Annes House of Dreams | Page 3

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Anne's House of Dreams
by Lucy Maud Montgomery

"To Laura, in memory of the olden time."
CHAPTER 1
IN THE GARRET OF GREEN GABLES
"Thanks be, I'm done with geometry, learning or teaching it," said
Anne Shirley, a trifle vindictively, as she thumped a somewhat battered
volume 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 Gables
garret, with gray eyes that were like a morning sky.

The garret was a shadowy, suggestive, delightful place, as all garrets
should be. Through the open window, by which Anne sat, blew the
sweet, scented, sun-warm air of the August afternoon; outside, poplar
boughs rustled and tossed in the wind; beyond them were the woods,
where Lover's Lane wound its enchanted path, and the old apple
orchard which still bore its rosy harvests munificently. And, over all,
was a great mountain range of snowy clouds in the blue southern sky.
Through the other window was glimpsed a distant, white-capped, blue
sea--the beautiful St. Lawrence Gulf, on which floats, like a jewel,
Abegweit, whose softer, sweeter Indian name has long been forsaken
for the more prosaic one of Prince Edward Island.
Diana Wright, three years older than when we last saw her, had grown
somewhat matronly in the intervening time. But her eyes were as black
and brilliant, her cheeks as rosy, and her dimples as enchanting, as in
the long-ago days when she and Anne Shirley had vowed eternal
friendship in the garden at Orchard Slope. In her arms she held a small,
sleeping, black-curled creature, who for two happy years had been
known to the world of Avonlea as "Small Anne Cordelia." Avonlea
folks knew why Diana had called her Anne, of course, but Avonlea
folks were puzzled by the Cordelia. There had never been a Cordelia in
the Wright or Barry connections. Mrs. Harmon Andrews said she
supposed Diana had found the name in some trashy novel, and
wondered that Fred hadn't more sense than to allow it. But Diana and
Anne smiled at each other. They knew how Small Anne Cordelia had
come by her name.
"You always hated geometry," said Diana with a retrospective smile. "I
should think you'd be real glad to be through with teaching, anyhow."
"Oh, I've always liked teaching, apart from geometry. These past three
years in Summerside have been very pleasant ones. Mrs. Harmon
Andrews told me when I came home that I wouldn't likely find married
life as much better than teaching as I expected. Evidently Mrs. Harmon
is of Hamlet's opinion that it may be better to bear the ills that we have
than fly to others that we know not of."
Anne's laugh, as blithe and irresistible as of yore, with an added note of

sweetness and maturity, rang through the garret. Marilla in the kitchen
below, compounding blue plum preserve, heard it and smiled; then
sighed to think how seldom that dear laugh would echo through Green
Gables in the years to come. Nothing in her life had ever given Marilla
so much happiness as the knowledge that Anne was going to marry
Gilbert Blythe; but every joy must bring with it its little shadow of
sorrow. During the three Summerside years Anne had been home often
for vacations and weekends; but, after this, a bi-annual visit would be
as much as could be hoped for.
"You needn't let what Mrs. Harmon says worry you," said Diana, with
the calm assurance of the four-years matron. "Married life has its ups
and downs, of course. You mustn't expect that everything will always
go smoothly. But I can assure you, Anne, that it's a happy life, when
you're married to the right man."
Anne smothered a smile. Diana's airs of vast experience always amused
her a little.
"I daresay I'll be putting them on too, when I've been married four
years," she thought. "Surely