Chapter XXIX
Diana's Wedding
"After all, the only real roses are the pink ones," said Anne, as shetied white ribbon around Diana's bouquet in the westward-looking gable atOrchard Slope. "They are the flowers of love and faith."
Diana was standing nervously in the middle of the room, arrayed in herbridal white, her black curls frosted over with the film of her weddingveil. Anne had draped that veil, in accordance with the sentimentalcompact of years before.
"It's all pretty much as I used to imagine it long ago, when I wept overyour inevitable marriage and our consequent parting," she laughed. "Youare the bride of my dreams, Diana, with the 'lovely misty veil'; andI am YOUR bridesmaid. But, alas! I haven't the puffed sleeves--thoughthese short lace ones are even prettier. Neither is my heart whollybreaking nor do I exactly hate Fred."
"We are not really parting, Anne," protested Diana. "I'm not going faraway. 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; andI hope it will always be so. But things can't be quite the same afterthis. You'll have other interests. I'll just be on the outside. But'such is life' as Mrs. Rachel says. Mrs. Rachel has given you one ofher beloved knitted quilts of the 'tobacco stripe' pattern, and she sayswhen I am married she'll give me one, too."
"The mean thing about your getting married is that I won't be able to beyour bridesmaid," lamented Diana.
"I'm to be Phil's bridesmaid next June, when she marries Mr. Blake, andthen I must stop, for you know the proverb 'three times a bridesmaid,never a bride,'" said Anne, peeping through the window over the pinkand snow of the blossoming orchard beneath. "Here comes the minister,Diana."
"Oh, Anne," gasped Diana, suddenly turning very pale and beginning totremble. "Oh, Anne--I'm so nervous--I can't go through with it--Anne, Iknow 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'tbe so very terrible when so many people survive the ceremony. See howcool and composed I am, and take courage."
"Wait till your turn comes, Miss Anne. Oh, Anne, I hear father comingupstairs. Give me my bouquet. Is my veil right? Am I very pale?"
"You look just lovely. Di, darling, kiss me good-bye 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 tothe parlor on Gilbert's arm. They met at the top of the stairs for thefirst time since they had left Kingsport, for Gilbert had arrived onlythat day. Gilbert shook hands courteously. He was looking very well,though, as Anne instantly noted, rather thin. He was not pale; there wasa flush on his cheek that had burned into it as Anne came along the halltowards him, in her soft, white dress with lilies-of-the-valley in theshining masses of her hair. As they entered the crowded parlor togethera little murmur of admiration ran around the room. "What a fine-lookingpair they are," whispered the impressible Mrs. Rachel to Marilla.
Fred ambled in alone, with a very red face, and then Diana swept in onher father's arm. She did not faint, and nothing untoward occurred tointerrupt the ceremony. Feasting and merry-making followed; then, as theevening waned, Fred and Diana drove away through the moonlight to theirnew home, and Gilbert walked with Anne to Green Gables.
Something of their old comradeship had returned during the informalmirth of the evening. Oh, it was nice to be walking over that well-knownroad with Gilbert again!
The night was so very still that one should have been able to hear thewhisper of roses in blossom--the laughter of daisies--the piping ofgrasses--many sweet sounds, all tangled up together. The beauty ofmoonlight on familiar fields irradiated the world.
"Can't we take a ramble up Lovers' Lane before you go in?" asked Gilbertas they crossed the bridge over the Lake of Shining Waters, in which themoon lay like a great, drowned blossom of gold.
Anne assented readily. Lovers' Lane was a veritable path in a fairylandthat night--a shimmering, mysterious place, full of wizardry in thewhite-woven enchantment of moonlight. There had been a time when sucha walk with Gilbert through Lovers' Lane would have been far toodangerous. But Roy and Christine had made it very safe now. Anne foundherself thinking a good deal about Christine as she chatted lightly toGilbert. She had met her several times before leaving Kingsport, and hadbeen charmingly sweet to her. Christine had also been charminglysweet. Indeed, they were a most cordial pair. But for all that, theiracquaintance had not ripened into friendship. Evidently Christine wasnot 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 Haythornewants me to teach for her through July and August. They have a summerterm in that school, and Esther isn't feeling well. So I'm going tosubstitute for her. In one way I don't mind. Do you know, I'm beginningto feel a little bit like a stranger in Avonlea now? It makes mesorry--but it's true. It's quite appalling to see the number ofchildren who have shot up into big boys and girls--really young men andwomen--these past two years. Half of my pupils are grown up. It makes mefeel awfully old to see them in the places you and I and our mates usedto fill."
Anne laughed and sighed. She felt very old and mature and wise--whichshowed how young she was. She told herself that she longed greatly to goback to those dear merry days when life was seen through a rosy mistof hope and illusion, and possessed an indefinable something that hadpassed away forever. Where was it now--the glory and the dream?
"'So wags the world away,'" quoted Gilbert practically, and a trifleabsently. Anne wondered if he were thinking of Christine. Oh, Avonleawas going to be so lonely now--with Diana gone!
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