Annes House of Dreams | Page 6

last few winters. And I'll make her
enough blue plum preserve to stock her jam closet for a year. It seems
real strange. Those blue plum trees hadn't even a blossom for three
years, and I thought they might as well be cut down. And this last
spring they were white, and such a crop of plums I never remember at
Green Gables."
"Well, thank goodness that Anne and Gilbert really are going to be
married after all. It's what I've always prayed for," said Mrs. Rachel, in
the tone of one who is comfortably sure that her prayers have availed
much. "It was a great relief to find out that she really didn't mean to
take the Kingsport man. He was rich, to be sure, and Gilbert is poor--at
least, to begin with; but then he's an Island boy."
"He's Gilbert Blythe," said Marilla contentedly. Marilla would have
died the death before she would have put into words the thought that
was always in the background of her mind whenever she had looked at
Gilbert from his childhood up--the thought that, had it not been for her
own wilful pride long, long ago, he might have been HER son. Marilla
felt that, in some strange way, his marriage with Anne would put right
that old mistake. Good had come out of the evil of the ancient
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 happy
mortals. It is certain, at least, that some human beings do not. Two of
that ilk descended upon Anne one violet dusk and proceeded to do what
in them lay to prick the rainbow bubble of her satisfaction. If she
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 might have
been in his salad days, it was surely their duty to put the matter before
her in another light. Yet these two worthy ladies were not enemies of
Anne; on the contrary, they were really quite fond of her, and would

have defended her as their own young had anyone else attacked her.
Human nature is not obliged to be consistent.
Mrs. Inglis--nee Jane Andrews, to quote from the Daily
Enterprise--came with her mother and Mrs. Jasper Bell. But in Jane the
milk of human kindness had not been curdled by years of matrimonial
bickerings. Her lines had fallen in pleasant places. In spite of the
fact--as Mrs. Rachel Lynde would say--that she had married a
millionaire, her marriage had been happy. Wealth had not spoiled her.
She was still the placid, amiable, pink-cheeked Jane of the old quartette,
sympathising with her old chum's happiness and as keenly interested in
all the dainty details of Anne's trousseau as if it could rival her own
silken and bejewelled splendors. Jane was not brilliant, and had
probably never made a remark worth listening to in her life; but she
never said anything that would hurt anyone's feelings-- which may be a
negative 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, the
Blythes generally keep their word when they've once passed it, no
matter 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 quite
young. Red-headed people always do."
"Red hair is very fashionable now," said Anne, trying to smile, but
speaking rather coldly. Life had developed in her a sense of humor
which helped her over many difficulties; but as yet nothing had availed
to steel her against a reference to her hair.
"So it is--so it is," conceded Mrs. Harmon. "There's no telling what
queer freaks fashion will take. Well, Anne, your things are very pretty,
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. A long engagement
doesn't often turn out well. But, of course, in your case it couldn't be
helped."
"Gilbert looks very young for a doctor. I'm afraid people won't have
much confidence in him," said Mrs. Jasper Bell gloomily. Then she

shut her mouth tightly, as if she had said what she considered it her
duty to say and held her conscience clear. She belonged to the type
which always has a stringy black feather in its hat and straggling locks
of hair on its neck.
Anne's surface pleasure in her pretty bridal things was temporarily
shadowed; but the deeps of happiness below could not thus be
disturbed; and the little stings of