"Well, no, but there is one running through the maple grove into the Glen pond. And the pond itself isn't far away. You'll be able to fancy you have your own Lake of Shining Waters again.""Well, don't say anything more about it just now, Gilbert. Give me time to think--to get used to the idea.""All right. There is no great hurry, of course.
Only--if we decide to buy, it would be well to be moved in and settled before winter."Gilbert went out, and Anne put away Little Jem's short dresses with trembling hands. She could not sew any more that day. With tear-wet eyes she wandered over the little domain where she had reigned so happy a queen. The Morgan place was all that Gilbert claimed.
The grounds were beautiful, the house old enough to have dignity and repose and traditions, and new enough to be comfortable and up-to-date. Anne had always admired it; but admiring is not loving; and she loved this house of dreams so much. She loved EVERYTHINGabout it--the garden she had tended, and which so many women had tended before her--the gleam and sparkle of the little brook that crept so roguishly across the corner--the gate between the creaking fir trees--the old red sandstone step--the stately Lombardies-- the two tiny quaint glass cupboards over the chimney- piece in the living-room--the crooked pantry door in the kitchen-- the two funny dormer windows upstairs--the little jog in the staircase-- why, these things were a part of her! How could she leave them?
And how this little house, consecrated aforetime by love and joy, had been re-consecrated for her by her happiness and sorrow! Here she had spent her bridal moon; here wee Joyce had lived her one brief day; here the sweetness of motherhood had come again with Little Jem; here she had heard the exquisite music of her baby's cooing laughter; here beloved friends had sat by her fireside. Joy and grief, birth and death, had made sacred forever this little house of dreams.
And now she must leave it. She knew that, even while she had contended against the idea to Gilbert. The little house was outgrown. Gilbert's interests made the change necessary; his work, successful though it had been, was hampered by his location. Anne realised that the end of their life in this dear place drew nigh, and that she must face the fact bravely. But how her heart ached!
"It will be just like tearing something out of my life," she sobbed. "And oh, if I could hope that some nice folk would come here in our place--or even that it would be left vacant. That itself would be better than having it overrun with some horde who know nothing of the geography of dreamland, and nothing of the history that has given this house its soul and its identity.
And if such a tribe come here the place will go to rack and ruin in no time--an old place goes down so quickly if it is not carefully attended to. They'll tear up my garden--and let the Lombardies get ragged--and the paling will come to look like a mouth with half the teeth missing--and the roof will leak--and the plaster fall--and they'll stuff pillows and rags in broken window panes--and everything will be out-at-elbows."Anne's imagination pictured forth so vividly the coming degeneration of her dear little house that it hurt her as severely as if it had already been an accomplished fact. She sat down on the stairs and had a long, bitter cry. Susan found her there and enquired with much concern what the trouble was.
"You have not quarrelled with the doctor, have you now, Mrs. Doctor, dear? But if you have, do not worry. It is a thing quite likely to happen to married couples, Iam told, although I have had no experience that way myself. He will be sorry, and you can soon make it up.""No, no, Susan, we haven't quarrelled. It's only--Gilbert is going to buy the Morgan place, and we'll have to go and live at the Glen. And it will break my heart."Susan did not enter into Anne's feelings at all. She was, indeed, quite rejoiced over the prospect of living at the Glen. Her one grievance against her place in the little house was its lonesome location.
"Why, Mrs. Doctor, dear, it will be splendid. The Morgan house is such a fine, big one.""I hate big houses," sobbed Anne.
