Anne of the Island by L.
M.
Montgomery Read by Stephanie Poppins Chapter 29 Diana's Wedding After all,
The only real roses are the pink ones,
Said Anne,
As she tied white ribbon around Diana's bouquet in the westward-looking gable at Orchard Slope.
They are the flowers of love and faith.
Diana was standing nervously in the middle of the room,
Arrayed in her bridal white,
Her black curls frosted over with a film of her wedding veil.
Anne had draped that veil in accordance with the sentimental compact of years before.
It's all pretty much as I used to imagine it long ago,
She said,
When I wept over your inevitable marriage and our consequent parting.
You are the bride of my dreams,
Diana,
With a lovely misty veil,
And I am your bridesmaid.
But alas,
I haven't the puffed sleeves,
Though these short lace ones are even prettier.
Neither is my heart wholly breaking,
Nor do I exactly hate Fred.
We're not really parting,
Anne,
Protested Diana.
We're not going far away.
We'll love each other just as much as ever.
We've always kept that oath of friendship we swore long ago,
Haven't we?
Yes,
We've kept it faithfully.
We've had a beautiful friendship,
Diana.
We've never marred it by one quarrel or coolness or unkind word,
And I hope it will always be so.
But things can't be quite the same after this.
You'll have other interests.
I'll just be on the outside.
But such is life,
As Mrs Rachel says.
Mrs Rachel's given you one of her beloved knitted quilts of the tobacco stripe pattern,
And she says when I'm married she'll give me one too.
The mean thing about your getting married is I won't be able to be your bridesmaid,
Lamented Diana.
I'm to be Phil's bridesmaid next June when she marries Mr Blake,
And then I must stop for you know the proverb,
Three times a bridesmaid never a bride,
Said Anne.
She peeked through the window over the pink and snow of the blossoming orchard beneath.
Here comes the minister.
Oh,
Anne,
Gasped Diana,
Suddenly turning very pale and beginning to tremble.
Oh,
Anne,
I'm so nervous.
I can't go through with it,
Anne.
I know I'm going to faint.
If you do,
I'll drag you down to the rainwater hogshed and drop you in,
Said Anne,
Unsympathetically.
Cheer up,
Dearest.
Getting married can't be so very terrible when so many people survive the ceremony.
See how cool and composed I am,
And take courage.
Wait till your turn comes,
Miss Anne.
Oh,
Anne,
I hear father coming upstairs.
Give me my bouquet.
Is my veil right?
Am I very pale?
You look just lovely,
My darling.
Kiss me goodbye for the last time.
Diana Barry will never kiss me again.
Diana Wright will,
Though.
There,
Mother's calling.
Come.
Following the simple old-fashioned way in vogue then,
Anne went down to the parlour on Gilbert's arm.
They met at the top of the stairs for the first time since they'd left Kingsport,
For Gilbert had arrived only that day.
Gilbert shook hands courteously.
He was looking very well,
Though,
As Anne instantly noted,
Rather thin.
He was not pale.
There was a flush on his cheek that had burned into it as Anne came along the hall towards him in her soft white dress,
With lilies of the valley in the shining masses of her hair.
As they entered the crowded parlour together,
A little murmur of admiration ran around the room.
What a fine-looking pair they are,
Whispered the impressible Mrs Rachel to Marilla.
Fred ambled in alone,
With a very red face,
And then Diana swept in on her father's arm.
She did not faint,
And nothing untoward occurred to interrupt the ceremony.
Feasting and merrymaking followed.
Then,
As the evening waned,
Fred and Diana drove away through the moonlight to their new home,
And Gilbert walked with Anne to go to bed.
The night was so very still that one should have been able to hear the whisper of roses in blossom,
The laughter of daisies,
The piping of grasses,
Many sweet sounds all tangled up together.
The beauty of moonlight on familiar fields irradiated the world.
Can't we take a ramble up Lover's Lane before you go in?
Asked Gilbert as they crossed the bridge over the Lake of Shining Waters,
In which the moon lay like a great drowned blossom of gold.
Anne assented readily.
Lover's Lane was a veritable path in a fairyland that night,
A shimmering,
Mysterious place,
Full of wizardry in the white woven enchantment of moonlight.
There had been a time when such a walk with Gilbert through Lover's Lane would have been far too dangerous,
But Roy and Christine had made it very safe now.
Anne found herself thinking a good deal about Christine as she chatted lightly to Gilbert.
She had met her several times before leaving Kingsport and had been charmingly sweet to her.
Christine had also been charmingly sweet.
Indeed,
They were a most cordial pair.
But for all that,
Their acquaintance had not ripened into friendship.
Evidently,
Christine was not a kindred spirit.
Are you going to be in Avonlea all summer?
Asked Gilbert.
No,
I'm going down East to Valley Road next week.
Esther Haythorn wants me to teach for her through July and August.
They have a summer term in that school,
And Esther isn't feeling well,
So I'm going to substitute for her.
In one way,
I don't mind.
Do you know,
I'm beginning to feel a little bit stranger in Avonlea now.
It makes me sorry,
But it's true.
It's quite appalling to see the number of children who've shot up into big boys and girls,
Really young men and women,
These past two years.
Half of my pupils are grown up.
It makes me feel awfully old to see them in the places you and I and our mates used to feel.
Anne laughed,
And then she sighed.
She felt very old and mature and wise at that moment,
Which showed just how young she really was.
She told herself that she longed greatly to go back to those dear merry days when life was seen through a rosy mist of hope and illusion and possessed an indefinable something that had now passed away forever.
Where was it all,
The glory in the dream?
So wags the world away,
Quoted Gilbert practically,
And a trifle absently.
Anne wondered if he were thinking of Christine.
Oh,
Avonlea was going to be so lonely now with Diana gone.
What on earth was she to do?
