'The primeval fire of earth at their hearts,' murmured Anne.
And finally, after traversing a little wood glen full of toadstools, they found Hester Gray's garden. Not so much changed. It was still very sweet with dear flowers. There were still plenty of June lilies, as Diana called the narcissi. The row of cherry-trees had grown older, but was a drift of snowy bloom. You could still find the central rose walk, and the old dyke was white with strawberry blossoms and blue with violets and green with baby fern. They ate their picnic supper in a corner of it, sitting on some old mossy stones, with a lilac-tree behind them flinging purple banners against a low-hanging sun. Both were hungry and both did justice to their own good cooking.
'How nice things taste out of doors,' sighed Diana comfortably. 'That chocolate cake of yours, Anne... well, words fail me, but I must get the recipe. Fred would adore it. He can eat anything and stay thin. I'm always saying I'm not going to eat any more cake, because I'm getting fatter every year. I've such a horror of getting like Great-aunt Sarah, she was so fat she always had to be pulled up when she sat down. But when I see a cake like that, and last night at the reception... well, they would all have been so offended if I didn't eat.'
'Did you have a nice time?'
'Oh, yes, in a way. But I fell into Fred's Cousin Henrietta's clutches and it's such a delight to her to tell all about her operations and her sensations while going through them, and how soon her appendix would have burst if she hadn't had it out. "I had fifteen stitches put in it. Oh, Diana, the agony I suffered!" Well, she enjoyed it if I didn't. And she has suffered so why shouldn't she have the fun of talking about it now? Jim was so funny. I don't know if Mary Alice liked it altogether... well, just one teeny piece... may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb I suppose... a mere sliver can't make much difference; one thing he said, that the very night before the wedding he was so scared he felt he'd have to take the boat-train. He said all grooms felt just the same, if they'd be honest about it. You don't suppose Gilbert and Fred felt like that, do you, Anne?'
'I'm sure they didn't.'
'That's what Fred said when I asked him. He said all he was scared of was that I'd change my mind at the last moment like Rose Spencer. But you can never really tell what a man may be thinking. Well, there's no use worrying over it now. What a lovely time we've had this afternoon! We seem to have lived so many old happinesses over. I wish you didn't have to go tomorrow, Anne.'
'Can't you come down to a visit to Ingleside sometime this summer, Diana?... before - well, before I'll not be wanting visitors for a while.'
'I'd love to. But it seems impossible to get away from home in the summer. There's always so much to do.'
'Rebecca Dew is coming at long last, of which I'm glad, and I'm afraid Aunt Mary Maria is, too. She hinted as much to Gilbert. He doesn't want her any more than I do... but she is "a relation", and so his latch-string must be always out for her.'
'Perhaps I'll get down in the winter. I'd love to see Ingleside again. You have a lovely home, Anne, and a lovely family.'
'Ingleside is nice... and I do love it now. I once thought I would never love it. I hated it when we went there first... hated it for its very virtues. They were an insult to my dear House of Dreams. I remember saying piteously to Gilbert when we left it, "We've been so happy here. We'll never be so happy anywhere else." I revelled in a luxury of homesickness for a while. Then... I found little rootlets of affection for Ingleside beginning to sprout out. I fought against it, I really did, but at last I had to give in and admit I loved it. And I've loved it better every year since. It isn't too old a house... too old houses are sad. And it isn't too young... too young houses are crude. It's just mellow. I love every room in it. Everyone has some fault, but also some virtue - something that distinguishes it from all the others, gives it a personality. I love all those magnificent trees on the lawn. I don't know who planted them, but every time I go upstairs I stop on the landing... you know that quaint window on the landing with the broad, deep seat... and sit there looking out for a moment and say, "God bless the man who planted those trees, whoever he was." We've really too many trees about the house, but we wouldn't give up one.'
'That's just like Fred. He worships that big willow south of the house. It spoils the view from the parlour windows, as I've told him again and again, but he only says, "Would you cut a lovely thing like that down even if it does shut out the view?" So the willow stays, and it is lovely. That's why we've called our place Lone Willow Farm. I love the name Ingleside. It's such a nice, homey name.'
'That's what Gilbert said. We had quite a time deciding on a name. We tried out several, but they didn't seem to belong. But when we thought of Ingleside we knew it was the right one. I'm glad we have a nice big roomy house... we need it with our family. The children love it, too, small as they are.'
'They're such darlings.' Diana slyly cut herself another 'sliver' of the chocolate cake. 'I think my own are pretty nice, but there's really something about yours... and your twins! That I do envy you. I've always wanted twins.'
'Oh, I couldn't get away from twins, they're my destiny. But I'm disappointed mine don't look alike, not one bit alike. Nan's pretty, though, with her brown hair and eyes and her lovely complexion. Di is her father's favourite, because she has green eyes and red hair... red hair with a swirl to it. Shirley is the apple of Susan's eye. I was ill so long after he was born, and she looked after him till I really believe she thinks he is her own; she calls him her "little brown boy" and spoils him shamefully.'
'And he's still so small you can creep in to find if he has kicked off the clothes and tuck him in again,' said Diana enviously. 'Jack's nine, you know, and he doesn't want me to do that now. He says he's too big. And I loved so to do it! Oh, I wish children didn't grow up so soon.'
'None of mine have got to that stage yet... though I've noticed that since Jem began to go to school he doesn't want to hold my hand any more when we walk through the village,' said Anne with a sigh. 'But he and Walter and Shirley all want me to tuck them in yet. Walter sometimes makes quite a ritual of it.'
'And you don't have to worry yet over what they're going to be. Now, Jack is crazy to be a soldier when he grows up... a soldier. Just fancy!'
'I wouldn't worry over that. He'll forget about it when another fancy seizes him. War is a thing of the past. Jem imagines he is going to be a sailor, like Captain Jim, and Walter is by way of being a poet. He isn't like any of the others. But they all love trees and they all love playing in "the Hollow", as it's called. A little valley just below Ingleside, with fairy paths and a brook. A very ordinary place... just "the Hollow" to others but to them fairy-land. They've all got their faults, but they're not such a bad little gang... and luckily there's always enough love to go round. Oh, I'm glad to think that this time tomorrow night I'll be back at Ingleside, telling my babies stories at bed-time and giving Susan's calceolarias and ferns their meed of praise. Susan has "luck" with ferns. No one can grow them like her. I can praise her ferns honestly... but the calceolarias, Diana! They don't look like flowers to me at all. But I never hurt Susan's feeling by telling her so... I always get around it somehow. Providence has never failed me yet. Susan is such a duck, I can't imagine what I'd do without her. And I remember once calling her "an outsider". Yes, it's lovely to think of going home and yet I'm sad to leave Green Gables too. It's so beautiful here... with Marilla... and you. Our friendship has always been a very lovely thing, Diana.'
'Yes... and we've always... I mean... I never could say things like you, Anne... but we have kept our old "solemn vow and promise", haven't we?'
'Always, and always will.'
Anne's hand found its way into Diana's. They sat for a long time in a silence too sweet for words. Long, still evening shadows fell over the grasses and the flowers and the green reaches of the meadows beyond. The sun went down, grey-pink shades of sky deepened and paled behind the pensive trees... the spring twilight took possession of Hester Gray's garden where nobody eve
r walked now. Robins were sprinkling the evening air with flute-like whistles. A great star came out over the white cherry-trees.
'The first star is always a miracle,' said Anne dreamily.
'I could sit here for ever,' said Diana. 'I hate the thought of leaving it.'
'So do I, but after all we've only been pretending to be fifteen. We've got to remember our family cares. How those lilacs smell! Has it ever occurred to you, Diana, that there is something not quite... chaste... in the scent of lilac blossoms? Gilbert laughs at such a notion; he loves them, but to me they always seem to be remembering some secret, too-sweet thing.'
'They're too heavy for the house, I always think,' said Diana. She picked up the plate which held the remainder of the chocolate cake... looked at it longingly... shook her head, and packed it in the basket with an expression of great nobility and self-denial on her face.
'Wouldn't it be fun, Diana, if now, as we went home, we were to meet our old selves running along Lover's Lane?'
Diana gave a little shiver.
'No-o-o, I don't think that would be funny, Anne. I hadn't noticed it was getting so dark. It's all right to fancy things in daylight, but...'
They went quietly, silently, lovingly home together, with the sunset glory burning on the old hills behind them and their old unforgotten love burning in their hearts.
3
Anne ended a week that had been full of pleasant days by taking flowers to Matthew's grave the next morning, and in the afternoon she took the train from Carmody home. For a time she thought of all the old beloved things behind her and then her thoughts ran ahead of her to the beloved things before her. Her heart sang all the way because she was going home to a joyous house, a house where everyone who crossed its threshold knew it was a home, a house that was filled all the time with laughter and silver mugs and snapshots and babies... precious things with curls and chubby knees... and rooms that would welcome her... where the chairs waited patiently and the dresses in her closet were expecting her... where little anniversaries were always being celebrated and little secrets were always being whispered.
'It's lovely to feel you like going home,' thought Anne, fishing out of her purse a certain letter from a small son over which she had laughed gaily the night before, reading it proudly to the Green Gables folks, the first letter she had ever received from any of her children. It was quite a nice little letter for a seven-year-old who had been going to school only a year to write, even though Jim's spelling was a bit uncertain and there was a big blob of ink in one corner.
'Di cryed and cryed all night because Tommy Drew told her he was going to burn her doll at the steak. Susan tells us nice tails at night but she isn't you, Mummy... she let me help her sow the beats last night...'
'How could I have been happy for a whole week away from them all?' thought the chatelaine of Ingleside self-reproachfully.
'How nice to have someone meet you at the end of a journey!' she cried, as she stepped off the train at Glen St Mary into Gilbert's waiting arms. She could never be sure Gilbert would meet her, somebody was always dying or being born; but no home-coming ever seemed just right to Anne unless he did. And he had on such a nice new light-grey suit! (How glad I am I put on this frilly eggshell blouse with my brown suit, even if Mrs Lynde thought I was crazy to wear it travelling. If I hadn't I wouldn't have looked so nice for Gilbert.)
Ingleside was all lighted up, with gay Japanese lanterns hanging on the veranda. Anne ran gaily along the walk bordered by daffodils.
'Ingleside, I'm here,' she called.
They were all around her... laughing, exclaiming, jesting, with Susan Baker smiling properly in the background. Every one of the children had a bouquet picked specially for her, even the two-year-old Shirley.
'Oh, this is a nice welcome home! Everything about Ingleside looks so happy. It's splendid to think my family are so glad to see me.'
'If you ever go away from home again, Mummy,' said Jem solemnly, 'I'll go and take appensitis.'
'How do you go about taking it?' asked Walter.
'S... s... sh.' Jem nudged Walter secretly and whispered, 'There's a pain somewhere, I know, but I just want to scare Mummy so she won't go away.'
Anne wanted to do a hundred things first, hug everybody, run out in the twilight and gather some of her pansies... you found pansies everywhere at Ingleside... pick up the little well-worn doll lying on the rug, hear all the juicy titbits of gossip and news, everyone contributing something. How Nan had got the top off a tube of vaseline up her nose when the doctor was out on a case and Susan had all but gone distracted. 'I assure you it was an anxious time, Mrs Doctor dear'... how Mrs Jud Palmer's cow had eaten fifty-seven wire nails and had to have a vet from Charlottetown; how absent-minded Mrs Fenner Douglas had gone to church bareheaded; how Dad had dug all the dandelions out of the lawn... 'between babies, Mrs Doctor dear... he's had eight while you are away'; how Mr Tom Flagg had dyed his moustache... 'and his wife only dead two years'; how Rose Maxwell of the Harbour Head had jilted Jim Hudson of the Upper Glen, and he had sent her a bill for all he had spent on her... what a splendid turn-out there had been at Mrs Amasa Warren's funeral; how Carter Flagg's cat had had a piece bitten right out of the root of its tail; how Shirley had been found in the stable standing right under one of the horses... 'Mrs Doctor dear, never shall I be the same woman again'; how there was sadly too much reason to fear that the blue plum-trees were developing black knot; how Di had gone about the whole day singing, 'Mummy's coming home today, home today, home today' to the tune of 'Merrily We Roll Along'; how the Joe Reeses had a kitten that was cross-eyed because it had been born with its eyes open; how Jem had inadvertently sat on some fly-paper before he had put his little trousers on... and how the Shrimp had fallen into the soft-water puncheon in the barn. 'He was nearly drowned, Mrs Doctor dear, but luckily the doctor heard his howls in the nick of time and pulled him out by his hindlegs.' (What is the nick of time, Mummy?)
'He seems to have recovered nicely from it,' said Anne, stroking the glossy black and white curves of a contented pussy with huge jowls, purring on a chair in the firelight. It was never quite safe to sit down on a chair at Ingleside without first making sure there wasn't a cat in it. Susan, who had not cared much for cats to begin with, vowed she had to learn to like them in self-defence. As for the Shrimp, Gilbert had called him that a year ago when Nan had brought the miserable, scrawny kitten home from the village where some boys had been tormenting it, and the name clung, though it was very inappropriate now.
'But... Susan! What has become of Gog and Magog? Oh... they haven't been broken, have they?'
'No, no, Mrs Doctor dear,' exclaimed Susan, turning a deep brick-red from shame and dashing out of the room. She returned shortly with the two china dogs which always presided at the hearth of Ingleside. 'I do not see how I could have forgotten to put them back before you came. You see, Mrs Doctor dear, Mrs Charles Day from Charlottetown called here the day after you left... and you know how very precise and proper she is. Walter thought he ought to entertain her and he started in by pointing out the dogs to her. "This one is God and this is My God," he said, poor innocent child. I was horrified, though I thought that die I would to see Mrs Day's face. I explained as best I could, for I did not want her to think us a profane family, but I decided I would just put the dogs away in the china closet, out of sight, till you got back.'
'Mummy, can't we have supper soon?' said Jem pathetically. 'I've got a gnawful feeling in the pit of my stomach. And oh, Mummy, we've made everybody's favourite dish.'
'We, as the flea said to the elephant, have done that very thing,' said Susan with a grin. 'We thought that your return should be suitably celebrated, Mrs Doctor dear. And now where is Walter? It is his week to ring the gong for meals, bless his heart.'
Supper was a gala meal... and putting all the babies to bed afterwards was a delight. Susan even allowed her to put Shirley to bed, seeing what a very special occasion it was.
'This is no
common day, Mrs Doctor dear,' she said solemnly.
'Oh, Susan, there is no such thing as a common day. Every day has something about it no other day has. Haven't you noticed?'
'How true that is, Mrs Doctor dear. Even last Friday now, when it rained all day, and was so dull, my big pink geranium showed buds at last after refusing to bloom for three long years. And have you noticed the calceolarias, Mrs Doctor dear?'
'Noticed them! I never saw such calceolarias in my life, Susan. How do you manage it?' (There, I've made Susan happy and haven't told a fib. I never did see such calceolarias... thank heaven!)
'It is the result of constant care and attention, Mrs Doctor dear, but there is something I think I ought to speak of. I think Walter suspects something. No doubt some of the Glen children have said things to him. So many children nowadays know so much more than is fitting. Walter said to me the other day, very thoughtful-like, "Susan," he said, "are babies very expensive?" I was a bit dumbfounded, Mrs Doctor dear, but I kept my head. "Some folks think they are luxuries," I said, "but at Ingleside we think they are necessities." And I reproached myself with having complained aloud about the shameful price of things in all the Glen stores. I am afraid it worried the child. But if he says anything to you, Mrs Doctor dear, you will be prepared.'
'I'm sure you handled the situation beautifully, Susan,' said Anne gravely. 'And I think it is time they all knew what we are hoping for.'
But the best of all was when Gilbert came to her, as she stood at her window, watching a fog creeping in from the sea, over the moonlit dunes and the harbour, right into the long narrow valley upon which Ingleside looked down and in which nestled the village of Glen St Mary.