I’d like to be married, if I could? It would be at dawn—a June dawn, with a glorious sunrise, and roses blooming in the gardens; and I would slip down and meet Gilbert and we would go together to the heart of the beech woods,—and there, under the green arches that would be like a splendid cathedral, we would be married.”
Marilla sniffed scornfully and Mrs. Lynde looked shocked.
“But that would be terrible queer, Anne. Why, it wouldn’t really seem legal. And what would Mrs. Harmon Andrews say?”
“Ah, there’s the rub,” sighed Anne. “There are so many things in life we cannot do because of the fear of what Mrs. Harmon Andrews would say. ‘ ’Tis true, ’tis pity, and pity ’tis, ’tis true.’ What delightful things we might do were it not for Mrs. Harmon Andrews!”
“By times, Anne, I don’t feel quite sure that I understand you altogether,” complained Mrs. Lynde.
“Anne was always romantic, you know,” said Marilla apologetically.
“Well, married life will most likely cure her of that,” Mrs. Rachel responded comfortingly.
Anne laughed and slipped away to Lover’s Lane, where Gilbert found her; and neither of them seemed to entertain much fear, or hope, that their married life would cure them of romance.
The Echo Lodge people came over the next week,
