A/N: Hello again, everyone. I've finally returned from my exams, and happily I don't think it was too much of a disaster! Thanks for all your well wishes. :) I can't tell you how much I have loved reading your beautiful reviews of the Convocation chapter - and the lovely faves and follows! - thank you all so much! I promised that I would get this chapter posted as soon as I could, so please know that I have been working as hard as a J possibly can to get this ready for you to read. Thanks heaps for your patience, I hope this will be worth the wait. Since I've nothing else to study for the rest of this month, there's a pretty good chance the next chapter should be out quite soon, too.

As always, I must express my humble gratitude to Maud, and the glorious characters she created. What a gal! Once again, it's up to you, dear readers, to spot where I've borrowed her gorgeous words, and I thank her for them.

Chapter 13 – 'A Book of Revelation'

"Gilbert is very ill," said Mrs Lynde gravely. "He took down with typhoid fever just after you left for Echo Lodge. Did you never hear of it?"

-Anne of the Island, Chapter XL, 'A Book of Revelation'

The next week, Gilbert returned to Avonlea and he immediately threw himself into work on the farm with his father. His joy at seeing his parents, and their obvious pride in his achievements at college was like a balm to his battered soul.

Gilbert relished the hard physical labour of the farm and working outside after so long spent studying indoors during the past year.

"It's good to be home," Gilbert smiled the first day he spent working with his father.

John relished the opportunity to spend time with his son.

"Fancy having the Cooper Prize winner as your farm hand," John joked. "If only those Redmond professors could see you now."

Mary Blythe relished the opportunity to cook all Gilbert's favourite foods for him, although she wasn't too pleased with his diminished appetite.

"You must eat more, Gilbert," she chided, shaking her head. "You're working so hard with your father, so you need to keep your strength up. And you've lost so much weight at college."

John could not conceal his delight at having Gilbert home again, and they soon fell into a pleasant routine. For his part, Gilbert was glad to feel useful, and he barely left the Blythe homestead at all. He worked as hard as he could every day, returning to the house with his father each evening feeling tired but content. Gilbert would eat supper with his parents and then almost immediately tumble into bed before falling into an exhausted, dreamless slumber each night. On Saturday afternoons, he would spend a few hours studying.

Within a few weeks, Gilbert felt his body growing stronger and he'd regained some of the weight he'd lost while studying, although still not enough to receive his mother's approval.

One afternoon near the middle of June Gilbert went to visit Fred and Diana. As Gilbert bent to kiss Diana's rosy cheek, he wondered if this woman with the rapture in her eyes could be the little black-curled girl he'd teased so often at school. Fred proudly showed off his firstborn son to him with a joy that couldn't be quenched.

"Isn't he a fine-looking boy, Gilbert?" Fred asked proudly.

Gazing at the baby, Gilbert thought he looked absurdly like his father - just as round and just as red. Nevertheless, he smilingly pronounced little Fred a fine, sturdy boy and obviously a chip off the old block.

Fred was delighted with this response from his friend and continued cooing at the chubby little fellow, smiling jubilantly as he rocked his son gently in his arms.

Watching them together, Gilbert wondered if he would ever get to experience the same joy of holding his own firstborn son. Perplexingly, Gilbert had a sudden vision of himself cuddling a velvety soft baby who had a fine down of red hair covering his head, blinking round hazel eyes and smiling gummily up at him. Gilbert deliberately put the arresting image from his mind, unwilling to consider who the mother of that unknown baby might be.

"Congratulations, Fred," Gilbert smiled. "You are a very lucky man."

"I know," Fred smiled, gazing lovingly first at his wife and then back at his son.

The last week in June, Gilbert and his father were digging up weeds together late one afternoon. It was a very hot day, so Gilbert had removed his shirt and the brown, rippling muscles of his back and arms glistened with sweat in the bright sunshine as he worked.

"I think we need some more clover seed," his father announced when they finished. "I'll go to White Sands to get some tomorrow."

"I could go for you, Dad," Gilbert offered, taking his hat off with one arm and wiping at the sweat on his face with a lean, brown forearm. "It will give me a chance to get a book I need from the library."

"You should make a day of it, Gilbert," John advised. "You've been working so hard these last weeks, and while I appreciate the help, you should have some fun in your holidays. Before you know it, you'll be starting at medical school. Why don't you visit that Spencer boy you boarded with when you taught there?"

"I don't mind the work," Gilbert grinned. "I don't want you saying I've got lazy."

In truth, he was glad of it. Gilbert enjoyed feeling useful and he also liked that working hard on the farm meant he didn't have time to think about Anne.

"I know you don't mind working," John smiled. "But you should have some fun. You've barely had a day off since you came home from college. Go and see your friends in White Sands. Maybe you could stay overnight if you wanted to."

"I won't stay," Gilbert shook his head. "But a day trip would be fine. I'll be home in time for supper, so Mother can make sure I'm well fed."

John had his arm around Gilbert's broad shoulders as they walked back to the house together.

"It's good to have you home again, son," John said, squeezing Gilbert's shoulder lightly. "And it's good to feel some meat on your bones again. Your mother's been worried about you."

"I've really been enjoying being home, Dad," Gilbert smiled. "Thank you for letting me work with you this summer. I think the farm has been just what I needed before starting medical school."

The next day, Gilbert set off early for White Sands. His mother had packed plenty of food for his trip.

"Mother, I'm only going for the day, you know," Gilbert smiled at the satchel Mary handed him. "There's enough food here to feed me for a week."

"I just want to make sure you don't starve," his mother replied.

"Well, there's no chance of that!" Gilbert laughed.

That afternoon, when Gilbert had finished his errands for the farm and had his library book safely tucked into the seat beside him, he leaned back on the buggy seat to gaze up at the bright blue sky. He smiled and drew in a deep breath as he closed his eyes in enjoyment. The air was heavy with blossom fragrance. He'd just finished the delicious lunch his mother had prepared for him, and he was feeling sated.

Still smiling, Gilbert took a moment to imagine what it would be like when the summer was over and he would return to Kingsport for his medical studies. He was excited to begin learning, and commence the next step to fulfilling his ambitions. The book he had with him had fuelled his excitement even more.

But it was such a delightful afternoon, that Gilbert decided he would follow his father's prompting and pay a visit to his friends in White Sands. So, he turned the buggy towards the house where he'd boarded when he was the teacher here.

A few minutes later, Gilbert drove the buggy down the tree-lined lane to Jerry Spencer's house. He climbed out of the buggy and walked up the well-worn path, knocking on the front door with a smile on his face. Gilbert hadn't seen Jerry since he'd gone to Redmond, and he knew his friend would be surprised to see him. After a few minutes, the door had still not been opened, so Gilbert knocked again. When his third knock went unanswered, he concluded that nobody was at home.

"That's strange," Gilbert thought to himself. "I thought at least Mrs Spencer would be home on a Saturday afternoon. I wonder where they all are?"

It was a hot and humid afternoon, and Gilbert felt perspiration dripping down his back. His shirt was damp and sticking to his back and shoulders slightly. He removed his hat and drew some water from the well, splashing some of the cool liquid on his face and drinking deeply to slake his thirst.

"I suppose we'll just head home then, Silverspot," Gilbert said, patting the horse's flank affectionately. He climbed up into the buggy and clicked his tongue to start the horse back down the lane as he set out for Avonlea.

The following week, Gilbert was planting the clover seed with his father. The weather continued hot and humid, and as the day progressed, Gilbert's head ached more and more.

"It must be the heat," Gilbert said reassuringly at his father's worried look. "I'll just go to bed early tonight and I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow."

Gilbert, however, did not feel any better in the morning. In fact, his head felt quite a bit worse, and his throat felt sore and scratchy.

"Must be a head cold starting," he thought to himself. He didn't mention it to his parents, not wanting to concern them with such a trivial ailment.

That evening, Mary was cooking supper for them when Gilbert suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over his body.

"None for me, thank you, Mother," Gilbert said, kissing his mother's cheek. "I'm tired and I think I'll go to bed early again tonight."

"But won't you eat something first, darling?" Mary asked. "You're still far too thin."

"No, I'm really not hungry," Gilbert replied. He hadn't felt much like eating all day. "I think I might be getting a head cold."

"You're not a doctor yet, you know, Gilbert," Mary replied, pressing her hand to his forehead and cheek as she studied Gilbert's face. "But you do feel a little warm. Who ever heard of a head cold in July?"

"It can happen, you know," Gilbert smiled.

"Oh, well, far be it from me to argue with a BA and winner of the Cooper Prize," Mary smiled, waving him away. "Go on, then. Off to bed with you. I'll make some broth for you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mother," replied Gilbert. "Good night."

The next morning, Gilbert awoke to a sharp pain twisting in his stomach. He gasped and clutched at his belly, but the sensation soon passed, and he arose to prepare for the day as usual. Although he felt several sharp pains in his stomach throughout the day, he dismissed them as muscle cramps from working.

Just after lunch the following day, all the muscles in Gilbert's body began to ache terribly. His throat felt dry and he'd been coughing during the morning.

"I must really be getting soft after all that studying," he mumbled to himself. "This head cold is getting to me."

Gilbert could feel his nose running, and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe it but as he glanced at the square of cloth, he saw it was red with spots of blood. Touching it to his nose again, he realised his nose was bleeding.

Abruptly, the world started spinning, and Gilbert saw stars flashing and sparkling before his vision as he felt his limbs suddenly grow weak.

As Gilbert's body crumpled to the ground, it seemed as though everything around him had suddenly gone into slow motion. With the side of his face resting on the soil, Gilbert watched his father frantically running towards him. Gilbert could see John Blythe's lips mouthing words and he thought he heard his father calling his name as though through a tunnel. The last thing he saw was his father charging towards him, eyes wide with panic and a look of terror on his face. Distantly, Gilbert felt the warm earth pressing against his cheek as the world went black.

Gilbert opened his eyes to see Anne bending over him and wiping his face with a cool cloth.

"Anne?" he croaked.

"Go back to sleep, darling," Anne replied. "I'm here."

"But what are you doing here?" Gilbert asked. He reached his hand out to touch her, but he seemed to only grasp air.

"Ssshhh," she hushed, caressing the damp curls back from his hot forehead gently. "Sleep, just sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"I've missed you so much, Anne," he murmured, smiling a little as he closed his eyes, comforted by her presence.

Suddenly he was walking through a warm house that seemed somehow familiar, yet he didn't know it. He turned to see Anne walking next to him, and her soft white hand was clasped firmly in his own. She was smiling at him so happily, and her grey eyes were shining with such a warm glow that he could only smile back at her.

"Where are we?" he asked, still smiling.

"Let's sit in front of the fire," Anne said, her fingers caressing his cheek and drawing him down to sit on the rug with her.

"Yes," Gilbert agreed. "I'm so cold…"

"Here, let me warm you," Anne replied, sliding her arms around his shoulders and drawing him close to kiss his lips. After a moment, she lay down next to him on the soft rug by the hearth and gently tugged Gilbert's hand to lie down next to her.

Not even stopping to question why or how she was there, Gilbert willingly stretched out beside her, kissing her soft, pink lips over and over again. He sighed when Anne curled her warm, slender body around his, resting her head on his shoulder with her hand clasped in his. One arm wrapped around her, pressing her closer to his side, Gilbert held Anne's hand to his chest for a moment before he raised it to his lips, tenderly kissing each of her fingers in turn. It was so wonderful to lie with her, and watch the glow from the fire shining on her soft red hair as she smiled up at him.

"You look so beautiful, Anne," Gilbert said, rolling onto his side and reaching out to touch the curl on her forehead. "Thank you for looking after me…"

Gliding his fingers down her side before his hand came to rest on her slim waist, Gilbert drew her into his embrace, delighting in the feel of her warm body so close to his. Anne began kissing him and Gilbert's fingers tightened on her waist, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her on top of him as the kiss deepened. She was running her fingers through his hair and murmuring his name over and over.

"Anne, Anne," Gilbert muttered, his breath coming in short gasps as she covered his face and throat with kisses. "Oh, Anne."

Unexpectedly, she was reaching for the front of his shirt and grasping at the buttons.

"What are you doing, Anne?" Gilbert asked, watching her slim, white fingers unfastening the buttons on his shirt.

"Let's get your shirt off, Gilbert," her voice was soft. He could feel her hands gently pulling him upright, tugging his shirt over his head before she began kissing his shoulders and chest.

"Yes," he breathed, letting his head fall back to allow her lips better access to his throat. His skin burned from her touch.

Suddenly, it felt like everywhere she kissed him was aflame. Gilbert's brow, his lips, his chest, even his limbs felt like they were ablaze with heat at every caress.

Reluctantly, Gilbert withdrew his arms from around her.

"It's too hot, Anne," Gilbert protested, trying to pull her away from the fireplace. He was dripping with sweat from the heat of the flames. "We're too close to the fire…it's too hot..."

He could feel her cool hands wiping at his face and chest, but he wasn't cooling down. In fact, her touch seemed to be making it worse.

Anne rolled on top of him again and he cried out in pain when her body pressed into his belly.

"What is it, Gilbert?" she asked.

"It hurts," he groaned, writhing as he clutched at his lower abdomen. His body felt as though it was on fire and his breathing was shallow and rapid.

"I'm going now…" her sweet voice trailed off as she stood up.

"No, Anne," Gilbert protested, with his fingers plucking at her dress. "Please, I don't want you to go. It's just, it's so hot. Please…"

He felt exhausted from the heat. He was too tired to sit up, too tired to follow her.

"Please, Anne…" he called after her, unable to stand as she turned and slowly walked away.

Gilbert shook his head back and forth as he lay on the rug alone.

"No," he moaned. "Please stay…"

The world went black again, and Gilbert didn't know if it was hours, days or weeks later that he became aware of a cool cloth touching his forehead. He blinked and slowly opened his eyes to find himself in his darkened bedroom, lying on his bed, with his mother anxiously scrutinising his face. Closing his eyes again quickly against the light, he groaned at the throbbing in his head.

"Mother?" he muttered, his voice raspy. He grimaced as he spoke, his throat felt like he'd swallowed broken glass.

"Yes, I'm here, darling," Mary whispered, stroking his cheek as tears welled in her brown eyes. "You had us so worried."

"Thirsty," Gilbert mumbled. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

The nurse rushed over to dribble some water between his lips.

"Thank you," he murmured hoarsely.

Realising there was a nurse in his bedroom, Gilbert tried to remember why she was there. He couldn't put the confusing images tumbling through his mind together. He'd been working out in the paddock and he recalled having a headache, feeling faint, his father running towards him, and then Anne…

"What happened?" he asked.

Gilbert had a sudden vision of Anne lying next to him in front of a blazing fire, a scorching look in her eyes as she removed his shirt and kissed his body. He blinked rapidly as the image blurred and receded.

"You've been ill for nearly three weeks, darling," Mary replied softly, caressing his hand.

"Three weeks?" Gilbert couldn't believe that much time had passed.

"You caught typhoid fever from the Spencers' well," his mother said. "They were already sick with it when you went to visit them."

Gilbert closed his eyes again, nodding slightly. He still felt so tired.

"I'll go and fetch your father," Mary said, rising. "He'll be so relieved you're better. Don't go away, I'll be right back."

Over the following days, Gilbert's strength and colour slowly improved, until finally the nurse pronounced him fit to sit up in bed, much to his relief. She also agreed that he could read a little, including the numerous letters he'd received while he was unwell.

"But nothing too strenuous, mind," she admonished Gilbert. "You mustn't tire yourself too much."

"I promise," Gilbert smiled winningly at the nurse, who clucked her tongue at him. She knew he was eyeing off the volume of Seneca on the desk next to him.

It was a bright morning in late July, Gilbert had just finished breakfast and the nurse was satisfied he'd eaten enough, so she left him sitting propped up on a stack of pillows.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you," she warned.

Gilbert reached for the envelopes that his mother had left neatly stacked next to his bed. Gilbert flicked through them all hastily, hoping to see one in Anne's familiar, neat handwriting, but he was disappointed to note that none were from her.

"Why should I be surprised about that?" he thought to himself. "She's engaged now, so why would she give me a second thought?"

He still found it difficult to forget the intense images of her that he now realised he'd imagined in his dreams during the fever. Those dreams had been so vivid, even now Gilbert's heartbeat quickened at the memory.

The doctors had told Gilbert he very nearly died before the fever broke, and he was lucky to be alive. This news had left him with an overwhelming feeling of gratitude to have survived, and an even stronger desire to grasp every opportunity to live his life fully. Every day, Gilbert sent glad prayers to heaven that he would be able to continue his studies in September and he looked forward to the future enthusiastically. So, he was keen to read the letters from his friends and discover what had occurred in the world while he'd been sick.

As he flicked through the correspondence, he glanced at the thick envelopes from both Ronald and Christine, tempted to read them first, until one of the packets with a Kingsport postmark suddenly caught his attention. He smiled when he saw Phil's curly script, expecting a funny, breezy account of her nuptials and honeymoon. Gilbert tossed the other envelopes on the bed next to him as he opened Phil's letter. When he unfolded the parchment, Gilbert noticed the letter was dated the first week in July, so it must have arrived just as he fell ill.

"I'm sure this will be entertaining," he said aloud, still smiling broadly.

As he read it, Gilbert's expression changed from amusement to astonishment to wonder, until finally he was reading Phil's words intently, barely able to comprehend what the letter contained.

Dear Gilbert

Jo and I have just returned from our divine honeymoon last week, and as you might imagine we're both blissfully happy to be settling in at Patterson Street. I wanted to thank you for your very kind note wishing us well, and you must know we were both very disappointed that you couldn't attend the wedding. I suppose the Cooper Prize winner has better things to do with his time, but I must say, you were sorely missed and you eschewed the most marvellous wedding jamboree. Not to mention the opportunity to dance with the happiest bride in all of Canada!

Since I've sat down to write you this little note, it has also occurred to me that there is something else I ought to tell you, because I think it is important for you to know if you don't already. Namely, that there really is nothing between Anne and Royal Gardner. She refused his offer of marriage right after Convocation. Now, don't pretend you don't know why I'm telling you this, Gilbert Blythe! I saw the look in your eyes when Anne refused to dance with you at Convocation.

You know Anne was bridesmaid at my wedding, and when I mentioned you weren't coming, those big grey eyes of hers went all misty and there was something so wistful in her tone that it made me stop and wonder. Please don't be vexed with me for mentioning it, but I also saw Anne that evening she'd refused you (did you really think I didn't know you'd proposed to her, Gilbert?), and she was in her room sobbing inconsolably, in a way I noticed she wasn't after she'd refused Roy. Not only that, when I spoke to Anne just after she'd refused Roy, she said something to me which immediately made me think of you. I'm not going to tell you what it was that she said, but suffice it to say that there's more than one reason why I strongly encourage you to try again with Anne.

I shan't tell you any more, Gilbert, and I'll leave it to you to decide what to do. I'm so deliriously happy that I want to see everyone else in the world whom I care about just the same, so of course I'd like to start with you and Anne. After all, I'm a minister's wife now, Gilbert, so it's my duty to bring happiness and hope to people, don't you know. Please say you'll try?

Fondest regards to you from Jo and I.

Mrs Phil Blake

P.S. Mrs Phil Blake! Doesn't that sound absolutely delicious?

After reading Phil's letter for perhaps the sixth time, Gilbert leaned back on his pillows with the missive still clutched in his trembling hands and his heart thundering in his chest, hardly able to fathom what he'd just read.

Anne had refused Royal Gardner? Could it be true?

Gilbert read it one more time to make sure. Yes, that's what Phil had written. Anne definitely wasn't engaged to Royal Gardner. And she wasn't going to be. Furthermore, Phil was encouraging Gilbert to 'try again' with Anne.

Gilbert spent several moments pondering the letter in his hands. Feeling emboldened by Phil's words, and ready to fully embrace life after his recent illness, he smiled to himself as a familiar line from Virgil drifted into his brain.

Audentis Fortuna iuvat. Fortune favours the bold.

And then, one of his favourite lines from Seneca.

"The fool, with all his other faults, has this also,—he is always getting ready to live," he said aloud.

Gilbert knew he was ready to live. And if there was even the smallest chance that he could live that life with Anne, then he knew he was going to pursue that possibility with every fibre of his being. According to Phil, there was more than a small chance, and hope began to swell within his heart for the first time since that terrible day in the orchard at Patty's Place.

As pure joy washed over him like a wave, and an exultant smile split his face, Gilbert knew without a doubt that he was going to try again with Anne, and he didn't want to waste another moment. He wanted the chance for that to happen as soon as possible.

A sentence from a very old, very true, very wonderful Book came to his lips: "Weeping may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning."