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ANNE OF THE ISLAND
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
to
all the girls
all over the world
who have "wanted more"
about ANNE
All precious things discovered late To those that seek them issue forth, For Love in sequel works with Fate,
And draws the veil from hidden worth.
--TENNYSON
Contents
ANNE of the ISLAND
Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII Chapter XIX Chapter XX Chapter XXI Chapter XXII Chapter XXIII Chapter XXIV Chapter XXV Chapter XXVI Chapter XXVII Chapter XXVIII Chapter XXIX Chapter XXX
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Chapter XXXI Chapter XXXII Chapter XXXIII Chapter XXXIV Chapter XXXV Chapter XXXVI Chapter XXXVII Chapter XXXVIII Chapter XXXIX Chapter XL
Chapter XLI The Shadow of Change
Garlands of Autumn Greeting and Farewell April's Lady
Letters from Home
In the Park
Home Again
Anne's First Proposal
An Unwelcome Lover and a Welcome Friend
Patty's Place
The Round of Life
"Averil's Atonement"
The Way of Transgressors
The Summons
A Dream Turned Upside Down
Adjusted Relationships
A Letter from Davy
Miss Josepine Remembers the Anne-girl
An Interlude Gilbert Speaks Roses of Yesterday
Spring and Anne Return to Green Gables
Paul Cannot Find the Rock People
Enter Jonas
Enter Prince Charming
Enter Christine Mutual Confidences A June Evening Diana's Wedding
Mrs Skinner's Romance
Anne to Philippa
Tea with Mrs Douglas
"He Just Kept Coming and Coming" John Douglas Speaks at Last
The Last Redmond Year Opens
The Gardners' Call Full-fledged BA's False Dawn
Deals with Weddings
A Book of Revelation
Love Takes Up the Glass of Time
ANNE OF THE ISLAND
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Chapter I
The Shadow of Change
"Harvest is ended and summer is gone," quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily. She and Diana Barry had been picking apples in the Green Gables orchard, but were now resting from their labors in a sunny corner, where airy fleets of thistle-down drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summer-sweet with the incense of ferns in the Haunted Wood.
But everything in the landscape around them spoke of autumn. The sea was roaring hollowly in the distance, the fields were bare and sere, scarfed with golden rod, the brook valley below Green Gables overflowed with asters of ethereal purple, and the Lake of Shining Waters was blue--blue--blue; not the changeful blue of spring, nor the pale azure of summer, but a clear, steadfast, serene blue, as if the water were past all moods and tenses of emotion and had settled down to a tranquility unbroken by fickle dreams.
"It has been a nice summer," said Diana, twisting the new ring on her left hand with a smile. "And Miss Lavendar's wedding seemed
to come as a sort of crown to it. I suppose Mr. and Mrs. Irving are on the Pacific coast now."
"It seems to me they have been gone long enough to go around the world," sighed Anne.
"I can't believe it is only a week since they were married. Everything has changed. Miss Lavendar and Mr. and Mrs. Allan gone--how lonely the manse looks with the shutters all closed! I went past it last night, and it made me feel as if everybody in it had died."
"We'll never get another minister as nice as Mr. Allan," said Diana, with gloomy conviction. "I suppose we'll have all kinds of supplies this winter, and half the Sundays no preaching at all. And you and Gilbert gone--it will be awfully dull."
"Fred will be here," insinuated Anne slyly.
"When is Mrs. Lynde going to move up?" asked Diana, as if she had not heard Anne's remark.
"Tomorrow. I'm glad she's coming--but it will be another change. Marilla and I cleared everything out of the spare room yesterday. Do you know, I hated to do it? Of course, it was silly--but it did seem as if we were committing sacrilege. That old spare room has always seemed like a shrine to me. When I was a child I thought it the most wonderful apartment in the world. You remember what a consuming desire I had to sleep in a spare room bed--but not the Green Gables spare room. Oh, no, never there! It would have been too terrible--I couldn't have slept a wink from awe. I never WALKED through that room when Marilla sent me in on an er-
rand--no, indeed, I tiptoed through it and held my breath, as if I were in church, and felt relieved when I got out of it. The pictures of George Whitefield and the Duke of Wellington hung there, one on each side of the mirror, and frowned so sternly at me all the time I was in, especially if I dared peep in the mirror, which was the only one in the house that didn't twist my face a little. I always wondered how Marilla dared houseclean that room. And now it's not only cleaned but stripped bare. George Whitefield and the
Duke have been relegated to the upstairs hall. 'So passes the glory of this world,'" concluded Anne, with a laugh in which there was a little note of regret. It is never pleasant to have our old shrines desecrated, even when we have outgrown them.
"I'll be so lonesome when you go," moaned Diana for the hundredth time. "And to think you go next week!"
"But we're together still," said Anne cheerily. "We mustn't let next week rob us of this week's joy. I hate the thought of going myself--home and I are such good friends. Talk of being lonesome! It's I who should groan. YOU'LL be here with any number of your old friends--AND Fred! While I shall be alone among strangers, not knowing a soul!"
"EXCEPT Gilbert--AND Charlie Sloane," said Diana, imitating Anne's italics and slyness.
