III
Upon hearing voices in the yard, Miss Lavender [I continue to call her that from force of habit, Mrs. Irving doesn't really seem to fit] peeked out the window. She supposed the voices to belong to Anne and Diana, whose arrival she anticipated that day, and gave a slight start when she viewed Gilbert Blythe coming up the walk with Anne. She had heard of his illness and subsequent recovery-no, there was another reason for her astonishment. From reading between the lines in the few bits and pieces of Anne's letters concerning Gilbert, she had noted that their friendship had become somewhat strained since Anne's refusal. She'd also figured out that Gilbert had taken up with another girl, a Christine something, of whom Anne had tried hard but with little success to hide her distinct jealousy. And of course Miss Lavender knew of Anne's courtship by the wealthy suitor, Royal Gardiner. Indeed, in Anne's last letter, she had written that she expected him to propose any time now, and had given strong hints that she intended to accept. Miss Lavender noticed, however, as only one with the experience of bitter pride and heartbreak possibly could, that Anne did not seem quite so excited over this as she ought to. Too well she knew the reason. If only she could pound some sense into that proud, intelligent but really oh-so-dense head of Anne's. She had seen Gilbert and Anne together since Anne was seventeen, and if ever two people were meant to be together, it was the two of them. There was this connection between them, something so innate that she couldn't even begin to describe it. And now they were here, together, Miss Lavender thought. Was there a possibility that… But no, it was impossible now, wasn't it? Or not? After all, she and Stephan Irving had reconciled after years of estrangement. And she and Stephan didn't quite have, she was willing to admit, the bond that Anne and Gilbert had.
Gilbert and Anne, unconscious that Miss Lavender was at that moment attempting to piece together their past and future in her mind, trudged up the lane to Echo Lodge.
"My, this place brings back old memories, doesn't it?" laughed Anne. "The echoes, Charlotta the Fourth's blue bows-that looked so like horns-Miss Lavender and Stephan Irving's wedding…" Anne reddened and looked down as her voice trailed off. There was one recollection of the wedding that stood out in her mind-the moment when she had first sensed that Gilbert's feelings toward her might not be completely platonic.
It was at this instant, with Anne, cheeks red and eyes downcast, and Gilbert, gazing at her with a rather intent look, that Miss Lavender came out to greet them. Peering at them rather quizzically, she ushered the two inside.
Genialities were exchanged, and then Miss Lavender said, "Well, I was just going to call Stephan and Paul to dinner. Why don't you two sit down, and I'll go get them."
************************************
The atmosphere at the dinner table seemed charged. Miss Lavender could feel it, Stephan Irving could feel it, and even Paul, with his as yet untrained senses, could tell something was up. Gilbert was talking pleasantly with Stephan of some new medical breakthrough, and Paul was filling in his old teacher on all the new lessons he had learned. The tension was almost palpable, though, and finally, at a lull in the conversation when Paul at last stopped for breath, Miss Lavender inquired of Anne, "So tell me, what has happened with you and Royal? Did you set a date yet?"
Gilbert rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, to hear the mind-numbing particulars of Anne's relationship with Gardiner. He tried to immerse himself in his discussion with Stephan Irving.
Anne colored. All of a sudden she felt tongue-tied. She realized she had never written Miss Lavender about her refusal of Roy. And to go over it in front of Gilbert Blythe-well, there might possibly be another thing in the world that would cause her more humiliation, but she couldn't think of what it could be. Oh, this was horrid-just horrid! But she had to answer, because now Miss Lavender was looking at her oddly. It would be worse if she made a big deal out of it, Anne decided. She would just calmly, collectedly inform Miss Lavender of her decision to say no.
"Well," Anne began. "There isn't really a date…"
Stephan Irving noticed that Gilbert's voice was beginning to trail off.
"What do you mean?" asked Miss Lavender, confused. "Did you two decide to have an extended engagement?"
"Um, no, not-no. What I mean is, um, is that, well, we're-we're not exactly engaged."
There was a sudden silence at the table, as Gilbert abruptly halted his conversation. He now turned his head toward Anne, staring at her intently. Anne took note of this and shocked, thought, "Goodness! Does he not know? How can he not know? He has to know." Oh, no, now she was more embarrassed than ever! And she had to go on and explain it-explain it to Miss Lavender and Gilbert!
Miss Lavender, although bewildered, detected Gilbert's blunt silence, as did Stephan Irving. She then said blankly, "What on earth do you mean, Anne? You told me you were going to accept him. He did propose, right?"
Anne fumed inside. Oh, she could just kill Miss Lavender. One would think she'd have a little more tact. To explain this before Gilbert Blythe-who was now hanging on her every word. Did he really not know that she and Roy weren't engaged? And the fact that Gilbert had Christine Stuart-he had someone and she didn't-made this ten times worse.
"Well," Anne responded despairingly, "yes, Roy proposed, but I didn't-exactly-say yes. I-I said no."
She was utterly conscious of Gilbert's eyes on her. She fiddled with her napkin, and looked everywhere except at him, blushing deeper by the second.
"Why did you say no?" Miss Lavender inquired briefly.
Anne shot a glance like a dagger in Miss Lavender's direction, who blinked and opened her eyes widely, pretending not to notice. Miss Lavender, in her own mind at least, was being diabolically clever. Anne had refused Roy! Meaning, of course, that she was free for, well… She could also tell Gilbert hadn't previously known this. Perhaps he was not as close to that Christine person as Anne thought.
"I, um, I realized that I wasn't-I wasn't in love with him," said Anne. She gave up all hope at attempting to keep her dignity, and began to ramble on. "I-I mean, I thought I was in love with him, but it was like I imagined myself into love, you know? Of course you don't, only I would do something like that. Me and my imagination."
Anne, completely flustered, started to say what she was thinking as she thought it, half-forgetting there were other people listening. "I suppose I was really horrible to Roy-leading him on like that and all. I didn't do it purposely; I truly thought I loved him. I do feel bad. I'm sure he'll get over it-but I think doing that to him was the biggest mistake I ever made." She paused, as if considering something. "Well, no, maybe the second biggest."
"What was the first biggest?" asked Gilbert innocently, speaking for the first time since Anne had said she wasn't marrying Roy.
Anne came back to earth with a start. Oh, no! Had she really been saying those words out loud? Her mouth went dry and she was unable to speak. For when she had corrected herself, demoting the way she'd treated Roy to second place, she had thought of her greatest mistake as the day when she had refused Gilbert. She could never tell him that. Had she even been listening to herself talk? Why on earth had she said that aloud? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Anne looked Gilbert in the eyes for the first time, really, for the entire day. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and blushed deeply. The tension seemed to mount as she paused. Then she looked away and stammered softly, in answer to his question, "I-I, I don't know. I was, um, just rambling on about-about nothing."
Gilbert continued to stare at her, but she would not return his gaze. The way Anne had looked at him, just for that split second, had made his heart beat wildly. So Phil had not lied when she had written that there wasn't anything between Anne and Gardiner. Could Anne, possibly…? No, he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that. But what had she meant, second greatest mistake? She had seemed to know what she was talking about until he had asked the question. Why had she gone to pieces-and flushed-and looked at him like that?
Upon hearing voices in the yard, Miss Lavender [I continue to call her that from force of habit, Mrs. Irving doesn't really seem to fit] peeked out the window. She supposed the voices to belong to Anne and Diana, whose arrival she anticipated that day, and gave a slight start when she viewed Gilbert Blythe coming up the walk with Anne. She had heard of his illness and subsequent recovery-no, there was another reason for her astonishment. From reading between the lines in the few bits and pieces of Anne's letters concerning Gilbert, she had noted that their friendship had become somewhat strained since Anne's refusal. She'd also figured out that Gilbert had taken up with another girl, a Christine something, of whom Anne had tried hard but with little success to hide her distinct jealousy. And of course Miss Lavender knew of Anne's courtship by the wealthy suitor, Royal Gardiner. Indeed, in Anne's last letter, she had written that she expected him to propose any time now, and had given strong hints that she intended to accept. Miss Lavender noticed, however, as only one with the experience of bitter pride and heartbreak possibly could, that Anne did not seem quite so excited over this as she ought to. Too well she knew the reason. If only she could pound some sense into that proud, intelligent but really oh-so-dense head of Anne's. She had seen Gilbert and Anne together since Anne was seventeen, and if ever two people were meant to be together, it was the two of them. There was this connection between them, something so innate that she couldn't even begin to describe it. And now they were here, together, Miss Lavender thought. Was there a possibility that… But no, it was impossible now, wasn't it? Or not? After all, she and Stephan Irving had reconciled after years of estrangement. And she and Stephan didn't quite have, she was willing to admit, the bond that Anne and Gilbert had.
Gilbert and Anne, unconscious that Miss Lavender was at that moment attempting to piece together their past and future in her mind, trudged up the lane to Echo Lodge.
"My, this place brings back old memories, doesn't it?" laughed Anne. "The echoes, Charlotta the Fourth's blue bows-that looked so like horns-Miss Lavender and Stephan Irving's wedding…" Anne reddened and looked down as her voice trailed off. There was one recollection of the wedding that stood out in her mind-the moment when she had first sensed that Gilbert's feelings toward her might not be completely platonic.
It was at this instant, with Anne, cheeks red and eyes downcast, and Gilbert, gazing at her with a rather intent look, that Miss Lavender came out to greet them. Peering at them rather quizzically, she ushered the two inside.
Genialities were exchanged, and then Miss Lavender said, "Well, I was just going to call Stephan and Paul to dinner. Why don't you two sit down, and I'll go get them."
************************************
The atmosphere at the dinner table seemed charged. Miss Lavender could feel it, Stephan Irving could feel it, and even Paul, with his as yet untrained senses, could tell something was up. Gilbert was talking pleasantly with Stephan of some new medical breakthrough, and Paul was filling in his old teacher on all the new lessons he had learned. The tension was almost palpable, though, and finally, at a lull in the conversation when Paul at last stopped for breath, Miss Lavender inquired of Anne, "So tell me, what has happened with you and Royal? Did you set a date yet?"
Gilbert rolled his eyes. Just what he needed, to hear the mind-numbing particulars of Anne's relationship with Gardiner. He tried to immerse himself in his discussion with Stephan Irving.
Anne colored. All of a sudden she felt tongue-tied. She realized she had never written Miss Lavender about her refusal of Roy. And to go over it in front of Gilbert Blythe-well, there might possibly be another thing in the world that would cause her more humiliation, but she couldn't think of what it could be. Oh, this was horrid-just horrid! But she had to answer, because now Miss Lavender was looking at her oddly. It would be worse if she made a big deal out of it, Anne decided. She would just calmly, collectedly inform Miss Lavender of her decision to say no.
"Well," Anne began. "There isn't really a date…"
Stephan Irving noticed that Gilbert's voice was beginning to trail off.
"What do you mean?" asked Miss Lavender, confused. "Did you two decide to have an extended engagement?"
"Um, no, not-no. What I mean is, um, is that, well, we're-we're not exactly engaged."
There was a sudden silence at the table, as Gilbert abruptly halted his conversation. He now turned his head toward Anne, staring at her intently. Anne took note of this and shocked, thought, "Goodness! Does he not know? How can he not know? He has to know." Oh, no, now she was more embarrassed than ever! And she had to go on and explain it-explain it to Miss Lavender and Gilbert!
Miss Lavender, although bewildered, detected Gilbert's blunt silence, as did Stephan Irving. She then said blankly, "What on earth do you mean, Anne? You told me you were going to accept him. He did propose, right?"
Anne fumed inside. Oh, she could just kill Miss Lavender. One would think she'd have a little more tact. To explain this before Gilbert Blythe-who was now hanging on her every word. Did he really not know that she and Roy weren't engaged? And the fact that Gilbert had Christine Stuart-he had someone and she didn't-made this ten times worse.
"Well," Anne responded despairingly, "yes, Roy proposed, but I didn't-exactly-say yes. I-I said no."
She was utterly conscious of Gilbert's eyes on her. She fiddled with her napkin, and looked everywhere except at him, blushing deeper by the second.
"Why did you say no?" Miss Lavender inquired briefly.
Anne shot a glance like a dagger in Miss Lavender's direction, who blinked and opened her eyes widely, pretending not to notice. Miss Lavender, in her own mind at least, was being diabolically clever. Anne had refused Roy! Meaning, of course, that she was free for, well… She could also tell Gilbert hadn't previously known this. Perhaps he was not as close to that Christine person as Anne thought.
"I, um, I realized that I wasn't-I wasn't in love with him," said Anne. She gave up all hope at attempting to keep her dignity, and began to ramble on. "I-I mean, I thought I was in love with him, but it was like I imagined myself into love, you know? Of course you don't, only I would do something like that. Me and my imagination."
Anne, completely flustered, started to say what she was thinking as she thought it, half-forgetting there were other people listening. "I suppose I was really horrible to Roy-leading him on like that and all. I didn't do it purposely; I truly thought I loved him. I do feel bad. I'm sure he'll get over it-but I think doing that to him was the biggest mistake I ever made." She paused, as if considering something. "Well, no, maybe the second biggest."
"What was the first biggest?" asked Gilbert innocently, speaking for the first time since Anne had said she wasn't marrying Roy.
Anne came back to earth with a start. Oh, no! Had she really been saying those words out loud? Her mouth went dry and she was unable to speak. For when she had corrected herself, demoting the way she'd treated Roy to second place, she had thought of her greatest mistake as the day when she had refused Gilbert. She could never tell him that. Had she even been listening to herself talk? Why on earth had she said that aloud? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Anne looked Gilbert in the eyes for the first time, really, for the entire day. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and blushed deeply. The tension seemed to mount as she paused. Then she looked away and stammered softly, in answer to his question, "I-I, I don't know. I was, um, just rambling on about-about nothing."
Gilbert continued to stare at her, but she would not return his gaze. The way Anne had looked at him, just for that split second, had made his heart beat wildly. So Phil had not lied when she had written that there wasn't anything between Anne and Gardiner. Could Anne, possibly…? No, he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that. But what had she meant, second greatest mistake? She had seemed to know what she was talking about until he had asked the question. Why had she gone to pieces-and flushed-and looked at him like that?