Episode 4

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 Mesdames Bell and Andrews were forgotten when Gilbert came later, and they wandered down to the birches of the brook, which had been saplings when Anne had come to Green Gables, but were now tall, ivory columns in a fairy palace of twilight and stars. In their shadows Anne and Gilbert talked in lover-fashion of their new home and their new life together.

"I've found a nest for us, Anne."

"Oh, where? Not right in the village, I hope. Iwouldn't like that altogether."

"No. There was no house to be had in the village.

This is a little white house on the harbor shore, half way between Glen St. Mary and Four 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. It looks to the sunset and has the great blue harbor before it. The sand-dunes aren't very far away--the sea winds blow over them and the sea 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 living room with a fireplace in it downstairs, and a dining room that looks out on the harbor, and a little room that will do for my office. It is about sixty years old--the oldest house in Four Winds. But it has been kept in pretty good repair, and was all done over about fifteen years ago--shingled, plastered and re-floored. It was well built to begin with. Iunderstand that there was some romantic story connected with its 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 Four Winds Point.

You'll love that Four Winds light, Anne. It's a revolving one, and it flashes like a magnificent star through the twilights. We can see it from our living room 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 a very old lady, Miss Elizabeth Russell. She died last spring, and as she had no near relatives she left her property to the Glen St. Mary Church. Her furniture is still in the house, and I bought most of it--for a mere song you might say, because it was all so old- fashioned that the trustees despaired of selling it. Glen St. Mary folks prefer plush brocade and sideboards with mirrors and ornamentations, I fancy. But Miss Russell's furniture is very good and I feel sure you'll like it, Anne.""So far, good," said Anne, nodding cautious approval.

"But, Gilbert, people cannot live by furniture alone.

You haven't yet mentioned one very important thing.

Are there TREES about this house?"

"Heaps of them, oh, dryad! There is a big grove of fir trees behind it, two rows of Lombardy poplars down the lane, and a ring of white birches around a very delightful garden. Our front door opens right into the garden, but there is another entrance--a little gate hung between two firs. The hinges are on one trunk and the catch on the other. Their boughs form an arch overhead.""Oh, I'm so glad! I couldn't live where there were no trees-- something vital in me would starve. Well, after that, there's no use asking you if 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 the garden.""Then," said Anne, with a long sigh of supreme satisfaction, "this house you have found IS my house of dreams and none other."