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 Fo
ur 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."