOT! And I wouldn't be if I was to marry adozen Yankees! Tom's kind of nice. And besides, I thought I'd betternot be too hard to please, for I mightn't get another chance. Tomdon't drink and he don't growl because he has to work between meals, and when all's said and done I'm satisfied, Miss Shirley, ma'am. "

"Does he call you Leonora?" asked Anne. 

"Goodness, no, Miss Shirley, ma'am. I wouldn't know who he meant if hedid. Of course, when we got married he had to say, 'I take thee, Leonora, ' and I declare to you, Miss Shirley, ma'am, I've had the mostdreadful feeling ever since that it wasn't me he was talking to and Ihaven't been rightly married at all. And so you're going to be marriedyourself, Miss Shirley, ma'am? I always thought I'd like to marry adoctor. It would be so handy when the children had measles and croup. Tom is only a bricklayer, but he's real good-tempered. When I said tohim, says I, 'Tom, can I go to Miss Shirley's wedding? I mean to goanyhow, but I'd like to have your consent, ' he just says, 'Suityourself, Charlotta, and you'll suit me. ' That's a real pleasant kindof husband to have, Miss Shirley, ma'am. "

Philippa and her Reverend Jo arrived at Green Gables the day before thewedding. Anne and Phil had a rapturous meeting which presentlysimmered down to a cosy, confidential chat over all that had been andwas about to be. 

"Queen Anne, you're as queenly as ever. I've got fearfully thin sincethe babies came. I'm not half so good-looking; but I think Jo likesit. There's not such a contrast between us, you see. And oh, it'sperfectly magnificent that you're going to marry Gilbert. Roy Gardnerwouldn't have done at all, at all. I can see that now, though I washorribly disappointed at the time. You know, Anne, you did treat Royvery badly. "

"He has recovered, I understand, " smiled Anne. 

"Oh, yes. He is married and his wife is a sweet little thing andthey're perfectly happy. Everything works together for good. Jo andthe 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 Placecome 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 thefireplace and knit. And that reminds me--we've brought you a weddinggift 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 sheasked if I would take her gift to you. What would you wish most fromPatty'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 letterfor you. Wait a moment and I'll get it. "

"Dear Miss Shirley, " Miss Patty had written, "Maria and I were verymuch interested in hearing of your approaching nuptials. We send youour best wishes. Maria and I have never married, but we have noobjection 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 havesincere affection for them. But Maria and I expect to live a goodwhile yet (D. V. ), so I have decided to give you the dogs while you areyoung. You will not have forgotten that Gog looks to the right andMagog to the left. "

"Just fancy those lovely old dogs sitting by the fireplace in my houseof dreams, " said Anne rapturously. "I never expected anything sodelightful. "

That evening Green Gables hummed with preparations for the followingday; but in the twilight Anne slipped away. She had a littlepilgrimage to make on this last day of her girlhood and she must makeit alone. She went to Matthew's grave, in the little poplar-shadedAvonlea graveyard, and there kept a silent tryst with old memories andimmortal loves. 

"How glad Matthew would be tomorrow if he were here, " she whispered. "But I believe he does know and is glad of it--somewhere else. I'veread somewhere that 'our dead are never dead until we have forgottenthem. ' 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 slowlydown the long hill. It was a gracious evening, full of delectablelights and shadows. In the west was a sky of mackerel clouds--crimsonand amber-tinted, with long strips of apple-green sky between. Beyondwas the glimmering radiance of a sunset sea, and the ceaseless voice ofmany waters came up from the tawny shore. All around her, lying in thefine, beautiful country silence, were the hills and fields and woodsshe had known and loved so long. 

"History repeats itself, " said Gilbert, joining her as she passed theBlythe gate. "Do you remember our first walk down this hill, Anne--ourfirst walk together anywhere, for that matter?"

"I was coming home in the twilight from Matthew's grave--and you cameout of the gate; and I swallowed the pride of years and spoke to you. "

"And all heaven opened before me, " supplemented Gilbert. "From thatmoment I looked forward to tomorrow. When I left you at your gate thatnight and walked home I was the happiest boy in the world. Anne hadforgiven me. "

"I think you had the most to forgive. I was an ungrateful littlewretch--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 deservethe happiness that has come to me. "

Gilbert laughed and clasped tighter the girlish hand that wore hisring. Anne's engagement ring was a circlet of pearls. She had refusedto wear a diamond. 

"I've never really liked diamonds since I found out they weren't thelovely purple I had dreamed. They will always suggest my olddisappointment . "

"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. Myvery happiest moments have been when I had tears in my eyes--whenMarilla told me I might stay at Green Gables--when Matthew gave me thefirst pretty dress I ever had--when I heard that you were going torecover 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. Forthe morrow was their wedding day, and their house of dreams awaitedthem on the misty, purple shore of Four Winds Harbor. 

CHAPTER 4

THE FIRST BRIDE OF GREEN GABLES

Anne wakened on the morning of her wedding day to find the sunshinewinking in at the window of the little porch gable and a Septemberbreeze 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 porchroom, when the sunshine had crept in on her through the blossom-driftof the old Snow Queen. That had not been a happy wakening, for itbrought with it the bitter disappointment of the preceding night. Butsince then the little room had been endeared and consecrated by yearsof happy childhood dreams and maiden visions. To it she had come backjoyfully after all her absences; at its window she had knelt throughthat night of bitter agony when she believed Gilbert dying, and by itshe had sat in speechless happiness the night of her betrothal. Manyvigils of joy and some of sorrow had been kept there; and today shemust leave it forever. Henceforth it would be hers no more;fifteen-year-old Dora was to inherit it when she had gone. Nor didAnne wish it otherwise; the little room was sacred to youth andgirlhood--to the past that was to close today before the chapter ofwifehood opened. 

Green Gables was a busy and joyous house that forenoon. Diana arrivedearly, with little Fred and Small Anne Cordelia, to lend a hand. Davyand Dora, the Green Gables twins, whisked the babies off to the garden. 

"Don't let Small Anne Cordelia spoil her clothes, " warned Dianaanxiously. 

"You needn't be afraid to trust her with Dora, " said Marilla. "Thatchild 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 otherharum-scarum I brought up. "

Marilla smiled across her chicken salad at Anne. It might even besuspected that she liked the harum-scarum best after all. 

"Those twins are real nice children, " said Mrs. Rachel, when she wassure they were out of earshot. "Dora is so womanly and helpful, andDavy is developing into a very smart boy. He isn't the holy terror formischief he used to be. "

"I never was so distracted in my life as I was the first six months hewas here, " acknowledged Marilla. "After that I suppose I got used tohim. He's taken a great notion to farming lately, and wants me to lethim try running the farm next year. I may, for Mr. Barry doesn't thinkhe'll want to rent it much longer, and some new arrangement will haveto be made. "

"Well, you certainly have a lovely day for your wedding, Anne, " saidDiana, as she slipped a voluminous apron over her silken array. "Youcouldn'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 sameEaton's, " said Mrs. Lynde indignantly. She had strong views on thesubject of octopus-like department stores, and never lost anopportunity of airing them. "And as for those catalogues of theirs, they're the Avonlea girls' Bible now, that's what. They pore over themon Sundays instead of studying the Holy Scriptures. "

"Well, they're splendid to amuse children with, " said Diana. "Fred andSmall Anne look at the pictures by the hour. "

"_I_ amused ten children without the aid of Eaton's catalogue, " saidMrs. 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 elseto 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 inthe nature of a challenge to Providence to flaunt your happiness tooopenly. 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 GreenGables, slender and shining-eyed, in the mist of her maiden veil, withher 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 himshe was coming in the sweet surrender of the bride. Was he worthy ofher? Could he make her as happy as he hoped? If he failed her--if hecould not measure up to her standard of manhood--then, as she held outher hand, their eyes met and all doubt was swept away in a gladcertainty. They belonged to each other; and, no matter what life mighthold for them, it could never alter that. Their happiness was in eachother's keeping and both were unafraid. 

They were married in the sunshine of the old orchard, circled by theloving and kindly faces of long-familiar friends. Mr. Allan marriedthem, and the Reverend Jo made what Mrs. Rachel Lynde afterwardspronounced to be the "most beautiful wedding prayer" she had everheard. Birds do not often sing in September, but one sang sweetly fromsome hidden bough while Gilbert and Anne repeated their deathless vows. Anne heard it and thrilled to it; Gilbert heard it, and wondered onlythat all the birds in the world had not burst into jubilant song; Paulheard it and later wrote a lyric about it which was one of the mostadmired in his first volume of verse; Charlotta the Fourth heard it andwas blissfully sure it meant good luck for her adored Miss Shirley. The bird sang until the ceremony was ended and then it wound up withone mad little, glad little trill. Never had the old gray-green houseamong its enfolding orchards known a blither, merrier afternoon. Allthe old jests and quips that must have done duty at weddings since Edenwere served up, and seemed as new and brilliant and mirth-provoking asif they had never been uttered before. Laughter and joy had their way;and when Anne and Gilbert left to catch the Carmody train, with Paul asdriver, the twins were ready with rice and old shoes, in the throwingof which Charlotta the Fourth and Mr. Harrison bore a valiant part. Marilla stood at the gate and watched the carriage out of sight downthe long lane with its banks of goldenrod. Anne turned at its end towave her last good-bye. She was gone--Green Gables was her home nomore; Marilla's face looked very gray and old as she turned to thehouse which Anne had filled for fourteen years, and even in herabsence, with light and life. 

But Diana and her small fry, the Echo Lodge people and the Allans, hadstayed to help the two old ladies over the loneliness of the firstevening; and they contrived to have a quietly pleasant little suppertime, sitting long around the table and chatting over all the detailsof the day. While they were sitting there Anne and Gilbert werealighting from the train at Glen St. Mary. 

CHAPTER 5

THE HOME COMING

Dr. David Blythe had sent his horse and buggy to meet them, and theurchin who had brought it slipped away with a sympathetic grin, leavingthem to the delight of driving alone to their new home through theradiant evening. 

Anne never forgot the loveliness of the view that broke upon them whenthey had driven over the hill behind the village. Her new home couldnot yet be seen; but before her lay Four Winds Harbor like a great, shining mirror of rose and silver. Far down, she saw its entrancebetween the bar of sand dunes on one side and a steep, high, grim, redsandstone cliff on the other. Beyond the bar the sea, calm andaustere, dreamed in the afterlight. The little fishing village, nestled in the cove where the sand-dunes met the harbor shore, lookedlike a great opal in the haze. The sky over them was like a jewelledcup from which the dusk was pouring; the air was crisp with thecompelling tang of the sea, and the whole landscape was infused withthe subtleties of a sea evening. A few dim sails drifted along thedarkening, fir-clad harbor shores. A bell was ringing from the towerof a little white church on the far side; mellowly and dreamily sweet, the chime floated across the water blent with the moan of the sea. Thegreat revolving light on the cliff at the channel flashed warm andgolden against the clear northern sky, a trembling, quivering star ofgood hope. Far out along the horizon was the crinkled gray ribbon of apassing steamer's smoke. 

"Oh, beautiful, beautiful, " murmured Anne. "I shall love Four Winds, Gilbert. Where is our house?"

"We can't see it yet--the belt of birch running up from that littlecove hides it. It's about two miles from Glen St. Mary, and there'sanother mile between it and the light-house. We won't have manyneighbors, Anne. There's only one house near us and I don't know wholives in it. Shall you be lonely when I'm away?"

"Not with that light and that loveliness for company. Who lives inthat house, Gilbert?"

"I don't know. It doesn't look--exactly--as if the occupants would bekindred spirits, Anne, does it?"

The house was a large, substantial affair, painted such a vivid greenthat the landscape seemed quite faded by contrast. There was anorchard behind it, and a nicely kept lawn before it, but, somehow, there was a certain bareness about it. Perhaps its neatness wasresponsible for this; the whole establishment, house, barns, orchard, garden, lawn and lane, was so starkly neat. 

"It doesn't seem probable that anyone with that taste in paint could beVERY kindred, " acknowledged Anne, "unless it were an accident--like ourblue hall. I feel certain there are no children there, at least. It'seven neater than the old Copp place on the Tory road, and I neverexpected to see anything neater than that. "

They had not met anybody on the moist, red road that wound along theharbor shore. But just before they came to the belt of birch which hidtheir home, Anne saw a girl who was driving a flock of snow-white geesealong the crest of a velvety green hill on the right. Great, scatteredfirs grew along it. Between their trunks one saw glimpses of yellowharvest fields, gleams of golden sand-hills, and bits of blue sea. Thegirl was tall and wore a dress of pale blue print. She walked with acertain springiness of step and erectness of bearing. She and hergeese came out of the gate at the foot of the hill as Anne and Gilbertpassed. She stood with her hand on the fastening of the gate, andlooked steadily at them, with an expression that hardly attained tointerest, but did not descend to curiosity. It seemed to Anne, for afleeting moment, that there was even a veiled hint of hostility in it. But it was the girl's beauty which made Anne give a little gasp--abeauty so marked that it must have attracted attention anywhere. Shewas hatless, but heavy braids of burnished hair, the hue of ripe wheat, were twisted about her head like a coronet; her eyes were blue andstar-like; her figure, in its plain print gown, was magnificent; andher lips were as crimson as the bunch of blood-red poppies she wore ather belt. 

"Gilbert, who is the girl we have just passed?" asked Anne, in a lowvoice. 

"I didn't notice any girl, " said Gilbert, who had eyes only for hisbride. 

"She was standing by that gate--no, don't look back. She is stillwatching us. I never saw such a beautiful face. "

"I don't remember seeing any very handsome girls while I was here. There are some pretty girls up at the Glen, but I hardly think theycould be called beautiful. "

"This girl is. You can't have seen her, or you would remember her. Nobody could forget her. I never saw such a face except in pictures. And her hair! It made me think of Browning's 'cord of gold' and'gorgeous snake'!"

"Probably she's some visitor in Four Winds--likely some one from thatbig summer hotel over the harbor. "

"She wore a white apron and she was driving geese. "

"She might do that for amusement. Look, Anne--there's our house. "

Anne looked and forgot for a time the girl with the splendid, resentfuleyes. The first glimpse of her new home was a delight to eye andspirit--it looked so like a big, creamy seashell stranded on the harborshore. The rows of tall Lombardy poplars down its lane stood out instately, purple silhouette against the sky. Behind it, sheltering itsgarden from the too keen breath of sea winds, was a cloudy fir wood, inwhich the winds might make all kinds of weird and haunting music. Likeall woods, it seemed to be holding and enfolding secrets in itsrecesses, --secrets whose charm is only to be won by entering in andpatiently seeking. Outwardly, dark green arms keep them inviolate fromcurious or indifferent eyes. 

The night winds were beginning their wild dances beyond the bar and thefishing hamlet across the harbor was gemmed with lights as Anne andGilbert drove up the poplar lane. The door of the little house opened, and a warm glow of firelight flickered out into the dusk. Gilbertlifted Anne from the buggy and led her into the garden, through thelittle gate between the ruddy-tipped firs, up the trim, red path to thesandstone step. 

"Welcome home, " he whispered, and hand in hand they stepped over thethreshold of their house of dreams. 

CHAPTER 6

CAPTAIN JIM

"Old Doctor Dave" and "Mrs. Doctor Dave" had come down to the littlehouse to greet the bride and groom. Doctor Dave was a big, jolly, white-whiskered old fellow, and Mrs. Doctor was a trim rosy-cheeked, silver-haired little lady who took Anne at once to her heart, literallyand figuratively. 

"I'm so glad to see you, dear. You must be real tired. We've got abite of supper ready, and Captain Jim brought up some trout for you. Captain Jim--where are you? Oh, he's slipped out to see to the horse, I suppose. Come upstairs and take your things off. "

Anne looked about her with bright, appreciative eyes as she followedMrs. Doctor Dave upstairs. She liked the appearance of her new homevery much. It seemed to have the atmosphere of Green Gables and theflavor of her old traditions. 

"I think I would have found Miss Elizabeth Russell a 'kindred spirit, '"she murmured when she was alone in her room. There were two windows init; the dormer one looked out on the lower harbor and the sand-bar andthe Four Winds light. 

 "A magic casement opening on the foam Of perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn, "

quoted Anne softly. The gable window gave a view of a littleharvest-hued valley through which a brook ran. Half a mile up thebrook was the only house in sight--an old, rambling, gray onesurrounded by huge willows through which its windows peered, like shy, seeking eyes, into the dusk. Anne wondered who lived there; they wouldbe her nearest neighbors and she hoped they would be nice. Shesuddenly found herself thinking of the beautiful girl with the whitegeese. 

"Gilbert thought she didn't belong here, " mused Anne, "but I feel sureshe does. There was something about her that made her part of the seaand the sky and the harbor. Four Winds is in her blood. "

When Anne went downstairs Gilbert was standing before the fireplacetalking to a stranger. Both turned as Anne entered. 

"Anne, this is Captain Boyd. Captain Boyd, my wife. "

It was the first time Gilbert had said "my wife" to anybody but Anne, and he narrowly escaped bursting with the pride of it. The old captainheld out a sinewy hand to Anne; they smiled at each other and werefriends from that moment. Kindred spirit flashed recognition tokindred spirit. 

"I'm right down pleased to meet you, Mistress Blythe; and I hope you'llbe as happy as the first bride was who came here. I can't wish you nobetter than THAT. But your husband doesn't introduce me jest exactlyright. 'Captain Jim' is my week-a-day name and you might as well beginas you're sartain to end up--calling me that. You sartainly are a nicelittle bride, Mistress Blythe. Looking at you sorter makes me feelthat I've jest been married myself. "

Amid the laughter that followed Mrs. Doctor Dave urged Captain Jim tostay and have supper with them. 

"Thank you kindly. 'Twill be a real treat, Mistress Doctor. I mostlyhas to eat my meals alone, with the reflection of my ugly old phiz in alooking-glass opposite for company. 'Tisn't often I have a chance tosit down with two such sweet, purty ladies. "

Captain Jim's compliments may look very bald on paper, but he paid themwith such a gracious, gentle deference of tone and look that the womanupon whom they were bestowed felt that she was being offered a queen'stribute in a kingly fashion. 

Captain Jim was a high-souled, simple-minded old man, with eternalyouth in his eyes and heart. He had a tall, rather ungainly figure, somewhat stooped, yet suggestive of great strength and endurance; aclean-shaven face deeply lined and bronzed; a thick mane of iron-grayhair falling quite to his shoulders, and a pair of remarkably blue, deep-set eyes, which sometimes twinkled and sometimes dreamed, andsometimes looked out seaward with a wistful quest in them, as of oneseeking something precious and lost. Anne was to learn one day what itwas for which Captain Jim looked. 

It could not be denied that Captain Jim was a homely man. His sparejaws, rugged mouth, and square brow were not fashioned on the lines ofbeauty; and he had passed through many hardships and sorrows which hadmarked his body as well as his soul; but though at first sight Annethought him plain she never thought anything more about it--the spiritshining through that rugged tenement beautified it so wholly. 

They gathered gaily around the supper table. The hearth fire banishedthe chill of the September evening, but the window of the dining roomwas open and sea breezes entered at their own sweet will. The view wasmagnificent, taking in the harbor and the sweep of low, purple hillsbeyond. The table was heaped with Mrs. Doctor's delicacies but thepiece de resistance was undoubtedly the big platter of sea trout. 

"Thought they'd be sorter tasty after travelling, " said Captain Jim. "They're fresh as trout can be, Mistress Blythe. Two hours ago theywere swimming in the Glen Pond. "

"Who is attending to the light tonight, Captain Jim?" asked Doctor Dave. 

"Nephew Alec. He understands it as well as I do. Well, now, I'm realglad you asked me to stay to supper. I'm proper hungry--didn't havemuch of a dinner today. "

"I believe you half starve yourself most of the time down at thatlight, " said Mrs. Doctor Dave severely. "You won't take the trouble toget up a decent meal. "

"Oh, I do, Mistress Doctor, I do, " protested Captain Jim. "Why, I livelike a king gen'rally. Last night I was up to the Glen and took hometwo pounds of steak. I meant to have a spanking good dinner today. "

"And what happened to the steak?" asked Mrs. Doctor Dave. "Did youlose it on the way home?"

"No. " Captain Jim looked sheepish. "Just at bedtime a poor, ornerysort of dog came along and asked for a night's lodging. Guess hebelonged to some of the fishermen 'long shore. I couldn't turn thepoor cur out--he had a sore foot. So I shut him in the porch, with anold bag to lie on, and went to bed. But somehow I couldn't sleep. Come to think it over, I sorter remembered that the dog looked hungry. "

"And you got up and gave him that steak--ALL that steak, " said Mrs. Doctor Dave, with a kind of triumphant reproof. 

"Well, there wasn't anything else TO give him, " said Captain Jimdeprecatingly. "Nothing a dog'd care for, that is. I reckon he WAShungry, for he made about two bites of it. I had a fine sleep the restof the night but my dinner had to be sorter scanty--potatoes and point, as you might say. The dog, he lit out for home this morning. I reckonHE weren't a vegetarian. "

"The idea of starving yourself for a worthless dog!" sniffed Mrs. Doctor. 

"You don't know but he may be worth a lot to somebody, " protestedCaptain Jim. "He didn't LOOK of much account, but you can't go bylooks in jedging a dog. Like meself, he might be a real beauty inside. The First Mate didn't approve of him, I'll allow. His language wasright down forcible. But the First Mate is prejudiced. No use intaking a cat's opinion of a dog. 'Tennyrate, I lost my dinner, so thisnice spread in this dee-lightful company is real pleasant. It's a greatthing to have good neighbors. "

"Who lives in the house among the willows up the brook?" asked Anne. 

"Mrs. Dick Moore, " said Captain Jim--"and her husband, " he added, as ifby way of an afterthought. 

Anne smiled, and deduced a mental picture of Mrs. Dick Moore fromCaptain Jim's way of putting it; evidently a second Mrs. Rachel Lynde. 

"You haven't many neighbors, Mistress Blythe, " Captain Jim went on. "This side of the harbor is mighty thinly settled. Most of the landbelongs to Mr. Howard up yander past the Glen, and he rents it out forpasture. The other side of the harbor, now, is thick withfolks--'specially MacAllisters. There's a whole colony of MacAllistersyou can't throw a stone but you hit one. I was talking to old LeonBlacquiere the other day. He's been working on the harbor all summer. 'Dey're nearly all MacAllisters over thar, ' he told me. 'Dare's NeilMacAllister and Sandy MacAllister and William MacAllister and AlecMacAllister and Angus MacAllister--and I believe dare's de DevilMacAllister. '"

"There are nearly as many Elliotts and Crawfords, " said Doctor Dave, after the laughter had subsided. "You know, Gilbert, we folk on thisside of Four Winds have an old saying--'From the conceit of theElliotts, the pride of the MacAllisters, and the vainglory of theCrawfords, good Lord deliver us. '"

"There's a plenty of fine people among them, though, " said Captain Jim. "I sailed with William Crawford for many a year, and for courage andendurance and truth that man hadn't an equal. They've got brains overon that side of Four Winds. Mebbe that's why this side is sorterinclined to pick on 'em. Strange, ain't it, how folks seem to resentanyone being born a mite cleverer than they be. "

Doctor Dave, who had a forty years' feud with the over-harbor people, laughed and subsided. 

"Who lives in that brilliant emerald house about half a mile up theroad?" asked Gilbert. 

Captain Jim smiled delightedly. 

"Miss Cornelia Bryant. She'll likely be over to see you soon, seeingyou're Presbyterians. If you were Methodists she wouldn't come at all. Cornelia has a holy horror of Methodists. "

"She's quite a character, " chuckled Doctor Dave. "A most inveterateman-hater!"

"Sour grapes?" queried Gilbert, laughing. 

"No, 'tisn't sour grapes, " answered Captain Jim seriously. "Corneliacould have had her pick when she was young. Even yet she's only to saythe word to see the old widowers jump. She jest seems to have beenborn with a sort of chronic spite agin men and Methodists. She's gotthe bitterest tongue and the kindest heart in Four Winds. Whereverthere's any trouble, that woman is there, doing everything to help inthe tenderest way. She never says a harsh word about another woman, and if she likes to card us poor scalawags of men down I reckon ourtough old hides can stand it. "

"She always speaks well of you, Captain Jim, " said Mrs. Doctor. 

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I don't half like it. It makes me feel as ifthere must be something sorter unnateral about me. "

CHAPTER 7

THE SCHOOLMASTER'S BRIDE

"Who was the first bride who came to this house, Captain Jim?" Anneasked, as they sat around the fireplace after supper. 

"Was she a part of the story I've heard was connected with this house?"asked Gilbert. "Somebody told me you could tell it, Captain Jim. "

"Well, yes, I know it. I reckon I'm the only person living in FourWinds now that can remember the schoolmaster's bride as she was whenshe come to the Island. She's been dead this thirty year, but she wasone of them women you never forget. "

"Tell us the story, " pleaded Anne. "I want to find out all about thewomen who have lived in this house before me. "

"Well, there's jest been three--Elizabeth Russell, and Mrs. NedRussell, and the schoolmaster's bride. Elizabeth Russell was a nice, clever little critter, and Mrs. Ned was a nice woman, too. But theyweren't ever like the schoolmaster's bride. 

"The schoolmaster's name was John Selwyn. He came out from the OldCountry to teach school at the Glen when I was a boy of sixteen. Hewasn't much like the usual run of derelicts who used to come out toP. E. I. To teach school in them days. Most of them were clever, drunkencritters who taught the children the three R's when they were sober, and lambasted them when they wasn't. But John Selwyn was a fine, handsome young fellow. He boarded at my father's, and he and me werecronies, though he was ten years older'n me. We read and walked andtalked a heap together. He knew about all the poetry that was everwritten, I reckon, and he used to quote it to me along shore in theevenings. Dad thought it an awful waste of time, but he sorter enduredit, hoping it'd put me off the notion of going to sea. Well, nothingcould do THAT--mother come of a race of sea-going folk and it was bornin me. But I loved to hear John read and recite. It's almost sixtyyears ago, but I could repeat yards of poetry I learned from him. Nearly sixty years!"

Captain Jim was silent for a space, gazing into the glowing fire in aquest of the bygones. Then, with a sigh, he resumed his story. 

"I remember one spring evening I met him on the sand-hills. He lookedsorter uplifted--jest like you did, Dr. Blythe, when you broughtMistress Blythe in tonight. I thought of him the minute I seen you. And he told me that he had a sweetheart back home and that she wascoming out to him. I wasn't more'n half pleased, ornery young lump ofselfishness that I was; I thought he wouldn't be as much my friendafter she came. But I'd enough decency not to let him see it. He toldme all about her. Her name was Persis Leigh, and she would have comeout with him if it hadn't been for her old uncle. He was sick, andhe'd looked after her when her parents died and she wouldn't leave him. And now he was dead and she was coming out to marry John Selwyn. 'Twasn't no easy journey for a woman in them days. There weren't nosteamers, you must ricollect. 

"'When do you expect her?' says I. 

"'She sails on the Royal William, the 20th of June, ' says he, 'and soshe should be here by mid-July. I must set Carpenter Johnson tobuilding me a home for her. Her letter come today. I know before Iopened it that it had good news for me. I saw her a few nights ago. '

"I didn't understand him, and then he explained--though I didn'tunderstand THAT much better. He said he had a gift--or a curse. Themwas his words, Mistress Blythe--a gift or a curse. He didn't knowwhich it was. He said a great-great-grandmother of his had had it, andthey burned her for a witch on account of it. He said queerspells--trances, I think was the name he give 'em--come over him nowand again. Are there such things, Doctor?"

"There are people who are certainly subject to trances, " answeredGilbert. "The matter is more in the line of psychical research thanmedical. What were the trances of this John Selwyn like?"

"Like dreams, " said the old Doctor skeptically. 

"He said he could see things in them, " said Captain Jim slowly. 

"Mind you, I'm telling you jest what HE said--things that werehappening--things that were GOING to happen. He said they weresometimes a comfort to him and sometimes a horror. Four nights beforethis he'd been in one--went into it while he was sitting looking at thefire. And he saw an old room he knew well in England, and Persis Leighin it, holding out her hands to him and looking glad and happy. So heknew he was going to hear good news of her. "

"A dream--a dream, " scoffed the old Doctor. 

"Likely--likely, " conceded Captain Jim. "That's what _I_ said to himat the time. It was a vast more comfortable to think so. I didn'tlike the idea of him seeing things like that--it was real uncanny. 

"'No, ' says he, 'I didn't dream it. But we won't talk of this again. You won't be so much my friend if you think much about it. '

"I told him nothing could make me any less his friend. But he jestshook his head and says, says he:

"'Lad, I know. I've lost friends before because of this. I don'tblame them. There are times when I feel hardly friendly to myselfbecause of it. Such a power has a bit of divinity in it--whether of agood or an evil divinity who shall say? And we mortals all shrink fromtoo close contact with God or devil. '

"Them was his words. I remember them as if 'twas yesterday, though Ididn't know jest what he meant. What do you s'pose he DID mean, doctor?"

"I doubt if he knew what he meant himself, " said Doctor Dave testily. 

"I think I understand, " whispered Anne. She was listening in her oldattitude of clasped lips and shining eyes. Captain Jim treated himselfto an admiring smile before he went on with his story. 

"Well, purty soon all the Glen and Four Winds people knew theschoolmaster's bride was coming, and they were all glad because theythought so much of him. And everybody took an interest in his newhouse--THIS house. He picked this site for it, because you could seethe harbor and hear the sea from it. He made the garden out there forhis bride, but he didn't plant the Lombardies. Mrs. Ned Russellplanted THEM. But there's a double row of rose-bushes in the gardenthat the little girls who went to the Glen school set out there for theschoolmaster's bride. He said they were pink for her cheeks and whitefor her brow and red for her lips. He'd quoted poetry so much that hesorter got into the habit of talking it, too, I reckon. 

"Almost everybody sent him some little present to help out thefurnishing of the house. When the Russells came into it they werewell-to-do and furnished it real handsome, as you can see; but thefirst furniture that went into it was plain enough. This little housewas rich in love, though. The women sent in quilts and tablecloths andtowels, and one man made a chest for her, and another a table and soon. Even blind old Aunt Margaret Boyd wove a little basket for her outof the sweet-scented sand-hill grass. The schoolmaster's wife used itfor years to keep her handkerchiefs in. 

"Well, at last everything was ready--even to the logs in the bigfireplace ready for lighting. 'Twasn't exactly THIS fireplace, though'twas in the same place. Miss Elizabeth had this put in when she madethe house over fifteen years ago. It was a big, old-fashionedfireplace where you could have roasted an ox. Many's the time I've sathere and spun yarns, same's I'm doing tonight. "

Again there was a silence, while Captain Jim kept a passing tryst withvisitants Anne and Gilbert could not see--the folks who had sat withhim around that fireplace in the vanished years, with mirth and bridaljoy shining in eyes long since closed forever under churchyard sod orheaving leagues of sea. Here on olden nights children had tossedlaughter lightly to and fro. Here on winter evenings friends hadgathered. Dance and music and jest had been here. Here youths andmaidens had dreamed. For Captain Jim the little house was tenantedwith shapes entreating remembrance. 

"It was the first of July when the house was finished. Theschoolmaster began to count the days then. We used to see him walkingalong the shore, and we'd say to each other, 'She'll soon be with himnow. '

"She was expected the middle of July, but she didn't come then. Nobodyfelt anxious. Vessels were often delayed for days and mebbe weeks. The Royal William was a week overdue--and then two--and then three. And at last we began to be frightened, and it got worse and worse. Fin'lly I couldn't bear to look into John Selwyn's eyes. D'ye know, Mistress Blythe"--Captain Jim lowered his voice--"I used to think thatthey looked just like what his old great-great-grandmother's must havebeen when they were burning her to death. He never said much but hetaught school like a man in a dream and then hurried to the shore. Many a night he walked there from dark to dawn. People said he waslosing his mind. Everybody had given up hope--the Royal William waseight weeks overdue. It was the middle of September and theschoolmaster's bride hadn't come--never would come, we thought. 

"There was a big storm then that lasted three days, and on the eveningafter it died away I went to the shore. I found the schoolmasterthere, leaning with his arms folded against a big rock, gazing out tosea. 

"I spoke to him but he didn't answer. His eyes seemed to be looking atsomething I couldn't see. His face was set, like a dead man's. 

"'John--John, ' I called out--jest like that--jest like a frightenedchild, 'wake up--wake up. '

"That strange, awful look seemed to sorter fade out of his eyes. 

"He turned his head and looked at me. I've never forgot hisface--never will forget it till I ships for my last voyage. 

"'All is well, lad, ' he says. 'I've seen the Royal William comingaround East Point. She will be here by dawn. Tomorrow night I shallsit with my bride by my own hearth-fire. '

"Do you think he did see it?" demanded Captain Jim abruptly. 

"God knows, " said Gilbert softly. "Great love and great pain mightcompass we know not what marvels. "

"I am sure he did see it, " said Anne earnestly. 

"Fol-de-rol, " said Doctor Dave, but he spoke with less conviction thanusual. 

"Because, you know, " said Captain Jim solemnly, "the Royal William cameinto Four Winds Harbor at daylight the next morning. 

"Every soul in the Glen and along the shore was at the old wharf tomeet her. The schoolmaster had been watching there all night. How wecheered as she sailed up the channel. "

Captain Jim's eyes were shining. They were looking at the Four WindsHarbor of sixty years agone, with a battered old ship sailing throughthe sunrise splendor. 

"And Persis Leigh was on board?" asked Anne. 

"Yes--her and the captain's wife. They'd had an awful passage--stormafter storm--and their provisions give out, too. But there they wereat last. When Persis Leigh stepped onto the old wharf John Selwyn tookher in his arms--and folks stopped cheering and begun to cry. I criedmyself, though 'twas years, mind you, afore I'd admit it. Ain't itfunny how ashamed boys are of tears?"

"Was Persis Leigh beautiful?" asked Anne. 

"Well, I don't know that you'd call her beautifulexactly--I--don't--know, " said Captain Jim slowly. "Somehow, you nevergot so far along as to wonder if she was handsome or not. It jestdidn't matter. There was something so sweet and winsome about her thatyou had to love her, that was all. But she was pleasant to lookat--big, clear, hazel eyes and heaps of glossy brown hair, and anEnglish skin. John and her were married at our house that night atearly candle-lighting; everybody from far and near was there to see itand we all brought them down here afterwards. Mistress Selwyn lightedthe fire, and we went away and left them sitting here, jest as John hadseen in that vision of his. A strange thing--a strange thing! ButI've seen a turrible lot of strange things in my time. "

Captain Jim shook his head sagely. 

"It's a dear story, " said Anne, feeling that for once she had gotenough romance to satisfy her. "How long did they live here?"

"Fifteen years. I ran off to sea soon after they were married, likethe young scalawag I was. But every time I come back from a voyage I'dhead for here, even before I went home, and tell Mistress Selwyn allabout it. Fifteen happy years! They had a sort of talent forhappiness, them two. Some folks are like that, if you've noticed. They COULDN'T be unhappy for long, no matter what happened. Theyquarrelled once or twice, for they was both high-sperrited. ButMistress Selwyn says to me once, says she, laughing in that pretty wayof hers, 'I felt dreadful when John and I quarrelled, but underneath itall I was very happy because I had such a nice husband to quarrel withand make it up with. ' Then they moved to Charlottetown, and NedRussell bought this house and brought his bride here. They were a gayyoung pair, as I remember them. Miss Elizabeth Russell was Alec'ssister. She came to live with them a year or so later, and she was acreature of mirth, too. The walls of this house must be sorter SOAKEDwith laughing and good times. You're the third bride I've seen comehere, Mistress Blythe--and the handsomest. "

Captain Jim contrived to give his sunflower compliment the delicacy ofa violet, and Anne wore it proudly. She was looking her best thatnight, with the bridal rose on her cheeks and the love-light in hereyes; even gruff old Doctor Dave gave her an approving glance, and toldhis wife, as they drove home together, that that red-headed wife of theboy's was something of a beauty. 

"I must be getting back to the light, " announced Captain Jim. "I'veenj'yed this evening something tremenjus. "

"You must come often to see us, " said Anne. 

"I wonder if you'd give that invitation if you knew how likely I'll beto accept it, " Captain Jim remarked whimsically. 

"Which is another way of saying you wonder if I mean it, " smiled Anne. "I do, 'cross my heart, ' as we used to say at school. "

"Then I'll come. You're likely to be pestered with me at any hour. And I'll be proud to have you drop down and visit me now and then, too. Gin'rally I haven't anyone to talk to but the First Mate, bless hissociable heart. He's a mighty good listener, and has forgot more'n anyMacAllister of them all ever knew, but he isn't much of aconversationalist. You're young and I'm old, but our souls are aboutthe same age, I reckon. We both belong to the race that knows Joseph, as Cornelia Bryant would say. "

"The race that knows Joseph?" puzzled Anne. 

"Yes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into two kinds--therace that knows Joseph and the race that don't. If a person sortersees eye to eye with you, and has pretty much the same ideas aboutthings, and the same taste in jokes--why, then he belongs to the racethat knows Joseph. "

"Oh, I understand, " exclaimed Anne, light breaking in upon her. 

"It's what I used to call--and still call in quotation marks 'kindredspirits. '"

"Jest so--jest so, " agreed Captain Jim. "We're it, whatever IT is. When you come in tonight, Mistress Blythe, I says to myself, says I, 'Yes, she's of the race that knows Joseph. ' And mighty glad I was, forif it wasn't so we couldn't have had any real satisfaction in eachother's company. The race that knows Joseph is the salt of the airth, I reckon. "

The moon had just risen when Anne and Gilbert went to the door withtheir guests. Four Winds Harbor was beginning to be a thing of dreamand glamour and enchantment--a spellbound haven where no tempest mightever ravin. The Lombardies down the lane, tall and sombre as thepriestly forms of some mystic band, were tipped with silver. 

"Always liked Lombardies, " said Captain Jim, waving a long arm at them. "They're the trees of princesses. They're out of fashion now. Folkscomplain that they die at the top and get ragged-looking. So theydo--so they do, if you don't risk your neck every spring climbing up alight ladder to trim them out. I always did it for Miss Elizabeth, soher Lombardies never got out-at-elbows. She was especially fond ofthem. She liked their dignity and stand-offishness. THEY don't hobnobwith every Tom, Dick and Harry. If it's maples for company, MistressBlythe, it's Lombardies for society. "

"What a beautiful night, " said Mrs. Doctor Dave, as she climbed intothe Doctor's buggy. 

"Most nights are beautiful, " said Captain Jim. "But I 'low thatmoonlight over Four Winds makes me sorter wonder what's left forheaven. The moon's a great friend of mine, Mistress Blythe. I'veloved her ever since I can remember. When I was a little chap of eightI fell asleep in the garden one evening and wasn't missed. I woke upalong in the night and I was most scared to death. What shadows andqueer noises there was! I dursn't move. Jest crouched there quaking, poor small mite. Seemed 's if there weren't anyone in the world butmeself and it was mighty big. Then all at once I saw the moon lookingdown at me through the apple boughs, jest like an old friend. I wascomforted right off. Got up and walked to the house as brave as alion, looking at her. Many's the night I've watched her from the deckof my vessel, on seas far away from here. Why don't you folks tell meto take in the slack of my jaw and go home?"

The laughter of the goodnights died away. Anne and Gilbert walked handin hand around their garden. The brook that ran across the cornerdimpled pellucidly in the shadows of the birches. The poppies alongits banks were like shallow cups of moonlight. Flowers that had beenplanted by the hands of the schoolmaster's bride flung their sweetnesson the shadowy air, like the beauty and blessing of sacred yesterdays. Anne paused in the gloom to gather a spray. 

"I love to smell flowers in the dark, " she said. "You get hold oftheir soul then. Oh, Gilbert, this little house is all I've dreamedit. And I'm so glad that we are not the first who have kept bridaltryst here!"

CHAPTER 8

MISS CORNELIA BRYANT COMES TO CALL

That September was a month of golden mists and purple hazes at FourWinds Harbor--a month of sun-steeped days and of nights that wereswimming in moonlight, or pulsating with stars. No storm marred it, norough wind blew. Anne and Gilbert put their nest in order, rambled onthe shores, sailed on the harbor, drove about Four Winds and the Glen, or through the ferny, sequestered roads of the woods around the harborhead; in short, had such a honeymoon as any lovers in the world mighthave envied them. 

"If life were to stop short just now it would still have been richlyworth while, just for the sake of these past four weeks, wouldn't it?"said Anne. "I don't suppose we will ever have four such perfect weeksagain--but we've HAD them. Everything--wind, weather, folks, house ofdreams--has conspired to make our honeymoon delightful. There hasn'teven been a rainy day since we came here. "

"And we haven't quarrelled once, " teased Gilbert. 

"Well, 'that's a pleasure all the greater for being deferred, '" quotedAnne. "I'm so glad we decided to spend our honeymoon here. Ourmemories of it will always belong here, in our house of dreams, insteadof being scattered about in strange places. "

There was a certain tang of romance and adventure in the atmosphere oftheir new home which Anne had never found in Avonlea. There, althoughshe had lived in sight of the sea, it had not entered intimately intoher life. In Four Winds it surrounded her and called to herconstantly. From every window of her new home she saw some varyingaspect of it. Its haunting murmur was ever in her ears. Vesselssailed up the harbor every day to the wharf at the Glen, or sailed outagain through the sunset, bound for ports that might be half way roundthe globe. Fishing boats went white-winged down the channel in themornings, and returned laden in the evenings. Sailors and fisher-folktravelled the red, winding harbor roads, light-hearted and content. There was always a certain sense of things going to happen--ofadventures and farings-forth. The ways of Four Winds were less staidand settled and grooved than those of Avonlea; winds of change blewover them; the sea called ever to the dwellers on shore, and even thosewho might not answer its call felt the thrill and unrest and mysteryand possibilities of it. 

"I understand now why some men must go to sea, " said Anne. "Thatdesire which comes to us all at times--'to sail beyond the bourne ofsunset'--must be very imperious when it is born in you. I don't wonderCaptain Jim ran away because of it. I never see a ship sailing out ofthe channel, or a gull soaring over the sand-bar, without wishing Iwere on board the ship or had wings, not like a dove 'to fly away andbe at rest, ' but like a gull, to sweep out into the very heart of astorm. "

"You'll stay right here with me, Anne-girl, " said Gilbert lazily. "Iwon't have you flying away from me into the hearts of storms. "

They were sitting on their red sand-stone doorstep in the lateafternoon. Great tranquillities were all about them in land and seaand sky. Silvery gulls were soaring over them. The horizons werelaced with long trails of frail, pinkish clouds. The hushed air wasthreaded with a murmurous refrain of minstrel winds and waves. Paleasters were blowing in the sere and misty meadows between them and theharbor. 

"Doctors who have to be up all night waiting on sick folk don't feelvery adventurous, I suppose, " Anne said indulgently. "If you had had agood sleep last night, Gilbert, you'd be as ready as I am for a flightof imagination. "

"I did good work last night, Anne, " said Gilbert quietly. "Under God, I saved a life. This is the first time I could ever really claim that. In other cases I may have helped; but, Anne, if I had not stayed atAllonby's last night and fought death hand to hand, that woman wouldhave died before morning. I tried an experiment that was certainlynever tried in Four Winds before. I doubt if it was ever triedanywhere before outside of a hospital. It was a new thing in Kingsporthospital last winter. I could never have dared try it here if I hadnot been absolutely certain that there was no other chance. I riskedit--and it succeeded. As a result, a good wife and mother is saved forlong years of happiness and usefulness. As I drove home this morning, while the sun was rising over the harbor, I thanked God that I hadchosen the profession I did. I had fought a good fight and won--thinkof it, Anne, WON, against the Great Destroyer. It's what I dreamed ofdoing long ago when we talked together of what we wanted to do in life. That dream of mine came true this morning. "

"Was that the only one of your dreams that has come true?" asked Anne, who knew perfectly well what the substance of his answer would be, butwanted to hear it again. 

"YOU know, Anne-girl, " said Gilbert, smiling into her eyes. At thatmoment there were certainly two perfectly happy people sitting on thedoorstep of a little white house on the Four Winds Harbor shore. 

Presently Gilbert said, with a change of tone, "Do I or do I not see afull-rigged ship sailing up our lane?"

Anne looked and sprang up. 

"That must be either Miss Cornelia Bryant or Mrs. Moore coming tocall, " she said. 

"I'm going into the office, and if it is Miss Cornelia I warn you thatI'll eavesdrop, " said Gilbert. "From all I've heard regarding MissCornelia I conclude that her conversation will not be dull, to say theleast. "

"It may be Mrs. Moore. "

"I don't think Mrs. Moore is built on those lines. I saw her workingin her garden the other day, and, though I was too far away to seeclearly, I thought she was rather slender. She doesn't seem verysocially inclined when she has never called on you yet, although she'syour nearest neighbor. "

"She can't be like Mrs. Lynde, after all, or curiosity would havebrought her, " said Anne. "This caller is, I think, Miss Cornelia. "

Miss Cornelia it was; moreover, Miss Cornelia had not come to make anybrief and fashionable wedding call. She had her work under her arm ina substantial parcel, and when Anne asked her to stay she promptly tookoff her capacious sun-hat, which had been held on her head, despiteirreverent September breezes, by a tight elastic band under her hardlittle knob of fair hair. No hat pins for Miss Cornelia, an it pleaseye! Elastic bands had been good enough for her mother and they weregood enough for HER. She had a fresh, round, pink-and-white face, andjolly brown eyes. She did not look in the least like the traditionalold maid, and there was something in her expression which won Anneinstantly. With her old instinctive quickness to discern kindredspirits she knew she was going to like Miss Cornelia, in spite ofuncertain oddities of opinion, and certain oddities of attire. 

Nobody but Miss Cornelia would have come to make a call arrayed in astriped blue-and-white apron and a wrapper of chocolate print, with adesign of huge, pink roses scattered over it. And nobody but MissCornelia could have looked dignified and suitably garbed in it. HadMiss Cornelia been entering a palace to call on a prince's bride, shewould have been just as dignified and just as wholly mistress of thesituation. She would have trailed her rose-spattered flounce over themarble floors just as unconcernedly, and she would have proceeded justas calmly to disabuse the mind of the princess of any idea that thepossession of a mere man, be he prince or peasant, was anything to bragof. 

"I've brought my work, Mrs. Blythe, dearie, " she remarked, unrollingsome dainty material. "I'm in a hurry to get this done, and thereisn't any time to lose. "

Anne looked in some surprise at the white garment spread over MissCornelia's ample lap. It was certainly a baby's dress, and it was mostbeautifully made, with tiny frills and tucks. Miss Cornelia adjustedher glasses and fell to embroidering with exquisite stitches. 

"This is for Mrs. Fred Proctor up at the Glen, " she announced. "She'sexpecting her eighth baby any day now, and not a stitch has she readyfor it. The other seven have wore out all she made for the first, andshe's never had time or strength or spirit to make any more. Thatwoman is a martyr, Mrs. Blythe, believe ME. When she married FredProctor _I_ knew how it would turn out. He was one of your wicked, fascinating men. After he got married he left off being fascinatingand just kept on being wicked. He drinks and he neglects his family. Isn't that like a man? I don't know how Mrs. Proctor would ever keepher children decently clothed if her neighbors didn't help her out. "

As Anne was afterwards to learn, Miss Cornelia was the only neighborwho troubled herself much about the decency of the young Proctors. 

"When I heard this eighth baby was coming I decided to make some thingsfor it, " Miss Cornelia went on. "This is the last and I want to finishit today. "

"It's certainly very pretty, " said Anne. "I'll get my sewing and we'llhave a little thimble party of two. You are a beautiful sewer, MissBryant. "

"Yes, I'm the best sewer in these parts, " said Miss Cornelia in amatter-of-fact tone. "I ought to be! Lord, I've done more of it thanif I'd had a hundred children of my own, believe ME! I s'pose I'm afool, to be putting hand embroidery on this dress for an eighth baby. But, Lord, Mrs. Blythe, dearie, it isn't to blame for being the eighth, and I kind of wished it to have one real pretty dress, just as if itWAS wanted. Nobody's wanting the poor mite--so I put some extra fusson its little things just on that account. "

"Any baby might be proud of that dress, " said Anne, feeling still morestrongly that she was going to like Miss Cornelia. 

"I s'pose you've been thinking I was never coming to call on you, "resumed Miss Cornelia. "But this is harvest month, you know, and I'vebeen busy--and a lot of extra hands hanging round, eating more'n theywork, just like the men. I'd have come yesterday, but I went to Mrs. Roderick MacAllister's funeral. At first I thought my head was achingso badly I couldn't enjoy myself if I did go. But she was a hundredyears old, and I'd always promised myself that I'd go to her funeral. "

"Was it a successful function?" asked Anne, noticing that the officedoor was ajar. 

"What's that? Oh, yes, it was a tremendous funeral. She had a verylarge connection. There was over one hundred and twenty carriages inthe procession. There was one or two funny things happened. I thoughtthat die I would to see old Joe Bradshaw, who is an infidel and neverdarkens the door of a church, singing 'Safe in the Arms of Jesus' withgreat gusto and fervor. He glories in singing--that's why he nevermisses a funeral. Poor Mrs. Bradshaw didn't look much likesinging--all wore out slaving. Old Joe starts out once in a while tobuy her a present and brings home some new kind of farm machinery. Isn't that like a man? But what else would you expect of a man whonever goes to church, even a Methodist one? I was real thankful to seeyou and the young Doctor in the Presbyterian church your first Sunday. No doctor for me who isn't a Presbyterian. "

"We were in the Methodist church last Sunday evening, " said Annewickedly. 

"Oh, I s'pose Dr. Blythe has to go to the Methodist church once in awhile or he wouldn't get the Methodist practice. "

"We liked the sermon very much, " declared Anne boldly. "And I thoughtthe Methodist minster's prayer was one of the most beautiful I everheard. "

"Oh, I've no doubt he can pray. I never heard anyone make morebeautiful prayers than old Simon Bentley, who was always drunk, orhoping to be, and the drunker he was the better he prayed. "

"The Methodist minister is very fine looking, " said Anne, for thebenefit of the office door. 

"Yes, he's quite ornamental, " agreed Miss Cornelia. "Oh, and VERYladylike. And he thinks that every girl who looks at him falls in lovewith him--as if a Methodist minister, wandering about like any Jew, wassuch a prize! If you and the young doctor take MY advice, you won'thave much to do with the Methodists. My motto is--if you ARE aPresbyterian, BE a Presbyterian. "

"Don't you think that Methodists go to heaven as well asPresbyterians?" asked Anne smilelessly. 

"That isn't for US to decide. It's in higher hands than ours, " saidMiss Cornelia solemnly. "But I ain't going to associate with them onearth whatever I may have to do in heaven. THIS Methodist ministerisn't married. The last one they had was, and his wife was thesilliest, flightiest little thing I ever saw. I told her husband oncethat he should have waited till she was grown up before he married her. He said he wanted to have the training of her. Wasn't that like a man?"

"It's rather hard to decide just when people ARE grown up, " laughedAnne. 

"That's a true word, dearie. Some are grown up when they're born, andothers ain't grown up when they're eighty, believe ME. That same Mrs. Roderick I was speaking of never grew up. She was as foolish when shewas a hundred as when she was ten. "

"Perhaps that was why she lived so long, " suggested Anne. 

"Maybe 'twas. _I_'d rather live fifty sensible years than a hundredfoolish ones. "

"But just think what a dull world it would be if everyone wassensible, " pleaded Anne. 

Miss Cornelia disdained any skirmish of flippant epigram. 

"Mrs. Roderick was a Milgrave, and the Milgraves never had much sense. Her nephew, Ebenezer Milgrave, used to be insane for years. Hebelieved he was dead and used to rage at his wife because she wouldn'tbury him. _I_'d a-done it. "

Miss Cornelia looked so grimly determined that Anne could almost seeher with a spade in her hand. 

"Don't you know ANY good husbands, Miss Bryant?"

"Oh, yes, lots of them--over yonder, " said Miss Cornelia, waving herhand through the open window towards the little graveyard of the churchacross the harbor. 

"But living--going about in the flesh?" persisted Anne. 

"Oh, there's a few, just to show that with God all things arepossible, " acknowledged Miss Cornelia reluctantly. "I don't deny thatan odd man here and there, if he's caught young and trained up proper, and if his mother has spanked him well beforehand, may turn out adecent being. YOUR husband, now, isn't so bad, as men go, from all Ihear. I s'pose"--Miss Cornelia looked sharply at Anne over herglasses--"you think there's nobody like him in the world. "

"There isn't, " said Anne promptly. 

"Ah, well, I heard another bride say that once, " sighed Miss Cornelia. "Jennie Dean thought when she married that there wasn't anybody likeHER husband in the world. And she was right--there wasn't! And a goodthing, too, believe ME! He led her an awful life--and he was courtinghis second wife while Jennie was dying. 

"Wasn't that like a man? However, I hope YOUR confidence will bebetter justified, dearie. The young doctor is taking real well. I wasafraid at first he mightn't, for folks hereabouts have always thoughtold Doctor Dave the only doctor in the world. Doctor Dave hadn't muchtact, to be sure--he was always talking of ropes in houses wheresomeone had hanged himself. But folks forgot their hurt feelings whenthey had a pain in their stomachs. If he'd been a minister instead ofa doctor they'd never have forgiven him. Soul-ache doesn't worry folksnear as much as stomach-ache. Seeing as we're both Presbyterians andno Methodists around, will you tell me your candid opinion of OURminister?"

"Why--really--I--well, " hesitated Anne. 

Miss Cornelia nodded. 

"Exactly. I agree with you, dearie. We made a mistake when we calledHIM. His face just looks like one of those long, narrow stones in thegraveyard, doesn't it? 'Sacred to the memory' ought to be written onhis forehead. I shall never forget the first sermon he preached afterhe came. It was on the subject of everyone doing what they were bestfitted for--a very good subject, of course; but such illustrations ashe used! He said, 'If you had a cow and an apple tree, and if you tiedthe apple tree in your stable and planted the cow in your orchard, withher legs up, how much milk would you get from the apple tree, or howmany apples from the cow?' Did you ever hear the like in your borndays, dearie? I was so thankful there were no Methodists there thatday--they'd never have been done hooting over it. But what I dislikemost in him is his habit of agreeing with everybody, no matter what issaid. If you said to him, 'You're a scoundrel, ' he'd say, with thatsmooth smile of his, 'Yes, that's so. ' A minister should have morebackbone. The long and the short of it is, I consider him a reverendjackass. But, of course, this is just between you and me. When thereare Methodists in hearing I praise him to the skies. Some folks thinkhis wife dresses too gay, but _I_ say when she has to live with a facelike that she needs something to cheer her up. You'll never hear MEcondemning a woman for her dress. I'm only too thankful when herhusband isn't too mean and miserly to allow it. Not that I bother muchwith dress myself. Women just dress to please the men, and I'd neverstoop to THAT. I have had a real placid, comfortable life, dearie, andit's just because I never cared a cent what the men thought. "

"Why do you hate the men so, Miss Bryant?"

"Lord, dearie, I don't hate them. They aren't worth it. I just sortof despise them. I think I'll like YOUR husband if he keeps on as hehas begun. But apart from him about the only men in the world I'vemuch use for are the old doctor and Captain Jim. "

"Captain Jim is certainly splendid, " agreed Anne cordially. 

"Captain Jim is a good man, but he's kind of vexing in one way. YouCAN'T make him mad. I've tried for twenty years and he just keeps onbeing placid. It does sort of rile me. And I s'pose the woman heshould have married got a man who went into tantrums twice a day. "

"Who was she?"

"Oh, I don't know, dearie. I never remember of Captain Jim making upto anybody. He was edging on old as far as my memory goes. He'sseventy-six, you know. I never heard any reason for his staying abachelor, but there must be one, believe ME. He sailed all his lifetill five years ago, and there's no corner of the earth he hasn't pokedhis nose into. He and Elizabeth Russell were great cronies, all theirlives, but they never had any notion of sweet-hearting. Elizabethnever married, though she had plenty of chances. She was a greatbeauty when she was young. The year the Prince of Wales came to theIsland she was visiting her uncle in Charlottetown and he was aGovernment official, and so she got invited to the great ball. She wasthe prettiest girl there, and the Prince danced with her, and all theother women he didn't dance with were furious about it, because theirsocial standing was higher than hers and they said he shouldn't havepassed them over. Elizabeth was always very proud of that dance. Meanfolks said that was why she never married--she couldn't put up with anordinary man after dancing with a prince. But that wasn't so. Shetold me the reason once--it was because she had such a temper that shewas afraid she couldn't live peaceably with any man. She HAD an awfultemper--she used to have to go upstairs and bite pieces out of herbureau to keep it down by times. But I told her that wasn't any reasonfor not marrying if she wanted to. There's no reason why we should letthe men have a monopoly of temper, is there, Mrs. Blythe, dearie?"

"I've a bit of temper myself, " sighed Anne. 

"It's well you have, dearie. You won't be half so likely to be troddenon, believe ME! My, how that golden glow of yours is blooming! Yourgarden looks fine. Poor Elizabeth always took such care of it. "

"I love it, " said Anne. "I'm glad it's so full of old-fashionedflowers. Speaking of gardening, we want to get a man to dig up thatlittle lot beyond the fir grove and set it out with strawberry plantsfor us. Gilbert is so busy he will never get time for it this fall. Do you know anyone we can get?"

"Well, Henry Hammond up at the Glen goes out doing jobs like that. He'll do, maybe. He's always a heap more interested in his wages thanin his work, just like a man, and he's so slow in the uptake that hestands still for five minutes before it dawns on him that he's stopped. His father threw a stump at him when he was small. 

"Nice gentle missile, wasn't it? So like a man! Course, the boy nevergot over it. But he's the only one I can recommend at all. He paintedmy house for me last spring. It looks real nice now, don't you think?"

Anne was saved by the clock striking five. 

"Lord, is it that late?" exclaimed Miss Cornelia. "How time does slipby when you're enjoying yourself! Well, I must betake myself home. "

"No, indeed! You are going to stay and have tea with us, " said Anneeagerly. 

"Are you asking me because you think you ought to, or because youreally want to?" demanded Miss Cornelia. 

"Because I really want to. "

"Then I'll stay. YOU belong to the race that knows Joseph. "

"I know we are going to be friends, " said Anne, with the smile thatonly they of the household of faith ever saw. 

"Yes, we are, dearie. Thank goodness, we can choose our friends. Wehave to take our relatives as they are, and be thankful if there are nopenitentiary birds among them. Not that I've many--none nearer thansecond cousins. I'm a kind of lonely soul, Mrs. Blythe. "

There was a wistful note in Miss Cornelia's voice. 

"I wish you would call me Anne, " exclaimed Anne impulsively. "It wouldseem more HOMEY. Everyone in Four Winds, except my husband, calls meMrs. Blythe, and it makes me feel like a stranger. Do you know thatyour name is very near being the one I yearned after when I was achild. I hated 'Anne' and I called myself 'Cordelia' in imagination. "

"I like Anne. It was my mother's name. Old-fashioned names are thebest and sweetest in my opinion. If you're going to get tea you mightsend the young doctor to talk to me. He's been lying on the sofa inthat office ever since I came, laughing fit to kill over what I've beensaying. "

"How did you know?" cried Anne, too aghast at this instance of MissCornelia's uncanny prescience to make a polite denial. 

"I saw him sitting beside you when I came up the lane, and I know men'stricks, " retorted Miss Cornelia. "There, I've finished my littledress, dearie, and the eighth baby can come as soon as it pleases. "

CHAPTER 9

AN EVENING AT FOUR WINDS POINT

It was late September when Anne and Gilbert were able to pay Four Windslight their promised visit. They had often planned to go, butsomething always occurred to prevent them. Captain Jim had "droppedin" several times at the little house. 

"I don't stand on ceremony, Mistress Blythe, " he told Anne. "It's areal pleasure to me to come here, and I'm not going to deny myself jestbecause you haven't got down to see me. There oughtn't to be nobargaining like that among the race that knows Joseph. I'll come whenI can, and you come when you can, and so long's we have our pleasantlittle chat it don't matter a mite what roof's over us. "

Captain Jim took a great fancy to Gog and Magog, who were presidingover the destinies of the hearth in the little house with as muchdignity and aplomb as they had done at Patty's Place. 

"Aren't they the cutest little cusses?" he would say delightedly; andhe bade them greeting and farewell as gravely and invariably as he didhis host and hostess. Captain Jim was not going to offend householddeities by any lack of reverence and ceremony. 

"You've made this little house just about perfect, " he told Anne. "Itnever was so nice before. Mistress Selwyn had your taste and she didwonders; but folks in those days didn't have the pretty little curtainsand pictures and nicknacks you have. As for Elizabeth, she lived inthe past. You've kinder brought the future into it, so to speak. I'dbe real happy even if we couldn't talk at all, when I come here--jestto sit and look at you and your pictures and your flowers would beenough of a treat. It's beautiful--beautiful. "

Captain Jim was a passionate worshipper of beauty. Every lovely thingheard or seen gave him a deep, subtle, inner joy that irradiated hislife. He was quite keenly aware of his own lack of outward comelinessand lamented it. 

"Folks say I'm good, " he remarked whimsically upon one occasion, "but Isometimes wish the Lord had made me only half as good and put the restof it into looks. But there, I reckon He knew what He was about, as agood Captain should. Some of us have to be homely, or the purtyones--like Mistress Blythe here--wouldn't show up so well. "

One evening Anne and Gilbert finally walked down to the Four Windslight. The day had begun sombrely in gray cloud and mist, but it hadended in a pomp of scarlet and gold. Over the western hills beyond theharbor were amber deeps and crystalline shallows, with the fire ofsunset below. The north was a mackerel sky of little, fiery goldenclouds. The red light flamed on the white sails of a vessel glidingdown the channel, bound to a southern port in a land of palms. Beyondher, it smote upon and incarnadined the shining, white, grassless facesof the sand dunes. To the right, it fell on the old house among thewillows up the brook, and gave it for a fleeting space casements moresplendid than those of an old cathedral. They glowed out of its quietand grayness like the throbbing, blood-red thoughts of a vivid soulimprisoned in a dull husk of environment. 

"That old house up the brook always seems so lonely, " said Anne. "Inever see visitors there. Of course, its lane opens on the upperroad--but I don't think there's much coming and going. It seems oddwe've never met the Moores yet, when they live within fifteen minutes'walk of us. I may have seen them in church, of course, but if so Ididn't know them. I'm sorry they are so unsociable, when they are ouronly near neighbors. "

"Evidently they don't belong to the race that knows Joseph, " laughedGilbert. "Have you ever found out who that girl was whom you thoughtso beautiful?"

"No. Somehow I have never remembered to ask about her. But I've neverseen her anywhere, so I suppose she must have been a stranger. Oh, thesun has just vanished--and there's the light. "

As the dusk deepened, the great beacon cut swathes of light through it, sweeping in a circle over the fields and the harbor, the sandbar andthe gulf. 

"I feel as if it might catch me and whisk me leagues out to sea, " saidAnne, as one drenched them with radiance; and she felt rather relievedwhen they got so near the Point that they were inside the range ofthose dazzling, recurrent flashes. 

As they turned into the little lane that led across the fields to thePoint they met a man coming out of it--a man of such extraordinaryappearance that for a moment they both frankly stared. He was adecidedly fine-looking person-tall, broad-shouldered, well-featured, with a Roman nose and frank gray eyes; he was dressed in a prosperousfarmer's Sunday best; in so far he might have been any inhabitant ofFour Winds or the Glen. But, flowing over his breast nearly to hisknees, was a river of crinkly brown beard; and adown his back, beneathhis commonplace felt hat, was a corresponding cascade of thick, wavy, brown hair. 

"Anne, " murmured Gilbert, when they were out of earshot, "you didn'tput what Uncle Dave calls 'a little of the Scott Act' in that lemonadeyou gave me just before we left home, did you?"

"No, I didn't, " said Anne, stifling her laughter, lest the retreatingenigma should hear here. "Who in the world can he be?"

"I don't know; but if Captain Jim keeps apparitions like that down atthis Point I'm going to carry cold iron in my pocket when I come here. He wasn't a sailor, or one might pardon his eccentricity of appearance;he must belong to the over-harbor clans. Uncle Dave says they haveseveral freaks over there. "

"Uncle Dave is a little prejudiced, I think. You know all theover-harbor people who come to the Glen Church seem very nice. Oh, Gilbert, isn't this beautiful?"

The Four Winds light was built on a spur of red sand-stone cliffjutting out into the gulf. On one side, across the channel, stretchedthe silvery sand shore of the bar; on the other, extended a long, curving beach of red cliffs, rising steeply from the pebbled coves. Itwas a shore that knew the magic and mystery of storm and star. Thereis a great solitude about such a shore. The woods are neversolitary--they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. Butthe sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareablesorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. We can neverpierce its infinite mystery--we may only wander, awed and spellbound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only--a mighty voice that drowns our souls in itsmajestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company ofthe archangels. 

Anne and Gilbert found Uncle Jim sitting on a bench outside thelighthouse, putting the finishing touches to a wonderful, full-rigged, toy schooner. He rose and welcomed them to his abode with the gentle, unconscious courtesy that became him so well. 

"This has been a purty nice day all through, Mistress Blythe, and now, right at the last, it's brought its best. Would you like to sit downhere outside a bit, while the light lasts? I've just finished this bitof a plaything for my little grand nephew, Joe, up at the Glen. AfterI promised to make it for him I was kinder sorry, for his mother wasvexed. She's afraid he'll be wanting to go to sea later on and shedoesn't want the notion encouraged in him. But what could I do, Mistress Blythe? I'd PROMISED him, and I think it's sorter realdastardly to break a promise you make to a child. Come, sit down. Itwon't take long to stay an hour. "

The wind was off shore, and only broke the sea's surface into long, silvery ripples, and sent sheeny shadows flying out across it, fromevery point and headland, like transparent wings. The dusk was hanginga curtain of violet gloom over the sand dunes and the headlands wheregulls were huddling. The sky was faintly filmed over with scarfs ofsilken vapor. Cloud fleets rode at anchor along the horizons. Anevening star was watching over the bar. 

"Isn't that a view worth looking at?" said Captain Jim, with a loving, proprietary pride. "Nice and far from the market-place, ain't it? Nobuying and selling and getting gain. You don't have to payanything--all that sea and sky free--'without money and without price. 'There's going to be a moonrise purty soon, too--I'm never tired offinding out what a moonrise can be over them rocks and sea and harbor. There's a surprise in it every time. "

They had their moonrise, and watched its marvel and magic in a silencethat asked nothing of the world or each other. Then they went up intothe tower, and Captain Jim showed and explained the mechanism of thegreat light. Finally they found themselves in the dining room, where afire of driftwood was weaving flames of wavering, elusive, sea-bornhues in the open fireplace. 

"I put this fireplace in myself, " remarked Captain Jim. "TheGovernment don't give lighthouse keepers such luxuries. Look at thecolors that wood makes. If you'd like some driftwood for your fire, Mistress Blythe, I'll bring you up a load some day. Sit down. I'mgoing to make you a cup of tea. "

Captain Jim placed a chair for Anne, having first removed therefrom ahuge, orange-colored cat and a newspaper. 

"Get down, Matey. The sofa is your place. I must put this paper awaysafe till I can find time to finish the story in it. It's called A MadLove. 'Tisn't my favorite brand of fiction, but I'm reading it jest tosee how long she can spin it out. It's at the sixty-second chapternow, and the wedding ain't any nearer than when it begun, far's I cansee. When little Joe comes I have to read him pirate yarns. Ain't itstrange how innocent little creatures like children like theblood-thirstiest stories?"

"Like my lad Davy at home, " said Anne. "He wants tales that reek withgore. "

Captain Jim's tea proved to be nectar. He was pleased as a child withAnne's compliments, but he affected a fine indifference. 

"The secret is I don't skimp the cream, " he remarked airily. CaptainJim had never heard of Oliver Wendell Holmes, but he evidently agreedwith that writer's dictum that "big heart never liked little cream pot. "

"We met an odd-looking personage coming out of your lane, " said Gilbertas they sipped. "Who was he?"

Captain Jim grinned. 

"That's Marshall Elliott--a mighty fine man with jest one streak offoolishness in him. I s'pose you wondered what his object was inturning himself into a sort of dime museum freak. "

"Is he a modern Nazarite or a Hebrew prophet left over from oldentimes?" asked Anne. 

"Neither of them. It's politics that's at the bottom of his freak. All those Elliotts and Crawfords and MacAllisters are dyed-in-the-woolpoliticians. They're born Grit or Tory, as the case may be, and theylive Grit or Tory, and they die Grit or Tory; and what they're going todo in heaven, where there's probably no politics, is more than I canfathom. This Marshall Elliott was born a Grit. I'm a Grit myself inmoderation, but there's no moderation about Marshall. Fifteen yearsago there was a specially bitter general election. Marshall fought forhis party tooth and nail. He was dead sure the Liberals would win--sosure that he got up at a public meeting and vowed that he wouldn'tshave his face or cut his hair until the Grits were in power. Well, they didn't go in--and they've never got in yet--and you saw the resulttoday for yourselves. Marshall stuck to his word. "

"What does his wife think of it?" asked Anne. 

"He's a bachelor. But if he had a wife I reckon she couldn't make himbreak that vow. That family of Elliotts has always been more stubbornthan natteral. Marshall's brother Alexander had a dog he set greatstore by, and when it died the man actilly wanted to have it buried inthe graveyard, 'along with the other Christians, ' he said. Course, hewasn't allowed to; so he buried it just outside the graveyard fence, and never darkened the church door again. But Sundays he'd drive hisfamily to church and sit by that dog's grave and read his Bible all thetime service was going on. They say when he was dying he asked hiswife to bury him beside the dog; she was a meek little soul but shefired up at THAT. She said SHE wasn't going to be buried beside nodog, and if he'd rather have his last resting place beside the dog thanbeside her, jest to say so. Alexander Elliott was a stubborn mule, buthe was fond of his wife, so he give in and said, 'Well, durn it, buryme where you please. But when Gabriel's trump blows I expect my dog torise with the rest of us, for he had as much soul as any durned Elliottor Crawford or MacAllister that ever strutted. ' Them was HIS partingwords. As for Marshall, we're all used to him, but he must strikestrangers as right down peculiar-looking. I've known him ever since hewas ten--he's about fifty now--and I like him. Him and me was outcod-fishing today. That's about all I'm good for now--catching troutand cod occasional. But 'tweren't always so--not by no manner ofmeans. I used to do other things, as you'd admit if you saw mylife-book. "

Anne was just going to ask what his life-book was when the First Matecreated a diversion by springing upon Captain Jim's knee. He was agorgeous beastie, with a face as round as a full moon, vivid greeneyes, and immense, white, double paws. Captain Jim stroked his velvetback gently. 

"I never fancied cats much till I found the First Mate, " he remarked, to the accompaniment of the Mate's tremendous purrs. "I saved hislife, and when you've saved a creature's life you're bound to love it. It's next thing to giving life. There's some turrible thoughtlesspeople in the world, Mistress Blythe. Some of them city folks who havesummer homes over the harbor are so thoughtless that they're cruel. It's the worst kind of cruelty--the thoughtless kind. You can't copewith it. They keep cats there in the summer, and feed and pet 'em, anddoll 'em up with ribbons and collars. And then in the fall they go offand leave 'em to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil, MistressBlythe. One day last winter I found a poor old mother cat dead on theshore, lying against the skin-and-bone bodies of her three littlekittens. She'd died trying to shelter 'em. She had her poor stiffpaws around 'em. Master, I cried. Then I swore. Then I carried thempoor little kittens home and fed 'em up and found good homes for 'em. I knew the woman who left the cat and when she come back this summer Ijest went over the harbor and told her my opinion of her. It was rankmeddling, but I do love meddling in a good cause. "

"How did she take it?" asked Gilbert. 

"Cried and said she 'didn't think. ' I says to her, says I, 'Do yous'pose that'll be held for a good excuse in the day of Jedgment, whenyou'll have to account for that poor old mother's life? The Lord'llask you what He give you your brains for if it wasn't to think, Ireckon. ' I don't fancy she'll leave cats to starve another time. "

"Was the First Mate one of the forsaken?" asked Anne, making advancesto him which were responded to graciously, if condescendingly. 

"Yes. I found HIM one bitter cold day in winter, caught in thebranches of a tree by his durn-fool ribbon collar. He was almoststarving. If you could have seen his eyes, Mistress Blythe! He wasnothing but a kitten, and he'd got his living somehow since he'd beenleft until he got hung up. When I loosed him he gave my hand a pitifulswipe with his little red tongue. He wasn't the able seaman you seenow. He was meek as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life hasbeen long in the land for a cat. He's a good old pal, the First Mateis. "

"I should have expected you to have a dog, " said Gilbert. 

Captain Jim shook his head. 

"I had a dog once. I thought so much of him that when he died Icouldn't bear the thought of getting another in his place. He was aFRIEND--you understand, Mistress Blythe? Matey's only a pal. I'm fondof Matey--all the fonder on account of the spice of devilment that's inhim--like there is in all cats. But I LOVED my dog. I always had asneaking sympathy for Alexander Elliott about HIS dog. There isn't anydevil in a good dog. That's why they're more lovable than cats, Ireckon. But I'm darned if they're as interesting. Here I am, talkingtoo much. Why don't you check me? When I do get a chance to talk toanyone I run on turrible. If you've done your tea I've a few littlethings you might like to look at--picked 'em up in the queer corners Iused to be poking my nose into. "

Captain Jim's "few little things" turned out to be a most interestingcollection of curios, hideous, quaint and beautiful. And almost everyone had some striking story attached to it. 

Anne never forgot the delight with which she listened to those oldtales that moonlit evening by that enchanted driftwood fire, while thesilver sea called to them through the open window and sobbed againstthe rocks below them. 

Captain Jim never said a boastful word, but it was impossible to helpseeing what a hero the man had been--brave, true, resourceful, unselfish. He sat there in his little room and made those things liveagain for his hearers. By a lift of the eyebrow, a twist of the lip, agesture, a word, he painted a whole scene or character so that they sawit as it was. 

Some of Captain Jim's adventures had such a marvellous edge that Anneand Gilbert secretly wondered if he were not drawing a rather long bowat their credulous expense. But in this, as they found later, they didhim injustice. His tales were all literally true. Captain Jim had thegift of the born storyteller, whereby "unhappy, far-off things" can bebrought vividly before the hearer in all their pristine poignancy. 

Anne and Gilbert laughed and shivered over his tales, and once Annefound herself crying. Captain Jim surveyed her tears with pleasureshining from his face. 

"I like to see folks cry that way, " he remarked. "It's a compliment. But I can't do justice to the things I've seen or helped to do. I've'em all jotted down in my life-book, but I haven't got the knack ofwriting them out properly. If I could hit on jest the right words andstring 'em together proper on paper I could make a great book. Itwould beat A Mad Love holler, and I believe Joe'd like it as well asthe pirate yarns. Yes, I've had some adventures in my time; and, doyou know, Mistress Blythe, I still lust after 'em. Yes, old anduseless as I be, there's an awful longing sweeps over me at times tosail out--out--out there--forever and ever. "

"Like Ulysses, you would

 'Sail beyond the sunset and the baths Of all the western stars until you die, '"

said Anne dreamily. 

"Ulysses? I've read of him. Yes, that's just how I feel--jest how allus old sailors feel, I reckon. I'll die on land after all, I s'pose. Well, what is to be will be. There was old William Ford at the Glenwho never went on the water in his life, 'cause he was afraid of beingdrowned. A fortune-teller had predicted he would be. And one day hefainted and fell with his face in the barn trough and was drowned. Must you go? Well, come soon and come often. The doctor is to do thetalking next time. He knows a heap of things I want to find out. I'msorter lonesome here by times. It's been worse since Elizabeth Russelldied. Her and me was such cronies. "

Captain Jim spoke with the pathos of the aged, who see their oldfriends slipping from them one by one--friends whose place can never bequite filled by those of a younger generation, even of the race thatknows Joseph. Anne and Gilbert promised to come soon and often. 

"He's a rare old fellow, isn't he?" said Gilbert, as they walked home. 

"Somehow, I can't reconcile his simple, kindly personality with thewild, adventurous life he has lived, " mused Anne. 

"You wouldn't find it so hard if you had seen him the other day down atthe fishing village. One of the men of Peter Gautier's boat made anasty remark about some girl along the shore. Captain Jim fairlyscorched the wretched fellow with the lightning of his eyes. He seemeda man transformed. He didn't say much--but the way he said it! You'dhave thought it would strip the flesh from the fellow's bones. Iunderstand that Captain Jim will never allow a word against any womanto be said in his presence. "

"I wonder why he never married, " said Anne. "He should have sons withtheir ships at sea now, and grandchildren climbing over him to hear hisstories--he's that kind of a man. Instead, he has nothing but amagnificent cat. "

But Anne was mistaken. Captain Jim had more than that. He had amemory. 

CHAPTER 10

LESLIE MOORE

"I'm going for a walk to the outside shore tonight, " Anne told Gog andMagog one October evening. There was no one else to tell, for Gilberthad gone over the harbor. Anne had her little domain in the specklessorder one would expect of anyone brought up by Marilla Cuthbert, andfelt that she could gad shoreward with a clear conscience. Many anddelightful had been her shore rambles, sometimes with Gilbert, sometimes with Captain Jim, sometimes alone with her own thoughts andnew, poignantly-sweet dreams that were beginning to span life withtheir rainbows. She loved the gentle, misty harbor shore and thesilvery, wind-haunted sand shore, but best of all she loved the rockshore, with its cliffs and caves and piles of surf-worn boulders, andits coves where the pebbles glittered under the pools; and it was tothis shore she hied herself tonight. 

There had been an autumn storm of wind and rain, lasting for threedays. Thunderous had been the crash of billows on the rocks, wild thewhite spray and spume that blew over the bar, troubled and misty andtempest-torn the erstwhile blue peace of Four Winds Harbor. Now it wasover, and the shore lay clean-washed after the storm; not a windstirred, but there was still a fine surf on, dashing on sand and rockin a splendid white turmoil--the only restless thing in the great, pervading stillness and peace. 

"Oh, this is a moment worth living through weeks of storm and stressfor, " Anne exclaimed, delightedly sending her far gaze across thetossing waters from the top of the cliff where she stood. Presentlyshe scrambled down the steep path to the little cove below, where sheseemed shut in with rocks and sea and sky. 

"I'm going to dance and sing, " she said. "There's no one here to seeme--the seagulls won't carry tales of the matter. I may be as crazy asI like. "

She caught up her skirt and pirouetted along the hard strip of sandjust out of reach of the waves that almost lapped her feet with theirspent foam. Whirling round and round, laughing like a child, shereached the little headland that ran out to the east of the cove; thenshe stopped suddenly, blushing crimson; she was not alone; there hadbeen a witness to her dance and laughter. 

The girl of the golden hair and sea-blue eyes was sitting on a boulderof the headland, half-hidden by a jutting rock. She was lookingstraight at Anne with a strange expression--part wonder, part sympathy, part--could it be?--envy. She was bare-headed, and her splendid hair, more than ever like Browning's "gorgeous snake, " was bound about herhead with a crimson ribbon. She wore a dress of some dark material, very plainly made; but swathed about her waist, outlining its finecurves, was a vivid girdle of red silk. Her hands, clasped over herknee, were brown and somewhat work-hardened; but the skin of her throatand cheeks was as white as cream. A flying gleam of sunset brokethrough a low-lying western cloud and fell across her hair. For amoment she seemed the spirit of the sea personified--all its mystery, all its passion, all its elusive charm. 

"You--you must think me crazy, " stammered Anne, trying to recover herself-possession. To be seen by this stately girl in such an abandon ofchildishness--she, Mrs. Dr. Blythe, with all the dignity of the matronto keep up--it was too bad!

"No, " said the girl, "I don't. "

She said nothing more; her voice was expressionless; her mannerslightly repellent; but there was something in her eyes--eager yet shy, defiant yet pleading--which turned Anne from her purpose of walkingaway. Instead, she sat down on the boulder beside the girl. 

"Let's introduce ourselves, " she said, with the smile that had neveryet failed to win confidence and friendliness. "I am Mrs. Blythe--andI live in that little white house up the harbor shore. "

"Yes, I know, " said the girl. "I am Leslie Moore--Mrs. Dick Moore, "she added stiffly. 

Anne was silent for a moment from sheer amazement. It had not occurredto her that this girl was married--there seemed nothing of the wifeabout her. And that she should be the neighbor whom Anne had picturedas a commonplace Four Winds housewife! Anne could not quickly adjusther mental focus to this astonishing change. 

"Then--then you live in that gray house up the brook, " she stammered. 

"Yes. I should have gone over to call on you long ago, " said theother. She did not offer any explanation or excuse for not having gone. 

"I wish you WOULD come, " said Anne, recovering herself somewhat. "We're such near neighbors we ought to be friends. That is the solefault of Four Winds--there aren't quite enough neighbors. Otherwise itis perfection. "

"You like it?"

"LIKE it! I love it. It is the most beautiful place I ever saw. "

"I've never seen many places, " said Leslie Moore, slowly, "but I'vealways thought it was very lovely here. I--I love it, too. "

She spoke, as she looked, shyly, yet eagerly. Anne had an oddimpression that this strange girl--the word "girl" would persist--couldsay a good deal if she chose. 

"I often come to the shore, " she added. 

"So do I, " said Anne. "It's a wonder we haven't met here before. "

"Probably you come earlier in the evening than I do. It is generallylate--almost dark--when I come. And I love to come just after astorm--like this. I don't like the sea so well when it's calm andquiet. I like the struggle--and the crash--and the noise. "

"I love it in all its moods, " declared Anne. "The sea at Four Winds isto me what Lover's Lane was at home. Tonight it seemed so free--sountamed--something broke loose in me, too, out of sympathy. That waswhy I danced along the shore in that wild way. I didn't supposeanybody was looking, of course. If Miss Cornelia Bryant had seen meshe would have forboded a gloomy prospect for poor young Dr. Blythe. "

"You know Miss Cornelia?" said Leslie, laughing. She had an exquisitelaugh; it bubbled up suddenly and unexpectedly with something of thedelicious quality of a baby's. Anne laughed, too. 

"Oh, yes. She has been down to my house of dreams several times. "

"Your house of dreams?"

"Oh, that's a dear, foolish little name Gilbert and I have for ourhome. We just call it that between ourselves. It slipped out before Ithought. "

"So Miss Russell's little white house is YOUR house of dreams, " saidLeslie wonderingly. "_I_ had a house of dreams once--but it was apalace, " she added, with a laugh, the sweetness of which was marred bya little note of derision. 

"Oh, I once dreamed of a palace, too, " said Anne. "I suppose all girlsdo. And then we settle down contentedly in eight-room houses that seemto fulfill all the desires of our hearts--because our prince is there. YOU should have had your palace really, though--you are so beautiful. You MUST let me say it--it has to be said--I'm nearly bursting withadmiration. You are the loveliest thing I ever saw, Mrs. Moore. "

"If we are to be friends you must call me Leslie, " said the other withan odd passion. 

"Of course I will. And MY friends call me Anne. "

"I suppose I am beautiful, " Leslie went on, looking stormily out tosea. "I hate my beauty. I wish I had always been as brown and plainas the brownest and plainest girl at the fishing village over there. Well, what do you think of Miss Cornelia?"

The abrupt change of subject shut the door on any further confidences. 

"Miss Cornelia is a darling, isn't she?" said Anne. "Gilbert and Iwere invited to her house to a state tea last week. You've heard ofgroaning tables. "

"I seem to recall seeing the expression in the newspaper reports ofweddings, " said Leslie, smiling. 

"Well, Miss Cornelia's groaned--at least, it creaked--positively. Youcouldn't have believed she would have cooked so much for two ordinarypeople. She had every kind of pie you could name, I think--exceptlemon pie. She said she had taken the prize for lemon pies at theCharlottetown Exhibition ten years ago and had never made any since forfear of losing her reputation for them. "

"Were you able to eat enough pie to please her?"

"_I_ wasn't. Gilbert won her heart by eating--I won't tell you howmuch. She said she never knew a man who didn't like pie better thanhis Bible. Do you know, I love Miss Cornelia. "

"So do I, " said Leslie. "She is the best friend I have in the world. "

Anne wondered secretly why, if this were so, Miss Cornelia had nevermentioned Mrs. Dick Moore to her. Miss Cornelia had certainly talkedfreely about every other individual in or near Four Winds. 

"Isn't that beautiful?" said Leslie, after a brief silence, pointing tothe exquisite effect of a shaft of light falling through a cleft in therock behind them, across a dark green pool at its base. "If I had comehere--and seen nothing but just that--I would go home satisfied. "

"The effects of light and shadow all along these shores are wonderful, "agreed Anne. "My little sewing room looks out on the harbor, and I sitat its window and feast my eyes. The colors and shadows are never thesame two minutes together. "

"And you are never lonely?" asked Leslie abruptly. "Never--when youare alone?"

"No. I don't think I've ever been really lonely in my life, " answeredAnne. "Even when I'm alone I have real good company--dreams andimaginations and pretendings. I LIKE to be alone now and then, just tothink over things and TASTE them. But I love friendship--and nice, jolly little times with people. Oh, WON'T you come to see me--often?Please do. I believe, " Anne added, laughing, "that you'd like me ifyou knew me. "

"I wonder if YOU would like ME, " said Leslie seriously. She was notfishing for a compliment. She looked out across the waves that werebeginning to be garlanded with blossoms of moonlit foam, and her eyesfilled with shadows. 

"I'm sure I would, " said Anne. "And please don't think I'm utterlyirresponsible because you saw me dancing on the shore at sunset. Nodoubt I shall be dignified after a time. You see, I haven't beenmarried very long. I feel like a girl, and sometimes like a child, yet. "

"I have been married twelve years, " said Leslie. 

Here was another unbelievable thing. 

"Why, you can't be as old as I am!" exclaimed Anne. "You must havebeen a child when you were married. "

"I was sixteen, " said Leslie, rising, and picking up the cap and jacketlying beside her. "I am twenty-eight now. Well, I must go back. "

"So must I. Gilbert will probably be home. But I'm so glad we bothcame to the shore tonight and met each other. "

Leslie said nothing, and Anne was a little chilled. She had offeredfriendship frankly but it had not been accepted very graciously, if ithad not been absolutely repelled. In silence they climbed the cliffsand walked across a pasture-field of which the feathery, bleached, wildgrasses were like a carpet of creamy velvet in the moonlight. Whenthey reached the shore lane Leslie turned. 

"I go this way, Mrs. Blythe. You will come over and see me some time, won't you?"

Anne felt as if the invitation had been thrown at her. She got theimpression that Leslie Moore gave it reluctantly. 

"I will come if you really want me to, " she said a little coldly. 

"Oh, I do--I do, " exclaimed Leslie, with an eagerness which seemed toburst forth and beat down some restraint that had been imposed on it. 

"Then I'll come. Good-night--Leslie. "

"Good-night, Mrs. Blythe. "

Anne walked home in a brown study and poured out her tale to Gilbert. 

"So Mrs. Dick Moore isn't one of the race that knows Joseph?" saidGilbert teasingly. 

"No--o--o, not exactly. And yet--I think she WAS one of them once, buthas gone or got into exile, " said Anne musingly. "She is certainlyvery different from the other women about here. You can't talk abouteggs and butter to HER. To think I've been imagining her a second Mrs. Rachel Lynde! Have you ever seen Dick Moore, Gilbert?"

"No. I've seen several men working about the fields of the farm, but Idon't know which was Moore. "

"She never mentioned him. I KNOW she isn't happy. "

"From what you tell me I suppose she was married before she was oldenough to know her own mind or heart, and found out too late that shehad made a mistake. It's a common tragedy enough, Anne. 

"A fine woman would have made the best of it. Mrs. Moore has evidentlylet it make her bitter and resentful. "

"Don't let us judge her till we know, " pleaded Anne. "I don't believeher case is so ordinary. You will understand her fascination when youmeet her, Gilbert. It is a thing quite apart from her beauty. I feelthat she possesses a rich nature, into which a friend might enter asinto a kingdom; but for some reason she bars every one out and shutsall her possibilities up in herself, so that they cannot develop andblossom. There, I've been struggling to define her to myself eversince I left her, and that is the nearest I can get to it. I'm goingto ask Miss Cornelia about her. "

CHAPTER 11

THE STORY OF LESLIE MOORE

"Yes, the eighth baby arrived a fortnight ago, " said Miss Cornelia, from a rocker before the fire of the little house one chilly Octoberafternoon. "It's a girl. Fred was ranting mad--said he wanted aboy--when the truth is he didn't want it at all. If it had been a boyhe'd have ranted because it wasn't a girl. They had four girls andthree boys before, so I can't see that it made much difference whatthis one was, but of course he'd have to be cantankerous, just like aman. The baby is real pretty, dressed up in its nice little clothes. It has black eyes and the dearest, tiny hands. "

"I must go and see it. I just love babies, " said Anne, smiling toherself over a thought too dear and sacred to be put into words. 

"I don't say but what they're nice, " admitted Miss Cornelia. "But somefolks seem to have more than they really need, believe ME. My poorcousin Flora up at the Glen had eleven, and such a slave as she is!Her husband suicided three years ago. Just like a man!"

"What made him do that?" asked Anne, rather shocked. 

"Couldn't get his way over something, so he jumped into the well. Agood riddance! He was a born tyrant. But of course it spoiled thewell. Flora could never abide the thought of using it again, poorthing! So she had another dug and a frightful expense it was, and thewater as hard as nails. If he HAD to drown himself there was plenty ofwater in the harbor, wasn't there? I've no patience with a man likethat. We've only had two suicides in Four Winds in my recollection. The other was Frank West--Leslie Moore's father. By the way, hasLeslie ever been over to call on you yet?"

"No, but I met her on the shore a few nights ago and we scraped anacquaintance, " said Anne, pricking up her ears. 

Miss Cornelia nodded. 

"I'm glad, dearie. I was hoping you'd foregather with her. What doyou think of her?"

"I thought her very beautiful. "

"Oh, of course. There was never anybody about Four Winds could touchher for looks. Did you ever see her hair? It reaches to her feet whenshe lets it down. But I meant how did you like her?"

"I think I could like her very much if she'd let me, " said Anne slowly. 

"But she wouldn't let you--she pushed you off and kept you at arm'slength. Poor Leslie! You wouldn't be much surprised if you knew whather life has been. It's been a tragedy--a tragedy!" repeated MissCornelia emphatically. 

"I wish you would tell me all about her--that is, if you can do sowithout betraying any confidence. "

"Lord, dearie, everybody in Four Winds knows poor Leslie's story. It'sno secret--the OUTSIDE, that is. Nobody knows the INSIDE but Leslieherself, and she doesn't take folks into her confidence. I'm about thebest friend she has on earth, I reckon, and she's never uttered a wordof complaint to me. Have you ever seen Dick Moore?"

"No. "

"Well, I may as well begin at the beginning and tell you everythingstraight through, so you'll understand it. As I said, Leslie's fatherwas Frank West. He was clever and shiftless--just like a man. Oh, hehad heaps of brains--and much good they did him! He started to go tocollege, and he went for two years, and then his health broke down. The Wests were all inclined to be consumptive. So Frank came home andstarted farming. He married Rose Elliott from over harbor. Rose wasreckoned the beauty of Four Winds--Leslie takes her looks from hermother, but she has ten times the spirit and go that Rose had, and afar better figure. Now you know, Anne, I always take the ground thatus women ought to stand by each other. We've got enough to endure atthe hands of the men, the Lord knows, so I hold we hadn't ought toclapper-claw one another, and it isn't often you'll find me runningdown another woman. But I never had much use for Rose Elliott. Shewas spoiled to begin with, believe ME, and she was nothing but a lazy, selfish, whining creature. Frank was no hand to work, so they werepoor as Job's turkey. Poor! They lived on potatoes and point, believeME. They had two children--Leslie and Kenneth. Leslie had hermother's looks and her father's brains, and something she didn't getfrom either of them. She took after her Grandmother West--a splendidold lady. She was the brightest, friendliest, merriest thing when shewas a child, Anne. Everybody liked her. She was her father's favoriteand she was awful fond of him. They were 'chums, ' as she used to say. She couldn't see any of his faults--and he WAS a taking sort of man insome ways. 

"Well, when Leslie was twelve years old, the first dreadful thinghappened. She worshipped little Kenneth--he was four years youngerthan her, and he WAS a dear little chap. And he was killed oneday--fell off a big load of hay just as it was going into the barn, andthe wheel went right over his little body and crushed the life out ofit. And mind you, Anne, Leslie saw it. She was looking down from theloft. She gave one screech--the hired man said he never heard such asound in all his life--he said it would ring in his ears till Gabriel'strump drove it out. But she never screeched or cried again about it. She jumped from the loft onto the load and from the load to the floor, and caught up the little bleeding, warm, dead body, Anne--they had totear it from her before she would let it go. They sent for me--I can'ttalk of it. "

Miss Cornelia wiped the tears from her kindly brown eyes and sewed inbitter silence for a few minutes. 

"Well, " she resumed, "it was all over--they buried little Kenneth inthat graveyard over the harbor, and after a while Leslie went back toher school and her studies. She never mentioned Kenneth's name--I'venever heard it cross her lips from that day to this. I reckon that oldhurt still aches and burns at times; but she was only a child and timeis real kind to children, Anne, dearie. After a while she began tolaugh again--she had the prettiest laugh. You don't often hear it now. "

"I heard it once the other night, " said Anne. "It IS a beautifullaugh. "

"Frank West began to go down after Kenneth's death. He wasn't strongand it was a shock to him, because he was real fond of the child, though, as I've said, Leslie was his favorite. He got mopy andmelancholy, and couldn't or wouldn't work. And one day, when Lesliewas fourteen years of age, he hanged himself--and in the parlor, too, mind you, Anne, right in the middle of the parlor from the lamp hook inthe ceiling. Wasn't that like a man? It was the anniversary of hiswedding day, too. Nice, tasty time to pick for it, wasn't it? And, ofcourse, that poor Leslie had to be the one to find him. She went intothe parlor that morning, singing, with some fresh flowers for thevases, and there she saw her father hanging from the ceiling, his faceas black as a coal. It was something awful, believe ME!"

"Oh, how horrible!" said Anne, shuddering. "The poor, poor child!"

"Leslie didn't cry at her father's funeral any more then she had criedat Kenneth's. Rose whooped and howled for two, however, and Leslie hadall she could do trying to calm and comfort her mother. I wasdisgusted with Rose and so was everyone else, but Leslie never got outof patience. She loved her mother. Leslie is clannish--her own couldnever do wrong in her eyes. Well, they buried Frank West besideKenneth, and Rose put up a great big monument to him. It was biggerthan his character, believe ME! Anyhow, it was bigger than Rose couldafford, for the farm was mortgaged for more than its value. But notlong after Leslie's old grandmother West died and she left Leslie alittle money--enough to give her a year at Queen's Academy. Leslie hadmade up her mind to pass for a teacher if she could, and then earnenough to put herself through Redmond College. That had been herfather's pet scheme--he wanted her to have what he had lost. Lesliewas full of ambition and her head was chock full of brains. She wentto Queen's, and she took two years' work in one year and got her First;and when she came home she got the Glen school. She was so happy andhopeful and full of life and eagerness. When I think of what she wasthen and what she is now, I say--drat the men!"

Miss Cornelia snipped her thread off as viciously as if, Nero-like, shewas severing the neck of mankind by the stroke. 

"Dick Moore came into her life that summer. His father, Abner Moore, kept store at the Glen, but Dick had a sea-going streak in him from hismother; he used to sail in summer and clerk in his father's store inwinter. He was a big, handsome fellow, with a little ugly soul. Hewas always wanting something till he got it, and then he stoppedwanting it--just like a man. Oh, he didn't growl at the weather whenit was fine, and he was mostly real pleasant and agreeable wheneverything went right. But he drank a good deal, and there were somenasty stories told of him and a girl down at the fishing village. Hewasn't fit for Leslie to wipe her feet on, that's the long and short ofit. And he was a Methodist! But he was clean mad about her--becauseof her good looks in the first place, and because she wouldn't haveanything to say to him in the second. He vowed he'd have her--and hegot her!"

"How did he bring it about?"

"Oh, it was an iniquitous thing! I'll never forgive Rose West. Yousee, dearie, Abner Moore held the mortgage on the West farm, and theinterest was overdue some years, and Dick just went and told Mrs. Westthat if Leslie wouldn't marry him he'd get his father to foreclose themortgage. Rose carried on terrible--fainted and wept, and pleaded withLeslie not to let her be turned out of her home. She said it wouldbreak her heart to leave the home she'd come to as a bride. I wouldn'thave blamed her for feeling dreadful bad over it--but you wouldn't havethought she'd be so selfish as to sacrifice her own flesh and bloodbecause of it, would you? Well, she was. 

"And Leslie gave in--she loved her mother so much she would have doneanything to save her pain. She married Dick Moore. None of us knewwhy at the time. It wasn't till long afterward that I found out howher mother had worried her into it. I was sure there was somethingwrong, though, because I knew how she had snubbed him time and again, and it wasn't like Leslie to turn face--about like that. Besides, Iknew that Dick Moore wasn't the kind of man Leslie could ever fancy, inspite of his good looks and dashing ways. Of course, there was nowedding, but Rose asked me to go and see them married. I went, but Iwas sorry I did. I'd seen Leslie's face at her brother's funeral andat her father's funeral--and now it seemed to me I was seeing it at herown funeral. But Rose was smiling as a basket of chips, believe ME!

"Leslie and Dick settled down on the West place--Rose couldn't bear topart with her dear daughter!--and lived there for the winter. In thespring Rose took pneumonia and died--a year too late! Leslie washeart-broken enough over it. Isn't it terrible the way some unworthyfolks are loved, while others that deserve it far more, you'd think, never get much affection? As for Dick, he'd had enough of quietmarried life--just like a man. He was for up and off. He went over toNova Scotia to visit his relations--his father had come from NovaScotia--and he wrote back to Leslie that his cousin, George Moore, wasgoing on a voyage to Havana and he was going too. The name of thevessel was the Four Sisters and they were to be gone about nine weeks. 

"It must have been a relief to Leslie. But she never said anything. From the day of her marriage she was just what she is now--cold andproud, and keeping everyone but me at a distance. I won't BE kept at adistance, believe ME! I've just stuck to Leslie as close as I knew howin spite of everything. "

"She told me you were the best friend she had, " said Anne. 

"Did she?" exclaimed Miss Cornelia delightedly. "Well, I'm realthankful to hear it. Sometimes I've wondered if she really did want mearound at all--she never let me think so. You must have thawed her outmore than you think, or she wouldn't have said that much itself to you. Oh, that poor, heart-broken girl! I never see Dick Moore but I want torun a knife clean through him. "

Miss Cornelia wiped her eyes again and having relieved her feelings byher blood-thirsty wish, took up her tale. 

"Well, Leslie was left over there alone. Dick had put in the cropbefore he went, and old Abner looked after it. The summer went by andthe Four Sisters didn't come back. The Nova Scotia Mooresinvestigated, and found she had got to Havana and discharged her cargoand took on another and left for home; and that was all they ever foundout about her. By degrees people began to talk of Dick Moore as onethat was dead. Almost everyone believed that he was, though no onefelt certain, for men have turned up here at the harbor after they'dbeen gone for years. Leslie never thought he was dead--and she wasright. A thousand pities too! The next summer Captain Jim was inHavana--that was before he gave up the sea, of course. He thought he'dpoke round a bit--Captain Jim was always meddlesome, just like aman--and he went to inquiring round among the sailors' boarding housesand places like that, to see if he could find out anything about thecrew of the Four Sisters. He'd better have let sleeping dogs lie, inmy opinion! Well, he went to one out-of-the-way place, and there hefound a man he knew at first sight it was Dick Moore, though he had abig beard. Captain Jim got it shaved off and then there was nodoubt--Dick Moore it was--his body at least. His mind wasn't there--asfor his soul, in my opinion he never had one!"

"What had happened to him?"

"Nobody knows the rights of it. All the folks who kept the boardinghouse could tell was that about a year before they had found him lyingon their doorstep one morning in an awful condition--his head batteredto a jelly almost. They supposed he'd got hurt in some drunken row, and likely that's the truth of it. They took him in, never thinking hecould live. But he did--and he was just like a child when he got well. He hadn't memory or intellect or reason. They tried to find out who hewas but they never could. He couldn't even tell them his name--hecould only say a few simple words. He had a letter on him beginning'Dear Dick' and signed 'Leslie, ' but there was no address on it and theenvelope was gone. They let him stay on--he learned to do a few oddjobs about the place--and there Captain Jim found him. He brought himhome--I've always said it was a bad day's work, though I s'pose therewas nothing else he could do. He thought maybe when Dick got home andsaw his old surroundings and familiar faces his memory would wake up. But it hadn't any effect. There he's been at the house up the brookever since. He's just like a child, no more nor less. Takes fractiousspells occasionally, but mostly he's just vacant and good humored andharmless. He's apt to run away if he isn't watched. That's the burdenLeslie has had to carry for eleven years--and all alone. Old AbnerMoore died soon after Dick was brought home and it was found he wasalmost bankrupt. When things were settled up there was nothing forLeslie and Dick but the old West farm. Leslie rented it to John Ward, and the rent is all she has to live on. Sometimes in summer she takesa boarder to help out. But most visitors prefer the other side of theharbor where the hotels and summer cottages are. Leslie's house is toofar from the bathing shore. She's taken care of Dick and she's neverbeen away from him for eleven years--she's tied to that imbecile forlife. And after all the dreams and hopes she once had! You canimagine what it has been like for her, Anne, dearie--with her beautyand spirit and pride and cleverness. It's just been a living death. "

"Poor, poor girl!" said Anne again. Her own happiness seemed toreproach her. What right had she to be so happy when another humansoul must be so miserable?

"Will you tell me just what Leslie said and how she acted the night youmet her on the shore?" asked Miss Cornelia. 

She listened intently and nodded her satisfaction. 

"YOU thought she was stiff and cold, Anne, dearie, but I can tell youshe thawed out wonderful for her. She must have taken to you realstrong. I'm so glad. You may be able to help her a good deal. I wasthankful when I heard that a young couple was coming to this house, forI hoped it would mean some friends for Leslie; especially if youbelonged to the race that knows Joseph. You WILL be her friend, won'tyou, Anne, dearie?"

"Indeed I will, if she'll let me, " said Anne, with all her own sweet, impulsive earnestness. 

"No, you must be her friend, whether she'll let you or not, " said MissCornelia resolutely. "Don't you mind if she's stiff by times--don'tnotice it. Remember what her life has been--and is--and must alwaysbe, I suppose, for creatures like Dick Moore live forever, Iunderstand. You should see how fat he's got since he came home. Heused to be lean enough. Just MAKE her be friends--you can doit--you're one of those who have the knack. Only you mustn't besensitive. And don't mind if she doesn't seem to want you to go overthere much. She knows that some women don't like to be where Dickis--they complain he gives them the creeps. Just get her to come overhere as often as she can. She can't get away so very much--she can'tleave Dick long, for the Lord knows what he'd do--burn the house downmost likely. At nights, after he's in bed and asleep, is about theonly time she's free. He always goes to bed early and sleeps like thedead till next morning. That is how you came to meet her at the shorelikely. She wanders there considerable. "

"I will do everything I can for her, " said Anne. Her interest inLeslie Moore, which had been vivid ever since she had seen her drivingher geese down the hill, was intensified a thousand fold by MissCornelia's narration. The girl's beauty and sorrow and loneliness drewher with an irresistible fascination. She had never known anyone likeher; her friends had hitherto been wholesome, normal, merry girls likeherself, with only the average trials of human care and bereavement toshadow their girlish dreams. Leslie Moore stood apart, a tragic, appealing figure of thwarted womanhood. Anne resolved that she wouldwin entrance into the kingdom of that lonely soul and find there thecomradeship it could so richly give, were it not for the cruel fettersthat held it in a prison not of its own making. 

"And mind you this, Anne, dearie, " said Miss Cornelia, who had not yetwholly relieved her mind, "You mustn't think Leslie is an infidelbecause she hardly ever goes to church--or even that she's a Methodist. She can't take Dick to church, of course--not that he ever troubledchurch much in his best days. But you just remember that she's a realstrong Presbyterian at heart, Anne, dearie. "

CHAPTER 12

LESLIE COMES OVER

Leslie came over to the house of dreams one frosty October night, whenmoonlit mists were hanging over the harbor and curling like silverribbons along the seaward glens. She looked as if she repented comingwhen Gilbert answered her knock; but Anne flew past him, pounced onher, and drew her in. 

"I'm so glad you picked tonight for a call, " she said gaily. "I madeup a lot of extra good fudge this afternoon and we want someone to helpus eat it--before the fire--while we tell stories. Perhaps Captain Jimwill drop in, too. This is his night. "

"No. Captain Jim is over home, " said Leslie. "He--he made me comehere, " she added, half defiantly. 

"I'll say a thank-you to him for that when I see him, " said Anne, pulling easy chairs before the fire. 

"Oh, I don't mean that I didn't want to come, " protested Leslie, flushing a little. "I--I've been thinking of coming--but it isn'talways easy for me to get away. "

"Of course it must be hard for you to leave Mr. Moore, " said Anne, in amatter-of-fact tone. She had decided that it would be best to mentionDick Moore occasionally as an accepted fact, and not give unduemorbidness to the subject by avoiding it. She was right, for Leslie'sair of constraint suddenly vanished. Evidently she had been wonderinghow much Anne knew of the conditions of her life and was relieved thatno explanations were needed. She allowed her cap and jacket to betaken, and sat down with a girlish snuggle in the big armchair byMagog. She was dressed prettily and carefully, with the customarytouch of color in the scarlet geranium at her white throat. Herbeautiful hair gleamed like molten gold in the warm firelight. Hersea-blue eyes were full of soft laughter and allurement. For themoment, under the influence of the little house of dreams, she was agirl again--a girl forgetful of the past and its bitterness. Theatmosphere of the many loves that had sanctified the little house wasall about her; the companionship of two healthy, happy, young folks ofher own generation encircled her; she felt and yielded to the magic ofher surroundings--Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim would scarcely haverecognized her; Anne found it hard to believe that this was the cold, unresponsive woman she had met on the shore--this animated girl whotalked and listened with the eagerness of a starved soul. And howhungrily Leslie's eyes looked at the bookcases between the windows!

"Our library isn't very extensive, " said Anne, "but every book in it isa FRIEND. We've picked our books up through the years, here and there, never buying one until we had first read it and knew that it belongedto the race of Joseph. "

Leslie laughed--beautiful laughter that seemed akin to all the mirththat had echoed through the little house in the vanished years. 

"I have a few books of father's--not many, " she said. "I've read themuntil I know them almost by heart. I don't get many books. There's acirculating library at the Glen store--but I don't think the committeewho pick the books for Mr. Parker know what books are of Joseph'srace--or perhaps they don't care. It was so seldom I got one I reallyliked that I gave up getting any. "

"I hope you'll look on our bookshelves as your own, " said Anne. 

"You are entirely and wholeheartedly welcome to the loan of any book onthem. "

"You are setting a feast of fat things before me, " said Leslie, joyously. Then, as the clock struck ten, she rose, half unwillingly. 

"I must go. I didn't realise it was so late. Captain Jim is alwayssaying it doesn't take long to stay an hour. But I've stayed two--andoh, but I've enjoyed them, " she added frankly. 

"Come often, " said Anne and Gilbert. They had risen and stood togetherin the firelight's glow. Leslie looked at them--youthful, hopeful, happy, typifying all she had missed and must forever miss. The lightwent out of her face and eyes; the girl vanished; it was the sorrowful, cheated woman who answered the invitation almost coldly and got herselfaway with a pitiful haste. 

Anne watched her until she was lost in the shadows of the chill andmisty night. Then she turned slowly back to the glow of her ownradiant hearthstone. 

"Isn't she lovely, Gilbert? Her hair fascinates me. Miss Corneliasays it reaches to her feet. Ruby Gillis had beautiful hair--butLeslie's is ALIVE--every thread of it is living gold. "

"She is very beautiful, " agreed Gilbert, so heartily that Anne almostwished he were a LITTLE less enthusiastic. 

"Gilbert, would you like my hair better if it were like Leslie's?" sheasked wistfully. 

"I wouldn't have your hair any color but just what it is for theworld, " said Gilbert, with one or two convincing accompaniments. 

You wouldn't be ANNE if you had golden hair--or hair of any color but"--

"Red, " said Anne, with gloomy satisfaction. 

"Yes, red--to give warmth to that milk-white skin and those shininggray-green eyes of yours. Golden hair wouldn't suit you at all QueenAnne--MY Queen Anne--queen of my heart and life and home. "

"Then you may admire Leslie's all you like, " said Anne magnanimously. 

CHAPTER 13

A GHOSTLY EVENING

One evening, a week later, Anne decided to run over the fields to thehouse up the brook for an informal call. It was an evening of gray fogthat had crept in from the gulf, swathed the harbor, filled the glensand valleys, and clung heavily to the autumnal meadows. Through it thesea sobbed and shuddered. Anne saw Four Winds in a new aspect, andfound it weird and mysterious and fascinating; but it also gave her alittle feeling of loneliness. Gilbert was away and would be away untilthe morrow, attending a medical pow-wow in Charlottetown. Anne longedfor an hour of fellowship with some girl friend. Captain Jim and MissCornelia were "good fellows" each, in their own way; but youth yearnedto youth. 

"If only Diana or Phil or Pris or Stella could drop in for a chat, " shesaid to herself, "how delightful it would be! This is such a GHOSTLYnight. I'm sure all the ships that ever sailed out of Four Winds totheir doom could be seen tonight sailing up the harbor with theirdrowned crews on their decks, if that shrouding fog could suddenly bedrawn aside. I feel as if it concealed innumerable mysteries--as if Iwere surrounded by the wraiths of old generations of Four Winds peoplepeering at me through that gray veil. If ever the dear dead ladies ofthis little house came back to revisit it they would come on just sucha night as this. If I sit here any longer I'll see one of them thereopposite me in Gilbert's chair. This place isn't exactly cannytonight. Even Gog and Magog have an air of pricking up their ears tohear the footsteps of unseen guests. I'll run over to see Lesliebefore I frighten myself with my own fancies, as I did long ago in thematter of the Haunted Wood. I'll leave my house of dreams to welcomeback its old inhabitants. My fire will give them my good-will andgreeting--they will be gone before I come back, and my house will bemine once more. Tonight I am sure it is keeping a tryst with the past. "

Laughing a little over her fancy, yet with something of a creepysensation in the region of her spine, Anne kissed her hand to Gog andMagog and slipped out into the fog, with some of the new magazinesunder her arm for Leslie. 

"Leslie's wild for books and magazines, " Miss Cornelia had told her, "and she hardly ever sees one. She can't afford to buy them orsubscribe for them. She's really pitifully poor, Anne. I don't seehow she makes out to live at all on the little rent the farm brings in. She never even hints a complaint on the score of poverty, but I knowwhat it must be. She's been handicapped by it all her life. Shedidn't mind it when she was free and ambitious, but it must gall now, believe ME. I'm glad she seemed so bright and merry the evening shespent with you. Captain Jim told me he had fairly to put her cap andcoat on and push her out of the door. Don't be too long going to seeher either. If you are she'll think it's because you don't like thesight of Dick, and she'll crawl into her shell again. Dick's a great, big, harmless baby, but that silly grin and chuckle of his do get onsome people's nerves. Thank goodness, I've no nerves myself. I likeDick Moore better now than I ever did when he was in his rightsenses--though the Lord knows that isn't saying much. I was down thereone day in housecleaning time helping Leslie a bit, and I was fryingdoughnuts. Dick was hanging round to get one, as usual, and all atonce he picked up a scalding hot one I'd just fished out and dropped iton the back of my neck when I was bending over. Then he laughed andlaughed. Believe ME, Anne, it took all the grace of God in my heart tokeep me from just whisking up that stew-pan of boiling fat and pouringit over his head. "

Anne laughed over Miss Cornelia's wrath as she sped through thedarkness. But laughter accorded ill with that night. She was soberenough when she reached the house among the willows. Everything wasvery silent. The front part of the house seemed dark and deserted, soAnne slipped round to the side door, which opened from the veranda intoa little sitting room. There she halted noiselessly. 

The door was open. Beyond, in the dimly lighted room, sat LeslieMoore, with her arms flung out on the table and her head bent uponthem. She was weeping horribly--with low, fierce, choking sobs, as ifsome agony in her soul were trying to tear itself out. An old blackdog was sitting by her, his nose resting on his lap, his big doggisheyes full of mute, imploring sympathy and devotion. Anne drew back indismay. She felt that she could not intermeddle with this bitterness. Her heart ached with a sympathy she might not utter. To go in nowwould be to shut the door forever on any possible help or friendship. Some instinct warned Anne that the proud, bitter girl would neverforgive the one who thus surprised her in her abandonment of despair. 

Anne slipped noiselessly from the veranda and found her way across theyard. Beyond, she heard voices in the gloom and saw the dim glow of alight. At the gate she met two men--Captain Jim with a lantern, andanother who she knew must be Dick Moore--a big man, badly gone to fat, with a broad, round, red face, and vacant eyes. Even in the dull lightAnne got the impression that there was something unusual about his eyes. 

"Is this you, Mistress Blythe?" said Captain Jim. "Now, now, youhadn't oughter be roaming about alone on a night like this. You couldget lost in this fog easier than not. Jest you wait till I see Dicksafe inside the door and I'll come back and light you over the fields. I ain't going to have Dr. Blythe coming home and finding that youwalked clean over Cape Leforce in the fog. A woman did that once, forty years ago. 

"So you've been over to see Leslie, " he said, when he rejoined her. 

"I didn't go in, " said Anne, and told what she had seen. Captain Jimsighed. 

"Poor, poor, little girl! She don't cry often, Mistress Blythe--she'stoo brave for that. She must feel terrible when she does cry. A nightlike this is hard on poor women who have sorrows. There's somethingabout it that kinder brings up all we've suffered--or feared. "

"It's full of ghosts, " said Anne, with a shiver. "That was why I cameover--I wanted to clasp a human hand and hear a human voice. 

"There seem to be so many INHUMAN presences about tonight. Even my owndear house was full of them. They fairly elbowed me out. So I fledover here for companionship of my kind. "

"You were right not to go in, though, Mistress Blythe. Leslie wouldn'thave liked it. She wouldn't have liked me going in with Dick, as I'dhave done if I hadn't met you. I had Dick down with me all day. Ikeep him with me as much as I can to help Leslie a bit. "

"Isn't there something odd about his eyes?" asked Anne. 

"You noticed that? Yes, one is blue and t'other is hazel--his fatherhad the same. It's a Moore peculiarity. That was what told me he wasDick Moore when I saw him first down in Cuby. If it hadn't a-bin forhis eyes I mightn't a-known him, with his beard and fat. You know, Ireckon, that it was me found him and brought him home. Miss Corneliaalways says I shouldn't have done it, but I can't agree with her. Itwas the RIGHT thing to do--and so 'twas the only thing. There ain't noquestion in my mind about THAT. But my old heart aches for Leslie. She's only twenty-eight and she's eaten more bread with sorrow thanmost women do in eighty years. "

They walked on in silence for a little while. Presently Anne said, "Doyou know, Captain Jim, I never like walking with a lantern. I havealways the strangest feeling that just outside the circle of light, just over its edge in the darkness, I am surrounded by a ring offurtive, sinister things, watching me from the shadows with hostileeyes. I've had that feeling from childhood. What is the reason? Inever feel like that when I'm really in the darkness--when it is closeall around me--I'm not the least frightened. "

"I've something of that feeling myself, " admitted Captain Jim. "Ireckon when the darkness is close to us it is a friend. But when wesorter push it away from us--divorce ourselves from it, so to speak, with lantern light--it becomes an enemy. But the fog is lifting. 

"There's a smart west wind rising, if you notice. The stars will beout when you get home. "

They were out; and when Anne re-entered her house of dreams the redembers were still glowing on the hearth, and all the haunting presenceswere gone. 

CHAPTER 14

NOVEMBER DAYS

The splendor of color which had glowed for weeks along the shores ofFour Winds Harbor had faded out into the soft gray-blue of lateautumnal hills. There came many days when fields and shores were dimwith misty rain, or shivering before the breath of a melancholysea-wind--nights, too, of storm and tempest, when Anne sometimeswakened to pray that no ship might be beating up the grim north shore, for if it were so not even the great, faithful light whirling throughthe darkness unafraid, could avail to guide it into safe haven. 

"In November I sometimes feel as if spring could never come again, " shesighed, grieving over the hopeless unsightliness of her frosted andbedraggled flower-plots. The gay little garden of the schoolmaster'sbride was rather a forlorn place now, and the Lombardies and bircheswere under bare poles, as Captain Jim said. But the fir-wood behindthe little house was forever green and staunch; and even in Novemberand December there came gracious days of sunshine and purple hazes, when the harbor danced and sparkled as blithely as in midsummer, andthe gulf was so softly blue and tender that the storm and the wild windseemed only things of a long-past dream. 

Anne and Gilbert spent many an autumn evening at the lighthouse. Itwas always a cheery place. Even when the east wind sang in minor andthe sea was dead and gray, hints of sunshine seemed to be lurking allabout it. Perhaps this was because the First Mate always paraded it inpanoply of gold. He was so large and effulgent that one hardly missedthe sun, and his resounding purrs formed a pleasant accompaniment tothe laughter and conversation which went on around Captain Jim'sfireplace. Captain Jim and Gilbert had many long discussions and highconverse on matters beyond the ken of cat or king. 

"I like to ponder on all kinds of problems, though I can't solve 'em, "said Captain Jim. "My father held that we should never talk of thingswe couldn't understand, but if we didn't, doctor, the subjects forconversation would be mighty few. I reckon the gods laugh many a timeto hear us, but what matters so long as we remember that we're only menand don't take to fancying that we're gods ourselves, really, knowinggood and evil. I reckon our pow-wows won't do us or anyone much harm, so let's have another whack at the whence, why and whither thisevening, doctor. "

While they "whacked, " Anne listened or dreamed. Sometimes Leslie wentto the lighthouse with them, and she and Anne wandered along the shorein the eerie twilight, or sat on the rocks below the lighthouse untilthe darkness drove them back to the cheer of the driftwood fire. ThenCaptain Jim would brew them tea and tell them

 "tales of land and sea And whatsoever might betide The great forgotten world outside. "

Leslie seemed always to enjoy those lighthouse carousals very much, andbloomed out for the time being into ready wit and beautiful laughter, or glowing-eyed silence. There was a certain tang and savor in theconversation when Leslie was present which they missed when she wasabsent. Even when she did not talk she seemed to inspire others tobrilliancy. Captain Jim told his stories better, Gilbert was quickerin argument and repartee, Anne felt little gushes and trickles of fancyand imagination bubbling to her lips under the influence of Leslie'spersonality. 

"That girl was born to be a leader in social and intellectual circles, far away from Four Winds, " she said to Gilbert as they walked home onenight. "She's just wasted here--wasted. "

"Weren't you listening to Captain Jim and yours truly the other nightwhen we discussed that subject generally? We came to the comfortingconclusion that the Creator probably knew how to run His universe quiteas well as we do, and that, after all, there are no such things as'wasted' lives, saving and except when an individual wilfully squandersand wastes his own life--which Leslie Moore certainly hasn't done. Andsome people might think that a Redmond B. A. , whom editors werebeginning to honor, was 'wasted' as the wife of a struggling countrydoctor in the rural community of Four Winds. "

"Gilbert!"

"If you had married Roy Gardner, now, " continued Gilbert mercilessly, "YOU could have been 'a leader in social and intellectual circles faraway from Four Winds. '"

"Gilbert BLYTHE!"

"You KNOW you were in love with him at one time, Anne. "

"Gilbert, that's mean--'pisen mean, just like all the men, ' as MissCornelia says. I NEVER was in love with him. I only imagined I was. YOU know that. You KNOW I'd rather be your wife in our house of dreamsand fulfillment than a queen in a palace. "

Gilbert's answer was not in words; but I am afraid that both of themforgot poor Leslie speeding her lonely way across the fields to a housethat was neither a palace nor the fulfillment of a dream. 

The moon was rising over the sad, dark sea behind them andtransfiguring it. Her light had not yet reached the harbor, thefurther side of which was shadowy and suggestive, with dim coves andrich glooms and jewelling lights. 

"How the home lights shine out tonight through the dark!" said Anne. "That string of them over the harbor looks like a necklace. And what acoruscation there is up at the Glen! Oh, look, Gilbert; there is ours. I'm so glad we left it burning. I hate to come home to a dark house. OUR homelight, Gilbert! Isn't it lovely to see?"

"Just one of earth's many millions of homes, Anne--girl--butours--OURS--our beacon in 'a naughty world. ' When a fellow has a homeand a dear, little, red-haired wife in it what more need he ask oflife?"

"Well, he might ask ONE thing more, " whispered Anne happily. "Oh, Gilbert, it seems as if I just COULDN'T wait for the spring. "

CHAPTER 15

CHRISTMAS AT FOUR WINDS

At first Anne and Gilbert talked of going home to Avonlea forChristmas; but eventually they decided to stay in Four Winds. "I wantto spend the first Christmas of our life together in our own home, "decreed Anne. 

So it fell out that Marilla and Mrs. Rachel Lynde and the twins came toFour Winds for Christmas. Marilla had the face of a woman who hadcircumnavigated the globe. She had never been sixty miles away fromhome before; and she had never eaten a Christmas dinner anywhere saveat Green Gables. 

Mrs. Rachel had made and brought with her an enormous plum pudding. Nothing could have convinced Mrs. Rachel that a college graduate of theyounger generation could make a Christmas plum pudding properly; butshe bestowed approval on Anne's house. 

"Anne's a good housekeeper, " she said to Marilla in the spare room thenight of their arrival. "I've looked into her bread box and her scrappail. I always judge a housekeeper by those, that's what. There'snothing in the pail that shouldn't have been thrown away, and no stalepieces in the bread box. Of course, she was trained up with you--but, then, she went to college afterwards. I notice she's got my tobaccostripe quilt on the bed here, and that big round braided mat of yoursbefore her living-room fire. It makes me feel right at home. "

Anne's first Christmas in her own house was as delightful as she couldhave wished. The day was fine and bright; the first skim of snow hadfallen on Christmas Eve and made the world beautiful; the harbor wasstill open and glittering. 

Captain Jim and Miss Cornelia came to dinner. Leslie and Dick had beeninvited, but Leslie made excuse; they always went to her Uncle IsaacWest's for Christmas, she said. 

"She'd rather have it so, " Miss Cornelia told Anne. "She can't beartaking Dick where there are strangers. Christmas is always a hard timefor Leslie. She and her father used to make a lot of it. "

Miss Cornelia and Mrs. Rachel did not take a very violent fancy to eachother. "Two suns hold not their courses in one sphere. " But they didnot clash at all, for Mrs. Rachel was in the kitchen helping Anne andMarilla with the dinner, and it fell to Gilbert to entertain CaptainJim and Miss Cornelia, --or rather to be entertained by them, for adialogue between those two old friends and antagonists was assuredlynever dull. 

"It's many a year since there was a Christmas dinner here, MistressBlythe, " said Captain Jim. "Miss Russell always went to her friends intown for Christmas. But I was here to the first Christmas dinner thatwas ever eaten in this house--and the schoolmaster's bride cooked it. That was sixty years ago today, Mistress Blythe--and a day very likethis--just enough snow to make the hills white, and the harbor as blueas June. I was only a lad, and I'd never been invited out to dinnerbefore, and I was too shy to eat enough. I've got all over THAT. "

"Most men do, " said Miss Cornelia, sewing furiously. Miss Cornelia wasnot going to sit with idle hands, even on Christmas. 

Babies come without any consideration for holidays, and there was oneexpected in a poverty-stricken household at Glen St. Mary. MissCornelia had sent that household a substantial dinner for its littleswarm, and so meant to eat her own with a comfortable conscience. 

"Well, you know, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, Cornelia, " explained Captain Jim. 

"I believe you--when he HAS a heart, " retorted Miss Cornelia. "Isuppose that's why so many women kill themselves cooking--just as poorAmelia Baxter did. She died last Christmas morning, and she said itwas the first Christmas since she was married that she didn't have tocook a big, twenty-plate dinner. It must have been a real pleasantchange for her. Well, she's been dead a year, so you'll soon hear ofHorace Baxter taking notice. "

"I heard he was taking notice already, " said Captain Jim, winking atGilbert. "Wasn't he up to your place one Sunday lately, with hisfuneral blacks on, and a boiled collar?"

"No, he wasn't. And he needn't come neither. I could have had himlong ago when he was fresh. I don't want any second-hand goods, believe ME. As for Horace Baxter, he was in financial difficulties ayear ago last summer, and he prayed to the Lord for help; and when hiswife died and he got her life insurance he said he believed it was theanswer to his prayer. Wasn't that like a man?"

"Have you really proof that he said that, Cornelia?"

"I have the Methodist minister's word for it--if you call THAT proof. Robert Baxter told me the same thing too, but I admit THAT isn'tevidence. Robert Baxter isn't often known to tell the truth. "

"Come, come, Cornelia, I think he generally tells the truth, but hechanges his opinion so often it sometimes sounds as if he didn't. "

"It sounds like it mighty often, believe ME. But trust one man toexcuse another. I have no use for Robert Baxter. He turned Methodistjust because the Presbyterian choir happened to be singing 'Behold thebridegroom cometh' for a collection piece when him and Margaret walkedup the aisle the Sunday after they were married. Served him right forbeing late! He always insisted the choir did it on purpose to insulthim, as if he was of that much importance. But that family alwaysthought they were much bigger potatoes than they really were. Hisbrother Eliphalet imagined the devil was always at his elbow--but _I_never believed the devil wasted that much time on him. "

"I--don't--know, " said Captain Jim thoughtfully. "Eliphalet Baxterlived too much alone--hadn't even a cat or dog to keep him human. Whena man is alone he's mighty apt to be with the devil--if he ain't withGod. He has to choose which company he'll keep, I reckon. If thedevil always was at Life Baxter's elbow it must have been because Lifeliked to have him there. "

"Man-like, " said Miss Cornelia, and subsided into silence over acomplicated arrangement of tucks until Captain Jim deliberately stirredher up again by remarking in a casual way:

"I was up to the Methodist church last Sunday morning. "

"You'd better have been home reading your Bible, " was Miss Cornelia'sretort. 

"Come, now, Cornelia, _I_ can't see any harm in going to the Methodistchurch when there's no preaching in your own. I've been a Presbyterianfor seventy-six years, and it isn't likely my theology will hoistanchor at this late day. "

"It's setting a bad example, " said Miss Cornelia grimly. 

"Besides, " continued wicked Captain Jim, "I wanted to hear some goodsinging. The Methodists have a good choir; and you can't deny, Cornelia, that the singing in our church is awful since the split inthe choir. "

"What if the singing isn't good? They're doing their best, and Godsees no difference between the voice of a crow and the voice of anightingale. "

"Come, come, Cornelia, " said Captain Jim mildly, "I've a better opinionof the Almighty's ear for music than THAT. "

"What caused the trouble in our choir?" asked Gilbert, who wassuffering from suppressed laughter. 

"It dates back to the new church, three years ago, " answered CaptainJim. "We had a fearful time over the building of that church--fell outover the question of a new site. The two sites wasn't more'n twohundred yards apart, but you'd have thought they was a thousand by thebitterness of that fight. We was split up into three factions--onewanted the east site and one the south, and one held to the old. Itwas fought out in bed and at board, and in church and at market. Allthe old scandals of three generations were dragged out of their gravesand aired. Three matches was broken up by it. And the meetings we hadto try to settle the question! Cornelia, will you ever forget the onewhen old Luther Burns got up and made a speech? HE stated his opinionsforcibly. "

"Call a spade a spade, Captain. You mean he got red-mad and raked themall, fore and aft. They deserved it too--a pack of incapables. Butwhat would you expect of a committee of men? That building committeeheld twenty-seven meetings, and at the end of the twenty-seventhweren't no nearer having a church than when they begun--not so near, for a fact, for in one fit of hurrying things along they'd gone to workand tore the old church down, so there we were, without a church, andno place but the hall to worship in. "

"The Methodists offered us their church, Cornelia. "

"The Glen St. Mary church wouldn't have been built to this day, " wenton Miss Cornelia, ignoring Captain Jim, "if we women hadn't juststarted in and took charge. We said WE meant to have a church, if themen meant to quarrel till doomsday, and we were tired of being alaughing-stock for the Methodists. We held ONE meeting and elected acommittee and canvassed for subscriptions. We got them, too. When anyof the men tried to sass us we told them they'd tried for two years tobuild a church and it was our turn now. We shut them up close, believeME, and in six months we had our church. Of course, when the men sawwe were determined they stopped fighting and went to work, man-like, assoon as they saw they had to, or quit bossing. Oh, women can't preachor be elders; but they can build churches and scare up the money forthem. "

"The Methodists allow women to preach, " said Captain Jim. 

Miss Cornelia glared at him. 

"I never said the Methodists hadn't common sense, Captain. What I sayis, I doubt if they have much religion. "

"I suppose you are in favor of votes for women, Miss Cornelia, " saidGilbert. 

"I'm not hankering after the vote, believe ME, " said Miss Corneliascornfully. "_I_ know what it is to clean up after the men. But someof these days, when the men realize they've got the world into a messthey can't get it out of, they'll be glad to give us the vote, andshoulder their troubles over on us. That's THEIR scheme. Oh, it'swell that women are patient, believe ME!"

"What about Job?" suggested Captain Jim. 

"Job! It was such a rare thing to find a patient man that when one wasreally discovered they were determined he shouldn't be forgotten, "retorted Miss Cornelia triumphantly. "Anyhow, the virtue doesn't gowith the name. There never was such an impatient man born as old JobTaylor over harbor. "

"Well, you know, he had a good deal to try him, Cornelia. Even youcan't defend his wife. I always remember what old William MacAllistersaid of her at her funeral, 'There's nae doot she was a Chreestianwumman, but she had the de'il's own temper. '"

"I suppose she WAS trying, " admitted Miss Cornelia reluctantly, "butthat didn't justify what Job said when she died. He rode home from thegraveyard the day of the funeral with my father. He never said a wordtill they got near home. Then he heaved a big sigh and said, 'You maynot believe it, Stephen, but this is the happiest day of my life!'Wasn't that like a man?"

"I s'pose poor old Mrs. Job did make life kinder uneasy for him, "reflected Captain Jim. 

"Well, there's such a thing as decency, isn't there? Even if a man isrejoicing in his heart over his wife being dead, he needn't proclaim itto the four winds of heaven. And happy day or not, Job Taylor wasn'tlong in marrying again, you might notice. His second wife could managehim. She made him walk Spanish, believe me! The first thing she didwas to make him hustle round and put up a tombstone to the first Mrs. Job--and she had a place left on it for her own name. She said there'dbe nobody to make Job put up a monument to HER. "

"Speaking of Taylors, how is Mrs. Lewis Taylor up at the Glen, doctor?"asked Captain Jim. 

"She's getting better slowly--but she has to work too hard, " repliedGilbert. 

"Her husband works hard too--raising prize pigs, " said Miss Cornelia. "He's noted for his beautiful pigs. He's a heap prouder of his pigsthan of his children. But then, to be sure, his pigs are the best pigspossible, while his children don't amount to much. He picked a poormother for them, and starved her while she was bearing and rearingthem. His pigs got the cream and his children got the skim milk. 

"There are times, Cornelia, when I have to agree with you, though ithurts me, " said Captain Jim. "That's just exactly the truth aboutLewis Taylor. When I see those poor, miserable children of his, robbedof all children ought to have, it p'isens my own bite and sup for daysafterwards. "

Gilbert went out to the kitchen in response to Anne's beckoning. Anneshut the door and gave him a connubial lecture. 

"Gilbert, you and Captain Jim must stop baiting Miss Cornelia. Oh, I've been listening to you--and I just won't allow it. "

'Anne, Miss Cornelia is enjoying herself hugely. You know she is. '

"Well, never mind. You two needn't egg her on like that. Dinner isready now, and, Gilbert, DON'T let Mrs. Rachel carve the geese. I knowshe means to offer to do it because she doesn't think you can do itproperly. Show her you can. "

"I ought to be able to. I've been studying A-B-C-D diagrams of carvingfor the past month, " said Gilbert. "Only don't talk to me while I'mdoing it, Anne, for if you drive the letters out of my head I'll be ina worse predicament than you were in old geometry days when the teacherchanged them. "

Gilbert carved the geese beautifully. Even Mrs. Rachel had to admitthat. And everybody ate of them and enjoyed them. Anne's firstChristmas dinner was a great success and she beamed with housewifelypride. Merry was the feast and long; and when it was over theygathered around the cheer of the red hearth flame and Captain Jim toldthem stories until the red sun swung low over Four Winds Harbor, andthe long blue shadows of the Lombardies fell across the snow in thelane. 

"I must be getting back to the light, " he said finally. "I'll jesthave time to walk home before sundown. Thank you for a beautifulChristmas, Mistress Blythe. Bring Master Davy down to the light somenight before he goes home. 

"I want to see those stone gods, " said Davy with a relish. 

CHAPTER 16

NEW YEAR'S EVE AT THE LIGHT

The Green Gables folk went home after Christmas, Marilla under solemncovenant to return for a month in the spring. More snow came beforeNew Year's, and the harbor froze over, but the gulf still was free, beyond the white, imprisoned fields. The last day of the old year wasone of those bright, cold, dazzling winter days, which bombard us withtheir brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love. Thesky was sharp and blue; the snow diamonds sparkled insistently; thestark trees were bare and shameless, with a kind of brazen beauty; thehills shot assaulting lances of crystal. Even the shadows were sharpand stiff and clear-cut, as no proper shadows should be. Everythingthat was handsome seemed ten times handsomer and less attractive in theglaring splendor; and everything that was ugly seemed ten times uglier, and everything was either handsome or ugly. There was no softblending, or kind obscurity, or elusive mistiness in that searchingglitter. The only things that held their own individuality were thefirs--for the fir is the tree of mystery and shadow, and yields neverto the encroachments of crude radiance. 

But finally the day began to realise that she was growing old. Then acertain pensiveness fell over her beauty which dimmed yet intensifiedit; sharp angles, glittering points, melted away into curves andenticing gleams. The white harbor put on soft grays and pinks; thefar-away hills turned amethyst. 

"The old year is going away beautifully, " said Anne. 

She and Leslie and Gilbert were on their way to the Four Winds Point, having plotted with Captain Jim to watch the New Year in at the light. The sun had set and in the southwestern sky hung Venus, glorious andgolden, having drawn as near to her earth-sister as is possible forher. For the first time Anne and Gilbert saw the shadow cast by thatbrilliant star of evening, that faint, mysterious shadow, never seensave when there is white snow to reveal it, and then only with avertedvision, vanishing when you gaze at it directly. 

"It's like the spirit of a shadow, isn't it?" whispered Anne. "You cansee it so plainly haunting your side when you look ahead; but when youturn and look at it--it's gone. "

"I have heard that you can see the shadow of Venus only once in alifetime, and that within a year of seeing it your life's mostwonderful gift will come to you, " said Leslie. But she spoke ratherhardly; perhaps she thought that even the shadow of Venus could bringher no gift of life. Anne smiled in the soft twilight; she felt quitesure what the mystic shadow promised her. 

They found Marshall Elliott at the lighthouse. At first Anne feltinclined to resent the intrusion of this long-haired, long-beardedeccentric into the familiar little circle. But Marshall Elliott soonproved his legitimate claim to membership in the household of Joseph. He was a witty, intelligent, well-read man, rivalling Captain Jimhimself in the knack of telling a good story. They were all glad whenhe agreed to watch the old year out with them. 

Captain Jim's small nephew Joe had come down to spend New Year's withhis great-uncle, and had fallen asleep on the sofa with the First Matecurled up in a huge golden ball at his feet. 

"Ain't he a dear little man?" said Captain Jim gloatingly. "I do loveto watch a little child asleep, Mistress Blythe. It's the mostbeautiful sight in the world, I reckon. Joe does love to get down herefor a night, because I have him sleep with me. At home he has to sleepwith the other two boys, and he doesn't like it. Why can't I sleepwith father, Uncle Jim?" says he. 'Everybody in the Bible slept withtheir fathers. ' As for the questions he asks, the minister himselfcouldn't answer them. They fair swamp me. 'Uncle Jim, if I wasn't MEwho'd I be?' and, 'Uncle Jim, what would happen if God died?' He firedthem two off at me tonight, afore he went to sleep. As for hisimagination, it sails away from everything. He makes up the mostremarkable yarns--and then his mother shuts him up in the closet fortelling stories. And he sits down and makes up another one, and has itready to relate to her when she lets him out. He had one for me whenhe come down tonight. 'Uncle Jim, ' says he, solemn as a tombstone, 'Ihad a 'venture in the Glen today. ' 'Yes, what was it?' says I, expecting something quite startling, but nowise prepared for what Ireally got. 'I met a wolf in the street, ' says he, 'a 'normous wolfwith a big, red mouf and AWFUL long teeth, Uncle Jim. ' 'I didn't knowthere was any wolves up at the Glen, ' says I. 'Oh, he comed there fromfar, far away, ' says Joe, 'and I fought he was going to eat me up, Uncle Jim. ' 'Were you scared?' says I. 'No, 'cause I had a big gun, 'says Joe, 'and I shot the wolf dead, Uncle Jim, --solid dead--and thenhe went up to heaven and bit God, ' says he. Well, I was fairstaggered, Mistress Blythe. "

The hours bloomed into mirth around the driftwood fire. Captain Jimtold tales, and Marshall Elliott sang old Scotch ballads in a finetenor voice; finally Captain Jim took down his old brown fiddle fromthe wall and began to play. He had a tolerable knack of fiddling, which all appreciated save the First Mate, who sprang from the sofa asif he had been shot, emitted a shriek of protest, and fled wildly upthe stairs. 

"Can't cultivate an ear for music in that cat nohow, " said Captain Jim. "He won't stay long enough to learn to like it. When we got the organup at the Glen church old Elder Richards bounced up from his seat theminute the organist began to play and scuttled down the aisle and outof the church at the rate of no-man's-business. It reminded me sostrong of the First Mate tearing loose as soon as I begin to fiddlethat I come nearer to laughing out loud in church than I ever didbefore or since. "

There was something so infectious in the rollicking tunes which CaptainJim played that very soon Marshall Elliott's feet began to twitch. Hehad been a noted dancer in his youth. Presently he started up and heldout his hands to Leslie. Instantly she responded. Round and round thefirelit room they circled with a rhythmic grace that was wonderful. Leslie danced like one inspired; the wild, sweet abandon of the musicseemed to have entered into and possessed her. Anne watched her infascinated admiration. She had never seen her like this. All theinnate richness and color and charm of her nature seemed to have brokenloose and overflowed in crimson cheek and glowing eye and grace ofmotion. Even the aspect of Marshall Elliott, with his long beard andhair, could not spoil the picture. On the contrary, it seemed toenhance it. Marshall Elliott looked like a Viking of elder days, dancing with one of the blue-eyed, golden-haired daughters of theNorthland. 

"The purtiest dancing I ever saw, and I've seen some in my time, "declared Captain Jim, when at last the bow fell from his tired hand. Leslie dropped into her chair, laughing, breathless. 

"I love dancing, " she said apart to Anne. "I haven't danced since Iwas sixteen--but I love it. The music seems to run through my veinslike quicksilver and I forget everything--everything--except thedelight of keeping time to it. There isn't any floor beneath me, orwalls about me, or roof over me--I'm floating amid the stars. "

Captain Jim hung his fiddle up in its place, beside a large frameenclosing several banknotes. 

"Is there anybody else of your acquaintance who can afford to hang hiswalls with banknotes for pictures?" he asked. "There's twentyten-dollar notes there, not worth the glass over them. They're oldBank of P. E. Island notes. Had them by me when the bank failed, andI had 'em framed and hung up, partly as a reminder not to put yourtrust in banks, and partly to give me a real luxurious, millionairyfeeling. Hullo, Matey, don't be scared. You can come back now. Themusic and revelry is over for tonight. The old year has just anotherhour to stay with us. I've seen seventy-six New Years come in overthat gulf yonder, Mistress Blythe. "

"You'll see a hundred, " said Marshall Elliott. 

Captain Jim shook his head. 

"No; and I don't want to--at least, I think I don't. Death growsfriendlier as we grow older. Not that one of us really wants to diethough, Marshall. Tennyson spoke truth when he said that. There's oldMrs. Wallace up at the Glen. She's had heaps of trouble all her life, poor soul, and she's lost almost everyone she cared about. She'salways saying that she'll be glad when her time comes, and she doesn'twant to sojourn any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes asick spell there's a fuss! Doctors from town, and a trained nurse, andenough medicine to kill a dog. Life may be a vale of tears, all right, but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon. "

They spent the old year's last hour quietly around the fire. A fewminutes before twelve Captain Jim rose and opened the door. 

"We must let the New Year in, " he said. 

Outside was a fine blue night. A sparkling ribbon of moonlightgarlanded the gulf. Inside the bar the harbor shone like a pavement ofpearl. They stood before the door and waited--Captain Jim with hisripe, full experience, Marshall Elliott in his vigorous but emptymiddle life, Gilbert and Anne with their precious memories andexquisite hopes, Leslie with her record of starved years and herhopeless future. The clock on the little shelf above the fireplacestruck twelve. 

"Welcome, New Year, " said Captain Jim, bowing low as the last strokedied away. "I wish you all the best year of your lives, mates. Ireckon that whatever the New Year brings us will be the best the GreatCaptain has for us--and somehow or other we'll all make port in a goodharbor. "

CHAPTER 17

A FOUR WINDS WINTER

Winter set in vigorously after New Year's. Big, white drifts heapedthemselves about the little house, and palms of frost covered itswindows. The harbor ice grew harder and thicker, until the Four Windspeople began their usual winter travelling over it. The safe ways were"bushed" by a benevolent Government, and night and day the gay tinkleof the sleigh-bells sounded on it. On moonlit nights Anne heard themin her house of dreams like fairy chimes. The gulf froze over, and theFour Winds light flashed no more. During the months when navigationwas closed Captain Jim's office was a sinecure. 

"The First Mate and I will have nothing to do till spring except keepwarm and amuse ourselves. The last lighthouse keeper used always tomove up to the Glen in winter; but I'd rather stay at the Point. TheFirst Mate might get poisoned or chewed up by dogs at the Glen. It's amite lonely, to be sure, with neither the light nor the water forcompany, but if our friends come to see us often we'll weather itthrough. "

Captain Jim had an ice boat, and many a wild, glorious spin Gilbert andAnne and Leslie had over the glib harbor ice with him. Anne and Leslietook long snowshoe tramps together, too, over the fields, or across theharbor after storms, or through the woods beyond the Glen. They werevery good comrades in their rambles and their fireside communings. Each had something to give the other--each felt life the richer forfriendly exchange of thought and friendly silence; each looked acrossthe white fields between their homes with a pleasant consciousness of afriend beyond. But, in spite of all this, Anne felt that there wasalways a barrier between Leslie and herself--a constraint that neverwholly vanished. 

"I don't know why I can't get closer to her, " Anne said one evening toCaptain Jim. "I like her so much--I admire her so much--I WANT to takeher right into my heart and creep right into hers. But I can nevercross the barrier. "

"You've been too happy all your life, Mistress Blythe, " said CaptainJim thoughtfully. "I reckon that's why you and Leslie can't get realclose together in your souls. The barrier between you is herexperience of sorrow and trouble. She ain't responsible for it and youain't; but it's there and neither of you can cross it. "

"My childhood wasn't very happy before I came to Green Gables, " saidAnne, gazing soberly out of the window at the still, sad, dead beautyof the leafless tree-shadows on the moonlit snow. 

"Mebbe not--but it was just the usual unhappiness of a child who hasn'tanyone to look after it properly. There hasn't been any TRAGEDY inyour life, Mistress Blythe. And poor Leslie's has been almost ALLtragedy. She feels, I reckon, though mebbe she hardly knows she feelsit, that there's a vast deal in her life you can't enter norunderstand--and so she has to keep you back from it--hold you off, soto speak, from hurting her. You know if we've got anything about usthat hurts we shrink from anyone's touch on or near it. It holds goodwith our souls as well as our bodies, I reckon. Leslie's soul must benear raw--it's no wonder she hides it away. "

"If that were really all, I wouldn't mind, Captain Jim. I wouldunderstand. But there are times--not always, but now and again--when Ialmost have to believe that Leslie doesn't--doesn't like me. SometimesI surprise a look in her eyes that seems to show resentment anddislike--it goes so quickly--but I've seen it, I'm sure of that. Andit hurts me, Captain Jim. I'm not used to being disliked--and I'vetried so hard to win Leslie's friendship. "

"You have won it, Mistress Blythe. Don't you go cherishing any foolishnotion that Leslie don't like you. If she didn't she wouldn't haveanything to do with you, much less chumming with you as she does. Iknow Leslie Moore too well not to be sure of that. "

"The first time I ever saw her, driving her geese down the hill on theday I came to Four Winds, she looked at me with the same expression, "persisted Anne. "I felt it, even in the midst of my admiration of herbeauty. She looked at me resentfully--she did, indeed, Captain Jim. "

"The resentment must have been about something else, Mistress Blythe, and you jest come in for a share of it because you happened past. Leslie DOES take sullen spells now and again, poor girl. I can't blameher, when I know what she has to put up with. I don't know why it'spermitted. The doctor and I have talked a lot abut the origin of evil, but we haven't quite found out all about it yet. There's a vast ofonunderstandable things in life, ain't there, Mistress Blythe?Sometimes things seem to work out real proper-like, same as with youand the doctor. And then again they all seem to go catawampus. There's Leslie, so clever and beautiful you'd think she was meant for aqueen, and instead she's cooped up over there, robbed of almosteverything a woman'd value, with no prospect except waiting on DickMoore all her life. Though, mind you, Mistress Blythe, I daresay she'dchoose her life now, such as it is, rather than the life she lived withDick before he went away. THAT'S something a clumsy old sailor'stongue mustn't meddle with. But you've helped Leslie a lot--she's adifferent creature since you come to Four Winds. Us old friends seethe difference in her, as you can't. Miss Cornelia and me was talkingit over the other day, and it's one of the mighty few p'ints that wesee eye to eye on. So jest you throw overboard any idea of her notliking you. "

Anne could hardly discard it completely, for there were undoubtedlytimes when she felt, with an instinct that was not to be combated byreason, that Leslie harbored a queer, indefinable resentment towardsher. At times, this secret consciousness marred the delight of theircomradeship; at others it was almost forgotten; but Anne always feltthe hidden thorn was there, and might prick her at any moment. Shefelt a cruel sting from it on the day when she told Leslie of what shehoped the spring would bring to the little house of dreams. Leslielooked at her with hard, bitter, unfriendly eyes. 

"So you are to have THAT, too, " she said in a choked voice. Andwithout another word she had turned and gone across the fieldshomeward. Anne was deeply hurt; for the moment she felt as if shecould never like Leslie again. But when Leslie came over a fewevenings later she was so pleasant, so friendly, so frank, and witty, and winsome, that Anne was charmed into forgiveness and forgetfulness. Only, she never mentioned her darling hope to Leslie again; nor didLeslie ever refer to it. But one evening, when late winter waslistening for the word of spring, she came over to the little house fora twilight chat; and when she went away she left a small, white box onthe table. Anne found it after she was gone and opened it wonderingly. In it was a tiny white dress of exquisite workmanship--delicateembroidery, wonderful tucking, sheer loveliness. Every stitch in itwas handwork; and the little frills of lace at neck and sleeves were ofreal Valenciennes. Lying on it was a card--"with Leslie's love. "

"What hours of work she must have put on it, " said Anne. "And thematerial must have cost more than she could really afford. It is verysweet of her. "

But Leslie was brusque and curt when Anne thanked her, and again thelatter felt thrown back upon herself. 

Leslie's gift was not alone in the little house. Miss Cornelia had, for the time being, given up sewing for unwanted, unwelcome eighthbabies, and fallen to sewing for a very much wanted first one, whosewelcome would leave nothing to be desired. Philippa Blake and DianaWright each sent a marvellous garment; and Mrs. Rachel Lynde sentseveral, in which good material and honest stitches took the place ofembroidery and frills. Anne herself made many, desecrated by no touchof machinery, spending over them the happiest hours of the happy winter. 

Captain Jim was the most frequent guest of the little house, and nonewas more welcome. Every day Anne loved the simple-souled, true-heartedold sailor more and more. He was as refreshing as a sea breeze, asinteresting as some ancient chronicle. She was never tired oflistening to his stories, and his quaint remarks and comments were acontinual delight to her. Captain Jim was one of those rare andinteresting people who "never speak but they say something. " The milkof human kindness and the wisdom of the serpent were mingled in hiscomposition in delightful proportions. 

Nothing ever seemed to put Captain Jim out or depress him in any way. 

"I've kind of contracted a habit of enj'ying things, " he remarked once, when Anne had commented on his invariable cheerfulness. "It's got sochronic that I believe I even enj'y the disagreeable things. It'sgreat fun thinking they can't last. 'Old rheumatiz, ' says I, when itgrips me hard, 'you've GOT to stop aching sometime. The worse you arethe sooner you'll stop, mebbe. I'm bound to get the better of you inthe long run, whether in the body or out of the body. '"

One night, by the fireside at the light Anne saw Captain Jim's"life-book. " He needed no coaxing to show it and proudly gave it toher to read. 

"I writ it to leave to little Joe, " he said. "I don't like the idea ofeverything I've done and seen being clean forgot after I've shipped formy last v'yage. Joe, he'll remember it, and tell the yarns to hischildren. "

It was an old leather-bound book filled with the record of his voyagesand adventures. Anne thought what a treasure trove it would be to awriter. Every sentence was a nugget. In itself the book had noliterary merit; Captain Jim's charm of storytelling failed him when hecame to pen and ink; he could only jot roughly down the outline of hisfamous tales, and both spelling and grammar were sadly askew. But Annefelt that if anyone possessed of the gift could take that simple recordof a brave, adventurous life, reading between the bald lines the talesof dangers staunchly faced and duty manfully done, a wonderful storymight be made from it. Rich comedy and thrilling tragedy were bothlying hidden in Captain Jim's "life-book, " waiting for the touch of themaster hand to waken the laughter and grief and horror of thousands. 

Anne said something of this to Gilbert as they walked home. 

"Why don't you try your hand at it yourself, Anne?"

Anne shook her head. 

"No. I only wish I could. But it's not in the power of my gift. Youknow what my forte is, Gilbert--the fanciful, the fairylike, thepretty. To write Captain Jim's life-book as it should be written oneshould be a master of vigorous yet subtle style, a keen psychologist, aborn humorist and a born tragedian. A rare combination of gifts isneeded. Paul might do it if he were older. Anyhow, I'm going to askhim to come down next summer and meet Captain Jim. "

"Come to this shore, " wrote Anne to Paul. "I am afraid you cannot findhere Nora or the Golden Lady or the Twin Sailors; but you will find oneold sailor who can tell you wonderful stories. "

Paul, however wrote back, saying regretfully that he could not comethat year. He was going abroad for two year's study. 

"When I return I'll come to Four Winds, dear Teacher, " he wrote. 

"But meanwhile, Captain Jim is growing old, " said Anne, sorrowfully, "and there is nobody to write his life-book. "

CHAPTER 18

SPRING DAYS

The ice in the harbor grew black and rotten in the March suns; in Aprilthere were blue waters and a windy, white-capped gulf again; and againthe Four Winds light begemmed the twilights. 

"I'm so glad to see it once more, " said Anne, on the first evening ofits reappearance. "I've missed it so all winter. The northwestern skyhas seemed blank and lonely without it. "

The land was tender with brand-new, golden-green, baby leaves. Therewas an emerald mist on the woods beyond the Glen. The seaward valleyswere full of fairy mists at dawn. 

Vibrant winds came and went with salt foam in their breath. The sealaughed and flashed and preened and allured, like a beautiful, coquettish woman. The herring schooled and the fishing village woke tolife. The harbor was alive with white sails making for the channel. The ships began to sail outward and inward again. 

"On a spring day like this, " said Anne, "I know exactly what my soulwill feel like on the resurrection morning. "

"There are times in spring when I sorter feel that I might have been apoet if I'd been caught young, " remarked Captain Jim. "I catch myselfconning over old lines and verses I heard the schoolmaster recitingsixty years ago. They don't trouble me at other times. Now I feel asif I had to get out on the rocks or the fields or the water and spoutthem. "

Captain Jim had come up that afternoon to bring Anne a load of shellsfor her garden, and a little bunch of sweet-grass which he had found ina ramble over the sand dunes. 

"It's getting real scarce along this shore now, " he said. "When I wasa boy there was a-plenty of it. But now it's only once in a whileyou'll find a plot--and never when you're looking for it. You jesthave to stumble on it--you're walking along on the sand hills, neverthinking of sweet-grass--and all at once the air is full ofsweetness--and there's the grass under your feet. I favor the smell ofsweet-grass. It always makes me think of my mother. "

"She was fond of it?" asked Anne. 

"Not that I knows on. Dunno's she ever saw any sweet-grass. No, it'sbecause it has a kind of motherly perfume--not too young, youunderstand--something kind of seasoned and wholesome anddependable--jest like a mother. The schoolmaster's bride always keptit among her handkerchiefs. You might put that little bunch amongyours, Mistress Blythe. I don't like these boughten scents--but awhiff of sweet-grass belongs anywhere a lady does. "

Anne had not been especially enthusiastic over the idea of surroundingher flower beds with quahog shells; as a decoration they did not appealto her on first thought. But she would not have hurt Captain Jim'sfeelings for anything; so she assumed a virtue she did not at firstfeel, and thanked him heartily. And when Captain Jim had proudlyencircled every bed with a rim of the big, milk-white shells, Annefound to her surprise that she liked the effect. On a town lawn, oreven up at the Glen, they would not have been in keeping, but here, inthe old-fashioned, sea-bound garden of the little house of dreams, theyBELONGED. 

"They DO look nice, " she said sincerely. 

"The schoolmaster's bride always had cowhawks round her beds, " saidCaptain Jim. "She was a master hand with flowers. She LOOKED at'em--and touched 'em--SO--and they grew like mad. Some folks have thatknack--I reckon you have it, too, Mistress Blythe. "

"Oh, I don't know--but I love my garden, and I love working in it. Topotter with green, growing things, watching each day to see the dear, new sprouts come up, is like taking a hand in creation, I think. Justnow my garden is like faith--the substance of things hoped for. Butbide a wee. "

"It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds andthink of the rainbows in 'em, " said Captain Jim. "When I ponder onthem seeds I don't find it nowise hard to believe that we've got soulsthat'll live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe there waslife in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alonecolor and scent, if you hadn't seen the miracle, could you?"

Anne, who was counting her days like silver beads on a rosary, couldnot now take the long walk to the lighthouse or up the Glen road. ButMiss Cornelia and Captain Jim came very often to the little house. Miss Cornelia was the joy of Anne's and Gilbert's existence. Theylaughed side-splittingly over her speeches after every visit. WhenCaptain Jim and she happened to visit the little house at the same timethere was much sport for the listening. They waged wordy warfare, sheattacking, he defending. Anne once reproached the Captain for hisbaiting of Miss Cornelia. 

"Oh, I do love to set her going, Mistress Blythe, " chuckled theunrepentant sinner. "It's the greatest amusement I have in life. Thattongue of hers would blister a stone. And you and that young dog of adoctor enj'y listening to her as much as I do. "

Captain Jim came along another evening to bring Anne some mayflowers. The garden was full of the moist, scented air of a maritime springevening. There was a milk-white mist on the edge of the sea, with ayoung moon kissing it, and a silver gladness of stars over the Glen. The bell of the church across the harbor was ringing dreamily sweet. The mellow chime drifted through the dusk to mingle with the softspring-moan of the sea. Captain Jim's mayflowers added the lastcompleting touch to the charm of the night. 

"I haven't seen any this spring, and I've missed them, " said Anne, burying her face in them. 

"They ain't to be found around Four Winds, only in the barrens awaybehind the Glen up yander. I took a little trip today to theLand-of-nothing-to-do, and hunted these up for you. I reckon they'rethe last you'll see this spring, for they're nearly done. "

"How kind and thoughtful you are, Captain Jim. Nobody else--not evenGilbert"--with a shake of her head at him--"remembered that I alwayslong for mayflowers in spring. "

"Well, I had another errand, too--I wanted to take Mr. Howard backyander a mess of trout. He likes one occasional, and it's all I can dofor a kindness he did me once. I stayed all the afternoon and talkedto him. He likes to talk to me, though he's a highly eddicated man andI'm only an ignorant old sailor, because he's one of the folks that'sGOT to talk or they're miserable, and he finds listeners scarce aroundhere. The Glen folks fight shy of him because they think he's aninfidel. He ain't that far gone exactly--few men is, I reckon--buthe's what you might call a heretic. Heretics are wicked, but they'remighty int'resting. It's jest that they've got sorter lost looking forGod, being under the impression that He's hard to find--which He ain'tnever. Most of 'em blunder to Him after awhile, I guess. I don'tthink listening to Mr. Howard's arguments is likely to do me much harm. Mind you, I believe what I was brought up to believe. It saves a vastof bother--and back of it all, God is good. The trouble with Mr. Howard is that he's a leetle TOO clever. He thinks that he's bound tolive up to his cleverness, and that it's smarter to thrash out some newway of getting to heaven than to go by the old track the common, ignorant folks is travelling. But he'll get there sometime all right, and then he'll laugh at himself. "

"Mr. Howard was a Methodist to begin with, " said Miss Cornelia, as ifshe thought he had not far to go from that to heresy. 

"Do you know, Cornelia, " said Captain Jim gravely, "I've often thoughtthat if I wasn't a Presbyterian I'd be a Methodist. "

"Oh, well, " conceded Miss Cornelia, "if you weren't a Presbyterian itwouldn't matter much what you were. Speaking of heresy, reminds me, doctor--I've brought back that book you lent me--that Natural Law inthe Spiritual World--I didn't read more'n a third of it. I can readsense, and I can read nonsense, but that book is neither the one northe other. "

"It IS considered rather heretical in some quarters, " admitted Gilbert, "but I told you that before you took it, Miss Cornelia. "

"Oh, I wouldn't have minded its being heretical. I can standwickedness, but I can't stand foolishness, " said Miss Cornelia calmly, and with the air of having said the last thing there was to say aboutNatural Law. 

"Speaking of books, A Mad Love come to an end at last two weeks ago, "remarked Captain Jim musingly. "It run to one hundred and threechapters. When they got married the book stopped right off, so Ireckon their troubles were all over. It's real nice that that's theway in books anyhow, isn't it, even if 'tistn't so anywhere else?"

"I never read novels, " said Miss Cornelia. "Did you hear how GeordieRussell was today, Captain Jim?"

"Yes, I called in on my way home to see him. He's getting round allright--but stewing in a broth of trouble, as usual, poor man. 

"'Course he brews up most of it for himself, but I reckon that don'tmake it any easier to bear. "

"He's an awful pessimist, " said Miss Cornelia. 

"Well, no, he ain't a pessimist exactly, Cornelia. He only jest neverfinds anything that suits him. "

"And isn't that a pessimist?"

"No, no. A pessimist is one who never expects to find anything to suithim. Geordie hain't got THAT far yet. "

"You'd find something good to say of the devil himself, Jim Boyd. "

"Well, you've heard the story of the old lady who said he waspersevering. But no, Cornelia, I've nothing good to say of the devil. "

"Do you believe in him at all?" asked Miss Cornelia seriously. 

"How can you ask that when you know what a good Presbyterian I am, Cornelia? How could a Presbyterian get along without a devil?"

"DO you?" persisted Miss Cornelia. 

Captain Jim suddenly became grave. 

"I believe in what I heard a minister once call 'a mighty and malignantand INTELLIGENT power of evil working in the universe, '" he saidsolemnly. "I do THAT, Cornelia. You can call it the devil, or the'principle of evil, ' or the Old Scratch, or any name you like. It'sTHERE, and all the infidels and heretics in the world can't argue itaway, any more'n they can argue God away. It's there, and it'sworking. But, mind you, Cornelia, I believe it's going to get theworst of it in the long run. "

"I am sure I hope so, " said Miss Cornelia, none too hopefully. "Butspeaking of the devil, I am positive that Billy Booth is possessed byhim now. Have you heard of Billy's latest performance?"

"No, what was that?"

"He's gone and burned up his wife's new, brown broadcloth suit, thatshe paid twenty-five dollars for in Charlottetown, because he declaresthe men looked too admiring at her when she wore it to church the firsttime. Wasn't that like a man?"

"Mistress Booth IS mighty pretty, and brown's her color, " said CaptainJim reflectively. 

"Is that any good reason why he should poke her new suit into thekitchen stove? Billy Booth is a jealous fool, and he makes his wife'slife miserable. She's cried all the week about her suit. Oh, Anne, Iwish I could write like you, believe ME. Wouldn't I score some of themen round here!"

"Those Booths are all a mite queer, " said Captain Jim. "Billy seemedthe sanest of the lot till he got married and then this queer jealousstreak cropped out in him. His brother Daniel, now, was always odd. "

"Took tantrums every few days or so and wouldn't get out of bed, " saidMiss Cornelia with a relish. "His wife would have to do all the barnwork till he got over his spell. When he died people wrote her lettersof condolence; if I'd written anything it would have been one ofcongratulation. Their father, old Abram Booth, was a disgusting oldsot. He was drunk at his wife's funeral, and kept reeling round andhiccuping 'I didn't dri--i--i--nk much but I feel a--a--awfullyque--e--e--r. ' I gave him a good jab in the back with my umbrella whenhe came near me, and it sobered him up until they got the casket out ofthe house. Young Johnny Booth was to have been married yesterday, buthe couldn't be because he's gone and got the mumps. Wasn't that like aman?"

"How could he help getting the mumps, poor fellow?"

"I'd poor fellow him, believe ME, if I was Kate Sterns. I don't knowhow he could help getting the mumps, but I DO know the wedding supperwas all prepared and everything will be spoiled before he's well again. Such a waste! He should have had the mumps when he was a boy. "

"Come, come, Cornelia, don't you think you're a mite unreasonable?"

Miss Cornelia disdained to reply and turned instead to Susan Baker, agrim-faced, kind-hearted elderly spinster of the Glen, who had beeninstalled as maid-of-all-work at the little house for some weeks. Susan had been up to the Glen to make a sick call, and had justreturned. 

"How is poor old Aunt Mandy tonight?" asked Miss Cornelia. 

Susan sighed. 

"Very poorly--very poorly, Cornelia. I am afraid she will soon be inheaven, poor thing!"

"Oh, surely, it's not so bad as that!" exclaimed Miss Cornelia, sympathetically. 

Captain Jim and Gilbert looked at each other. Then they suddenly roseand went out. 

"There are times, " said Captain Jim, between spasms, "when it would bea sin NOT to laugh. Them two excellent women!"

CHAPTER 19

DAWN AND DUSK

In early June, when the sand hills were a great glory of pink wildroses, and the Glen was smothered in apple blossoms, Marilla arrived atthe little house, accompanied by a black horsehair trunk, patternedwith brass nails, which had reposed undisturbed in the Green Gablesgarret for half a century. Susan Baker, who, during her few weeks'sojourn in the little house, had come to worship "young Mrs. Doctor, "as she called Anne, with blind fervor, looked rather jealously askanceat Marilla at first. But as Marilla did not try to interfere inkitchen matters, and showed no desire to interrupt Susan'sministrations to young Mrs. Doctor, the good handmaiden becamereconciled to her presence, and told her cronies at the Glen that MissCuthbert was a fine old lady and knew her place. 

One evening, when the sky's limpid bowl was filled with a red glory, and the robins were thrilling the golden twilight with jubilant hymnsto the stars of evening, there was a sudden commotion in the littlehouse of dreams. Telephone messages were sent up to the Glen, DoctorDave and a white-capped nurse came hastily down, Marilla paced thegarden walks between the quahog shells, murmuring prayers between herset lips, and Susan sat in the kitchen with cotton wool in her ears andher apron over her head. 

Leslie, looking out from the house up the brook, saw that every windowof the little house was alight, and did not sleep that night. 

The June night was short; but it seemed an eternity to those who waitedand watched. 

"Oh, will it NEVER end?" said Marilla; then she saw how grave the nurseand Doctor Dave looked, and she dared ask no more questions. SupposeAnne--but Marilla could not suppose it. 

"Do not tell me, " said Susan fiercely, answering the anguish inMarilla's eyes, "that God could be so cruel as to take that darlinglamb from us when we all love her so much. "

"He has taken others as well beloved, " said Marilla hoarsely. 

But at dawn, when the rising sun rent apart the mists hanging over thesandbar, and made rainbows of them, joy came to the little house. Annewas safe, and a wee, white lady, with her mother's big eyes, was lyingbeside her. Gilbert, his face gray and haggard from his night's agony, came down to tell Marilla and Susan. 

"Thank God, " shuddered Marilla. 

Susan got up and took the cotton wool out of her ears. 

"Now for breakfast, " she said briskly. "I am of the opinion that wewill all be glad of a bite and sup. You tell young Mrs. Doctor not toworry about a single thing--Susan is at the helm. You tell her just tothink of her baby. "

Gilbert smiled rather sadly as he went away. Anne, her pale faceblanched with its baptism of pain, her eyes aglow with the holy passionof motherhood, did not need to be told to think of her baby. Shethought of nothing else. For a few hours she tasted of happiness sorare and exquisite that she wondered if the angels in heaven did notenvy her. 

"Little Joyce, " she murmured, when Marilla came in to see the baby. "We planned to call her that if she were a girlie. There were so manywe would have liked to name her for; we couldn't choose between them, so we decided on Joyce--we can call her Joy for short--Joy--it suits sowell. Oh, Marilla, I thought I was happy before. Now I know that Ijust dreamed a pleasant dream of happiness. THIS is the reality. "

"You mustn't talk, Anne--wait till you're stronger, " said Marillawarningly. 

"You know how hard it is for me NOT to talk, " smiled Anne. 

At first she was too weak and too happy to notice that Gilbert and thenurse looked grave and Marilla sorrowful. Then, as subtly, and coldly, and remorselessly as a sea-fog stealing landward, fear crept into herheart. Why was not Gilbert gladder? Why would he not talk about thebaby? Why would they not let her have it with her after that firstheavenly--happy hour? Was--was there anything wrong?

"Gilbert, " whispered Anne imploringly, "the baby--is all right--isn'tshe? Tell me--tell me. "

Gilbert was a long while in turning round; then he bent over Anne andlooked in her eyes. Marilla, listening fearfully outside the door, heard a pitiful, heartbroken moan, and fled to the kitchen where Susanwas weeping. 

"Oh, the poor lamb--the poor lamb! How can she bear it, Miss Cuthbert?I am afraid it will kill her. She has been that built up and happy, longing for that baby, and planning for it. Cannot anything be donenohow, Miss Cuthbert?"

"I'm afraid not, Susan. Gilbert says there is no hope. He knew fromthe first the little thing couldn't live. "

"And it is such a sweet baby, " sobbed Susan. "I never saw one sowhite--they are mostly red or yallow. And it opened its big eyes as ifit was months old. The little, little thing! Oh, the poor, young Mrs. Doctor!"

At sunset the little soul that had come with the dawning went away, leaving heartbreak behind it. Miss Cornelia took the wee, white ladyfrom the kindly but stranger hands of the nurse, and dressed the tinywaxen form in the beautiful dress Leslie had made for it. Leslie hadasked her to do that. Then she took it back and laid it beside thepoor, broken, tear-blinded little mother. 

"The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away, dearie, " she saidthrough her own tears. "Blessed be the name of the Lord. "

Then she went away, leaving Anne and Gilbert alone together with theirdead. 

The next day, the small white Joy was laid in a velvet casket whichLeslie had lined with apple-blossoms, and taken to the graveyard of thechurch across the harbor. Miss Cornelia and Marilla put all the littlelove-made garments away, together with the ruffled basket which hadbeen befrilled and belaced for dimpled limbs and downy head. LittleJoy was never to sleep there; she had found a colder, narrower bed. 

"This has been an awful disappointment to me, " sighed Miss Cornelia. "I've looked forward to this baby--and I did want it to be a girl, too. "

"I can only be thankful that Anne's life was spared, " said Marilla, with a shiver, recalling those hours of darkness when the girl sheloved was passing through the valley of the shadow. 

"Poor, poor lamb! Her heart is broken, " said Susan. 

"I ENVY Anne, " said Leslie suddenly and fiercely, "and I'd envy hereven if she had died! She was a mother for one beautiful day. I'dgladly give my life for THAT!"

"I wouldn't talk like that, Leslie, dearie, " said Miss Corneliadeprecatingly. She was afraid that the dignified Miss Cuthbert wouldthink Leslie quite terrible. 

Anne's convalescence was long, and made bitter for her by many things. The bloom and sunshine of the Four Winds world grated harshly on her;and yet, when the rain fell heavily, she pictured it beating somercilessly down on that little grave across the harbor; and when thewind blew around the eaves she heard sad voices in it she had neverheard before. 

Kindly callers hurt her, too, with the well-meant platitudes with whichthey strove to cover the nakedness of bereavement. A letter from PhilBlake was an added sting. Phil had heard of the baby's birth, but notof its death, and she wrote Anne a congratulatory letter of sweet mirthwhich hurt her horribly. 

"I would have laughed over it so happily if I had my baby, " she sobbedto Marilla. "But when I haven't it just seems like wantoncruelty--though I know Phil wouldn't hurt me for the world. Oh, Marilla, I don't see how I can EVER be happy again--EVERYTHING willhurt me all the rest of my life. "

"Time will help you, " said Marilla, who was racked with sympathy butcould never learn to express it in other than age-worn formulas. 

"It doesn't seem FAIR, " said Anne rebelliously. "Babies are born andlive where they are not wanted--where they will be neglected--wherethey will have no chance. I would have loved my baby so--and cared forit so tenderly--and tried to give her every chance for good. And yet Iwasn't allowed to keep her. "

"It was God's will, Anne, " said Marilla, helpless before the riddle ofthe universe--the WHY of undeserved pain. "And little Joy is betteroff. "

"I can't believe THAT, " cried Anne bitterly. Then, seeing that Marillalooked shocked, she added passionately, "Why should she be born atall--why should any one be born at all--if she's better off dead? IDON'T believe it is better for a child to die at birth than to live itslife out--and love and be loved--and enjoy and suffer--and do itswork--and develop a character that would give it a personality ineternity. And how do you know it was God's will? Perhaps it was justa thwarting of His purpose by the Power of Evil. We can't be expectedto be resigned to THAT. "

"Oh, Anne, don't talk so, " said Marilla, genuinely alarmed lest Annewere drifting into deep and dangerous waters. "We can'tunderstand--but we must have faith--we MUST believe that all is for thebest. I know you find it hard to think so, just now. But try to bebrave--for Gilbert's sake. He's so worried about you. You aren'tgetting strong as fast as you should. "

"Oh, I know I've been very selfish, " sighed Anne. "I love Gilbert morethan ever--and I want to live for his sake. But it seems as if part ofme was buried over there in that little harbor graveyard--and it hurtsso much that I'm afraid of life. "

"It won't hurt so much always, Anne. "

"The thought that it may stop hurting sometimes hurts me worse than allelse, Marilla. "

"Yes, I know, I've felt that too, about other things. But we all loveyou, Anne. Captain Jim has been up every day to ask for you--and Mrs. Moore haunts the place--and Miss Bryant spends most of her time, Ithink, cooking up nice things for you. Susan doesn't like it verywell. She thinks she can cook as well as Miss Bryant. "

"Dear Susan! Oh, everybody has been so dear and good and lovely to me, Marilla. I'm not ungrateful--and perhaps--when this horrible achegrows a little less--I'll find that I can go on living. "

CHAPTER 20

LOST MARGARET

Anne found that she could go on living; the day came when she evensmiled again over one of Miss Cornelia's speeches. But there wassomething in the smile that had never been in Anne's smile before andwould never be absent from it again. 

On the first day she was able to go for a drive Gilbert took her downto Four Winds Point, and left her there while he rowed over the channelto see a patient at the fishing village. A rollicking wind wasscudding across the harbor and the dunes, whipping the water intowhite-caps and washing the sandshore with long lines of silverybreakers. 

"I'm real proud to see you here again, Mistress Blythe, " said CaptainJim. "Sit down--sit down. I'm afeared it's mighty dusty heretoday--but there's no need of looking at dust when you can look at suchscenery, is there?"

"I don't mind the dust, " said Anne, "but Gilbert says I must keep inthe open air. I think I'll go and sit on the rocks down there. "

"Would you like company or would you rather be alone?"

"If by company you mean yours I'd much rather have it than be alone, "said Anne, smiling. Then she sighed. She had never before mindedbeing alone. Now she dreaded it. When she was alone now she felt sodreadfully alone. 

"Here's a nice little spot where the wind can't get at you, " saidCaptain Jim, when they reached the rocks. "I often sit here. It's agreat place jest to sit and dream. "

"Oh--dreams, " sighed Anne. "I can't dream now, Captain Jim--I'm donewith dreams. "

"Oh, no, you're not, Mistress Blythe--oh, no, you're not, " said CaptainJim meditatively. "I know how you feel jest now--but if you keep onliving you'll get glad again, and the first thing you know you'll bedreaming again--thank the good Lord for it! If it wasn't for ourdreams they might as well bury us. How'd we stand living if it wasn'tfor our dream of immortality? And that's a dream that's BOUND to cometrue, Mistress Blythe. You'll see your little Joyce again some day. "

"But she won't be my baby, " said Anne, with trembling lips. "Oh, shemay be, as Longfellow says, 'a fair maiden clothed with celestialgrace'--but she'll be a stranger to me. "

"God will manage better'n THAT, I believe, " said Captain Jim. 

They were both silent for a little time. Then Captain Jim said verysoftly:

"Mistress Blythe, may I tell you about lost Margaret?"

"Of course, " said Anne gently. She did not know who "lost Margaret"was, but she felt that she was going to hear the romance of CaptainJim's life. 

"I've often wanted to tell you about her, " Captain Jim went on. 

"Do you know why, Mistress Blythe? It's because I want somebody toremember and think of her sometime after I'm gone. I can't bear thather name should be forgotten by all living souls. And now nobodyremembers lost Margaret but me. "

Then Captain Jim told the story--an old, old forgotten story, for itwas over fifty years since Margaret had fallen asleep one day in herfather's dory and drifted--or so it was supposed, for nothing was evercertainly known as to her fate--out of the channel, beyond the bar, toperish in the black thundersquall which had come up so suddenly thatlong-ago summer afternoon. But to Captain Jim those fifty years werebut as yesterday when it is past. 

"I walked the shore for months after that, " he said sadly, "looking tofind her dear, sweet little body; but the sea never give her back tome. But I'll find her sometime, Mistress Blythe--I'll find hersometime. She's waiting for me. I wish I could tell you jest how shelooked, but I can't. I've seen a fine, silvery mist hanging over thebar at sunrise that seemed like her--and then again I've seen a whitebirch in the woods back yander that made me think of her. She hadpale, brown hair and a little white, sweet face, and long slenderfingers like yours, Mistress Blythe, only browner, for she was a shoregirl. Sometimes I wake up in the night and hear the sea calling to mein the old way, and it seems as if lost Margaret called in it. Andwhen there's a storm and the waves are sobbing and moaning I hear herlamenting among them. And when they laugh on a gay day it's HERlaugh--lost Margaret's sweet, roguish, little laugh. The sea took herfrom me, but some day I'll find her. Mistress Blythe. It can't keepus apart forever. "

"I am glad you have told me about her, " said Anne. "I have oftenwondered why you had lived all your life alone. "

"I couldn't ever care for anyone else. Lost Margaret took my heartwith her--out there, " said the old lover, who had been faithful forfifty years to his drowned sweetheart. "You won't mind if I talk agood deal about her, will you, Mistress Blythe? It's a pleasure tome--for all the pain went out of her memory years ago and jest left itsblessing. I know you'll never forget her, Mistress Blythe. And if theyears, as I hope, bring other little folks to your home, I want you topromise me that you'll tell THEM the story of lost Margaret, so thather name won't be forgotten among humankind. "

CHAPTER 21

BARRIERS SWEPT AWAY

 "Anne, " said Leslie, breaking abruptly a shortsilence, "you don't know how GOOD it is to be sitting here with youagain--working--and talking--and being silent together. "

They were sitting among the blue-eyed grasses on the bank of the brookin Anne's garden. The water sparkled and crooned past them; thebirches threw dappled shadows over them; roses bloomed along the walks. The sun was beginning to be low, and the air was full of woven music. There was one music of the wind in the firs behind the house, andanother of the waves on the bar, and still another from the distantbell of the church near which the wee, white lady slept. Anne lovedthat bell, though it brought sorrowful thoughts now. 

She looked curiously at Leslie, who had thrown down her sewing andspoken with a lack of restraint that was very unusual with her. 

"On that horrible night when you were so ill, " Leslie went on, "I keptthinking that perhaps we'd have no more talks and walks and WORKStogether. And I realised just what your friendship had come to mean tome--just what YOU meant--and just what a hateful little beast I hadbeen. "

"Leslie! Leslie! I never allow anyone to call my friends names. "

"It's true. That's exactly what I am--a hateful little beast. There'ssomething I've GOT to tell you, Anne. I suppose it will make youdespise me, but I MUST confess it. Anne, there have been times thispast winter and spring when I have HATED you. "

"I KNEW it, " said Anne calmly. 

"You KNEW it?"

"Yes, I saw it in your eyes. "

"And yet you went on liking me and being my friend. "

"Well, it was only now and then you hated me, Leslie. Between timesyou loved me, I think. "

"I certainly did. But that other horrid feeling was always there, spoiling it, back in my heart. I kept it down--sometimes I forgotit--but sometimes it would surge up and take possession of me. I hatedyou because I ENVIED you--oh, I was sick with envy of you at times. You had a dear little home--and love--and happiness--and gladdreams--everything I wanted--and never had--and never could have. Oh, never could have! THAT was what stung. I wouldn't have envied you, ifI had had any HOPE that life would ever be different for me. But Ihadn't--I hadn't--and it didn't seem FAIR. It made me rebellious--andit hurt me--and so I hated you at times. Oh, I was so ashamed ofit--I'm dying of shame now--but I couldn't conquer it. 

"That night, when I was afraid you mightn't live--I thought I was goingto be punished for my wickedness--and I loved you so then. Anne, Anne, I never had anything to love since my mother died, except Dick's olddog--and it's so dreadful to have nothing to love--life is soEMPTY--and there's NOTHING worse than emptiness--and I might have lovedyou so much--and that horrible thing had spoiled it--"

Leslie was trembling and growing almost incoherent with the violence ofher emotion. 

"Don't, Leslie, " implored Anne, "oh, don't. I understand--don't talkof it any more. "

"I must--I must. When I knew you were going to live I vowed that Iwould tell you as soon as you were well--that I wouldn't go onaccepting your friendship and companionship without telling you howunworthy I was of it. And I've been so afraid--it would turn youagainst me. "

"You needn't fear that, Leslie. "

"Oh, I'm so glad--so glad, Anne. " Leslie clasped her brown, work-hardened hands tightly together to still their shaking. "But Iwant to tell you everything, now I've begun. You don't remember thefirst time I saw you, I suppose--it wasn't that night on the shore--"

"No, it was the night Gilbert and I came home. You were driving yourgeese down the hill. I should think I DO remember it! I thought youwere so beautiful--I longed for weeks after to find out who you were. "

"I knew who YOU were, although I had never seen either of you before. I had heard of the new doctor and his bride who were coming to live inMiss Russell's little house. I--I hated you that very moment, Anne. "

"I felt the resentment in your eyes--then I doubted--I thought I mustbe mistaken--because WHY should it be?"

"It was because you looked so happy. Oh, you'll agree with me now thatI AM a hateful beast--to hate another woman just because she washappy, --and when her happiness didn't take anything from me! That waswhy I never went to see you. I knew quite well I ought to go--even oursimple Four Winds customs demanded that. But I couldn't. I used towatch you from my window--I could see you and your husband strollingabout your garden in the evening--or you running down the poplar laneto meet him. And it hurt me. And yet in another way I wanted to goover. I felt that, if I were not so miserable, I could have liked youand found in you what I've never had in my life--an intimate, REALfriend of my own age. And then you remember that night at the shore?You were afraid I would think you crazy. You must have thought _I_was. "

"No, but I couldn't understand you, Leslie. One moment you drew me toyou--the next you pushed me back. "

"I was very unhappy that evening. I had had a hard day. Dick had beenvery--very hard to manage that day. Generally he is quite good-naturedand easily controlled, you know, Anne. But some days he is verydifferent. I was so heartsick--I ran away to the shore as soon as hewent to sleep. It was my only refuge. I sat there thinking of how mypoor father had ended his life, and wondering if I wouldn't be drivento it some day. Oh, my heart was full of black thoughts! And then youcame dancing along the cove like a glad, light-hearted child. I--Ihated you more then than I've ever done since. And yet I craved yourfriendship. The one feeling swayed me one moment; the other feelingthe next. When I got home that night I cried for shame of what youmust think of me. But it's always been just the same when I came overhere. Sometimes I'd be happy and enjoy my visit. And at other timesthat hideous feeling would mar it all. There were times wheneverything about you and your house hurt me. You had so many dearlittle things I couldn't have. Do you know--it's ridiculous--but I hadan especial spite at those china dogs of yours. There were times whenI wanted to catch up Gog and Magog and bang their pert black nosestogether! Oh, you smile, Anne--but it was never funny to me. I wouldcome here and see you and Gilbert with your books and your flowers, andyour household goods, and your little family jokes--and your love foreach other showing in every look and word, even when you didn't knowit--and I would go home to--you know what I went home to! Oh, Anne, Idon't believe I'm jealous and envious by nature. When I was a girl Ilacked many things my schoolmates had, but I never cared--I neverdisliked them for it. But I seem to have grown so hateful--"

"Leslie, dearest, stop blaming yourself. You are NOT hateful orjealous or envious. The life you have to live has warped you a little, perhaps-but it would have ruined a nature less fine and noble thanyours. I'm letting you tell me all this because I believe it's betterfor you to talk it out and rid your soul of it. But don't blameyourself any more. "

"Well, I won't. I just wanted you to know me as I am. That time youtold me of your darling hope for the spring was the worst of all, Anne. I shall never forgive myself for the way I behaved then. I repented itwith tears. And I DID put many a tender and loving thought of you intothe little dress I made. But I might have known that anything I madecould only be a shroud in the end. "

"Now, Leslie, that IS bitter and morbid--put such thoughts away. 

"I was so glad when you brought the little dress; and since I had tolose little Joyce I like to think that the dress she wore was the oneyou made for her when you let yourself love me. "

"Anne, do you know, I believe I shall always love you after this. Idon't think I'll ever feel that dreadful way about you again. Talkingit all out seems to have done away with it, somehow. It's verystrange--and I thought it so real and bitter. It's like opening thedoor of a dark room to show some hideous creature you've believed to bethere--and when the light streams in your monster turns out to havebeen just a shadow, vanishing when the light comes. It will never comebetween us again. "

"No, we are real friends now, Leslie, and I am very glad. "

"I hope you won't misunderstand me if I say something else. Anne, Iwas grieved to the core of my heart when you lost your baby; and if Icould have saved her for you by cutting off one of my hands I wouldhave done it. But your sorrow has brought us closer together. Yourperfect happiness isn't a barrier any longer. Oh, don't misunderstand, dearest--I'm NOT glad that your happiness isn't perfect any longer--Ican say that sincerely; but since it isn't, there isn't such a gulfbetween us. "

"I DO understand that, too, Leslie. Now, we'll just shut up the pastand forget what was unpleasant in it. It's all going to be different. We're both of the race of Joseph now. I think you've beenwonderful--wonderful. And, Leslie, I can't help believing that lifehas something good and beautiful for you yet. "

Leslie shook her head. 

"No, " she said dully. "There isn't any hope. Dick will never bebetter--and even if his memory were to come back--oh, Anne, it would beworse, even worse, than it is now. This is something you can'tunderstand, you happy bride. Anne, did Miss Cornelia ever tell you howI came to marry Dick?"

"Yes. "

"I'm glad--I wanted you to know--but I couldn't bring myself to talk ofit if you hadn't known. Anne, it seems to me that ever since I wastwelve years old life has been bitter. Before that I had a happychildhood. We were very poor--but we didn't mind. Father was sosplendid--so clever and loving and sympathetic. We were chums as farback as I can remember. And mother was so sweet. She was very, verybeautiful. I look like her, but I am not so beautiful as she was. "

"Miss Cornelia says you are far more beautiful. "

"She is mistaken--or prejudiced. I think my figure IS better--motherwas slight and bent by hard work--but she had the face of an angel. Iused just to look up at her in worship. We all worshipped her, --fatherand Kenneth and I. "

Anne remembered that Miss Cornelia had given her a very differentimpression of Leslie's mother. But had not love the truer vision?Still, it WAS selfish of Rose West to make her daughter marry DickMoore. 

"Kenneth was my brother, " went on Leslie. "Oh, I can't tell you how Iloved him. And he was cruelly killed. Do you know how?"

"Yes. "

"Anne, I saw his little face as the wheel went over him. He fell onhis back. Anne--Anne--I can see it now. I shall always see it. Anne, all I ask of heaven is that that recollection shall be blotted out ofmy memory. O my God!"

"Leslie, don't speak of it. I know the story--don't go into detailsthat only harrow your soul up unavailingly. It WILL be blotted out. "

After a moment's struggle, Leslie regained a measure of self-control. 

"Then father's health got worse and he grew despondent--his mind becameunbalanced--you've heard all that, too?"

"Yes. "

"After that I had just mother to live for. But I was very ambitious. I meant to teach and earn my way through college. I meant to climb tothe very top--oh, I won't talk of that either. It's no use. You knowwhat happened. I couldn't see my dear little heart-broken mother, whohad been such a slave all her life, turned out of her home. Of course, I could have earned enough for us to live on. But mother COULDN'Tleave her home. She had come there as a bride--and she had lovedfather so--and all her memories were there. Even yet, Anne, when Ithink that I made her last year happy I'm not sorry for what I did. Asfor Dick--I didn't hate him when I married him--I just felt for him theindifferent, friendly feeling I had for most of my schoolmates. I knewhe drank some--but I had never heard the story of the girl down at thefishing cove. If I had, I COULDN'T have married him, even for mother'ssake. Afterwards--I DID hate him--but mother never knew. Shedied--and then I was alone. I was only seventeen and I was alone. Dick had gone off in the Four Sisters. I hoped he wouldn't be homevery much more. The sea had always been in his blood. I had no otherhope. Well, Captain Jim brought him home, as you know--and that's allthere is to say. You know me now, Anne--the worst of me--the barriersare all down. And you still want to be my friend?"

Anne looked up through the birches, at the white paper-lantern of ahalf moon drifting downwards to the gulf of sunset. Her face was verysweet. 

"I am your friend and you are mine, for always, " she said. "Such afriend as I never had before. I have had many dear and belovedfriends--but there is a something in you, Leslie, that I never found inanyone else. You have more to offer me in that rich nature of yours, and I have more to give you than I had in my careless girlhood. We areboth women--and friends forever. "

They clasped hands and smiled at each other through the tears thatfilled the gray eyes and the blue. 

CHAPTER 22

MISS CORNELIA ARRANGES MATTERS

Gilbert insisted that Susan should be kept on at the little house forthe summer. Anne protested at first. 

"Life here with just the two of us is so sweet, Gilbert. It spoils ita little to have anyone else. Susan is a dear soul, but she is anoutsider. It won't hurt me to do the work here. "

"You must take your doctor's advice, " said Gilbert. "There's an oldproverb to the effect that shoemakers' wives go barefoot and doctors'wives die young. I don't mean that it shall be true in my household. You will keep Susan until the old spring comes back into your step, andthose little hollows on your cheeks fill out. "

"You just take it easy, Mrs. Doctor, dear, " said Susan, coming abruptlyin. "Have a good time and do not worry about the pantry. Susan is atthe helm. There is no use in keeping a dog and doing your own barking. I am going to take your breakfast up to you every morning. "

"Indeed you are not, " laughed Anne. "I agree with Miss Cornelia thatit's a scandal for a woman who isn't sick to eat her breakfast in bed, and almost justifies the men in any enormities. "

"Oh, Cornelia!" said Susan, with ineffable contempt. "I think you havebetter sense, Mrs. Doctor, dear, than to heed what Cornelia Bryantsays. I cannot see why she must be always running down the men, evenif she is an old maid. _I_ am an old maid, but you never hear MEabusing the men. I like 'em. I would have married one if I could. Isit not funny nobody ever asked me to marry him, Mrs. Doctor, dear? Iam no beauty, but I am as good-looking as most of the married women yousee. But I never had a beau. What do you suppose is the reason?"

"It may be predestination, " suggested Anne, with unearthly solemnity. 

Susan nodded. 

"That is what I have often thought, Mrs. Doctor, dear, and a greatcomfort it is. I do not mind nobody wanting me if the Almighty decreedit so for His own wise purposes. But sometimes doubt creeps in, Mrs. Doctor, dear, and I wonder if maybe the Old Scratch has not more to dowith it than anyone else. I cannot feel resigned THEN. But maybe, "added Susan, brightening up, "I will have a chance to get married yet. I often and often think of the old verse my aunt used to repeat:

 There never was a goose so gray but sometime soon or late Some honest gander came her way and took her for his mate!

A woman cannot ever be sure of not being married till she is buried, Mrs. Doctor, dear, and meanwhile I will make a batch of cherry pies. Inotice the doctor favors 'em, and I DO like cooking for a man whoappreciates his victuals. "

Miss Cornelia dropped in that afternoon, puffing a little. 

"I don't mind the world or the devil much, but the flesh DOES ratherbother me, " she admitted. "You always look as cool as a cucumber, Anne, dearie. Do I smell cherry pie? If I do, ask me to stay to tea. Haven't tasted a cherry pie this summer. My cherries have all beenstolen by those scamps of Gilman boys from the Glen. "

"Now, now, Cornelia, " remonstrated Captain Jim, who had been reading asea novel in a corner of the living room, "you shouldn't say that aboutthose two poor, motherless Gilman boys, unless you've got certainproof. Jest because their father ain't none too honest isn't anyreason for calling them thieves. It's more likely it's been the robinstook your cherries. They're turrible thick this year. "

"Robins!" said Miss Cornelia disdainfully. "Humph! Two-legged robins, believe ME!"

"Well, most of the Four Winds robins ARE constructed on thatprinciple, " said Captain Jim gravely. 

Miss Cornelia stared at him for a moment. Then she leaned back in herrocker and laughed long and ungrudgingly. 

"Well, you HAVE got one on me at last, Jim Boyd, I'll admit. Just lookhow pleased he is, Anne, dearie, grinning like a Chessy-cat. As forthe robins' legs if robins have great, big, bare, sunburned legs, withragged trousers hanging on 'em, such as I saw up in my cherry tree onemorning at sunrise last week, I'll beg the Gilman boys' pardon. By thetime I got down they were gone. I couldn't understand how they haddisappeared so quick, but Captain Jim has enlightened me. They flewaway, of course. "

Captain Jim laughed and went away, regretfully declining an invitationto stay to supper and partake of cherry pie. 

"I'm on my way to see Leslie and ask her if she'll take a boarder, "Miss Cornelia resumed. "I'd a letter yesterday from a Mrs. Daly inToronto, who boarded a spell with me two years ago. She wanted me totake a friend of hers for the summer. His name is Owen Ford, and he'sa newspaper man, and it seems he's a grandson of the schoolmaster whobuilt this house. John Selwyn's oldest daughter married an Ontario mannamed Ford, and this is her son. He wants to see the old place hisgrandparents lived in. He had a bad spell of typhoid in the spring andhasn't got rightly over it, so his doctor has ordered him to the sea. He doesn't want to go to the hotel--he just wants a quiet home place. I can't take him, for I have to be away in August. I've been appointeda delegate to the W. F. M. S. Convention in Kingsport and I'm going. Idon't know whether Leslie'll want to be bothered with him, either, butthere's no one else. If she can't take him he'll have to go over theharbor. "

"When you've seen her come back and help us eat our cherry pies, " saidAnne. "Bring Leslie and Dick, too, if they can come. And so you'regoing to Kingsport? What a nice time you will have. I must give you aletter to a friend of mine there--Mrs. Jonas Blake. "

"I've prevailed on Mrs. Thomas Holt to go with me, " said Miss Corneliacomplacently. "It's time she had a little holiday, believe ME. Shehas just about worked herself to death. Tom Holt can crochetbeautifully, but he can't make a living for his family. He never seemsto be able to get up early enough to do any work, but I notice he canalways get up early to go fishing. Isn't that like a man?"

Anne smiled. She had learned to discount largely Miss Cornelia'sopinions of the Four Winds men. Otherwise she must have believed themthe most hopeless assortment of reprobates and ne'er-do-wells in theworld, with veritable slaves and martyrs for wives. This particularTom Holt, for example, she knew to be a kind husband, a much lovedfather, and an excellent neighbor. If he were rather inclined to belazy, liking better the fishing he had been born for than the farminghe had not, and if he had a harmless eccentricity for doing fancy work, nobody save Miss Cornelia seemed to hold it against him. His wife wasa "hustler, " who gloried in hustling; his family got a comfortableliving off the farm; and his strapping sons and daughters, inheritingtheir mother's energy, were all in a fair way to do well in the world. There was not a happier household in Glen St. Mary than the Holts'. 

Miss Cornelia returned satisfied from the house up the brook. 

"Leslie's going to take him, " she announced. "She jumped at thechance. She wants to make a little money to shingle the roof of herhouse this fall, and she didn't know how she was going to manage it. Iexpect Captain Jim'll be more than interested when he hears that agrandson of the Selwyns' is coming here. Leslie said to tell you shehankered after cherry pie, but she couldn't come to tea because she hasto go and hunt up her turkeys. They've strayed away. But she said, ifthere was a piece left, for you to put it in the pantry and she'd runover in the cat's light, when prowling's in order, to get it. Youdon't know, Anne, dearie, what good it did my heart to hear Leslie sendyou a message like that, laughing like she used to long ago. 

"There's a great change come over her lately. She laughs and jokeslike a girl, and from her talk I gather she's here real often. "

"Every day--or else I'm over there, " said Anne. "I don't know what I'ddo without Leslie, especially just now when Gilbert is so busy. He'shardly ever home except for a few hours in the wee sma's. He's reallyworking himself to death. So many of the over-harbor people send forhim now. "

"They might better be content with their own doctor, " said MissCornelia. "Though to be sure I can't blame them, for he's a Methodist. Ever since Dr. Blythe brought Mrs. Allonby round folks think he canraise the dead. I believe Dr. Dave is a mite jealous--just like a man. He thinks Dr. Blythe has too many new-fangled notions! 'Well, ' I saysto him, 'it was a new-fangled notion saved Rhoda Allonby. If YOU'Dbeen attending her she'd have died, and had a tombstone saying it hadpleased God to take her away. ' Oh, I DO like to speak my mind to Dr. Dave! He's bossed the Glen for years, and he thinks he's forgottenmore than other people ever knew. Speaking of doctors, I wish Dr. Blythe'd run over and see to that boil on Dick Moore's neck. It'sgetting past Leslie's skill. I'm sure I don't know what Dick Moorewants to start in having boils for--as if he wasn't enough troublewithout that!"

"Do you know, Dick has taken quite a fancy to me, " said Anne. "Hefollows me round like a dog, and smiles like a pleased child when Inotice him. "

"Does it make you creepy?"

"Not at all. I rather like poor Dick Moore. He seems so pitiful andappealing, somehow. "

"You wouldn't think him very appealing if you'd see him on hiscantankerous days, believe ME. But I'm glad you don't mind him--it'sall the nicer for Leslie. She'll have more to do when her boardercomes. I hope he'll be a decent creature. You'll probably likehim--he's a writer. "

"I wonder why people so commonly suppose that if two individuals areboth writers they must therefore be hugely congenial, " said Anne, rather scornfully. "Nobody would expect two blacksmiths to beviolently attracted toward each other merely because they were bothblacksmiths. "

Nevertheless, she looked forward to the advent of Owen Ford with apleasant sense of expectation. If he were young and likeable he mightprove a very pleasant addition to society in Four Winds. Thelatch-string of the little house was always out for the race of Joseph. 

CHAPTER 23

OWEN FORD COMES

One evening Miss Cornelia telephoned down to Anne. 

"The writer man has just arrived here. I'm going to drive him down toyour place, and you can show him the way over to Leslie's. It'sshorter than driving round by the other road, and I'm in a mortalhurry. The Reese baby has gone and fallen into a pail of hot water atthe Glen, and got nearly scalded to death and they want me rightoff--to put a new skin on the child, I presume. Mrs. Reese is alwaysso careless, and then expects other people to mend her mistakes. Youwon't mind, will you, dearie? His trunk can go down tomorrow. "

"Very well, " said Anne. "What is he like, Miss Cornelia?"

"You'll see what he's like outside when I take him down. As for whathe's like inside only the Lord who made him knows THAT. I'm not goingto say another word, for every receiver in the Glen is down. "

"Miss Cornelia evidently can't find much fault with Mr. Ford's looks, or she would find it in spite of the receivers, " said Anne. "Iconclude therefore, Susan, that Mr. Ford is rather handsome thanotherwise. "

"Well, Mrs. Doctor, dear, I DO enjoy seeing a well-looking man, " saidSusan candidly. "Had I not better get up a snack for him? There is astrawberry pie that would melt in your mouth. "

"No, Leslie is expecting him and has his supper ready. Besides, I wantthat strawberry pie for my own poor man. He won't be home till late, so leave the pie and a glass of milk out for him, Susan. "

"That I will, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Susan is at the helm. After all, itis better to give pie to your own men than to strangers, who may beonly seeking to devour, and the doctor himself is as well-looking a manas you often come across. "

When Owen Ford came Anne secretly admitted, as Miss Cornelia towed himin, that he was very "well-looking" indeed. He was tall andbroad-shouldered, with thick, brown hair, finely-cut nose and chin, large and brilliant dark-gray eyes. 

"And did you notice his ears and his teeth, Mrs. Doctor, dear?" queriedSusan later on. "He has got the nicest-shaped ears I ever saw on aman's head. I am choice about ears. When I was young I was scaredthat I might have to marry a man with ears like flaps. But I need nothave worried, for never a chance did I have with any kind of ears. "

Anne had not noticed Owen Ford's ears, but she did see his teeth, ashis lips parted over them in a frank and friendly smile. Unsmiling, his face was rather sad and absent in expression, not unlike themelancholy, inscrutable hero of Anne's own early dreams; but mirth andhumor and charm lighted it up when he smiled. Certainly, on theoutside, as Miss Cornelia said, Owen Ford was a very presentable fellow. 

"You cannot realise how delighted I am to be here, Mrs. Blythe, " hesaid, looking around him with eager, interested eyes. "I have an oddfeeling of coming home. My mother was born and spent her childhoodhere, you know. She used to talk a great deal to me of her old home. I know the geography of it as well as of the one I lived in, and, ofcourse, she told me the story of the building of the house, and of mygrandfather's agonised watch for the Royal William. I had thought thatso old a house must have vanished years ago, or I should have come tosee it before this. "

"Old houses don't vanish easily on this enchanted coast, " smiled Anne. "This is a 'land where all things always seem the same'--nearly always, at least. John Selwyn's house hasn't even been much changed, andoutside the rose-bushes your grandfather planted for his bride areblooming this very minute. "

"How the thought links me with them! With your leave I must explorethe whole place soon. "

"Our latch-string will always be out for you, " promised Anne. "And doyou know that the old sea captain who keeps the Four Winds light knewJohn Selwyn and his bride well in his boyhood? He told me their storythe night I came here--the third bride of the old house. "

"Can it be possible? This IS a discovery. I must hunt him up. "

"It won't be difficult; we are all cronies of Captain Jim. He will beas eager to see you as you could be to see him. Your grandmothershines like a star in his memory. But I think Mrs. Moore is expectingyou. I'll show you our 'cross-lots' road. "

Anne walked with him to the house up the brook, over a field that wasas white as snow with daisies. A boat-load of people were singing faracross the harbor. The sound drifted over the water like faint, unearthly music wind-blown across a starlit sea. The big light flashedand beaconed. Owen Ford looked around him with satisfaction. 

"And so this is Four Winds, " he said. "I wasn't prepared to find itquite so beautiful, in spite of all mother's praises. Whatcolors--what scenery--what charm! I shall get as strong as a horse inno time. And if inspiration comes from beauty, I should certainly beable to begin my great Canadian novel here. "

"You haven't begun it yet?" asked Anne. 

"Alack-a-day, no. I've never been able to get the right central ideafor it. It lurks beyond me--it allures--and beckons--and recedes--Ialmost grasp it and it is gone. Perhaps amid this peace andloveliness, I shall be able to capture it. Miss Bryant tells me thatyou write. "

"Oh, I do little things for children. I haven't done much since I wasmarried. And--I have no designs on a great Canadian novel, " laughedAnne. "That is quite beyond me. "

Owen Ford laughed too. 

"I dare say it is beyond me as well. All the same I mean to have a tryat it some day, if I can ever get time. A newspaper man doesn't havemuch chance for that sort of thing. I've done a good deal of shortstory writing for the magazines, but I've never had the leisure thatseems to be necessary for the writing of a book. With three months ofliberty I ought to make a start, though--if I could only get thenecessary motif for it--the SOUL of the book. "

An idea whisked through Anne's brain with a suddenness that made herjump. But she did not utter it, for they had reached the Moore house. As they entered the yard Leslie came out on the veranda from the sidedoor, peering through the gloom for some sign of her expected guest. She stood just where the warm yellow light flooded her from the opendoor. She wore a plain dress of cheap, cream-tinted cotton voile, withthe usual girdle of crimson. Leslie was never without her touch ofcrimson. She had told Anne that she never felt satisfied without agleam of red somewhere about her, if it were only a flower. To Anne, it always seemed to symbolise Leslie's glowing, pent-up personality, denied all expression save in that flaming glint. Leslie's dress wascut a little away at the neck and had short sleeves. Her arms gleamedlike ivory-tinted marble. Every exquisite curve of her form wasoutlined in soft darkness against the light. Her hair shone in it likeflame. Beyond her was a purple sky, flowering with stars over theharbor. 

Anne heard her companion give a gasp. Even in the dusk she could seethe amazement and admiration on his face. 

"Who is that beautiful creature?" he asked. 

"That is Mrs. Moore, " said Anne. "She is very lovely, isn't she?"

"I--I never saw anything like her, " he answered, rather dazedly. "Iwasn't prepared--I didn't expect--good heavens, one DOESN'T expect agoddess for a landlady! Why, if she were clothed in a gown ofsea-purple, with a rope of amethysts in her hair, she would be averitable sea-queen. And she takes in boarders!"

"Even goddesses must live, " said Anne. "And Leslie isn't a goddess. She's just a very beautiful woman, as human as the rest of us. DidMiss Bryant tell you about Mr. Moore?"

"Yes, --he's mentally deficient, or something of the sort, isn't he?But she said nothing about Mrs. Moore, and I supposed she'd be theusual hustling country housewife who takes in boarders to earn anhonest penny. "

"Well, that's just what Leslie is doing, " said Anne crisply. "And itisn't altogether pleasant for her, either. I hope you won't mind Dick. If you do, please don't let Leslie see it. It would hurt her horribly. He's just a big baby, and sometimes a rather annoying one. "

"Oh, I won't mind him. I don't suppose I'll be much in the houseanyhow, except for meals. But what a shame it all is! Her life mustbe a hard one. "

"It is. But she doesn't like to be pitied. "

Leslie had gone back into the house and now met them at the front door. She greeted Owen Ford with cold civility, and told him in abusiness-like tone that his room and his supper were ready for him. Dick, with a pleased grin, shambled upstairs with the valise, and OwenFord was installed as an inmate of the old house among the willows. 

CHAPTER 24

THE LIFE-BOOK OF CAPTAIN JIM

"I have a little brown cocoon of an idea that may possibly expand intoa magnificent moth of fulfilment, " Anne told Gilbert when she reachedhome. He had returned earlier than she had expected, and was enjoyingSusan's cherry pie. Susan herself hovered in the background, like arather grim but beneficent guardian spirit, and found as much pleasurein watching Gilbert eat pie as he did in eating it. 

 "What is your idea?" he asked. 

"I sha'n't tell you just yet--not till I see if I can bring the thingabout. "

"What sort of a chap is Ford?"

"Oh, very nice, and quite good-looking. "

"Such beautiful ears, doctor, dear, " interjected Susan with a relish. 

"He is about thirty or thirty-five, I think, and he meditates writing anovel. His voice is pleasant and his smile delightful, and he knowshow to dress. He looks as if life hadn't been altogether easy for him, somehow. "

Owen Ford came over the next evening with a note to Anne from Leslie;they spent the sunset time in the garden and then went for a moonlitsail on the harbor, in the little boat Gilbert had set up for summeroutings. They liked Owen immensely and had that feeling of havingknown him for many years which distinguishes the freemasonry of thehouse of Joseph. "He is as nice as his ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear, " saidSusan, when he had gone. He had told Susan that he had never tastedanything like her strawberry shortcake and Susan's susceptible heartwas his forever. 

"He has got a way with him. " she reflected, as she cleared up therelics of the supper. "It is real queer he is not married, for a manlike that could have anybody for the asking. Well, maybe he is likeme, and has not met the right one yet. "

Susan really grew quite romantic in her musings as she washed thesupper dishes. 

Two nights later Anne took Owen Ford down to Four Winds Point tointroduce him to Captain Jim. The clover fields along the harbor shorewere whitening in the western wind, and Captain Jim had one of hisfinest sunsets on exhibition. He himself had just returned from a tripover the harbor. 

"I had to go over and tell Henry Pollack he was dying. Everybody elsewas afraid to tell him. They expected he'd take on turrible, for he'sbeen dreadful determined to live, and been making no end of plans forthe fall. His wife thought he oughter be told and that I'd be the bestone to break it to him that he couldn't get better. Henry and me areold cronies--we sailed in the Gray Gull for years together. Well, Iwent over and sat down by Henry's bed and I says to him, says I, jestright out plain and simple, for if a thing's got to be told it may aswell be told first as last, says I, 'Mate, I reckon you've got yoursailing orders this time, ' I was sorter quaking inside, for it's anawful thing to have to tell a man who hain't any idea he's dying thathe is. But lo and behold, Mistress Blythe, Henry looks up at me, withthose bright old black eyes of his in his wizened face and says, sayshe, 'Tell me something I don't know, Jim Boyd, if you want to give meinformation. I've known THAT for a week. ' I was too astonished tospeak, and Henry, he chuckled. 'To see you coming in here, ' says he, 'with your face as solemn as a tombstone and sitting down there withyour hands clasped over your stomach, and passing me out a blue-mouldyold item of news like that! It'd make a cat laugh, Jim Boyd, ' says he. 'Who told you?' says I, stupid like. 'Nobody, ' says he. 'A week agoTuesday night I was lying here awake--and I jest knew. I'd suspicionedit before, but then I KNEW. I've been keeping up for the wife's sake. And I'd LIKE to have got that barn built, for Eben'll never get itright. But anyhow, now that you've eased your mind, Jim, put on asmile and tell me something interesting, ' Well, there it was. They'dbeen so scared to tell him and he knew it all the time. Strange hownature looks out for us, ain't it, and lets us know what we should knowwhen the time comes? Did I never tell you the yarn about Henry gettingthe fish hook in his nose, Mistress Blythe?"

"No. "

"Well, him and me had a laugh over it today. It happened nigh untothirty years ago. Him and me and several more was out mackerel fishingone day. It was a great day--never saw such a school of mackerel inthe gulf--and in the general excitement Henry got quite wild andcontrived to stick a fish hook clean through one side of his nose. Well, there he was; there was barb on one end and a big piece of leadon the other, so it couldn't be pulled out. We wanted to take himashore at once, but Henry was game; he said he'd be jiggered if he'dleave a school like that for anything short of lockjaw; then he keptfishing away, hauling in hand over fist and groaning between times. Fin'lly the school passed and we come in with a load; I got a file andbegun to try to file through that hook. I tried to be as easy as Icould, but you should have heard Henry--no, you shouldn't either. Itwas well no ladies were around. Henry wasn't a swearing man, but he'dheard some few matters of that sort along shore in his time, and hefished 'em all out of his recollection and hurled 'em at me. Fin'llyhe declared he couldn't stand it and I had no bowels of compassion. Sowe hitched up and I drove him to a doctor in Charlottetown, thirty-fivemiles--there weren't none nearer in them days--with that blessed hookstill hanging from his nose. When we got there old Dr. Crabb jest tooka file and filed that hook jest the same as I'd tried to do, only heweren't a mite particular about doing it easy!"

Captain Jim's visit to his old friend had revived many recollectionsand he was now in the full tide of reminiscences. 

"Henry was asking me today if I remembered the time old Father Chiniquyblessed Alexander MacAllister's boat. Another odd yarn--and true asgospel. I was in the boat myself. We went out, him and me, inAlexander MacAllister's boat one morning at sunrise. Besides, therewas a French boy in the boat--Catholic of course. You know old FatherChiniquy had turned Protestant, so the Catholics hadn't much use forhim. Well, we sat out in the gulf in the broiling sun till noon, andnot a bite did we get. When we went ashore old Father Chiniquy had togo, so he said in that polite way of his, 'I'm very sorry I cannot goout with you dis afternoon, Mr. MacAllister, but I leave you myblessing. You will catch a t'ousand dis afternoon. 'Well, we did notcatch a thousand, but we caught exactly nine hundred andninety-nine--the biggest catch for a small boat on the whole northshore that summer. Curious, wasn't it? Alexander MacAllister, he saysto Andrew Peters, 'Well, and what do you think of Father Chiniquy now?''Vell, ' growled Andrew, 'I t'ink de old devil has got a blessing leftyet. ' Laws, how Henry did laugh over that today!"

"Do you know who Mr. Ford is, Captain Jim?" asked Anne, seeing thatCaptain Jim's fountain of reminiscence had run out for the present. "Iwant you to guess. "

Captain Jim shook his head. 

"I never was any hand at guessing, Mistress Blythe, and yet somehowwhen I come in I thought, 'Where have I seen them eyes before?'--for IHAVE seen 'em. "

"Think of a September morning many years ago, " said Anne, softly. "Think of a ship sailing up the harbor--a ship long waited for anddespaired of. Think of the day the Royal William came in and the firstlook you had at the schoolmaster's bride. "

Captain Jim sprang up. 

"They're Persis Selwyn's eyes, " he almost shouted. "You can't be herson--you must be her--"

"Grandson; yes, I am Alice Selwyn's son. "

Captain Jim swooped down on Owen Ford and shook his hand over again. 

"Alice Selwyn's son! Lord, but you're welcome! Many's the time I'vewondered where the descendants of the schoolmaster were living. I knewthere was none on the Island. Alice--Alice--the first baby ever bornin that little house. No baby ever brought more joy! I've dandled hera hundred times. It was from my knee she took her first steps alone. Can't I see her mother's face watching her--and it was near sixty yearsago. Is she living yet?"

"No, she died when I was only a boy. "

"Oh, it doesn't seem right that I should be living to hear that, "sighed Captain Jim. "But I'm heart-glad to see you. It's brought backmy youth for a little while. You don't know yet what a boon THAT is. Mistress Blythe here has the trick--she does it quite often for me. "

Captain Jim was still more excited when he discovered that Owen Fordwas what he called a "real writing man. " He gazed at him as at asuperior being. Captain Jim knew that Anne wrote, but he had nevertaken that fact very seriously. Captain Jim thought women weredelightful creatures, who ought to have the vote, and everything elsethey wanted, bless their hearts; but he did not believe they couldwrite. 

"Jest look at A Mad Love, " he would protest. "A woman wrote that andjest look at it--one hundred and three chapters when it could all havebeen told in ten. A writing woman never knows when to stop; that's thetrouble. The p'int of good writing is to know when to stop. "

"Mr. Ford wants to hear some of your stories, Captain Jim" said Anne. "Tell him the one about the captain who went crazy and imagined he wasthe Flying Dutchman. "

This was Captain Jim's best story. It was a compound of horror andhumor, and though Anne had heard it several times she laughed asheartily and shivered as fearsomely over it as Mr. Ford did. Othertales followed, for Captain Jim had an audience after his own heart. He told how his vessel had been run down by a steamer; how he had beenboarded by Malay pirates; how his ship had caught fire; how he helped apolitical prisoner escape from a South African republic; how he hadbeen wrecked one fall on the Magdalens and stranded there for thewinter; how a tiger had broken loose on board ship; how his crew hadmutinied and marooned him on a barren island--these and many othertales, tragic or humorous or grotesque, did Captain Jim relate. Themystery of the sea, the fascination of far lands, the lure ofadventure, the laughter of the world--his hearers felt and realisedthem all. Owen Ford listened, with his head on his hand, and the FirstMate purring on his knee, his brilliant eyes fastened on Captain Jim'srugged, eloquent face. 

"Won't you let Mr. Ford see your life-book, Captain Jim?" asked Anne, when Captain Jim finally declared that yarn-spinning must end for thetime. 

"Oh, he don't want to be bothered with THAT, " protested Captain Jim, who was secretly dying to show it. 

"I should like nothing better than to see it, Captain Boyd, " said Owen. "If it is half as wonderful as your tales it will be worth seeing. "

With pretended reluctance Captain Jim dug his life-book out of his oldchest and handed it to Owen. 

"I reckon you won't care to wrastle long with my old hand o' write. Inever had much schooling, " he observed carelessly. "Just wrote thatthere to amuse my nephew Joe. He's always wanting stories. Comes hereyesterday and says to me, reproachful-like, as I was lifting atwenty-pound codfish out of my boat, 'Uncle Jim, ain't a codfish a dumbanimal?' I'd been a-telling him, you see, that he must be real kind todumb animals, and never hurt 'em in any way. I got out of the scrapeby saying a codfish was dumb enough but it wasn't an animal, but Joedidn't look satisfied, and I wasn't satisfied myself. You've got to bemighty careful what you tell them little critters. THEY can seethrough you. "

While talking, Captain Jim watched Owen Ford from the corner of his eyeas the latter examined the life-book; and presently observing that hisguest was lost in its pages, he turned smilingly to his cupboard andproceeded to make a pot of tea. Owen Ford separated himself from thelife-book, with as much reluctance as a miser wrenches himself from hisgold, long enough to drink his tea, and then returned to it hungrily. 

"Oh, you can take that thing home with you if you want to, " saidCaptain Jim, as if the "thing" were not his most treasured possession. "I must go down and pull my boat up a bit on the skids. There's a windcoming. Did you notice the sky tonight?

 Mackerel skies and mares' tails Make tall ships carry short sails. "

Owen Ford accepted the offer of the life-book gladly. On their wayhome Anne told him the story of lost Margaret. 

"That old captain is a wonderful old fellow, " he said. "What a life hehas led! Why, the man had more adventures in one week of his life thanmost of us have in a lifetime. Do you really think his tales are alltrue?"

"I certainly do. I am sure Captain Jim could not tell a lie; andbesides, all the people about here say that everything happened as herelates it. There used to be plenty of his old shipmates alive tocorroborate him. He's one of the last of the old type of P. E. Islandsea-captains. They are almost extinct now. "

CHAPTER 25

THE WRITING OF THE BOOK

Owen Ford came over to the little house the next morning in a state ofgreat excitement. "Mrs. Blythe, this is a wonderful book--absolutelywonderful. If I could take it and use the material for a book I feelcertain I could make the novel of the year out of it. Do you supposeCaptain Jim would let me do it?"

"Let you! I'm sure he would be delighted, " cried Anne. "I admit thatit was what was in my head when I took you down last night. CaptainJim has always been wishing he could get somebody to write hislife-book properly for him. "

"Will you go down to the Point with me this evening, Mrs. Blythe? I'llask him about that life-book myself, but I want you to tell him thatyou told me the story of lost Margaret and ask him if he will let meuse it as a thread of romance with which to weave the stories of thelife-book into a harmonious whole. "

Captain Jim was more excited than ever when Owen Ford told him of hisplan. At last his cherished dream was to be realized and his"life-book" given to the world. He was also pleased that the story oflost Margaret should be woven into it. 

"It will keep her name from being forgotten, " he said wistfully. 

"That's why I want it put in. "

"We'll collaborate, " cried Owen delightedly. "You will give the souland I the body. Oh, we'll write a famous book between us, Captain Jim. And we'll get right to work. "

"And to think my book is to be writ by the schoolmaster's grandson!"exclaimed Captain Jim. "Lad, your grandfather was my dearest friend. I thought there was nobody like him. I see now why I had to wait solong. It couldn't be writ till the right man come. You BELONGhere--you've got the soul of this old north shore in you--you're theonly one who COULD write it. "

It was arranged that the tiny room off the living room at thelighthouse should be given over to Owen for a workshop. It wasnecessary that Captain Jim should be near him as he wrote, forconsultation upon many matters of sea-faring and gulf lore of whichOwen was quite ignorant. 

He began work on the book the very next morning, and flung himself intoit heart and soul. As for Captain Jim, he was a happy man that summer. He looked upon the little room where Owen worked as a sacred shrine. Owen talked everything over with Captain Jim, but he would not let himsee the manuscript. 

"You must wait until it is published, " he said. "Then you'll get itall at once in its best shape. "

He delved into the treasures of the life-book and used them freely. Hedreamed and brooded over lost Margaret until she became a vivid realityto him and lived in his pages. As the book progressed it tookpossession of him and he worked at it with feverish eagerness. He letAnne and Leslie read the manuscript and criticise it; and theconcluding chapter of the book, which the critics, later on, werepleased to call idyllic, was modelled upon a suggestion of Leslie's. 

Anne fairly hugged herself with delight over the success of her idea. 

"I knew when I looked at Owen Ford that he was the very man for it, "she told Gilbert. "Both humor and passion were in his face, and that, together with the art of expression, was just what was necessary forthe writing of such a book. As Mrs. Rachel would say, he waspredestined for the part. "

Owen Ford wrote in the mornings. The afternoons were generally spentin some merry outing with the Blythes. Leslie often went, too, forCaptain Jim took charge of Dick frequently, in order to set her free. They went boating on the harbor and up the three pretty rivers thatflowed into it; they had clambakes on the bar and mussel-bakes on therocks; they picked strawberries on the sand-dunes; they went outcod-fishing with Captain Jim; they shot plover in the shore fields andwild ducks in the cove--at least, the men did. In the evenings theyrambled in the low-lying, daisied, shore fields under a golden moon, orthey sat in the living room at the little house where often thecoolness of the sea breeze justified a driftwood fire, and talked ofthe thousand and one things which happy, eager, clever young people canfind to talk about. 

Ever since the day on which she had made her confession to Anne Lesliehad been a changed creature. There was no trace of her old coldnessand reserve, no shadow of her old bitterness. The girlhood of whichshe had been cheated seemed to come back to her with the ripeness ofwomanhood; she expanded like a flower of flame and perfume; no laughwas readier than hers, no wit quicker, in the twilight circles of thatenchanted summer. When she could not be with them all felt that someexquisite savor was lacking in their intercourse. Her beauty wasillumined by the awakened soul within, as some rosy lamp might shinethrough a flawless vase of alabaster. There were hours when Anne'seyes seemed to ache with the splendor of her. As for Owen Ford, the"Margaret" of his book, although she had the soft brown hair and elfinface of the real girl who had vanished so long ago, "pillowed wherelost Atlantis sleeps, " had the personality of Leslie Moore, as it wasrevealed to him in those halcyon days at Four Winds Harbor. 

All in all, it was a never-to-be-forgotten summer--one of those summerswhich come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautifulmemories in their going--one of those summers which, in a fortunatecombination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightfuldoings, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world. 

"Too good to last, " Anne told herself with a little sigh, on theSeptember day when a certain nip in the wind and a certain shade ofintense blue on the gulf water said that autumn was hard by. 

That evening Owen Ford told them that he had finished his book and thathis vacation must come to an end. 

"I have a good deal to do to it yet--revising and pruning and soforth, " he said, "but in the main it's done. I wrote the last sentencethis morning. If I can find a publisher for it it will probably be outnext summer or fall. "

Owen had not much doubt that he would find a publisher. He knew thathe had written a great book--a book that would score a wonderfulsuccess--a book that would LIVE. He knew that it would bring him bothfame and fortune; but when he had written the last line of it he hadbowed his head on the manuscript and so sat for a long time. And histhoughts were not of the good work he had done. 

CHAPTER 26

OWEN FORD'S CONFESSION

"I'm so sorry Gilbert is away, " said Anne. "He had to go--Allan Lyonsat the Glen has met with a serious accident. He will not likely behome till very late. But he told me to tell you he'd be up and overearly enough in the morning to see you before you left. It's tooprovoking. Susan and I had planned such a nice little jamboree foryour last night here. "

She was sitting beside the garden brook on the little rustic seatGilbert had built. Owen Ford stood before her, leaning against thebronze column of a yellow birch. He was very pale and his face borethe marks of the preceding sleepless night. Anne, glancing up at him, wondered if, after all, his summer had brought him the strength itshould. Had he worked too hard over his book? She remembered that fora week he had not been looking well. 

"I'm rather glad the doctor is away, " said Owen slowly. "I wanted tosee you alone, Mrs. Blythe. There is something I must tell somebody, or I think it will drive me mad. I've been trying for a week to lookit in the face--and I can't. I know I can trust you--and, besides, youwill understand. A woman with eyes like yours always understands. Youare one of the folks people instinctively tell things to. Mrs. Blythe, I love Leslie. LOVE her! That seems too weak a word!"

His voice suddenly broke with the suppressed passion of his utterance. He turned his head away and hid his face on his arm. His whole formshook. Anne sat looking at him, pale and aghast. She had neverthought of this! And yet--how was it she had never thought of it? Itnow seemed a natural and inevitable thing. She wondered at her ownblindness. But--but--things like this did not happen in Four Winds. Elsewhere in the world human passions might set at defiance humanconventions and laws--but not HERE, surely. Leslie had kept summerboarders off and on for ten years, and nothing like this had happened. But perhaps they had not been like Owen Ford; and the vivid, LIVINGLeslie of this summer was not the cold, sullen girl of other years. Oh, SOMEBODY should have thought of this! Why hadn't Miss Corneliathought of it? Miss Cornelia was always ready enough to sound thealarm where men were concerned. Anne felt an unreasonable resentmentagainst Miss Cornelia. Then she gave a little inward groan. No matterwho was to blame the mischief was done. And Leslie--what of Leslie?It was for Leslie Anne felt most concerned. 

"Does Leslie know this, Mr. Ford?" she asked quietly. 

"No--no, --unless she has guessed it. You surely don't think I'd be cadand scoundrel enough to tell her, Mrs. Blythe. I couldn't help lovingher--that's all--and my misery is greater than I can bear. "

"Does SHE care?" asked Anne. The moment the question crossed her lipsshe felt that she should not have asked it. Owen Ford answered it withovereager protest. 

"No--no, of course not. But I could make her care if she were free--Iknow I could. "

"She does care--and he knows it, " thought Anne. Aloud she said, sympathetically but decidedly:

"But she is not free, Mr. Ford. And the only thing you can do is to goaway in silence and leave her to her own life. "

"I know--I know, " groaned Owen. He sat down on the grassy bank andstared moodily into the amber water beneath him. "I know there'snothing to do--nothing but to say conventionally, 'Good-bye, Mrs. Moore. Thank you for all your kindness to me this summer, ' just as Iwould have said it to the sonsy, bustling, keen-eyed housewife Iexpected her to be when I came. Then I'll pay my board money like anyhonest boarder and go! Oh, it's very simple. No doubt--noperplexity--a straight road to the end of the world!

"And I'll walk it--you needn't fear that I won't, Mrs. Blythe. But itwould be easier to walk over red-hot ploughshares. "

Anne flinched with the pain of his voice. And there was so little shecould say that would be adequate to the situation. Blame was out ofthe question--advice was not needed--sympathy was mocked by the man'sstark agony. She could only feel with him in a maze of compassion andregret. Her heart ached for Leslie! Had not that poor girl sufferedenough without this?

"It wouldn't be so hard to go and leave her if she were only happy, "resumed Owen passionately. "But to think of her living death--torealise what it is to which I do leave her! THAT is the worst of all. I would give my life to make her happy--and I can do nothing even tohelp her--nothing. She is bound forever to that poor wretch--withnothing to look forward to but growing old in a succession of empty, meaningless, barren years. It drives me mad to think of it. But Imust go through my life, never seeing her, but always knowing what sheis enduring. It's hideous--hideous!"

"It is very hard, " said Anne sorrowfully. "We--her friends here--allknow how hard it is for her. "

"And she is so richly fitted for life, " said Owen rebelliously. 

"Her beauty is the least of her dower--and she is the most beautifulwoman I've ever known. That laugh of hers! I've angled all summer toevoke that laugh, just for the delight of hearing it. And hereyes--they are as deep and blue as the gulf out there. I never sawsuch blueness--and gold! Did you ever see her hair down, Mrs. Blythe?"

"No. "

"I did--once. I had gone down to the Point to go fishing with CaptainJim but it was too rough to go out, so I came back. She had taken theopportunity of what she expected to be an afternoon alone to wash herhair, and she was standing on the veranda in the sunshine to dry it. It fell all about her to her feet in a fountain of living gold. Whenshe saw me she hurried in, and the wind caught her hair and swirled itall around her--Danae in her cloud. Somehow, just then the knowledgethat I loved her came home to me--and realised that I had loved herfrom the moment I first saw her standing against the darkness in thatglow of light. And she must live on here--petting and soothing Dick, pinching and saving for a mere existence, while I spend my life longingvainly for her, and debarred, by that very fact, from even giving herthe little help a friend might. I walked the shore last night, almosttill dawn, and thrashed it all out over and over again. And yet, inspite of everything, I can't find it in my heart to be sorry that Icame to Four Winds. It seems to me that, bad as everything is, itwould be still worse never to have known Leslie. It's burning, searingpain to love her and leave her--but not to have loved her isunthinkable. I suppose all this sounds very crazy--all these terribleemotions always do sound foolish when we put them into our inadequatewords. They are not meant to be spoken--only felt and endured. Ishouldn't have spoken--but it has helped--some. At least, it has givenme strength to go away respectably tomorrow morning, without making ascene. You'll write me now and then, won't you, Mrs. Blythe, and giveme what news there is to give of her?"

"Yes, " said Anne. "Oh, I'm so sorry you are going--we'll miss youso--we've all been such friends! If it were not for this you couldcome back other summers. Perhaps, even yet--by-and-by--when you'veforgotten, perhaps--"

"I shall never forget--and I shall never come back to Four Winds, " saidOwen briefly. 

Silence and twilight fell over the garden. Far away the sea waslapping gently and monotonously on the bar. The wind of evening in thepoplars sounded like some sad, weird, old rune--some broken dream ofold memories. A slender shapely young aspen rose up before themagainst the fine maize and emerald and paling rose of the western sky, which brought out every leaf and twig in dark, tremulous, elfinloveliness. 

"Isn't that beautiful?" said Owen, pointing to it with the air of a manwho puts a certain conversation behind him. 

"It's so beautiful that it hurts me, " said Anne softly. "Perfectthings like that always did hurt me--I remember I called it 'the queerache' when I was a child. What is the reason that pain like this seemsinseparable from perfection? Is it the pain of finality--when werealise that there can be nothing beyond but retrogression?"

"Perhaps, " said Owen dreamily, "it is the prisoned infinite in uscalling out to its kindred infinite as expressed in that visibleperfection. "

"You seem to have a cold in the head. Better rub some tallow on yournose when you go to bed, " said Miss Cornelia, who had come in throughthe little gate between the firs in time to catch Owen's last remark. Miss Cornelia liked Owen; but it was a matter of principle with her tovisit any "high-falutin" language from a man with a snub. 

Miss Cornelia personated the comedy that ever peeps around the cornerat the tragedy of life. Anne, whose nerves had been rather strained, laughed hysterically, and even Owen smiled. Certainly, sentiment andpassion had a way of shrinking out of sight in Miss Cornelia'spresence. And yet to Anne nothing seemed quite as hopeless and darkand painful as it had seemed a few moments before. But sleep was farfrom her eyes that night. 

CHAPTER 27

ON THE SAND BAR

Owen Ford left Four Winds the next morning. In the evening Anne wentover to see Leslie, but found nobody. The house was locked and therewas no light in any window. It looked like a home left soulless. Leslie did not run over on the following day--which Anne thought a badsign. 

Gilbert having occasion to go in the evening to the fishing cove, Annedrove with him to the Point, intending to stay awhile with Captain Jim. But the great light, cutting its swathes through the fog of the autumnevening, was in care of Alec Boyd and Captain Jim was away. 

"What will you do?" asked Gilbert. "Come with me?"

"I don't want to go to the cove--but I'll go over the channel with you, and roam about on the sand shore till you come back. The rock shore istoo slippery and grim tonight. "

Alone on the sands of the bar Anne gave herself up to the eerie charmof the night. It was warm for September, and the late afternoon hadbeen very foggy; but a full moon had in part lessened the fog andtransformed the harbor and the gulf and the surrounding shores into astrange, fantastic, unreal world of pale silver mist, through whicheverything loomed phantom-like. Captain Josiah Crawford's blackschooner sailing down the channel, laden with potatoes for Bluenoseports, was a spectral ship bound for a far uncharted land, everreceding, never to be reached. The calls of unseen gulls overhead werethe cries of the souls of doomed seamen. The little curls of foam thatblew across the sand were elfin things stealing up from the sea-caves. The big, round-shouldered sand-dunes were the sleeping giants of someold northern tale. The lights that glimmered palely across the harborwere the delusive beacons on some coast of fairyland. Anne pleasedherself with a hundred fancies as she wandered through the mist. Itwas delightful--romantic--mysterious to be roaming here alone on thisenchanted shore. 

But was she alone? Something loomed in the mist before her--took shapeand form--suddenly moved towards her across the wave-rippled sand. 

"Leslie!" exclaimed Anne in amazement. "Whatever are youdoing--HERE--tonight?"

"If it comes to that, whatever are YOU doing here?" said Leslie, tryingto laugh. The effort was a failure. She looked very pale and tired;but the love locks under her scarlet cap were curling about her faceand eyes like little sparkling rings of gold. 

"I'm waiting for Gilbert--he's over at the Cove. I intended to stay atthe light, but Captain Jim is away. "

"Well, _I_ came here because I wanted to walk--and walk--and WALK, "said Leslie restlessly. "I couldn't on the rock shore--the tide wastoo high and the rocks prisoned me. I had to come here--or I shouldhave gone mad, I think. I rowed myself over the channel in CaptainJim's flat. I've been here for an hour. Come--come--let us walk. Ican't stand still. Oh, Anne!"

"Leslie, dearest, what is the trouble?" asked Anne, though she knew toowell already. 

"I can't tell you--don't ask me. I wouldn't mind your knowing--I wishyou did know--but I can't tell you--I can't tell anyone. I've beensuch a fool, Anne--and oh, it hurts so terribly to be a fool. There'snothing so painful in the world. "

She laughed bitterly. Anne slipped her arm around her. 

"Leslie, is it that you have learned to care for Mr. Ford?"

Leslie turned herself about passionately. 

"How did you know?" she cried. "Anne, how did you know? Oh, is itwritten in my face for everyone to see? Is it as plain as that?"

"No, no. I--I can't tell you how I knew. It just came into my mind, somehow. Leslie, don't look at me like that!"

"Do you despise me?" demanded Leslie in a fierce, low tone. "Do youthink I'm wicked--unwomanly? Or do you think I'm just plain fool?"

"I don't think you any of those things. Come, dear, let's just talk itover sensibly, as we might talk over any other of the great crises oflife. You've been brooding over it and let yourself drift into amorbid view of it. You know you have a little tendency to do thatabout everything that goes wrong, and you promised me that you wouldfight against it. "

"But--oh, it's so--so shameful, " murmured Leslie. "To lovehim--unsought--and when I'm not free to love anybody. "

"There's nothing shameful about it. But I'm very sorry that you havelearned to care for Owen, because, as things are, it will only make youmore unhappy. "

"I didn't LEARN to care, " said Leslie, walking on and speakingpassionately. "If it had been like that I could have prevented it. Inever dreamed of such a thing until that day, a week ago, when he toldme he had finished his book and must soon go away. Then--then I knew. I felt as if someone had struck me a terrible blow. I didn't sayanything--I couldn't speak--but I don't know what I looked like. I'mso afraid my face betrayed me. Oh, I would die of shame if I thoughthe knew--or suspected. "

Anne was miserably silent, hampered by her deductions from herconversation with Owen. Leslie went on feverishly, as if she foundrelief in speech. 

"I was so happy all this summer, Anne--happier than I ever was in mylife. I thought it was because everything had been made clear betweenyou and me, and that it was our friendship which made life seem sobeautiful and full once more. And it WAS, in part--but not all--oh, not nearly all. I know now why everything was so different. And nowit's all over--and he has gone. How can I live, Anne? When I turnedback into the house this morning after he had gone the solitude struckme like a blow in the face. "

"It won't seem so hard by and by, dear, " said Anne, who always felt thepain of her friends so keenly that she could not speak easy, fluentwords of comforting. Besides, she remembered how well-meant speecheshad hurt her in her own sorrow and was afraid. 

"Oh, it seems to me it will grow harder all the time, " said Lesliemiserably. "I've nothing to look forward to. Morning will come aftermorning--and he will not come back--he will never come back. Oh, whenI think that I will never see him again I feel as if a great brutalhand had twisted itself among my heartstrings, and was wrenching them. Once, long ago, I dreamed of love--and I thought it must bebeautiful--and NOW--its like THIS. When he went away yesterday morninghe was so cold and indifferent. He said 'Good-bye, Mrs. Moore' in thecoldest tone in the world--as if we had not even been friends--as if Imeant absolutely nothing to him. I know I don't--I didn't want him tocare--but he MIGHT have been a little kinder. "

"Oh, I wish Gilbert would come, " thought Anne. She was racked betweenher sympathy for Leslie and the necessity of avoiding anything thatwould betray Owen's confidence. She knew why his good-bye had been socold--why it could not have the cordiality that their good-comradeshipdemanded--but she could not tell Leslie. 

"I couldn't help it, Anne--I couldn't help it, " said poor Leslie. 

"I know that. "

"Do you blame me so very much?"

"I don't blame you at all. "

"And you won't--you won't tell Gilbert?"

"Leslie! Do you think I would do such a thing?"

"Oh, I don't know--you and Gilbert are such CHUMS. I don't see how youcould help telling him everything. "

"Everything about my own concerns--yes. But not my friends' secrets. "

"I couldn't have HIM know. But I'm glad YOU know. I would feel guiltyif there were anything I was ashamed to tell you. I hope Miss Corneliawon't find out. Sometimes I feel as if those terrible, kind brown eyesof hers read my very soul. Oh, I wish this mist would never lift--Iwish I could just stay in it forever, hidden away from every livingbeing. I don't see how I can go on with life. This summer has been sofull. I never was lonely for a moment. Before Owen came there used tobe horrible moments--when I had been with you and Gilbert--and then hadto leave you. You two would walk away together and I would walk awayALONE. After Owen came he was always there to walk home with me--wewould laugh and talk as you and Gilbert were doing--there were no morelonely, envious moments for me. And NOW! Oh, yes, I've been a fool. Let's have done talking about my folly. I'll never bore you with itagain. "

"Here is Gilbert, and you are coming back with us, " said Anne, who hadno intention of leaving Leslie to wander alone on the sand-bar on sucha night and in such a mood. "There's plenty of room in our boat forthree, and we'll tie the flat on behind. "

"Oh, I suppose I must reconcile myself to being the odd one again, "said poor Leslie with another bitter laugh. "Forgive me, Anne--thatwas hateful. I ought to be thankful--and I AM--that I have two goodfriends who are glad to count me in as a third. Don't mind my hatefulspeeches. I just seem to be one great pain all over and everythinghurts me. "

"Leslie seemed very quiet tonight, didn't she?" said Gilbert, when heand Anne reached home. "What in the world was she doing over there onthe bar alone?"

"Oh, she was tired--and you know she likes to go to the shore after oneof Dick's bad days. "

"What a pity she hadn't met and married a fellow like Ford long ago, "ruminated Gilbert. "They'd have made an ideal couple, wouldn't they?"

"For pity's sake, Gilbert, don't develop into a match-maker. It's anabominable profession for a man, " cried Anne rather sharply, afraidthat Gilbert might blunder on the truth if he kept on in this strain. 

"Bless us, Anne-girl, I'm not matchmaking, " protested Gilbert, rathersurprised at her tone. "I was only thinking of one of themight-have-beens. "

"Well, don't. It's a waste of time, " said Anne. Then she addedsuddenly:

"Oh, Gilbert, I wish everybody could be as happy as we are. "

CHAPTER 28

ODDS AND ENDS

"I've been reading obituary notices, " said Miss Cornelia, laying downthe Daily Enterprise and taking up her sewing. 

The harbor was lying black and sullen under a dour November sky; thewet, dead leaves clung drenched and sodden to the window sills; but thelittle house was gay with firelight and spring-like with Anne's fernsand geraniums. 

"It's always summer here, Anne, " Leslie had said one day; and all whowere the guests of that house of dreams felt the same. 

"The Enterprise seems to run to obituaries these days, " quoth MissCornelia. "It always has a couple of columns of them, and I read everyline. It's one of my forms of recreation, especially when there's someoriginal poetry attached to them. Here's a choice sample for you:

 She's gone to be with her Maker, Never more to roam. She used to play and sing with joy The song of Home, Sweet Home. 

Who says we haven't any poetical talent on the Island! Have you evernoticed what heaps of good people die, Anne, dearie? It's kind ofpitiful. Here's ten obituaries, and every one of them saints andmodels, even the men. Here's old Peter Stimson, who has 'left a largecircle of friends to mourn his untimely loss. ' Lord, Anne, dearie, thatman was eighty, and everybody who knew him had been wishing him deadthese thirty years. Read obituaries when you're blue, Anne, dearie--especially the ones of folks you know. If you've any sense ofhumor at all they'll cheer you up, believe ME. I just wish _I_ had thewriting of the obituaries of some people. Isn't 'obituary' an awfulugly word? This very Peter I've been speaking of had a face exactlylike one. I never saw it but I thought of the word OBITUARY then andthere. There's only one uglier word that I know of, and that's RELICT. Lord, Anne, dearie, I may be an old maid, but there's this comfort init--I'll never be any man's 'relict. '"

"It IS an ugly word, " said Anne, laughing. "Avonlea graveyard was fullof old tombstones 'sacred to the memory of So-and-So, RELICT of thelate So-and-So. ' It always made me think of something worn out andmoth eaten. Why is it that so many of the words connected with deathare so disagreeable? I do wish that the custom of calling a dead body'the remains' could be abolished. I positively shiver when I hear theundertaker say at a funeral, 'All who wish to see the remains pleasestep this way. ' It always gives me the horrible impression that I amabout to view the scene of a cannibal feast. "

"Well, all I hope, " said Miss Cornelia calmly, "is that when I'm deadnobody will call me 'our departed sister. ' I took a scunner at thissister-and-brothering business five years ago when there was atravelling evangelist holding meetings at the Glen. I hadn't any usefor him from the start. I felt in my bones that there was somethingwrong with him. And there was. Mind you, he was pretending to be aPresbyterian--PresbyTARian, HE called it--and all the time he was aMethodist. He brothered and sistered everybody. He had a large circleof relations, that man had. He clutched my hand fervently one night, and said imploringly, 'My DEAR sister Bryant, are you a Christian?' Ijust looked him over a bit, and then I said calmly, 'The only brother Iever had, MR. Fiske, was buried fifteen years ago, and I haven'tadopted any since. As for being a Christian, I was that, I hope andbelieve, when you were crawling about the floor in petticoats. ' THATsquelched him, believe ME. Mind you, Anne dearie, I'm not down on allevangelists. We've had some real fine, earnest men, who did a lot ofgood and made the old sinners squirm. But this Fiske-man wasn't one ofthem. I had a good laugh all to myself one evening. Fiske had askedall who were Christians to stand up. _I_ didn't, believe me! I neverhad any use for that sort of thing. But most of them did, and then heasked all who wanted to be Christians to stand up. Nobody stirred fora spell, so Fiske started up a hymn at the top of his voice. Just infront of me poor little Ikey Baker was sitting in the Millison pew. Hewas a home boy, ten years old, and Millison just about worked him todeath. The poor little creature was always so tired he fell asleepright off whenever he went to church or anywhere he could sit still fora few minutes. He'd been sleeping all through the meeting, and I wasthankful to see the poor child getting a rest, believe ME. Well, whenFiske's voice went soaring skyward and the rest joined in, poor Ikeywakened with a start. He thought it was just an ordinary singing andthat everybody ought to stand up, so he scrambled to his feet mightyquick, knowing he'd get a combing down from Maria Millison for sleepingin meeting. Fiske saw him, stopped and shouted, 'Another soul saved!Glory Hallelujah!' And there was poor, frightened Ikey, only halfawake and yawning, never thinking about his soul at all. Poor child, he never had time to think of anything but his tired, overworked littlebody. 

"Leslie went one night and the Fiske-man got right after her--oh, hewas especially anxious about the souls of the nice-looking girls, believe me!--and he hurt her feelings so she never went again. Andthen he prayed every night after that, right in public, that the Lordwould soften her hard heart. Finally I went to Mr. Leavitt, ourminister then, and told him if he didn't make Fiske stop that I'd justrise up the next night and throw my hymn book at him when he mentionedthat 'beautiful but unrepentant young woman. ' I'd have done it too, believe ME. Mr. Leavitt did put a stop to it, but Fiske kept on withhis meetings until Charley Douglas put an end to his career in theGlen. Mrs. Charley had been out in California all winter. She'd beenreal melancholy in the fall--religious melancholy--it ran in herfamily. Her father worried so much over believing that he hadcommitted the unpardonable sin that he died in the asylum. So whenRose Douglas got that way Charley packed her off to visit her sister inLos Angeles. She got perfectly well and came home just when the Fiskerevival was in full swing. She stepped off the train at the Glen, realsmiling and chipper, and the first thing she saw staring her in theface on the black, gable-end of the freight shed, was the question, inbig white letters, two feet high, 'Whither goest thou--to heaven orhell?' That had been one of Fiske's ideas, and he had got Henry Hammondto paint it. Rose just gave a shriek and fainted; and when they gother home she was worse than ever. Charley Douglas went to Mr. Leavittand told him that every Douglas would leave the church if Fiske waskept there any longer. Mr. Leavitt had to give in, for the Douglasespaid half his salary, so Fiske departed, and we had to depend on ourBibles once more for instructions on how to get to heaven. After hewas gone Mr. Leavitt found out he was just a masquerading Methodist, and he felt pretty sick, believe ME. Mr. Leavitt fell short in someways, but he was a good, sound Presbyterian. "

"By the way, I had a letter from Mr. Ford yesterday, " said Anne. "Heasked me to remember him kindly to you. "

"I don't want his remembrances, " said Miss Cornelia, curtly. 

"Why?" said Anne, in astonishment. "I thought you liked him. "

"Well, so I did, in a kind of way. But I'll never forgive him for whathe done to Leslie. There's that poor child eating her heart out abouthim--as if she hadn't had trouble enough--and him ranting roundToronto, I've no doubt, enjoying himself same as ever. Just like aman. "

"Oh, Miss Cornelia, how did you find out?"

"Lord, Anne, dearie, I've got eyes, haven't I? And I've known Lesliesince she was a baby. There's been a new kind of heartbreak in hereyes all the fall, and I know that writer-man was behind it somehow. I'll never forgive myself for being the means of bringing him here. But I never expected he'd be like he was. I thought he'd just be likethe other men Leslie had boarded--conceited young asses, every one ofthem, that she never had any use for. One of them did try to flirtwith her once and she froze him out--so bad, I feel sure he's never gothimself thawed since. So I never thought of any danger. "

"Don't let Leslie suspect you know her secret, " said Anne hurriedly. "I think it would hurt her. "

"Trust me, Anne, dearie. _I_ wasn't born yesterday. Oh, a plague onall the men! One of them ruined Leslie's life to begin with, and nowanother of the tribe comes and makes her still more wretched. Anne, this world is an awful place, believe me. "

 "There's something in the world amiss Will be unriddled by and by, "

quoted Anne dreamily. 

"If it is, it'll be in a world where there aren't any men, " said MissCornelia gloomily. 

"What have the men been doing now?" asked Gilbert, entering. 

"Mischief--mischief! What else did they ever do?"

"It was Eve ate the apple, Miss Cornelia. "

"'Twas a he-creature tempted her, " retorted Miss Cornelia triumphantly. 

Leslie, after her first anguish was over, found it possible to go onwith life after all, as most of us do, no matter what our particularform of torment has been. It is even possible that she enjoyed momentsof it, when she was one of the gay circle in the little house ofdreams. But if Anne ever hoped that she was forgetting Owen Ford shewould have been undeceived by the furtive hunger in Leslie's eyeswhenever his name was mentioned. Pitiful to that hunger, Anne alwayscontrived to tell Captain Jim or Gilbert bits of news from Owen'sletters when Leslie was with them. The girl's flush and pallor at suchmoments spoke all too eloquently of the emotion that filled her being. But she never spoke of him to Anne, or mentioned that night on thesand-bar. 

One day her old dog died and she grieved bitterly over him. 

"He's been my friend so long, " she said sorrowfully to Anne. "He wasDick's old dog, you know--Dick had him for a year or so before we weremarried. He left him with me when he sailed on the Four Sisters. Carlo got very fond of me--and his dog-love helped me through thatfirst dreadful year after mother died, when I was alone. When I heardthat Dick was coming back I was afraid Carlo wouldn't be so much mine. But he never seemed to care for Dick, though he had been so fond of himonce. He would snap and growl at him as if he were a stranger. I wasglad. It was nice to have one thing whose love was all mine. That olddog has been such a comfort to me, Anne. He got so feeble in the fallthat I was afraid he couldn't live long--but I hoped I could nurse himthrough the winter. He seemed pretty well this morning. He was lyingon the rug before the fire; then, all at once, he got up and crept overto me; he put his head on my lap and gave me one loving look out of hisbig, soft, dog eyes--and then he just shivered and died. I shall misshim so. "

"Let me give you another dog, Leslie, " said Anne . "I'm getting alovely Gordon setter for a Christmas present for Gilbert. Let me giveyou one too. "

Leslie shook her head. 

"Not just now, thank you, Anne. I don't feel like having another dogyet. I don't seem to have any affection left for another. Perhaps--intime--I'll let you give me one. I really need one as a kind ofprotection. But there was something almost human about Carlo--itwouldn't be DECENT to fill his place too hurriedly, dear old fellow . "

Anne went to Avonlea a week before Christmas and stayed until after theholidays. Gilbert came up for her, and there was a glad New Yearcelebration at Green Gables, when Barrys and Blythes and Wrightsassembled to devour a dinner which had cost Mrs. Rachel and Marillamuch careful thought and preparation. When they went back to FourWinds the little house was almost drifted over, for the third storm ofa winter that was to prove phenomenally stormy had whirled up theharbor and heaped huge snow mountains about everything it encountered. But Captain Jim had shovelled out doors and paths, and Miss Corneliahad come down and kindled the hearth-fire. 

"It's good to see you back, Anne, dearie! But did you ever see suchdrifts? You can't see the Moore place at all unless you go upstairs. Leslie'll be so glad you're back. She's almost buried alive overthere. Fortunately Dick can shovel snow, and thinks it's great fun. Susan sent me word to tell you she would be on hand tomorrow. Whereare you off to now, Captain?"

"I reckon I'll plough up to the Glen and sit a bit with old MartinStrong. He's not far from his end and he's lonesome. He hasn't manyfriends--been too busy all his life to make any. He's made heaps ofmoney, though. "

"Well, he thought that since he couldn't serve God and Mammon he'dbetter stick to Mammon, " said Miss Cornelia crisply. "So he shouldn'tcomplain if he doesn't find Mammon very good company now. "

Captain Jim went out, but remembered something in the yard and turnedback for a moment. 

"I'd a letter from Mr. Ford, Mistress Blythe, and he says the life-bookis accepted and is going to be published next fall. I felt fairuplifted when I got the news. To think that I'm to see it in print atlast. "

"That man is clean crazy on the subject of his life-book, " said MissCornelia compassionately. "For my part, I think there's far too manybooks in the world now. "

CHAPTER 29

GILBERT AND ANNE DISAGREE

Gilbert laid down the ponderous medical tome over which he had beenporing until the increasing dusk of the March evening made him desist. He leaned back in his chair and gazed meditatively out of the window. It was early spring--probably the ugliest time of the year. Not eventhe sunset could redeem the dead, sodden landscape and rotten blackharbor ice upon which he looked. No sign of life was visible, save abig black crow winging his solitary way across a leaden field. Gilbertspeculated idly concerning that crow. Was he a family crow, with ablack but comely crow wife awaiting him in the woods beyond the Glen?Or was he a glossy young buck of a crow on courting thoughts intent?Or was he a cynical bachelor crow, believing that he travels thefastest who travels alone? Whatever he was, he soon disappeared incongenial gloom and Gilbert turned to the cheerier view indoors. 

The firelight flickered from point to point, gleaming on the white andgreen coats of Gog and Magog, on the sleek, brown head of the beautifulsetter basking on the rug, on the picture frames on the walls, on thevaseful of daffodils from the window garden, on Anne herself, sittingby her little table, with her sewing beside her and her hands claspedover her knee while she traced out pictures in the fire--Castles inSpain whose airy turrets pierced moonlit cloud and sunset bar-shipssailing from the Haven of Good Hopes straight to Four Winds Harbor withprecious burthen. For Anne was again a dreamer of dreams, albeit agrim shape of fear went with her night and day to shadow and darken hervisions. 

Gilbert was accustomed to refer to himself as "an old married man. "But he still looked upon Anne with the incredulous eyes of a lover. Hecouldn't wholly believe yet that she was really his. It MIGHT be onlya dream after all, part and parcel of this magic house of dreams. Hissoul still went on tip-toe before her, lest the charm be shattered andthe dream dispelled. 

"Anne, " he said slowly, "lend me your ears. I want to talk with youabout something. "

Anne looked across at him through the fire-lit gloom. 

"What is it?" she asked gaily. "You look fearfully solemn, Gilbert. Ireally haven't done anything naughty today. Ask Susan. "

"It's not of you--or ourselves--I want to talk. It's about Dick Moore. "

"Dick Moore?" echoed Anne, sitting up alertly. "Why, what in the worldhave you to say about Dick Moore?"

"I've been thinking a great deal about him lately. Do you rememberthat time last summer I treated him for those carbuncles on his neck?"

"Yes--yes. "

"I took the opportunity to examine the scars on his head thoroughly. I've always thought Dick was a very interesting case from a medicalpoint of view. Lately I've been studying the history of trephining andthe cases where it has been employed. Anne, I have come to theconclusion that if Dick Moore were taken to a good hospital and theoperation of trephining performed on several places in his skull, hismemory and faculties might be restored. "

"Gilbert!" Anne's voice was full of protest. "Surely you don't meanit!"

"I do, indeed. And I have decided that it is my duty to broach thesubject to Leslie. "

"Gilbert Blythe, you shall NOT do any such thing, " cried Annevehemently. "Oh, Gilbert, you won't--you won't. You couldn't be socruel. Promise me you won't. "

"Why, Anne-girl, I didn't suppose you would take it like this. Bereasonable--"

"I won't be reasonable--I can't be reasonable--I AM reasonable. It isyou who are unreasonable. Gilbert, have you ever once thought what itwould mean for Leslie if Dick Moore were to be restored to his rightsenses? Just stop and think! She's unhappy enough now; but life asDick's nurse and attendant is a thousand times easier for her than lifeas Dick's wife. I know--I KNOW! It's unthinkable. Don't you meddlewith the matter. Leave well enough alone. "

"I HAVE thought over that aspect of the case thoroughly, Anne. But Ibelieve that a doctor is bound to set the sanctity of a patient's mindand body above all other considerations, no matter what theconsequences may be. I believe it his duty to endeavor to restorehealth and sanity, if there is any hope whatever of it. "

"But Dick isn't your patient in that respect, " cried Anne, takinganother tack. "If Leslie had asked you if anything could be done forhim, THEN it might be your duty to tell her what you really thought. But you've no right to meddle . "

"I don't call it meddling. Uncle Dave told Leslie twelve years agothat nothing could be done for Dick. She believes that, of course. "

"And why did Uncle Dave tell her that, if it wasn't true?" cried Anne, triumphantly. "Doesn't he know as much about it as you?"

"I think not--though it may sound conceited and presumptuous to say it. And you know as well as I that he is rather prejudiced against what hecalls 'these new-fangled notions of cutting and carving. ' He's evenopposed to operating for appendicitis. "

"He's right, " exclaimed Anne, with a complete change of front. 'Ibelieve myself that you modern doctors are entirely too fond of makingexperiments with human flesh and blood. "

"Rhoda Allonby would not be a living woman today if I had been afraidof making a certain experiment, " argued Gilbert. "I took the risk--andsaved her life. "

"I'm sick and tired of hearing about Rhoda Allonby, " cried Anne--mostunjustly, for Gilbert had never mentioned Mrs. Allonby's name since theday he had told Anne of his success in regard to her. And he could notbe blamed for other people's discussion of it. 

Gilbert felt rather hurt. 

"I had not expected you to look at the matter as you do, Anne, " he saida little stiffly, getting up and moving towards the office door. Itwas their first approach to a quarrel. 

But Anne flew after him and dragged him back. 

"Now, Gilbert, you are not 'going off mad. ' Sit down here and I'llapologise bee-YEW-ti-fully, I shouldn't have said that. But--oh, ifyou knew--"

Anne checked herself just in time. She had been on the very verge ofbetraying Leslie's secret. 

"Knew what a woman feels about it, " she concluded lamely. 

"I think I do know. I've looked at the matter from every point ofview--and I've been driven to the conclusion that it is my duty to tellLeslie that I believe it is possible that Dick can be restored tohimself; there my responsibility ends. It will be for her to decidewhat she will do. "

"I don't think you've any right to put such a responsibility on her. She has enough to bear. She is poor--how could she afford such anoperation?"

"That is for her to decide, " persisted Gilbert stubbornly. 

"You say you think that Dick can be cured. But are you SURE of it?"

"Certainly not. Nobody could be sure of such a thing. There may havebeen lesions of the brain itself, the effect of which can never beremoved. But if, as I believe, his loss of memory and other facultiesis due merely to the pressure on the brain centers of certain depressedareas of bone, then he can be cured. "

"But it's only a possibility!" insisted Anne. "Now, suppose you tellLeslie and she decides to have the operation. It will cost a greatdeal. She will have to borrow the money, or sell her little property. And suppose the operation is a failure and Dick remains the same. 

"How will she be able to pay back the money she borrows, or make aliving for herself and that big helpless creature if she sells thefarm?"

"Oh, I know--I know. But it is my duty to tell her. I can't get awayfrom that conviction. "

"Oh, I know the Blythe stubbornness, " groaned Anne. "But don't do thissolely on your own responsibility. Consult Doctor Dave. "

"I HAVE done so, " said Gilbert reluctantly. 

"And what did he say?"

"In brief--as you say--leave well enough alone. Apart from hisprejudice against new-fangled surgery, I'm afraid he looks at the casefrom your point of view--don't do it, for Leslie's sake. "

"There now, " cried Anne triumphantly. "I do think, Gilbert, that youought to abide by the judgment of a man nearly eighty, who has seen agreat deal and saved scores of lives himself--surely his opinion oughtto weigh more than a mere boy's. "

"Thank you. "

"Don't laugh. It's too serious. "

"That's just my point. It IS serious. Here is a man who is a helplessburden. He may be restored to reason and usefulness--"

"He was so very useful before, " interjected Anne witheringly. 

"He may be given a chance to make good and redeem the past. His wifedoesn't know this. I do. It is therefore my duty to tell her thatthere is such a possibility. That, boiled down, is my decision. "

"Don't say 'decision' yet, Gilbert. Consult somebody else. AskCaptain Jim what he thinks about it. "

"Very well. But I'll not promise to abide by his opinion, Anne. 

"This is something a man must decide for himself. My conscience wouldnever be easy if I kept silent on the subject. "

"Oh, your conscience!" moaned Anne. "I suppose that Uncle Dave has aconscience too, hasn't he?"

"Yes. But I am not the keeper of his conscience. Come, Anne, if thisaffair did not concern Leslie--if it were a purely abstract case, youwould agree with me, --you know you would. "

"I wouldn't, " vowed Anne, trying to believe it herself. "Oh, you canargue all night, Gilbert, but you won't convince me. Just you ask MissCornelia what she thinks of it. "

"You're driven to the last ditch, Anne, when you bring up Miss Corneliaas a reinforcement. She will say, 'Just like a man, ' and ragefuriously. No matter. This is no affair for Miss Cornelia to settle. Leslie alone must decide it. "

"You know very well how she will decide it, " said Anne, almost intears. "She has ideals of duty, too. I don't see how you can takesuch a responsibility on your shoulders. _I_ couldn't. "

 "'Because right is right to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence, '"

quoted Gilbert. 

"Oh, you think a couplet of poetry a convincing argument!" scoffedAnne. "That is so like a man. "

And then she laughed in spite of herself. It sounded so like an echoof Miss Cornelia. 

"Well, if you won't accept Tennyson as an authority, perhaps you willbelieve the words of a Greater than he, " said Gilbert seriously. "'Yeshall know the truth and the truth shall make you free. ' I believethat, Anne, with all my heart. It's the greatest and grandest verse inthe Bible--or in any literature--and the TRUEST, if there arecomparative degrees of trueness. And it's the first duty of a man totell the truth, as he sees it and believes it. "

"In this case the truth won't make poor Leslie free, " sighed Anne. "Itwill probably end in still more bitter bondage for her. Oh, Gilbert, ICAN'T think you are right. "

CHAPTER 30

LESLIE DECIDES

A sudden outbreak of a virulent type of influenza at the Glen and downat the fishing village kept Gilbert so busy for the next fortnight thathe had no time to pay the promised visit to Captain Jim. Anne hopedagainst hope that he had abandoned the idea about Dick Moore, and, resolving to let sleeping dogs lie, she said no more about the subject. But she thought of it incessantly. 

"I wonder if it would be right for me to tell him that Leslie cares forOwen, " she thought. "He would never let her suspect that he knew, soher pride would not suffer, and it MIGHT convince him that he shouldlet Dick Moore alone. Shall I--shall I? No, after all, I cannot. Apromise is sacred, and I've no right to betray Leslie's secret. Butoh, I never felt so worried over anything in my life as I do over this. It's spoiling the spring--it's spoiling everything. "

One evening Gilbert abruptly proposed that they go down and see CaptainJim. With a sinking heart Anne agreed, and they set forth. Two weeksof kind sunshine had wrought a miracle in the bleak landscape overwhich Gilbert's crow had flown. The hills and fields were dry andbrown and warm, ready to break into bud and blossom; the harbor waslaughter-shaken again; the long harbor road was like a gleaming redribbon; down on the dunes a crowd of boys, who were out smelt fishing, were burning the thick, dry sandhill grass of the preceding summer. The flames swept over the dunes rosily, flinging their cardinal bannersagainst the dark gulf beyond, and illuminating the channel and thefishing village. It was a picturesque scene which would at other timeshave delighted Anne's eyes; but she was not enjoying this walk. Neither was Gilbert. Their usual good-comradeship and Josephiancommunity of taste and viewpoint were sadly lacking. Anne'sdisapproval of the whole project showed itself in the haughty uplift ofher head and the studied politeness of her remarks. Gilbert's mouthwas set in all the Blythe obstinacy, but his eyes were troubled. Hemeant to do what he believed to be his duty; but to be at outs withAnne was a high price to pay. Altogether, both were glad when theyreached the light--and remorseful that they should be glad. 

Captain Jim put away the fishing net upon which he was working, andwelcomed them joyfully. In the searching light of the spring eveninghe looked older than Anne had ever seen him. His hair had grown muchgrayer, and the strong old hand shook a little. But his blue eyes wereclear and steady, and the staunch soul looked out through them gallantand unafraid. 

Captain Jim listened in amazed silence while Gilbert said what he hadcome to say. Anne, who knew how the old man worshipped Leslie, feltquite sure that he would side with her, although she had not much hopethat this would influence Gilbert. She was therefore surprised beyondmeasure when Captain Jim, slowly and sorrowfully, but unhesitatingly, gave it as his opinion that Leslie should be told. 

"Oh, Captain Jim, I didn't think you'd say that, " she exclaimedreproachfully. "I thought you wouldn't want to make more trouble forher. "

Captain Jim shook his head. 

"I don't want to. I know how you feel about it, Mistress Blythe--justas I feel meself. But it ain't our feelings we have to steer bythrough life--no, no, we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set our course bythat--what it's right to do. I agree with the doctor. If there's achance for Dick, Leslie should be told of it. There's no two sides tothat, in my opinion. "

"Well, " said Anne, giving up in despair, "wait until Miss Cornelia getsafter you two men. "

"Cornelia'll rake us fore and aft, no doubt, " assented Captain Jim. "You women are lovely critters, Mistress Blythe, but you're just a miteillogical. You're a highly eddicated lady and Cornelia isn't, butyou're like as two peas when it comes to that. I dunno's you're anythe worse for it. Logic is a sort of hard, merciless thing, I reckon. Now, I'll brew a cup of tea and we'll drink it and talk of pleasantthings, jest to calm our minds a bit. "

At least, Captain Jim's tea and conversation calmed Anne's mind to suchan extent that she did not make Gilbert suffer so acutely on the wayhome as she had deliberately intended to do. She did not refer to theburning question at all, but she chatted amiably of other matters, andGilbert understood that he was forgiven under protest. 

"Captain Jim seems very frail and bent this spring. The winter hasaged him, " said Anne sadly. "I am afraid that he will soon be going toseek lost Margaret. I can't bear to think of it. "

"Four Winds won't be the same place when Captain Jim 'sets out tosea, '" agreed Gilbert. 

The following evening he went to the house up the brook. Anne wandereddismally around until his return. 

"Well, what did Leslie say?" she demanded when he came in. 

"Very little. I think she felt rather dazed. "

"And is she going to have the operation?"

"She is going to think it over and decide very soon. "

Gilbert flung himself wearily into the easy chair before the fire. Helooked tired. It had not been an easy thing for him to tell Leslie. And the terror that had sprung into her eyes when the meaning of whathe told her came home to her was not a pleasant thing to remember. Now, when the die was cast, he was beset with doubts of his own wisdom. 

Anne looked at him remorsefully; then she slipped down on the rugbeside him and laid her glossy red head on his arm. 

"Gilbert, I've been rather hateful over this. I won't be any more. Please just call me red-headed and forgive me. "

By which Gilbert understood that, no matter what came of it, therewould be no I-told-you-so's. But he was not wholly comforted. Duty inthe abstract is one thing; duty in the concrete is quite another, especially when the doer is confronted by a woman's stricken eyes. 

Some instinct made Anne keep away from Leslie for the next three days. On the third evening Leslie came down to the little house and toldGilbert that she had made up her mind; she would take Dick to Montrealand have the operation. 

She was very pale and seemed to have wrapped herself in her old mantleof aloofness. But her eyes had lost the look which had hauntedGilbert; they were cold and bright; and she proceeded to discussdetails with him in a crisp, business-like way. There were plans to bemade and many things to be thought over. When Leslie had got theinformation she wanted she went home. Anne wanted to walk part of theway with her. 

"Better not, " said Leslie curtly. "Today's rain has made the grounddamp. Good-night. "

"Have I lost my friend?" said Anne with a sigh. "If the operation issuccessful and Dick Moore finds himself again Leslie will retreat intosome remote fastness of her soul where none of us can ever find her. "

"Perhaps she will leave him, " said Gilbert. 

"Leslie would never do that, Gilbert. Her sense of duty is verystrong. She told me once that her Grandmother West always impressedupon her the fact that when she assumed any responsibility she mustnever shirk it, no matter what the consequences might be. That is oneof her cardinal rules. I suppose it's very old-fashioned . "

"Don't be bitter, Anne-girl. You know you don't think itold-fashioned--you know you have the very same idea of sacredness ofassumed responsibilities yourself. And you are right. Shirkingresponsibilities is the curse of our modern life--the secret of all theunrest and discontent that is seething in the world. "

"Thus saith the preacher, " mocked Anne. But under the mockery she feltthat he was right; and she was very sick at heart for Leslie. 

A week later Miss Cornelia descended like an avalanche upon the littlehouse. Gilbert was away and Anne was compelled to bear the shock ofthe impact alone. 

Miss Cornelia hardly waited to get her hat off before she began. 

"Anne, do you mean to tell me it's true what I've heard--that Dr. Blythe has told Leslie Dick can be cured, and that she is going to takehim to Montreal to have him operated on?"

"Yes, it is quite true, Miss Cornelia, " said Anne bravely. 

"Well, it's inhuman cruelty, that's what it is, " said Miss Cornelia, violently agitated. "I did think Dr. Blythe was a decent man. Ididn't think he could have been guilty of this. "

"Dr. Blythe thought it was his duty to tell Leslie that there was achance for Dick, " said Anne with spirit, "and, " she added, loyalty toGilbert getting the better of her, "I agree with him. "

"Oh, no, you don't, dearie, " said Miss Cornelia. "No person with anybowels of compassion could. "

"Captain Jim does. "

"Don't quote that old ninny to me, " cried Miss Cornelia. "And I don'tcare who agrees with him. Think--THINK what it means to that poorhunted, harried girl. "

"We DO think of it. But Gilbert believes that a doctor should put thewelfare of a patient's mind and body before all other considerations. "

"That's just like a man. But I expected better things of you, Anne, "said Miss Cornelia, more in sorrow than in wrath; then she proceeded tobombard Anne with precisely the same arguments with which the latterhad attacked Gilbert; and Anne valiantly defended her husband with theweapons he had used for his own protection. Long was the fray, butMiss Cornelia made an end at last. 

"It's an iniquitous shame, " she declared, almost in tears. "That'sjust what it is--an iniquitous shame. Poor, poor Leslie!"

"Don't you think Dick should be considered a little too?" pleaded Anne. 

"Dick! Dick Moore! HE'S happy enough. He's a better behaved and morereputable member of society now than he ever was before. 

"Why, he was a drunkard and perhaps worse. Are you going to set himloose again to roar and to devour?"

"He may reform, " said poor Anne, beset by foe without and traitorwithin. 

"Reform your grandmother!" retorted Miss Cornelia. "Dick Moore got theinjuries that left him as he is in a drunken brawl. He DESERVES hisfate. It was sent on him for a punishment. I don't believe the doctorhas any business to tamper with the visitations of God. "

"Nobody knows how Dick was hurt, Miss Cornelia. It may not have beenin a drunken brawl at all. He may have been waylaid and robbed. "

"Pigs MAY whistle, but they've poor mouths for it, " said Miss Cornelia. "Well, the gist of what you tell me is that the thing is settled andthere's no use in talking. If that's so I'll hold my tongue. I don'tpropose to wear MY teeth out gnawing files. When a thing has to be Igive in to it. But I like to make mighty sure first that it HAS to be. Now, I'll devote MY energies to comforting and sustaining Leslie. Andafter all, " added Miss Cornelia, brightening up hopefully, "perhapsnothing can be done for Dick. "

CHAPTER 31

THE TRUTH MAKES FREE

Leslie, having once made up her mind what to do, proceeded to do itwith characteristic resolution and speed. House-cleaning must befinished with first, whatever issues of life and death might awaitbeyond. The gray house up the brook was put into flawless order andcleanliness, with Miss Cornelia's ready assistance. Miss Cornelia, having said her say to Anne, and later on to Gilbert and CaptainJim--sparing neither of them, let it be assured--never spoke of thematter to Leslie. She accepted the fact of Dick's operation, referredto it when necessary in a business-like way, and ignored it when it wasnot. Leslie never attempted to discuss it. She was very cold andquiet during these beautiful spring days. She seldom visited Anne, andthough she was invariably courteous and friendly, that very courtesywas as an icy barrier between her and the people of the little house. The old jokes and laughter and chumminess of common things could notreach her over it. Anne refused to feel hurt. She knew that Lesliewas in the grip of a hideous dread--a dread that wrapped her away fromall little glimpses of happiness and hours of pleasure. When one greatpassion seizes possession of the soul all other feelings are crowdedaside. Never in all her life had Leslie Moore shuddered away from thefuture with more intolerable terror. But she went forward asunswervingly in the path she had elected as the martyrs of old walkedtheir chosen way, knowing the end of it to be the fiery agony of thestake. 

The financial question was settled with greater ease than Anne hadfeared. Leslie borrowed the necessary money from Captain Jim, and, ather insistence, he took a mortgage on the little farm. 

"So that is one thing off the poor girl's mind, " Miss Cornelia toldAnne, "and off mine too. Now, if Dick gets well enough to work againhe'll be able to earn enough to pay the interest on it; and if hedoesn't I know Captain Jim'll manage someway that Leslie won't have to. He said as much to me. 'I'm getting old, Cornelia, ' he said, 'and I'veno chick or child of my own. Leslie won't take a gift from a livingman, but mebbe she will from a dead one. ' So it will be all right asfar as THAT goes. I wish everything else might be settled assatisfactorily. As for that wretch of a Dick, he's been awful theselast few days. The devil was in him, believe ME! Leslie and Icouldn't get on with our work for the tricks he'd play. He chased allher ducks one day around the yard till most of them died. And not onething would he do for us. Sometimes, you know, he'll make himselfquite handy, bringing in pails of water and wood. But this week if wesent him to the well he'd try to climb down into it. I thought once, 'If you'd only shoot down there head-first everything would be nicelysettled. '"

"Oh, Miss Cornelia!"

"Now, you needn't Miss Cornelia me, Anne, dearie. ANYBODY would havethought the same. If the Montreal doctors can make a rational creatureout of Dick Moore they're wonders. "

Leslie took Dick to Montreal early in May. Gilbert went with her, tohelp her, and make the necessary arrangements for her. He came homewith the report that the Montreal surgeon whom they had consultedagreed with him that there was a good chance of Dick's restoration. 

"Very comforting, " was Miss Cornelia's sarcastic comment. 

Anne only sighed. Leslie had been very distant at their parting. 

But she had promised to write. Ten days after Gilbert's return theletter came. Leslie wrote that the operation had been successfullyperformed and that Dick was making a good recovery. 

"What does she mean by 'successfully?'" asked Anne. "Does she meanthat Dick's memory is really restored?"

"Not likely--since she says nothing of it, " said Gilbert. "She usesthe word 'successfully' from the surgeon's point of view. Theoperation has been performed and followed by normal results. But it istoo soon to know whether Dick's faculties will be eventually restored, wholly or in part. His memory would not be likely to return to him allat once. The process will be gradual, if it occurs at all. Is thatall she says?"

"Yes--there's her letter. It's very short. Poor girl, she must beunder a terrible strain. Gilbert Blythe, there are heaps of things Ilong to say to you, only it would be mean. "

"Miss Cornelia says them for you, " said Gilbert with a rueful smile. "She combs me down every time I encounter her. She makes it plain tome that she regards me as little better than a murderer, and that shethinks it a great pity that Dr. Dave ever let me step into his shoes. She even told me that the Methodist doctor over the harbor was to bepreferred before me. With Miss Cornelia the force of condemnation canno further go. "

"If Cornelia Bryant was sick, it would not be Doctor Dave or theMethodist doctor she would send for, " sniffed Susan. "She would haveyou out of your hard-earned bed in the middle of the night, doctor, dear, if she took a spell of misery, that she would. And then shewould likely say your bill was past all reason. But do not mind her, doctor, dear. It takes all kinds of people to make a world. "

No further word came from Leslie for some time. The May days creptaway in a sweet succession and the shores of Four Winds Harbor greenedand bloomed and purpled. One day in late May Gilbert came home to bemet by Susan in the stable yard. 

"I am afraid something has upset Mrs. Doctor, doctor, dear, " she saidmysteriously. "She got a letter this afternoon and since then she hasjust been walking round the garden and talking to herself. You know itis not good for her to be on her feet so much, doctor, dear. She didnot see fit to tell me what her news was, and I am no pry, doctor, dear, and never was, but it is plain something has upset her. And itis not good for her to be upset. "

Gilbert hurried rather anxiously to the garden. Had anything happenedat Green Gables? But Anne, sitting on the rustic seat by the brook, did not look troubled, though she was certainly much excited. Her eyeswere their grayest, and scarlet spots burned on her cheeks. 

"What has happened, Anne?"

Anne gave a queer little laugh. 

"I think you'll hardly believe it when I tell you, Gilbert. _I_ can'tbelieve it yet. As Susan said the other day, 'I feel like a fly comingto live in the sun--dazed-like. ' It's all so incredible. I've readthe letter a score of times and every time it's just the same--I can'tbelieve my own eyes. Oh, Gilbert, you were right--so right. I can seethat clearly enough now--and I'm so ashamed of myself--and will youever really forgive me?"

"Anne, I'll shake you if you don't grow coherent. Redmond would beashamed of you. WHAT has happened?"

"You won't believe it--you won't believe it--"

"I'm going to phone for Uncle Dave, " said Gilbert, pretending to startfor the house. 

"Sit down, Gilbert. I'll try to tell you. I've had a letter, and oh, Gilbert, it's all so amazing--so incredibly amazing--we neverthought--not one of us ever dreamed--"

"I suppose, " said Gilbert, sitting down with a resigned air, "the onlything to do in a case of this kind is to have patience and go at thematter categorically. Whom is your letter from?"

"Leslie--and, oh, Gilbert--"

"Leslie! Whew! What has she to say? What's the news about Dick?"

Anne lifted the letter and held it out, calmly dramatic in a moment. 

"There is NO Dick! The man we have thought Dick Moore--whom everybodyin Four Winds has believed for twelve years to be Dick Moore--is hiscousin, George Moore, of Nova Scotia, who, it seems, always resembledhim very strikingly. Dick Moore died of yellow fever thirteen yearsago in Cuba. "

CHAPTER 32

MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR

"And do you mean to tell me, Anne, dearie, that Dick Moore has turnedout not to be Dick Moore at all but somebody else? Is THAT what youphoned up to me today?"

"Yes, Miss Cornelia. It is very amazing, isn't it?"

"It's--it's--just like a man, " said Miss Cornelia helplessly. She tookoff her hat with trembling fingers. For once in her life Miss Corneliawas undeniably staggered. 

"I can't seem to sense it, Anne, " she said. "I've heard you sayit--and I believe you--but I can't take it in. Dick Moore is dead--hasbeen dead all these years--and Leslie is free?"

"Yes. The truth has made her free. Gilbert was right when he saidthat verse was the grandest in the Bible. "

"Tell me everything, Anne, dearie. Since I got your phone I've been ina regular muddle, believe ME. Cornelia Bryant was never sokerflummuxed before. "

"There isn't a very great deal to tell. Leslie's letter was short. She didn't go into particulars. This man--George Moore--has recoveredhis memory and knows who he is. He says Dick took yellow fever inCuba, and the Four Sisters had to sail without him. George stayedbehind to nurse him. But he died very shortly afterwards. 

"George did not write Leslie because he intended to come right home andtell her himself. "

"And why didn't he?"

"I suppose his accident must have intervened. Gilbert says it is quitelikely that George Moore remembers nothing of his accident, or what ledto it, and may never remember it. It probably happened very soon afterDick's death. We may find out more particulars when Leslie writesagain. "

"Does she say what she is going to do? When is she coming home?"

"She says she will stay with George Moore until he can leave thehospital. She has written to his people in Nova Scotia. It seems thatGeorge's only near relative is a married sister much older thanhimself. She was living when George sailed on the Four Sisters, but ofcourse we do not know what may have happened since. Did you ever seeGeorge Moore, Miss Cornelia?"

"I did. It is all coming back to me. He was here visiting his UncleAbner eighteen years ago, when he and Dick would be about seventeen. They were double cousins, you see. Their fathers were brothers andtheir mothers were twin sisters, and they did look a terrible lotalike. Of course, " added Miss Cornelia scornfully, "it wasn't one ofthose freak resemblances you read of in novels where two people are somuch alike that they can fill each other's places and their nearest anddearest can't tell between them. In those days you could tell easyenough which was George and which was Dick, if you saw them togetherand near at hand. Apart, or some distance away, it wasn't so easy. They played lots of tricks on people and thought it great fun, the twoscamps. George Moore was a little taller and a good deal fatter thanDick--though neither of them was what you would call fat--they wereboth of the lean kind. Dick had higher color than George, and his hairwas a shade lighter. But their features were just alike, and they bothhad that queer freak of eyes--one blue and one hazel. They weren'tmuch alike in any other way, though. George was a real nice fellow, though he was a scalawag for mischief, and some said he had a likingfor a glass even then. But everybody liked him better than Dick. Hespent about a month here. Leslie never saw him; she was only abouteight or nine then and I remember now that she spent that whole winterover harbor with her grandmother West. Captain Jim was away, too--thatwas the winter he was wrecked on the Magdalens. I don't suppose eitherhe or Leslie had ever heard about the Nova Scotia cousin looking somuch like Dick. Nobody ever thought of him when Captain Jim broughtDick--George, I should say--home. Of course, we all thought Dick hadchanged considerable--he'd got so lumpish and fat. But we put thatdown to what had happened to him, and no doubt that was the reason, for, as I've said, George wasn't fat to begin with either. And therewas no other way we could have guessed, for the man's senses were cleangone. I can't see that it is any wonder we were all deceived. Butit's a staggering thing. And Leslie has sacrificed the best years ofher life to nursing a man who hadn't any claim on her! Oh, drat themen! No matter what they do, it's the wrong thing. And no matter whothey are, it's somebody they shouldn't be. They do exasperate me. "

"Gilbert and Captain Jim are men, and it is through them that the truthhas been discovered at last, " said Anne. 

"Well, I admit that, " conceded Miss Cornelia reluctantly. "I'm sorry Iraked the doctor off so. It's the first time in my life I've ever feltashamed of anything I said to a man. I don't know as I shall tell himso, though. He'll just have to take it for granted. Well, Anne, dearie, it's a mercy the Lord doesn't answer all our prayers. I'vebeen praying hard right along that the operation wouldn't cure Dick. Of course I didn't put it just quite so plain. But that was what wasin the back of my mind, and I have no doubt the Lord knew it. "

"Well, He has answered the spirit of your prayer. You really wishedthat things shouldn't be made any harder for Leslie. I'm afraid thatin my secret heart I've been hoping the operation wouldn't succeed, andI am wholesomely ashamed of it. "

"How does Leslie seem to take it?"

"She writes like one dazed. I think that, like ourselves, she hardlyrealises it yet. She says, 'It all seems like a strange dream to me, Anne. ' That is the only reference she makes to herself. "

"Poor child! I suppose when the chains are struck off a prisoner he'dfeel queer and lost without them for a while. Anne, dearie, here's athought keeps coming into my mind. What about Owen Ford? We both knowLeslie was fond of him. Did it ever occur to you that he was fond ofher?"

"It--did--once, " admitted Anne, feeling that she might say so much. 

"Well, I hadn't any reason to think he was, but it just appeared to mehe MUST be. Now, Anne, dearie, the Lord knows I'm not a match-maker, and I scorn all such doings. But if I were you and writing to thatFord man I'd just mention, casual-like, what has happened. That iswhat _I_'d do. "

"Of course I will mention it when I write him, " said Anne, a trifledistantly. Somehow, this was a thing she could not discuss with MissCornelia. And yet, she had to admit that the same thought had beenlurking in her mind ever since she had heard of Leslie's freedom. Butshe would not desecrate it by free speech. 

"Of course there is no great rush, dearie. But Dick Moore's been deadfor thirteen years and Leslie has wasted enough of her life for him. We'll just see what comes of it. As for this George Moore, who's goneand come back to life when everyone thought he was dead and done for, just like a man, I'm real sorry for him. He won't seem to fit inanywhere. "

"He is still a young man, and if he recovers completely, as seemslikely, he will be able to make a place for himself again. It must bevery strange for him, poor fellow. I suppose all these years since hisaccident will not exist for him. "

CHAPTER 33

LESLIE RETURNS

A fortnight later Leslie Moore came home alone to the old house whereshe had spent so many bitter years. In the June twilight she went overthe fields to Anne's, and appeared with ghost-like suddenness in thescented garden. 

"Leslie!" cried Anne in amazement. "Where have you sprung from? Wenever knew you were coming. Why didn't you write? We would have metyou. "

"I couldn't write somehow, Anne. It seemed so futile to try to sayanything with pen and ink. And I wanted to get back quietly andunobserved. "

Anne put her arms about Leslie and kissed her. Leslie returned thekiss warmly. She looked pale and tired, and she gave a little sigh asshe dropped down on the grasses beside a great bed of daffodils thatwere gleaming through the pale, silvery twilight like golden stars. 

"And you have come home alone, Leslie?"

"Yes. George Moore's sister came to Montreal and took him home withher. Poor fellow, he was sorry to part with me--though I was astranger to him when his memory first came back. He clung to me inthose first hard days when he was trying to realise that Dick's deathwas not the thing of yesterday that it seemed to him. It was all veryhard for him. I helped him all I could. When his sister came it waseasier for him, because it seemed to him only the other day that he hadseen her last. Fortunately she had not changed much, and that helpedhim, too. "

"It is all so strange and wonderful, Leslie. I think we none of usrealise it yet. "

"I cannot. When I went into the house over there an hour ago, I feltthat it MUST be a dream--that Dick must be there, with his childishsmile, as he had been for so long. Anne, I seem stunned yet. I'm notglad or sorry--or ANYTHING. I feel as if something had been tornsuddenly out of my life and left a terrible hole. I feel as if Icouldn't be _I_--as if I must have changed into somebody else andcouldn't get used to it. It gives me a horrible lonely, dazed, helpless feeling. It's good to see you again--it seems as if you werea sort of anchor for my drifting soul. Oh, Anne, I dread it all--thegossip and wonderment and questioning. When I think of that, I wishthat I need not have come home at all. Dr. Dave was at the stationwhen I came off the train--he brought me home. Poor old man, he feelsvery badly because he told me years ago that nothing could be done forDick. 'I honestly thought so, Leslie, ' he said to me today. 'But Ishould have told you not to depend on my opinion--I should have toldyou to go to a specialist. If I had, you would have been saved manybitter years, and poor George Moore many wasted ones. I blame myselfvery much, Leslie. ' I told him not to do that--he had done what hethought right. He has always been so kind to me--I couldn't bear tosee him worrying over it. "

"And Dick--George, I mean? Is his memory fully restored?"

"Practically. Of course, there are a great many details he can'trecall yet--but he remembers more and more every day. He went out fora walk on the evening after Dick was buried. He had Dick's money andwatch on him; he meant to bring them home to me, along with my letter. He admits he went to a place where the sailors resorted--and heremembers drinking--and nothing else. Anne, I shall never forget themoment he remembered his own name. I saw him looking at me with anintelligent but puzzled expression. I said, 'Do you know me, Dick?'He answered, 'I never saw you before. Who are you? And my name is notDick. I am George Moore, and Dick died of yellow fever yesterday!Where am I? What has happened to me?' I--I fainted, Anne. And eversince I have felt as if I were in a dream. "

"You will soon adjust yourself to this new state of things, Leslie. And you are young--life is before you--you will have many beautifulyears yet. "

"Perhaps I shall be able to look at it in that way after a while, Anne. Just now I feel too tired and indifferent to think about the future. I'm--I'm--Anne, I'm lonely. I miss Dick. Isn't it all very strange?Do you know, I was really fond of poor Dick--George, I suppose I shouldsay--just as I would have been fond of a helpless child who depended onme for everything. I would never have admitted it--I was reallyashamed of it--because, you see, I had hated and despised Dick so muchbefore he went away. When I heard that Captain Jim was bringing himhome I expected I would just feel the same to him. But I neverdid--although I continued to loathe him as I remembered him before. From the time he came home I felt only pity--a pity that hurt and wrungme. I supposed then that it was just because his accident had made himso helpless and changed. But now I believe it was because there wasreally a different personality there. Carlo knew it, Anne--I know nowthat Carlo knew it. I always thought it strange that Carlo shouldn'thave known Dick. Dogs are usually so faithful. But HE knew it was nothis master who had come back, although none of the rest of us did. Ihad never seen George Moore, you know. I remember now that Dick oncementioned casually that he had a cousin in Nova Scotia who looked asmuch like him as a twin; but the thing had gone out of my memory, andin any case I would never have thought it of any importance. You see, it never occurred to me to question Dick's identity. Any change in himseemed to me just the result of the accident. 

"Oh, Anne, that night in April when Gilbert told me he thought Dickmight be cured! I can never forget it. It seemed to me that I hadonce been a prisoner in a hideous cage of torture, and then the doorhad been opened and I could get out. I was still chained to the cagebut I was not in it. And that night I felt that a merciless hand wasdrawing me back into the cage--back to a torture even more terriblethan it had once been. I didn't blame Gilbert. I felt he was right. And he had been very good--he said that if, in view of the expense anduncertainty of the operation, I should decide not to risk it, he wouldnot blame me in the least. But I knew how I ought to decide--and Icouldn't face it. All night I walked the floor like a mad woman, trying to compel myself to face it. I couldn't, Anne--I thought Icouldn't--and when morning broke I set my teeth and resolved that IWOULDN'T. I would let things remain as they were. It was very wicked, I know. It would have been just punishment for such wickedness if Ihad just been left to abide by that decision. I kept to it all day. That afternoon I had to go up to the Glen to do some shopping. It wasone of Dick's quiet, drowsy days, so I left him alone. I was gone alittle longer than I had expected, and he missed me. He felt lonely. And when I got home, he ran to meet me just like a child, with such apleased smile on his face. Somehow, Anne, I just gave way then. Thatsmile on his poor vacant face was more than I could endure. I felt asif I were denying a child the chance to grow and develop. I knew thatI must give him his chance, no matter what the consequences might be. So I came over and told Gilbert. Oh, Anne, you must have thought mehateful in those weeks before I went away. I didn't mean to be--but Icouldn't think of anything except what I had to do, and everything andeverybody about me were like shadows. "

"I know--I understood, Leslie. And now it is all over--your chain isbroken--there is no cage. "

"There is no cage, " repeated Leslie absently, plucking at the fringinggrasses with her slender, brown hands. "But--it doesn't seem as ifthere were anything else, Anne. You--you remember what I told you ofmy folly that night on the sand-bar? I find one doesn't get over beinga fool very quickly. Sometimes I think there are people who are foolsforever. And to be a fool--of that kind--is almost as bad as beinga--a dog on a chain. "

"You will feel very differently after you get over being tired andbewildered, " said Anne, who, knowing a certain thing that Leslie didnot know, did not feel herself called upon to waste overmuch sympathy. 

Leslie laid her splendid golden head against Anne's knee. 

"Anyhow, I have YOU, " she said. "Life can't be altogether empty withsuch a friend. Anne, pat my head--just as if I were a littlegirl--MOTHER me a bit--and let me tell you while my stubborn tongue isloosed a little just what you and your comradeship have meant to mesince that night I met you on the rock shore. "

CHAPTER 34

THE SHIP O'DREAMS COMES TO HARBOR

One morning, when a windy golden sunrise was billowing over the gulf inwaves of light, a certain weary stork flew over the bar of Four WindsHarbor on his way from the Land of Evening Stars. Under his wing wastucked a sleepy, starry-eyed, little creature. The stork was tired, and he looked wistfully about him. He knew he was somewhere near hisdestination, but he could not yet see it. The big, white light-houseon the red sandstone cliff had its good points; but no stork possessedof any gumption would leave a new, velvet baby there. An old grayhouse, surrounded by willows, in a blossomy brook valley, looked morepromising, but did not seem quite the thing either. The staring greenabode further on was manifestly out of the question. Then the storkbrightened up. He had caught sight of the very place--a little whitehouse nestled against a big, whispering firwood, with a spiral of bluesmoke winding up from its kitchen chimney--a house which just looked asif it were meant for babies. The stork gave a sigh of satisfaction, and softly alighted on the ridge-pole. 

Half an hour later Gilbert ran down the hall and tapped on thespare-room door. A drowsy voice answered him and in a moment Marilla'spale, scared face peeped out from behind the door. 

"Marilla, Anne has sent me to tell you that a certain young gentlemanhas arrived here. He hasn't brought much luggage with him, but heevidently means to stay. "

"For pity's sake!" said Marilla blankly. "You don't mean to tell me, Gilbert, that it's all over. Why wasn't I called?"

"Anne wouldn't let us disturb you when there was no need. Nobody wascalled until about two hours ago. There was no 'passage perilous' thistime. "

"And--and--Gilbert--will this baby live?"

"He certainly will. He weighs ten pounds and--why, listen to him. Nothing wrong with his lungs, is there? The nurse says his hair willbe red. Anne is furious with her, and I'm tickled to death. "

That was a wonderful day in the little house of dreams. 

"The best dream of all has come true, " said Anne, pale and rapturous. "Oh, Marilla, I hardly dare believe it, after that horrible day lastsummer. I have had a heartache ever since then--but it is gone now. "

"This baby will take Joy's place, " said Marilla. 

"Oh, no, no, NO, Marilla. He can't--nothing can ever do that. He hashis own place, my dear, wee man-child. But little Joy has hers, andalways will have it. If she had lived she would have been over a yearold. She would have been toddling around on her tiny feet and lispinga few words. I can see her so plainly, Marilla. Oh, I know now thatCaptain Jim was right when he said God would manage better than that mybaby would seem a stranger to me when I found her Beyond. I've learnedTHAT this past year. I've followed her development day by day and weekby week--I always shall. I shall know just how she grows from year toyear--and when I meet her again I'll know her--she won't be a stranger. Oh, Marilla, LOOK at his dear, darling toes! Isn't it strange theyshould be so perfect?"

"It would be stranger if they weren't, " said Marilla crisply. Now thatall was safely over, Marilla was herself again. 

"Oh, I know--but it seems as if they couldn't be quite FINISHED, youknow--and they are, even to the tiny nails. And his hands--JUST lookat his hands, Marilla. "

"They appear to be a good deal like hands, " Marilla conceded. 

"See how he clings to my finger. I'm sure he knows me already. Hecries when the nurse takes him away. Oh, Marilla, do you think--youdon't think, do you--that his hair is going to be red?"

"I don't see much hair of any color, " said Marilla. "I wouldn't worryabout it, if I were you, until it becomes visible. "

"Marilla, he HAS hair--look at that fine little down all over his head. Anyway, nurse says his eyes will be hazel and his forehead is exactlylike Gilbert's. "

"And he has the nicest little ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear, " said Susan. "The first thing I did was to look at his ears. Hair is deceitful andnoses and eyes change, and you cannot tell what is going to come ofthem, but ears is ears from start to finish, and you always know whereyou are with them. Just look at their shape--and they are set rightback against his precious head. You will never need to be ashamed ofhis ears, Mrs. Doctor, dear. "

Anne's convalescence was rapid and happy. Folks came and worshippedthe baby, as people have bowed before the kingship of the new-bornsince long before the Wise Men of the East knelt in homage to the RoyalBabe of the Bethlehem manger. Leslie, slowly finding herself amid thenew conditions of her life, hovered over it, like a beautiful, golden-crowned Madonna. Miss Cornelia nursed it as knackily as couldany mother in Israel. Captain Jim held the small creature in his bigbrown hands and gazed tenderly at it, with eyes that saw the childrenwho had never been born to him. 

"What are you going to call him?" asked Miss Cornelia. 

"Anne has settled his name, " answered Gilbert. 

"James Matthew--after the two finest gentlemen I've ever known--noteven saving your presence, " said Anne with a saucy glance at Gilbert. 

Gilbert smiled. 

"I never knew Matthew very well; he was so shy we boys couldn't getacquainted with him--but I quite agree with you that Captain Jim is oneof the rarest and finest souls God ever clothed in clay. He is sodelighted over the fact that we have given his name to our small lad. It seems he has no other namesake. "

"Well, James Matthew is a name that will wear well and not fade in thewashing, " said Miss Cornelia. "I'm glad you didn't load him down withsome highfalutin, romantic name that he'd be ashamed of when he gets tobe a grandfather. Mrs. William Drew at the Glen has called her babyBertie Shakespeare. Quite a combination, isn't it? And I'm glad youhaven't had much trouble picking on a name. Some folks have an awfultime. When the Stanley Flaggs' first boy was born there was so muchrivalry as to who the child should be named for that the poor littlesoul had to go for two years without a name. Then a brother came alongand there it was--'Big Baby' and 'Little Baby. ' Finally they called BigBaby Peter and Little Baby Isaac, after the two grandfathers, and hadthem both christened together. And each tried to see if it couldn'thowl the other down. You know that Highland Scotch family of MacNabsback of the Glen? They've got twelve boys and the oldest and theyoungest are both called Neil--Big Neil and Little Neil in the samefamily. Well, I s'pose they ran out of names. "

"I have read somewhere, " laughed Anne, "that the first child is a poembut the tenth is very prosy prose. Perhaps Mrs. MacNab thought thatthe twelfth was merely an old tale re-told. "

"Well, there's something to be said for large families, " said MissCornelia, with a sigh. "I was an only child for eight years and I didlong for a brother and sister. Mother told me to pray for one--andpray I did, believe ME. Well, one day Aunt Nellie came to me and said, 'Cornelia, there is a little brother for you upstairs in your ma'sroom. You can go up and see him. ' I was so excited and delighted Ijust flew upstairs. And old Mrs. Flagg lifted up the baby for me tosee. Lord, Anne, dearie, I never was so disappointed in my life. Yousee, I'd been praying for A BROTHER TWO YEARS OLDER THAN MYSELF. "

"How long did it take you to get over your disappointment?" asked Anne, amid her laughter. 

"Well, I had a spite at Providence for a good spell, and for weeks Iwouldn't even look at the baby. Nobody knew why, for I never told. Then he began to get real cute, and held out his wee hands to me and Ibegan to get fond of him. But I didn't get really reconciled to himuntil one day a school chum came to see him and said she thought he wasawful small for his age. I just got boiling mad, and I sailed rightinto her, and told her she didn't know a nice baby when she saw one, and ours was the nicest baby in the world. And after that I justworshipped him. Mother died before he was three years old and I wassister and mother to him both. Poor little lad, he was never strong, and he died when he wasn't much over twenty. Seems to me I'd havegiven anything on earth, Anne, dearie, if he'd only lived. "

Miss Cornelia sighed. Gilbert had gone down and Leslie, who had beencrooning over the small James Matthew in the dormer window, laid himasleep in his basket and went her way. As soon as she was safely outof earshot, Miss Cornelia bent forward and said in a conspirator'swhisper:

"Anne, dearie, I'd a letter from Owen Ford yesterday. He's inVancouver just now, but he wants to know if I can board him for a monthlater on. YOU know what that means. Well, I hope we're doing right. "

"We've nothing to do with it--we couldn't prevent him from coming toFour Winds if he wanted to, " said Anne quickly. She did not like thefeeling of match-making Miss Cornelia's whispers gave her; and then sheweakly succumbed herself. 

"Don't let Leslie know he is coming until he is here, " she said. "Ifshe found out I feel sure she would go away at once. She intends to goin the fall anyhow--she told me so the other day. She is going toMontreal to take up nursing and make what she can of her life. "

"Oh, well, Anne, dearie, " said Miss Cornelia, nodding sagely "that isall as it may be. You and I have done our part and we must leave therest to Higher Hands. "

CHAPTER 35

POLITICS AT FOUR WINDS

When anne came downstairs again, the Island, as well as all Canada, wasin the throes of a campaign preceding a general election. Gilbert, whowas an ardent Conservative, found himself caught in the vortex, beingmuch in demand for speech-making at the various county rallies. MissCornelia did not approve of his mixing up in politics and told Anne so. 

"Dr. Dave never did it. Dr. Blythe will find he is making a mistake, believe ME. Politics is something no decent man should meddle with. "

"Is the government of the country to be left solely to the roguesthen?" asked Anne. 

"Yes--so long as it's Conservative rogues, " said Miss Cornelia, marching off with the honors of war. "Men and politicians are alltarred with the same brush. The Grits have it laid on thicker than theConservatives, that's all--CONSIDERABLY thicker. But Grit or Tory, myadvice to Dr. Blythe is to steer clear of politics. First thing youknow, he'll be running an election himself, and going off to Ottawa forhalf the year and leaving his practice to go to the dogs. "

"Ah, well, let's not borrow trouble, " said Anne. "The rate of interestis too high. Instead, let's look at Little Jem. It should be spelledwith a G. Isn't he perfectly beautiful? Just see the dimples in hiselbows. We'll bring him up to be a good Conservative, you and I, MissCornelia. "

"Bring him up to be a good man, " said Miss Cornelia. "They're scarceand valuable; though, mind you, I wouldn't like to see him a Grit. Asfor the election, you and I may be thankful we don't live over harbor. The air there is blue these days. Every Elliott and Crawford andMacAllister is on the warpath, loaded for bear. This side is peacefuland calm, seeing there's so few men. Captain Jim's a Grit, but it's myopinion he's ashamed of it, for he never talks politics. There isn'tany earthly doubt that the Conservatives will be returned with a bigmajority again. "

Miss Cornelia was mistaken. On the morning after the election CaptainJim dropped in at the little house to tell the news. So virulent isthe microbe of party politics, even in a peaceable old man, thatCaptain Jim's cheeks were flushed and his eyes were flashing with allhis old-time fire. 

"Mistress Blythe, the Liberals are in with a sweeping majority. Aftereighteen years of Tory mismanagement this down-trodden country is goingto have a chance at last. "

"I never heard you make such a bitter partisan speech before, CaptainJim. I didn't think you had so much political venom in you, " laughedAnne, who was not much excited over the tidings. Little Jem had said"Wow-ga" that morning. What were principalities and powers, the riseand fall of dynasties, the overthrow of Grit or Tory, compared withthat miraculous occurrence?

"It's been accumulating for a long while, " said Captain Jim, with adeprecating smile. "I thought I was only a moderate Grit, but when thenews came that we were in I found out how Gritty I really was. "

"You know the doctor and I are Conservatives. "

"Ah, well, it's the only bad thing I know of either of you, MistressBlythe. Cornelia is a Tory, too. I called in on my way from the Glento tell her the news. "

"Didn't you know you took your life in your hands?"

"Yes, but I couldn't resist the temptation. "

"How did she take it?"

"Comparatively calm, Mistress Blythe, comparatively calm. She says, says she, 'Well, Providence sends seasons of humiliation to a country, same as to individuals. You Grits have been cold and hungry for many ayear. Make haste to get warmed and fed, for you won't be in long. ''Well, now Cornelia, ' I says, 'mebbe Providence thinks Canada needs areal long spell of humiliation. ' Ah, Susan, have YOU heard the news?The Liberals are in. "

Susan had just come in from the kitchen, attended by the odor ofdelectable dishes which always seemed to hover around her. 

"Now, are they?" she said, with beautiful unconcern. "Well, I nevercould see but that my bread rose just as light when Grits were in aswhen they were not. And if any party, Mrs. Doctor, dear, will make itrain before the week is out, and save our kitchen garden from entireruination, that is the party Susan will vote for. In the meantime, will you just step out and give me your opinion on the meat for dinner?I am fearing that it is very tough, and I think that we had betterchange our butcher as well as our government. "

One evening, a week later, Anne walked down to the Point, to see if shecould get some fresh fish from Captain Jim, leaving Little Jem for thefirst time. It was quite a tragedy. Suppose he cried? Suppose Susandid not know just exactly what to do for him? Susan was calm andserene. 

"I have had as much experience with him as you, Mrs. Doctor, dear, haveI not?"

"Yes, with him--but not with other babies. Why, I looked after threepairs of twins, when I was a child, Susan. When they cried, I gavethem peppermint or castor oil quite coolly. It's quite curious now torecall how lightly I took all those babies and their woes. "

"Oh, well, if Little Jem cries, I will just clap a hot water bag on hislittle stomach, " said Susan. 

"Not too hot, you know, " said Anne anxiously. Oh, was it really wiseto go?

"Do not you fret, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Susan is not the woman to burn awee man. Bless him, he has no notion of crying. "

Anne tore herself away finally and enjoyed her walk to the Point afterall, through the long shadows of the sun-setting. Captain Jim was notin the living room of the lighthouse, but another man was--a handsome, middle-aged man, with a strong, clean-shaven chin, who was unknown toAnne. Nevertheless, when she sat down, he began to talk to her withall the assurance of an old acquaintance. There was nothing amiss inwhat he said or the way he said it, but Anne rather resented such acool taking-for-granted in a complete stranger. Her replies werefrosty, and as few as decency required. Nothing daunted, her companiontalked on for several minutes, then excused himself and went away. Anne could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eye and it annoyedher. Who was the creature? There was something vaguely familiar abouthim but she was certain she had never seen him before. 

"Captain Jim, who was that who just went out?" she asked, as CaptainJim came in. 

"Marshall Elliott, " answered the captain. 

"Marshall Elliott!" cried Anne. "Oh, Captain Jim--it wasn't--yes, itWAS his voice--oh, Captain Jim, I didn't know him--and I was quiteinsulting to him! WHY didn't he tell me? He must have seen I didn'tknow him. "

"He wouldn't say a word about it--he'd just enjoy the joke. Don'tworry over snubbing him--he'll think it fun. Yes, Marshall's shavedoff his beard at last and cut his hair. His party is in, you know. Ididn't know him myself first time I saw him. He was up in CarterFlagg's store at the Glen the night after election day, along with acrowd of others, waiting for the news. About twelve the 'phone camethrough--the Liberals were in. Marshall just got up and walked out--hedidn't cheer or shout--he left the others to do that, and they nearlylifted the roof off Carter's store, I reckon. Of course, all theTories were over in Raymond Russell's store. Not much cheering THERE. Marshall went straight down the street to the side door of AugustusPalmer's barber shop. Augustus was in bed asleep, but Marhall hammeredon the door until he got up and come down, wanting to know what all theracket was about. 

"Come into your shop and do the best job you ever did in your life, Gus, ' said Marshall. 'The Liberals are in and you're going to barber agood Grit before the sun rises. '

"Gus was mad as hops--partly because he'd been dragged out of bed, butmore because he's a Tory. He vowed he wouldn't shave any man aftertwelve at night. 

"'You'll do what I want you to do, sonny, ' said Marshall, 'or I'll jestturn you over my knee and give you one of those spankings your motherforgot. '

"He'd have done it, too, and Gus knew it, for Marshall is as strong asan ox and Gus is only a midget of a man. So he gave in and towedMarshall in to the shop and went to work. 'Now, ' says he, 'I'll barberyou up, but if you say one word to me about the Grits getting in whileI'm doing it I'll cut your throat with this razor, ' says he. Youwouldn't have thought mild little Gus could be so bloodthirsty, wouldyou? Shows what party politics will do for a man. Marshall kept quietand got his hair and beard disposed of and went home. When his oldhousekeeper heard him come upstairs she peeked out of her bedroom doorto see whether 'twas him or the hired boy. And when she saw a strangeman striding down the hall with a candle in his hand she screamed bluemurder and fainted dead away. They had to send for the doctor beforethey could bring her to, and it was several days before she could lookat Marshall without shaking all over. "

Captain Jim had no fish. He seldom went out in his boat that summer, and his long tramping expeditions were over. He spent a great deal ofhis time sitting by his seaward window, looking out over the gulf, withhis swiftly-whitening head leaning on his hand. He sat there tonightfor many silent minutes, keeping some tryst with the past which Annewould not disturb. Presently he pointed to the iris of the West:

"That's beautiful, isn't, it, Mistress Blythe? But I wish you couldhave seen the sunrise this morning. It was a wonderfulthing--wonderful. I've seen all kinds of sunrises come over that gulf. I've been all over the world, Mistress Blythe, and take it all in all, I've never seen a finer sight than a summer sunrise over the gulf. Aman can't pick his time for dying, Mistress Blythe--jest got to go whenthe Great Captain gives His sailing orders. But if I could I'd go outwhen the morning comes across that water. I've watched it many a timeand thought what a thing it would be to pass out through that greatwhite glory to whatever was waiting beyant, on a sea that ain't mappedout on any airthly chart. I think, Mistress Blythe, that I'd find lostMargaret there. "

Captain Jim had often talked to Anne of lost Margaret since he had toldher the old story. His love for her trembled in every tone--that lovethat had never grown faint or forgetful. 

"Anyway, I hope when my time comes I'll go quick and easy. I don'tthink I'm a coward, Mistress Blythe--I've looked an ugly death in theface more than once without blenching. But the thought of a lingeringdeath does give me a queer, sick feeling of horror. "

"Don't talk about leaving us, dear, DEAR Captain, Jim, " pleaded Anne, in a choked voice, patting the old brown hand, once so strong, but nowgrown very feeble. "What would we do without you?"

Captain Jim smiled beautifully. 

"Oh, you'd get along nicely--nicely--but you wouldn't forget the oldman altogether, Mistress Blythe--no, I don't think you'll ever quiteforget him. The race of Joseph always remembers one another. Butit'll be a memory that won't hurt--I like to think that my memory won'thurt my friends--it'll always be kind of pleasant to them, I hope andbelieve. It won't be very long now before lost Margaret calls me, forthe last time. I'll be all ready to answer. I jest spoke of thisbecause there's a little favor I want to ask you. Here's this poor oldMatey of mine"--Captain Jim reached out a hand and poked the big, warm, velvety, golden ball on the sofa. The First Mate uncoiled himself likea spring with a nice, throaty, comfortable sound, half purr, half meow, stretched his paws in air, turned over and coiled himself up again. "HE'll miss me when I start on the V'yage. I can't bear to think ofleaving the poor critter to starve, like he was left before. Ifanything happens to me will you give Matey a bite and a corner, Mistress Blythe?"

"Indeed I will. "

"Then that is all I had on my mind. Your Little Jem is to have the fewcurious things I picked up--I've seen to that. And now I don't like tosee tears in those pretty eyes, Mistress Blythe. I'll mebbe hang onfor quite a spell yet. I heard you reading a piece of poetry one daylast winter--one of Tennyson's pieces. I'd sorter like to hear itagain, if you could recite it for me. "

Softly and clearly, while the seawind blew in on them, Anne repeatedthe beautiful lines of Tennyson's wonderful swan song--"Crossing theBar. " The old captain kept time gently with his sinewy hand. 

"Yes, yes, Mistress Blythe, " he said, when she had finished, "that'sit, that's it. He wasn't a sailor, you tell me--I dunno how he couldhave put an old sailor's feelings into words like that, if he wasn'tone. He didn't want any 'sadness o' farewells' and neither do I, Mistress Blythe--for all will be well with me and mine beyant the bar. "

CHAPTER 36

BEAUTY FOR ASHES

"Any news from Green Gables, Anne?"

"Nothing very especial, " replied Anne, folding up Marilla's letter. "Jake Donnell has been there shingling the roof. He is a full-fledgedcarpenter now, so it seems he has had his own way in regard to thechoice of a life-work. You remember his mother wanted him to be acollege professor. I shall never forget the day she came to the schooland rated me for failing to call him St. Clair. "

"Does anyone ever call him that now?"

"Evidently not. It seems that he has completely lived it down. Evenhis mother has succumbed. I always thought that a boy with Jake's chinand mouth would get his own way in the end. Diana writes me that Dorahas a beau. Just think of it--that child!"

"Dora is seventeen, " said Gilbert. "Charlie Sloane and I were both madabout you when you were seventeen, Anne. "

"Really, Gilbert, we must be getting on in years, " said Anne, with ahalf-rueful smile, "when children who were six when we thoughtourselves grown up are old enough now to have beaux. Dora's is RalphAndrews--Jane's brother. I remember him as a little, round, fat, white-headed fellow who was always at the foot of his class. But Iunderstand he is quite a fine-looking young man now. "

"Dora will probably marry young. She's of the same type as Charlottathe Fourth--she'll never miss her first chance for fear she might notget another. "

"Well; if she marries Ralph I hope he will be a little moreup-and-coming than his brother Billy, " mused Anne. 

"For instance, " said Gilbert, laughing, "let us hope he will be able topropose on his own account. Anne, would you have married Billy if hehad asked you himself, instead of getting Jane to do it for him?"

"I might have. " Anne went off into a shriek of laughter over therecollection of her first proposal. "The shock of the whole thingmight have hypnotized me into some such rash and foolish act. Let usbe thankful he did it by proxy. "

"I had a letter from George Moore yesterday, " said Leslie, from thecorner where she was reading. 

"Oh, how is he?" asked Anne interestedly, yet with an unreal feelingthat she was inquiring about some one whom she did not know. 

"He is well, but he finds it very hard to adapt himself to all thechanges in his old home and friends. He is going to sea again in thespring. It's in his blood, he says, and he longs for it. But he toldme something that made me glad for him, poor fellow. Before he sailedon the Four Sisters he was engaged to a girl at home. He did not tellme anything about her in Montreal, because he said he supposed shewould have forgotten him and married someone else long ago, and withhim, you see, his engagement and love was still a thing of the present. It was pretty hard on him, but when he got home he found she had nevermarried and still cared for him. They are to be married this fall. I'm going to ask him to bring her over here for a little trip; he sayshe wants to come and see the place where he lived so many years withoutknowing it. "

"What a nice little romance, " said Anne, whose love for the romanticwas immortal. "And to think, " she added with a sigh of self-reproach, "that if I had had my way George Moore would never have come up fromthe grave in which his identity was buried. How I did fight againstGilbert's suggestion! Well, I am punished: I shall never be able tohave a different opinion from Gilbert's again! If I try to have, hewill squelch me by casting George Moore's case up to me!"

"As if even that would squelch a woman!" mocked Gilbert. "At least donot become my echo, Anne. A little opposition gives spice to life. Ido not want a wife like John MacAllister's over the harbor. No matterwhat he says, she at once remarks in that drab, lifeless little voiceof hers, 'That is very true, John, dear me!'"

Anne and Leslie laughed. Anne's laughter was silver and Leslie'sgolden, and the combination of the two was as satisfactory as a perfectchord in music. 

Susan, coming in on the heels of the laughter, echoed it with aresounding sigh. 

"Why, Susan, what is the matter?" asked Gilbert. 

"There's nothing wrong with little Jem, is there, Susan?" cried Anne, starting up in alarm. 

"No, no, calm yourself, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Something has happened, though. Dear me, everything has gone catawampus with me this week. Ispoiled the bread, as you know too well--and I scorched the doctor'sbest shirt bosom--and I broke your big platter. And now, on the top ofall this, comes word that my sister Matilda has broken her leg andwants me to go and stay with her for a spell. "

"Oh, I'm very sorry--sorry that your sister has met with such anaccident, I mean, " exclaimed Anne. 

"Ah, well, man was made to mourn, Mrs. Doctor, dear. That sounds as ifit ought to be in the Bible, but they tell me a person named Burnswrote it. And there is no doubt that we are born to trouble as thesparks fly upward. As for Matilda, I do not know what to think of her. None of our family ever broke their legs before. But whatever she hasdone she is still my sister, and I feel that it is my duty to go andwait on her, if you can spare me for a few weeks, Mrs. Doctor, dear. "

"Of course, Susan, of course. I can get someone to help me while youare gone. "

"If you cannot I will not go, Mrs. Doctor, dear, Matilda's leg to thecontrary notwithstanding. I will not have you worried, and thatblessed child upset in consequence, for any number of legs. "

"Oh, you must go to your sister at once, Susan. I can get a girl fromthe cove, who will do for a time. "

"Anne, will you let me come and stay with you while Susan is away?"exclaimed Leslie. "Do! I'd love to--and it would be an act of charityon your part. I'm so horribly lonely over there in that big barn of ahouse. There's so little to do--and at night I'm worse thanlonely--I'm frightened and nervous in spite of locked doors. There wasa tramp around two days ago. "

Anne joyfully agreed, and next day Leslie was installed as an inmate ofthe little house of dreams. Miss Cornelia warmly approved of thearrangement. 

"It seems Providential, " she told Anne in confidence. "I'm sorry forMatilda Clow, but since she had to break her leg it couldn't havehappened at a better time. Leslie will be here while Owen Ford is inFour Winds, and those old cats up at the Glen won't get the chance tomeow, as they would if she was living over there alone and Owen goingto see her. They are doing enough of it as it is, because she doesn'tput on mourning. I said to one of them, 'If you mean she should put onmourning for George Moore, it seems to me more like his resurrectionthan his funeral; and if it's Dick you mean, I confess _I_ can't seethe propriety of going into weeds for a man who died thirteen years agoand good riddance then!' And when old Louisa Baldwin remarked to methat she thought it very strange that Leslie should never havesuspected it wasn't her own husband _I_ said, 'YOU never suspected itwasn't Dick Moore, and you were next-door neighbor to him all his life, and by nature you're ten times as suspicious as Leslie. ' But you can'tstop some people's tongues, Anne, dearie, and I'm real thankful Lesliewill be under your roof while Owen is courting her. "

Owen Ford came to the little house one August evening when Leslie andAnne were absorbed in worshipping the baby. He paused at the open doorof the living room, unseen by the two within, gazing with greedy eyesat the beautiful picture. Leslie sat on the floor with the baby in herlap, making ecstatic dabs at his fat little hands as he fluttered themin the air. 

"Oh, you dear, beautiful, beloved baby, " she mumbled, catching one weehand and covering it with kisses. 

"Isn't him ze darlingest itty sing, " crooned Anne, hanging over the armof her chair adoringly. "Dem itty wee pads are ze very tweetesthandies in ze whole big world, isn't dey, you darling itty man. "

Anne, in the months before Little Jem's coming, had pored diligentlyover several wise volumes, and pinned her faith to one in especial, "Sir Oracle on the Care and Training of Children. " Sir Oracle imploredparents by all they held sacred never to talk "baby talk" to theirchildren. Infants should invariably be addressed in classical languagefrom the moment of their birth. So should they learn to speak Englishundefiled from their earliest utterance. "How, " demanded Sir Oracle, "can a mother reasonably expect her child to learn correct speech, whenshe continually accustoms its impressionable gray matter to such absurdexpressions and distortions of our noble tongue as thoughtless mothersinflict every day on the helpless creatures committed to their care?Can a child who is constantly called 'tweet itty wee singie' everattain to any proper conception of his own being and possibilities anddestiny?"

Anne was vastly impressed with this, and informed Gilbert that shemeant to make it an inflexible rule never, under any circumstances, totalk "baby talk" to her children. Gilbert agreed with her, and theymade a solemn compact on the subject--a compact which Anne shamelesslyviolated the very first moment Little Jem was laid in her arms. "Oh, the darling itty wee sing!" she had exclaimed. And she had continuedto violate it ever since. When Gilbert teased her she laughed SirOracle to scorn. 

"He never had any children of his own, Gilbert--I am positive he hadn'tor he would never have written such rubbish. You just can't helptalking baby talk to a baby. It comes natural--and it's RIGHT. Itwould be inhuman to talk to those tiny, soft, velvety little creaturesas we do to great big boys and girls. Babies want love and cuddlingand all the sweet baby talk they can get, and Little Jem is going tohave it, bless his dear itty heartums. "

"But you're the worst I ever heard, Anne, " protested Gilbert, who, notbeing a mother but only a father, was not wholly convinced yet that SirOracle was wrong. "I never heard anything like the way you talk tothat child. "

"Very likely you never did. Go away--go away. Didn't I bring up threepairs of Hammond twins before I was eleven? You and Sir Oracle arenothing but cold-blooded theorists. Gilbert, JUST look at him! He'ssmiling at me--he knows what we're talking about. And oo dest agweeswif evy word muzzer says, don't oo, angel-lover?"

Gilbert put his arm about them. "Oh you mothers!" he said. "Youmothers! God knew what He was about when He made you. "

So Little Jem was talked to and loved and cuddled; and he throve asbecame a child of the house of dreams. Leslie was quite as foolishover him as Anne was. When their work was done and Gilbert was out ofthe way, they gave themselves over to shameless orgies of love-makingand ecstasies of adoration, such as that in which Owen Ford hadsurprised them. 

Leslie was the first to become aware of him. Even in the twilightAnne could see the sudden whiteness that swept over her beautiful face, blotting out the crimson of lip and cheeks. 

Owen came forward, eagerly, blind for a moment to Anne. 

"Leslie!" he said, holding out his hand. It was the first time he hadever called her by her name; but the hand Leslie gave him was cold; andshe was very quiet all the evening, while Anne and Gilbert and Owenlaughed and talked together. Before his call ended she excused herselfand went upstairs. Owen's gay spirits flagged and he went away soonafter with a downcast air. 

Gilbert looked at Anne. 

"Anne, what are you up to? There's something going on that I don'tunderstand. The whole air here tonight has been charged withelectricity. Leslie sits like the muse of tragedy; Owen Ford jokes andlaughs on the surface, and watches Leslie with the eyes of his soul. You seem all the time to be bursting with some suppressed excitement. Own up. What secret have you been keeping from your deceived husband?"

"Don't be a goose, Gilbert, " was Anne's conjugal reply. "As forLeslie, she is absurd and I'm going up to tell her so. "

Anne found Leslie at the dormer window of her room. The little placewas filled with the rhythmic thunder of the sea. Leslie sat withlocked hands in the misty moonshine--a beautiful, accusing presence. 

"Anne, " she said in a low, reproachful voice, "did you know Owen Fordwas coming to Four Winds?"

"I did, " said Anne brazenly. 

"Oh, you should have told me, Anne, " Leslie cried passionately. "If Ihad known I would have gone away--I wouldn't have stayed here to meethim. You should have told me. It wasn't fair of you, Anne--oh, itwasn't fair!"

Leslie's lips were trembling and her whole form was tense with emotion. But Anne laughed heartlessly. She bent over and kissed Leslie'supturned reproachful face. 

"Leslie, you are an adorable goose. Owen Ford didn't rush from thePacific to the Atlantic from a burning desire to see ME. Neither do Ibelieve that he was inspired by any wild and frenzied passion for MissCornelia. Take off your tragic airs, my dear friend, and fold them upand put them away in lavender. You'll never need them again. Thereare some people who can see through a grindstone when there is a holein it, even if you cannot. I am not a prophetess, but I shall ventureon a prediction. The bitterness of life is over for you. After thisyou are going to have the joys and hopes--and I daresay the sorrows, too--of a happy woman. The omen of the shadow of Venus did come truefor you, Leslie. The year in which you saw it brought your life's bestgift for you--your love for Owen Ford. Now, go right to bed and have agood sleep. "

Leslie obeyed orders in so far that she went to bed: but it may bequestioned if she slept much. I do not think she dared to dreamwakingly; life had been so hard for this poor Leslie, the path on whichshe had had to walk had been so strait, that she could not whisper toher own heart the hopes that might wait on the future. But she watchedthe great revolving light bestarring the short hours of the summernight, and her eyes grew soft and bright and young once more. Nor, when Owen Ford came next day, to ask her to go with him to the shore, did she say him nay. 

 CHAPTER 37

MISS CORNELIA MAKES A STARTLING ANNOUNCEMENT

Miss Cornelia sailed down to the little house one drowsy afternoon, when the gulf was the faint, bleached blue of the August seas, and theorange lilies at the gate of Anne's garden held up their imperial cupsto be filled with the molten gold of August sunshine. Not that MissCornelia concerned herself with painted oceans or sun-thirsty lilies. She sat in her favorite rocker in unusual idleness. She sewed not, neither did she spin. Nor did she say a single derogatory wordconcerning any portion of mankind. In short, Miss Cornelia'sconversation was singularly devoid of spice that day, and Gilbert, whohad stayed home to listen to her, instead of going a-fishing, as he hadintended, felt himself aggrieved. What had come over Miss Cornelia?She did not look cast down or worried. On the contrary, there was acertain air of nervous exultation about her. 

"Where is Leslie?" she asked--not as if it mattered much either. 

"Owen and she went raspberrying in the woods back of her farm, "answered Anne. "They won't be back before supper time--if then. "

"They don't seem to have any idea that there is such a thing as aclock, " said Gilbert. "I can't get to the bottom of that affair. I'mcertain you women pulled strings. But Anne, undutiful wife, won't tellme. Will you, Miss Cornelia?"

"No, I shall not. But, " said Miss Cornelia, with the air of onedetermined to take the plunge and have it over, "I will tell yousomething else. I came today on purpose to tell it. I am going to bemarried. "

Anne and Gilbert were silent. If Miss Cornelia had announced herintention of going out to the channel and drowning herself the thingmight have been believable. This was not. So they waited. Of courseMiss Cornelia had made a mistake. 

"Well, you both look sort of kerflummexed, " said Miss Cornelia, with atwinkle in her eyes. Now that the awkward moment of revelation wasover, Miss Cornelia was her own woman again. "Do you think I'm tooyoung and inexperienced for matrimony?"

"You know--it IS rather staggering, " said Gilbert, trying to gather hiswits together. "I've heard you say a score of times that you wouldn'tmarry the best man in the world. "

"I'm not going to marry the best man in the world, " retorted MissCornelia. "Marshall Elliott is a long way from being the best. "

"Are you going to marry Marshall Elliott?" exclaimed Anne, recoveringher power of speech under this second shock. 

"Yes. I could have had him any time these twenty years if I'd liftedmy finger. But do you suppose I was going to walk into church beside aperambulating haystack like that?"

"I am sure we are very glad--and we wish you all possible happiness, "said Anne, very flatly and inadequately, as she felt. She was notprepared for such an occasion. She had never imagined herself offeringbetrothal felicitations to Miss Cornelia. 

"Thanks, I knew you would, " said Miss Cornelia. "You are the first ofmy friends to know it. "

"We shall be so sorry to lose you, though, dear Miss Cornelia, " saidAnne, beginning to be a little sad and sentimental. 

"Oh, you won't lose me, " said Miss Cornelia unsentimentally. "Youdon't suppose I would live over harbor with all those MacAllisters andElliotts and Crawfords, do you? 'From the conceit of the Elliotts, thepride of the MacAllisters and the vain-glory of the Crawfords, goodLord deliver us. ' Marshall is coming to live at my place. I'm sickand tired of hired men. That Jim Hastings I've got this summer ispositively the worst of the species. He would drive anyone to gettingmarried. What do you think? He upset the churn yesterday and spilleda big churning of cream over the yard. And not one whit concernedabout it was he! Just gave a foolish laugh and said cream was good forthe land. Wasn't that like a man? I told him I wasn't in the habit offertilising my back yard with cream. "

"Well, I wish you all manner of happiness too, Miss Cornelia, " saidGilbert, solemnly; "but, " he added, unable to resist the temptation totease Miss Cornelia, despite Anne's imploring eyes, "I fear your day ofindependence is done. As you know, Marshall Elliott is a verydetermined man. "

"I like a man who can stick to a thing, " retorted Miss Cornelia. "AmosGrant, who used to be after me long ago, couldn't. You never saw sucha weather-vane. He jumped into the pond to drown himself once and thenchanged his mind and swum out again. Wasn't that like a man? Marshallwould have stuck to it and drowned. "

"And he has a bit of a temper, they tell me, " persisted Gilbert. 

"He wouldn't be an Elliott if he hadn't. I'm thankful he has. It willbe real fun to make him mad. And you can generally do something with atempery man when it comes to repenting time. But you can't do anythingwith a man who just keeps placid and aggravating. "

"You know he's a Grit, Miss Cornelia. "

"Yes, he IS, " admitted Miss Cornelia rather sadly. "And of coursethere is no hope of making a Conservative of him. But at least he is aPresbyterian. So I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that. "

"Would you marry him if he were a Methodist, Miss Cornelia?"

"No, I would not. Politics is for this world, but religion is forboth. "

"And you may be a 'relict' after all, Miss Cornelia. "

"Not I. Marshall will live me out. The Elliotts are long-lived, andthe Bryants are not. "

"When are you to be married?" asked Anne. 

"In about a month's time. My wedding dress is to be navy blue silk. And I want to ask you, Anne, dearie, if you think it would be all rightto wear a veil with a navy blue dress. I've always thought I'd like towear a veil if I ever got married. Marshall says to have it if I wantto. Isn't that like a man?"

"Why shouldn't you wear it if you want to?" asked Anne. 

"Well, one doesn't want to be different from other people, " said MissCornelia, who was not noticeably like anyone else on the face of theearth. "As I say, I do fancy a veil. But maybe it shouldn't be wornwith any dress but a white one. Please tell me, Anne, dearie, what youreally think. I'll go by your advice. "

"I don't think veils are usually worn with any but white dresses, "admitted Anne, "but that is merely a convention; and I am like Mr. Elliott, Miss Cornelia. I don't see any good reason why you shouldn'thave a veil if you want one. "

But Miss Cornelia, who made her calls in calico wrappers, shook herhead. 

"If it isn't the proper thing I won't wear it, " she said, with a sighof regret for a lost dream. 

"Since you are determined to be married, Miss Cornelia, " said Gilbertsolemnly, "I shall give you the excellent rules for the management of ahusband which my grandmother gave my mother when she married my father. "

"Well, I reckon I can manage Marshall Elliott, " said Miss Corneliaplacidly. "But let us hear your rules. "

"The first one is, catch him. "

"He's caught. Go on. "

"The second one is, feed him well. "

"With enough pie. What next?"

"The third and fourth are--keep your eye on him. "

"I believe you, " said Miss Cornelia emphatically. 

CHAPTER 38

RED ROSES

The garden of the little house was a haunt beloved of bees and reddenedby late roses that August. The little house folk lived much in it, andwere given to taking picnic suppers in the grassy corner beyond thebrook and sitting about in it through the twilights when great nightmoths sailed athwart the velvet gloom. One evening Owen Ford foundLeslie alone in it. Anne and Gilbert were away, and Susan, who wasexpected back that night, had not yet returned. 

The northern sky was amber and pale green over the fir tops. The airwas cool, for August was nearing September, and Leslie wore a crimsonscarf over her white dress. Together they wandered through the little, friendly, flower-crowded paths in silence. Owen must go soon. Hisholiday was nearly over. Leslie found her heart beating wildly. Sheknew that this beloved garden was to be the scene of the binding wordsthat must seal their as yet unworded understanding. 

"Some evenings a strange odor blows down the air of this garden, like aphantom perfume, " said Owen. "I have never been able to discover fromjust what flower it comes. It is elusive and haunting and wonderfullysweet. I like to fancy it is the soul of Grandmother Selwyn passing ona little visit to the old spot she loved so well. There should be alot of friendly ghosts about this little old house. "

"I have lived under its roof only a month, " said Leslie, "but I love itas I never loved the house over there where I have lived all my life. "

"This house was builded and consecrated by love, " said Owen. "Suchhouses, MUST exert an influence over those who live in them. And thisgarden--it is over sixty years old and the history of a thousand hopesand joys is written in its blossoms. Some of those flowers wereactually set out by the schoolmaster's bride, and she has been dead forthirty years. Yet they bloom on every summer. Look at those redroses, Leslie--how they queen it over everything else!"

"I love the red roses, " said Leslie. "Anne likes the pink ones best, and Gilbert likes the white. But I want the crimson ones. Theysatisfy some craving in me as no other flower does. "

"These roses are very late--they bloom after all the others havegone--and they hold all the warmth and soul of the summer come tofruition, " said Owen, plucking some of the glowing, half-opened buds. 

"The rose is the flower of love--the world has acclaimed it so forcenturies. The pink roses are love hopeful and expectant--the whiteroses are love dead or forsaken--but the red roses--ah, Leslie, whatare the red roses?"

"Love triumphant, " said Leslie in a low voice. 

"Yes--love triumphant and perfect. Leslie, you know--you understand. I have loved you from the first. And I KNOW you love me--I don't needto ask you. But I want to hear you say it--my darling--my darling!"

Leslie said something in a very low and tremulous voice. Their handsand lips met; it was life's supreme moment for them and as they stoodthere in the old garden, with its many years of love and delight andsorrow and glory, he crowned her shining hair with the red, red rose ofa love triumphant. 

Anne and Gilbert returned presently, accompanied by Captain Jim. Annelighted a few sticks of driftwood in the fireplace, for love of thepixy flames, and they sat around it for an hour of good fellowship. 

"When I sit looking at a driftwood fire it's easy to believe I'm youngagain, " said Captain Jim. 

"Can you read futures in the fire, Captain Jim?" asked Owen. 

Captain Jim looked at them all affectionately and then back again atLeslie's vivid face and glowing eyes. 

"I don't need the fire to read your futures, " he said. "I seehappiness for all of you--all of you--for Leslie and Mr. Ford--and thedoctor here and Mistress Blythe--and Little Jem--and children thatain't born yet but will be. Happiness for you all--though, mind you, Ireckon you'll have your troubles and worries and sorrows, too. They'rebound to come--and no house, whether it's a palace or a little house ofdreams, can bar 'em out. But they won't get the better of you if youface 'em TOGETHER with love and trust. You can weather any storm withthem two for compass and pilot. "

The old man rose suddenly and placed one hand on Leslie's head and oneon Anne's. 

"Two good, sweet women, " he said. "True and faithful and to bedepended on. Your husbands will have honor in the gates because ofyou--your children will rise up and call you blessed in the years tocome. "

There was a strange solemnity about the little scene. Anne and Lesliebowed as those receiving a benediction. Gilbert suddenly brushed hishand over his eyes; Owen Ford was rapt as one who can see visions. Allwere silent for a space. The little house of dreams added anotherpoignant and unforgettable moment to its store of memories. 

"I must be going now, " said Captain Jim slowly at last. He took up hishat and looked lingeringly about the room. 

"Good night, all of you, " he said, as he went out. 

Anne, pierced by the unusual wistfulness of his farewell, ran to thedoor after him. 

"Come back soon, Captain Jim, " she called, as he passed through thelittle gate hung between the firs. 

"Ay, ay, " he called cheerily back to her. But Captain Jim had sat bythe old fireside of the house of dreams for the last time. 

Anne went slowly back to the others. 

"It's so--so pitiful to think of him going all alone down to thatlonely Point, " she said. "And there is no one to welcome him there. "

"Captain Jim is such good company for others that one can't imagine himbeing anything but good company for himself, " said Owen. "But he mustoften be lonely. There was a touch of the seer about him tonight--hespoke as one to whom it had been given to speak. Well, I must begoing, too. "

Anne and Gilbert discreetly melted away; but when Owen had gone Annereturned, to find Leslie standing by the hearth. 

"Oh, Leslie--I know--and I'm so glad, dear, " she said, putting her armsabout her. 

"Anne, my happiness frightens me, " whispered Leslie. "It seems toogreat to be real--I'm afraid to speak of it--to think of it. It seemsto me that it must just be another dream of this house of dreams and itwill vanish when I leave here. "

"Well, you are not going to leave here--until Owen takes you. You aregoing to stay with me until that times comes. Do you think I'd let yougo over to that lonely, sad place again?"

"Thank you, dear. I meant to ask you if I might stay with you. Ididn't want to go back there--it would seem like going back into thechill and dreariness of the old life again. Anne, Anne, what a friendyou've been to me--'a good, sweet woman--true and faithful and to bedepended on'--Captain Jim summed you up. "

"He said 'women, ' not 'woman, '" smiled Anne. "Perhaps Captain Jim seesus both through the rose-colored spectacles of his love for us. But wecan try to live up to his belief in us, at least. "

"Do you remember, Anne, " said Leslie slowly, "that I once said--thatnight we met on the shore--that I hated my good looks? I did--then. It always seemed to me that if I had been homely Dick would never havethought of me. I hated my beauty because it had attracted him, butnow--oh, I'm glad that I have it. It's all I have to offer Owen, --hisartist soul delights in it. I feel as if I do not come to him quiteempty-handed. "

"Owen loves your beauty, Leslie. Who would not? But it's foolish ofyou to say or think that that is all you bring him. HE will tell youthat--I needn't. And now I must lock up. I expected Susan backtonight, but she has not come. "

"Oh, yes, here I am, Mrs. Doctor, dear, " said Susan, enteringunexpectedly from the kitchen, "and puffing like a hen drawing rails atthat! It's quite a walk from the Glen down here. "

"I'm glad to see you back, Susan. How is your sister?"

"She is able to sit up, but of course she cannot walk yet. However, she is very well able to get on without me now, for her daughter hascome home for her vacation. And I am thankful to be back, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Matilda's leg was broken and no mistake, but her tongue was not. She would talk the legs off an iron pot, that she would, Mrs. Doctor, dear, though I grieve to say it of my own sister. She was always agreat talker and yet she was the first of our family to get married. She really did not care much about marrying James Clow, but she couldnot bear to disoblige him. Not but what James is a good man--the onlyfault I have to find with him is that he always starts in to say gracewith such an unearthly groan, Mrs. Doctor, dear. It always frightensmy appetite clear away. And speaking of getting married, Mrs. Doctor, dear, is it true that Cornelia Bryant is going to be married toMarshall Elliott?"

"Yes, quite true, Susan. "

"Well, Mrs. Doctor, dear, it does NOT seem to me fair. Here is me, whonever said a word against the men, and I cannot get married nohow. Andthere is Cornelia Bryant, who is never done abusing them, and all shehas to do is to reach out her hand and pick one up, as it were. It isa very strange world, Mrs. Doctor, dear. "

"There's another world, you know, Susan. "

"Yes, " said Susan with a heavy sigh, "but, Mrs. Doctor, dear, there isneither marrying nor giving in marriage there. "

CHAPTER 39

CAPTAIN JIM CROSSES THE BAR

One day in late September Owen Ford's book came at last. Captain Jimhad gone faithfully to the Glen post office every day for a month, expecting it. This day he had not gone, and Leslie brought his copyhome with hers and Anne's. 

"We'll take it down to him this evening, " said Anne, excited as aschoolgirl. 

The long walk to the Point on that clear, beguiling evening along thered harbor road was very pleasant. Then the sun dropped down behindthe western hills into some valley that must have been full of lostsunsets, and at the same instant the big light flashed out on the whitetower of the point. 

"Captain Jim is never late by the fraction of a second, " said Leslie. 

Neither Anne nor Leslie ever forgot Captain Jim's face when they gavehim the book--HIS book, transfigured and glorified. The cheeks thathad been blanched of late suddenly flamed with the color of boyhood;his eyes glowed with all the fire of youth; but his hands trembled ashe opened it. 

It was called simply The Life-Book of Captain Jim, and on the titlepage the names of Owen Ford and James Boyd were printed ascollaborators. The frontispiece was a photograph of Captain Jimhimself, standing at the door of the lighthouse, looking across thegulf. Owen Ford had "snapped" him one day while the book was beingwritten. Captain Jim had known this, but he had not known that thepicture was to be in the book. 

"Just think of it, " he said, "the old sailor right there in a realprinted book. This is the proudest day of my life. I'm like to bust, girls. There'll be no sleep for me tonight. I'll read my book cleanthrough before sun-up. "

"We'll go right away and leave you free to begin it, " said Anne. 

Captain Jim had been handling the book in a kind of reverent rapture. Now he decidedly closed it and laid it aside. 

"No, no, you're not going away before you take a cup of tea with theold man, " he protested. "I couldn't hear to that--could you, Matey?The life-book will keep, I reckon. I've waited for it this many ayear. I can wait a little longer while I'm enjoying my friends. "

Captain Jim moved about getting his kettle on to boil, and setting outhis bread and butter. Despite his excitement he did not move with hisold briskness. His movements were slow and halting. But the girls didnot offer to help him. They knew it would hurt his feelings. 

"You just picked the right evening to visit me, " he said, producing acake from his cupboard. "Leetle Joe's mother sent me down a big basketfull of cakes and pies today. A blessing on all good cooks, says I. Look at this purty cake, all frosting and nuts. 'Tain't often I canentertain in such style. Set in, girls, set in! We'll 'tak a cup o'kindness yet for auld lang syne. '"

The girls "set in" right merrily. The tea was up to Captain Jim's bestbrewing. Little Joe's mother's cake was the last word in cakes;Captain Jim was the prince of gracious hosts, never even permitting hiseyes to wander to the corner where the life-book lay, in all itsbravery of green and gold. But when his door finally closed behindAnne and Leslie they knew that he went straight to it, and as theywalked home they pictured the delight of the old man poring over theprinted pages wherein his own life was portrayed with all the charm andcolor of reality itself. 

"I wonder how he will like the ending--the ending I suggested, " saidLeslie. 

She was never to know. Early the next morning Anne awakened to findGilbert bending over her, fully dressed, and with an expression ofanxiety on his face. 

"Are you called out?" she asked drowsily. 

"No. Anne, I'm afraid there's something wrong at the Point. It's anhour after sunrise now, and the light is still burning. You know ithas always been a matter of pride with Captain Jim to start the lightthe moment the sun sets, and put it out the moment it rises. "

Anne sat up in dismay. Through her window she saw the light blinkingpalely against the blue skies of dawn. 

"Perhaps he has fallen asleep over his life-book, " she said anxiously, "or become so absorbed in it that he has forgotten the light. "

Gilbert shook his head. 

"That wouldn't be like Captain Jim. Anyway, I'm going down to see. "

"Wait a minute and I'll go with you, " exclaimed Anne. "Oh, yes, Imust--Little Jem will sleep for an hour yet, and I'll call Susan. Youmay need a woman's help if Captain Jim is ill. "

It was an exquisite morning, full of tints and sounds at once ripe anddelicate. The harbor was sparkling and dimpling like a girl; whitegulls were soaring over the dunes; beyond the bar was a shining, wonderful sea. The long fields by the shore were dewy and fresh inthat first fine, purely-tinted light. The wind came dancing andwhistling up the channel to replace the beautiful silence with a musicmore beautiful still. Had it not been for the baleful star on thewhite tower that early walk would have been a delight to Anne andGilbert. But they went softly with fear. 

Their knock was not responded to. Gilbert opened the door and theywent in. 

The old room was very quiet. On the table were the remnants of thelittle evening feast. The lamp still burned on the corner stand. TheFirst Mate was asleep in a square of sunshine by the sofa. 

Captain Jim lay on the sofa, with his hands clasped over the life-book, open at the last page, lying on his breast. His eyes were closed andon his face was a look of the most perfect peace and happiness--thelook of one who has long sought and found at last. 

"He is asleep?" whispered Anne tremulously. 

Gilbert went to the sofa and bent over him for a few moments. Then hestraightened up. 

"Yes, he sleeps--well, " he added quietly. "Anne, Captain Jim hascrossed the bar. "

They could not know precisely at what hour he had died, but Anne alwaysbelieved that he had had his wish, and went out when the morning cameacross the gulf. Out on that shining tide his spirit drifted, over thesunrise sea of pearl and silver, to the haven where lost Margaretwaited, beyond the storms and calms. 

CHAPTER 40

FAREWELL TO THE HOUSE OF DREAMS

Captain Jim was buried in the little over-harbor graveyard, very nearto the spot where the wee white lady slept. His relatives put up avery expensive, very ugly "monument"--a monument at which he would havepoked sly fun had he seen it in life. But his real monument was in thehearts of those who knew him, and in the book that was to live forgenerations. 

Leslie mourned that Captain Jim had not lived to see the amazingsuccess of it. 

"How he would have delighted in the reviews--they are almost all sokindly. And to have seen his life-book heading the lists of the bestsellers--oh, if he could just have lived to see it, Anne!"

But Anne, despite her grief, was wiser. 

"It was the book itself he cared for, Leslie--not what might be said ofit--and he had it. He had read it all through. That last night musthave been one of the greatest happiness for him--with the quick, painless ending he had hoped for in the morning. I am glad for Owen'ssake and yours that the book is such a success--but Captain Jim wassatisfied--I KNOW. "

The lighthouse star still kept a nightly vigil; a substitute keeper hadbeen sent to the Point, until such time as an all-wise government coulddecide which of many applicants was best fitted for the place--or hadthe strongest pull. The First Mate was at home in the little house, beloved by Anne and Gilbert and Leslie, and tolerated by a Susan whohad small liking for cats. 

"I can put up with him for the sake of Captain Jim, Mrs. Doctor, dear, for I liked the old man. And I will see that he gets bite and sup, andevery mouse the traps account for. But do not ask me to do more thanthat, Mrs. Doctor, dear. Cats is cats, and take my word for it, theywill never be anything else. And at least, Mrs. Doctor, dear, do keephim away from the blessed wee man. Picture to yourself how awful itwould be if he was to suck the darling's breath. "

"That might be fitly called a CAT-astrophe, " said Gilbert. 

"Oh, you may laugh, doctor, dear, but it would be no laughing matter. "

"Cats never suck babies' breaths, " said Gilbert. "That is only an oldsuperstition, Susan. "

"Oh, well, it may be a superstition or it may not, doctor, dear. Allthat I know is, it has happened. My sister's husband's nephew's wife'scat sucked their baby's breath, and the poor innocent was all but gonewhen they found it. And superstition or not, if I find that yellowbeast lurking near our baby I will whack him with the poker, Mrs. Doctor, dear. "

Mr. And Mrs. Marshall Elliott were living comfortably and harmoniouslyin the green house. Leslie was busy with sewing, for she and Owen wereto be married at Christmas. Anne wondered what she would do whenLeslie was gone. 

"Changes come all the time. Just as soon as things get really nicethey change, " she said with a sigh. 

"The old Morgan place up at the Glen is for sale, " said Gilbert, apropos of nothing in especial. 

"Is it?" asked Anne indifferently. 

"Yes. Now that Mr. Morgan has gone, Mrs. Morgan wants to go to livewith her children in Vancouver. She will sell cheaply, for a big placelike that in a small village like the Glen will not be very easy todispose of. "

"Well, it's certainly a beautiful place, so it is likely she will finda purchaser, " said Anne, absently, wondering whether she shouldhemstitch or feather-stitch little Jem's "short" dresses. He was to beshortened the next week, and Anne felt ready to cry at the thought ofit. 

"Suppose we buy it, Anne?" remarked Gilbert quietly. 

Anne dropped her sewing and stared at him. 

"You're not in earnest, Gilbert?"

"Indeed I am, dear. "

"And leave this darling spot--our house of dreams?" said Anneincredulously. "Oh, Gilbert, it's--it's unthinkable!"

"Listen patiently to me, dear. I know just how you feel about it. Ifeel the same. But we've always known we would have to move some day. "

"Oh, but not so soon, Gilbert--not just yet. "

"We may never get such a chance again. If we don't buy the Morganplace someone else will--and there is no other house in the Glen wewould care to have, and no other really good site on which to build. This little house is--well, it is and has been what no other house canever be to us, I admit, but you know it is out-of-the-way down here fora doctor. We have felt the inconvenience, though we've made the bestof it. And it's a tight fit for us now. Perhaps, in a few years, whenJem wants a room of his own, it will be entirely too small. "

"Oh, I know--I know, " said Anne, tears filling her eyes. "I know allthat can be said against it, but I love it so--and it's so beautifulhere. "

"You would find it very lonely here after Leslie goes--and Captain Jimhas gone too. The Morgan place is beautiful, and in time we would loveit. You know you have always admired it, Anne. "

"Oh, yes, but--but--this has all seemed to come up so suddenly, Gilbert. I'm dizzy. Ten minutes ago I had no thought of leaving thisdear spot. I was planning what I meant to do for it in thespring--what I meant to do in the garden. And if we leave this placewho will get it? It IS out-of-the-way, so it's likely some poor, shiftless, wandering family will rent it--and over-run it--and oh, thatwould be desecration. It would hurt me horribly. "

"I know. But we cannot sacrifice our own interests to suchconsiderations, Anne-girl. The Morgan place will suit us in everyessential particular--we really can't afford to miss such a chance. Think of that big lawn with those magnificent old trees; and of thatsplendid hardwood grove behind it--twelve acres of it. What a playplace for our children! There's a fine orchard, too, and you've alwaysadmired that high brick wall around the garden with the door init--you've thought it was so like a story-book garden. And there isalmost as fine a view of the harbor and the dunes from the Morgan placeas from here. "

"You can't see the lighthouse star from it. "

"Yes, You can see it from the attic window. THERE'S another advantage, Anne-girl--you love big garrets. "

 "There's no brook in the garden. "

"Well, no, but there is one running through the maple grove into theGlen pond. And the pond itself isn't far away. You'll be able tofancy you have your own Lake of Shining Waters again. "

"Well, don't say anything more about it just now, Gilbert. Give metime to think--to get used to the idea. "

"All right. There is no great hurry, of course. Only--if we decide tobuy, it would be well to be moved in and settled before winter. "

Gilbert went out, and Anne put away Little Jem's short dresses withtrembling hands. She could not sew any more that day. With tear-weteyes she wandered over the little domain where she had reigned so happya queen. The Morgan place was all that Gilbert claimed. The groundswere beautiful, the house old enough to have dignity and repose andtraditions, and new enough to be comfortable and up-to-date. Anne hadalways admired it; but admiring is not loving; and she loved this houseof dreams so much. She loved EVERYTHING about it--the garden she hadtended, and which so many women had tended before her--the gleam andsparkle of the little brook that crept so roguishly across thecorner--the gate between the creaking fir trees--the old red sandstonestep--the stately Lombardies--the two tiny quaint glass cupboards overthe chimney-piece in the living-room--the crooked pantry door in thekitchen--the two funny dormer windows upstairs--the little jog in thestaircase--why, these things were a part of her! How could she leavethem?

And how this little house, consecrated aforetime by love and joy, hadbeen re-consecrated for her by her happiness and sorrow! Here she hadspent her bridal moon; here wee Joyce had lived her one brief day; herethe sweetness of motherhood had come again with Little Jem; here shehad heard the exquisite music of her baby's cooing laughter; herebeloved friends had sat by her fireside. Joy and grief, birth anddeath, had made sacred forever this little house of dreams. 

And now she must leave it. She knew that, even while she had contendedagainst the idea to Gilbert. The little house was outgrown. Gilbert'sinterests made the change necessary; his work, successful though it hadbeen, was hampered by his location. Anne realised that the end oftheir life in this dear place drew nigh, and that she must face thefact bravely. But how her heart ached!

"It will be just like tearing something out of my life, " she sobbed. "And oh, if I could hope that some nice folk would come here in ourplace--or even that it would be left vacant. That itself would bebetter than having it overrun with some horde who know nothing of thegeography of dreamland, and nothing of the history that has given thishouse its soul and its identity. And if such a tribe come here theplace will go to rack and ruin in no time--an old place goes down soquickly if it is not carefully attended to. They'll tear up mygarden--and let the Lombardies get ragged--and the paling will come tolook like a mouth with half the teeth missing--and the roof willleak--and the plaster fall--and they'll stuff pillows and rags inbroken window panes--and everything will be out-at-elbows. "

Anne's imagination pictured forth so vividly the coming degeneration ofher dear little house that it hurt her as severely as if it had alreadybeen an accomplished fact. She sat down on the stairs and had a long, bitter cry. Susan found her there and enquired with much concern whatthe trouble was. 

"You have not quarrelled with the doctor, have you now, Mrs. Doctor, dear? But if you have, do not worry. It is a thing quite likely tohappen to married couples, I am told, although I have had no experiencethat way myself. He will be sorry, and you can soon make it up. "

"No, no, Susan, we haven't quarrelled. It's only--Gilbert is going tobuy the Morgan place, and we'll have to go and live at the Glen. Andit will break my heart. "

Susan did not enter into Anne's feelings at all. She was, indeed, quite rejoiced over the prospect of living at the Glen. Her onegrievance against her place in the little house was its lonesomelocation. 

"Why, Mrs. Doctor, dear, it will be splendid. The Morgan house is sucha fine, big one. "

"I hate big houses, " sobbed Anne. 

"Oh, well, you will not hate them by the time you have half a dozenchildren, " remarked Susan calmly. "And this house is too small alreadyfor us. We have no spare room, since Mrs. Moore is here, and thatpantry is the most aggravating place I ever tried to work in. There isa corner every way you turn. Besides, it is out-of-the-world downhere. There is really nothing at all but scenery. "

"Out of your world perhaps, Susan--but not out of mine, " said Anne witha faint smile. 

"I do not quite understand you, Mrs. Doctor, dear, but of course I amnot well educated. But if Dr. Blythe buys the Morgan place he willmake no mistake, and that you may tie to. They have water in it, andthe pantries and closets are beautiful, and there is not another suchcellar in P. E. Island, so I have been told. Why, the cellar here, Mrs. Doctor, dear, has been a heart-break to me, as well you know. "

"Oh, go away, Susan, go away, " said Anne forlornly. "Cellars andpantries and closets don't make a HOME. Why don't you weep with thosewho weep?"

"Well, I never was much hand for weeping, Mrs. Doctor, dear. I wouldrather fall to and cheer people up than weep with them. Now, do notyou cry and spoil your pretty eyes. This house is very well and hasserved your turn, but it is high time you had a better. "

Susan's point of view seemed to be that of most people. Leslie was theonly one who sympathised understandingly with Anne. She had a goodcry, too, when she heard the news. Then they both dried their tearsand went to work at the preparations for moving. 

"Since we must go let us go as soon as we can and have it over, " saidpoor Anne with bitter resignation. 

"You know you will like that lovely old place at the Glen after youhave lived in it long enough to have dear memories woven about it, "said Leslie. "Friends will come there, as they have comehere--happiness will glorify it for you. Now, it's just a house toyou--but the years will make it a home. "

Anne and Leslie had another cry the next week when they shortenedLittle Jem. Anne felt the tragedy of it until evening when in his longnightie she found her own dear baby again. 

"But it will be rompers next--and then trousers--and in no time he willbe grown-up, " she sighed. 

"Well, you would not want him to stay a baby always, Mrs. Doctor, dear, would you?" said Susan. "Bless his innocent heart, he looks too sweetfor anything in his little short dresses, with his dear feet stickingout. And think of the save in the ironing, Mrs. Doctor, dear. "

"Anne, I have just had a letter from Owen, " said Leslie, entering witha bright face. "And, oh! I have such good news. He writes me that heis going to buy this place from the church trustees and keep it tospend our summer vacations in. Anne, are you not glad?"

"Oh, Leslie, 'glad' isn't the word for it! It seems almost too good tobe true. I sha'n't feel half so badly now that I know this dear spotwill never be desecrated by a vandal tribe, or left to tumble down indecay. Why, it's lovely! It's lovely!"

One October morning Anne wakened to the realisation that she had sleptfor the last time under the roof of her little house. The day was toobusy to indulge regret and when evening came the house was stripped andbare. Anne and Gilbert were alone in it to say farewell. Leslie andSusan and Little Jem had gone to the Glen with the last load offurniture. The sunset light streamed in through the curtainlesswindows. 

"It has all such a heart-broken, reproachful look, hasn't it?" saidAnne. "Oh, I shall be so homesick at the Glen tonight!"

"We have been very happy here, haven't we, Anne-girl?" said Gilbert, his voice full of feeling. 

Anne choked, unable to answer. Gilbert waited for her at the fir-treegate, while she went over the house and said farewell to every room. She was going away; but the old house would still be there, lookingseaward through its quaint windows. The autumn winds would blow aroundit mournfully, and the gray rain would beat upon it and the white mistswould come in from the sea to enfold it; and the moonlight would fallover it and light up the old paths where the schoolmaster and his bridehad walked. There on that old harbor shore the charm of story wouldlinger; the wind would still whistle alluringly over the silversand-dunes; the waves would still call from the red rock-coves. 

"But we will be gone, " said Anne through her tears. 

She went out, closing and locking the door behind her. Gilbert waswaiting for her with a smile. The lighthouse star was gleamingnorthward. The little garden, where only marigolds still bloomed, wasalready hooding itself in shadows. 

Anne knelt down and kissed the worn old step which she had crossed as abride. 

"Good-bye, dear little house of dreams, " she said.