"I was." Anne replied, dreamily, going into the kitchen and fetching both Marilla and herself a rather generous cup of tea. "What do you think, Marilla?"
"Why, what do you mean, Anne?" she said, her silver, long knitting needle proceeding slower and slower, finally coming to a halt, dropping the material into her lap. "I'm intrigued by your question."
"Do you believe I am making the right choice in doing this—marrying Gilbert?" Anne's eyes spoke volumes—a want for a suitable response, to know that she did the right thing.
"Anne…" Marilla started, her face growing deep and thoughtful. "I cannot tell you what is right and wrong. You have leaned far too long on other people—you need to go and realize what you want for yourself. I believe that you and Gilbert—matched by God—will go far together. Why, you might even come back here to the old Green Gables and raise a family…" she almost ended, wistfully. "But in all reality, Anne, I cannot give you a straight answer. I cannot tell you what to think. I am overjoyed, personally. And I believe that you should feel the same way, my dear. You have waited, held out for the right man to come along. Turning down Mr. Harris's proposal was an act of God, I believe, and it led you to Gilbert. Go with your heart, Anne. You know what is best for yourself." Ending there, Marilla resumed her knitting. Her earth-worn, red, kitchen-maid hands worked ever so diligently. When she looked up again to smile at her girl, Anne was gone—nowhere to be seen. Silently, Marilla laughed to herself, a smile crossing her face. Why was the young woman always rushing for a second opinion? Can she not trust her own instinct, and go with what is best? I had to tell her, for Pete's sakes, that Gilbert loved her and even then she refused to lend an ear to my advice…silly girl. Marilla thought.