"I've a present for you, dear," said Cecilia to Joyce, just days before she was supposed to leave Ingleside. She had asked that there be no big, goodbye celebration. Cecilia did not think she could handle that. But she had decided to mark the year she had spent in their company by giving little presents--as remembrances--to her cousins. For Trudy she had written a long letter and included with it a snapshot of them on the beach in a little gold frame. For the two Annes she got lovely hair ribbons for them to wear with their school jumpers-- they were too small to appreciate anything of real meaning and the hair ribbons would make them so happy! Uncle Ken had helped her make huge, colorful kites for the boys.

For Nellie Douglas she embroidered a little change purse, and for Cathy, the more domestic of the two, she disclosed Aunt Persis' famous cooky recipe. She and Sid had exchanged many promises and tears that would forever remain secret between just them. But Cecilia had had to think long and hard about what to get Joy.

"What is this?" laughed Joy, as she struggled with the seal on the envelope Cecilia handed her. She opened it, and laughed again to see many pieces of folded paper, covered with slanted, black writing. Then her face grew serious as she read.

"Joy is not nice, Father--I had thought Joy would be nicer, seeing as though she is a minister's daughter..." Joy's gray eyes widened and she looked at Cecilia with tears hovering on her lashes. "Is this a joke?"

"No," said Cecilia gently. "You see, Joy, these are all copies of letters I wrote to Father when you and I weren't getting along-- when I thought you hated me. I didn't know what to get you-- I wanted to get you something that mattered-- so I decided to give you the truth. I did say some terrible things about you in my letters to Dad-- but I don't mean a whit of them now. I didn't think we could be as close as we could if you didn't know about me saying these things, dearest."

"Oh," quavered Joy.

"Now read this," Cecilia handed her a second envelope. "This is a letter I'm going to send to Father tomorrow--my last letter to him from the Island."

Dear Father, Joy read.

What a wonderful year this has been. I don't mean wonderful as in great, or terrific, but as in truly WONDERful-- it's been a year of awe, and sorrow, and joy, and inspiration. I've learned so much about myself and my place in the world-- and about others.

If it didn't surprise you to hear that I truly have had a wonderful year, it might surprise you to hear this: the person I am most sorry to leave, even over Sid, is Joyce. Father, I know I wrote some things about her that were not very flattering-- even if they were true at the time-- I want you to know now the real truth about Joy. She is beautiful thoroughly-- inside and out. She is the person I tell my secrets to, and the person who talks to me when I need to listen and listens to me when I need to be heard. It is so sad for me to leave her, because who will sit up and whisper with me o' nights? Who will reassure me, and share my happiness? She is gentle and loyal and kind. She is a dear friend to me now, as well as a cousin, and if we were to be together always she would grow to be the sister of my soul. I know this.

I will reach you before this letter does, Dad. I suppose I just wanted the chance to write to you from this dear place once more.

Love

CECILIA

"Oh, darling, do you really mean it?" Joy cried. "You're not just writing those things about me to be kind?"

"Joy, if there's one thing you should have learned from me, it's that I don't say things I don't mean," Cecilia said seriously. "And if there is one thing I could make you learn it would be that you are beautiful and wonderful. I think I could probably travel the world over and not find anyone as beautiful and lovable as you have turned out to be. I'm going to miss you more than anyone-- except maybe Bly-- but perhaps you a little more because we didn't have as much time together." Cecilia's voice shook and then broke on the last word.

The girls embraced, and had a good cry. When they finished, they sat in silence until the sun dried their tears. There was too much to be said, so they would just enjoy being close to one another.

"This is the best present I've ever," Joy smiled.

"Oh, but wait until you see what I got Blythe," said Cecilia with an impish smile of her own. She put her hand in her pocket-- there was a tiny shower of bells--and pulled out a leather harness strap with jingles attached. "I've got these-- to put up in the branches of the Tree Lovers. That way whenever he goes to sit under them, he'll hear the chimes and be reminded of me-- no matter how far away I am."

Joy clapped her hands. "It's perfect," she said. "The ones Uncle Walter put up so long ago are rusted and don't ring anymore. We'll take those down and put these up in their place."

"Oh, no!" Cecilia shook her head vehemently. "Joy, we could never take those bells down-- they are an Ingleside tradition. We'll just put these up, too. Let's run and do it now!"

"It's awfully high up," Joy said dubiously. When the girls were situated at the bottom of the trees what had seemed like such a good idea on the verandah suddenly seemed dangerous and impossible. "We should get Father or Uncle Jem or Uncle Ken or even one of the big boys to do it. I'm not climbing that far!"

"I wouldn't expect you to," said Cecilia with a toss of her head. "I want to do it myself." When she tilted her chin at that angle, she looked just like a miniature Miss Branston--who was Mrs. Meredith now. "Give me a leg up, Joyce."

Joyce accomodated and then stood back, her hands clasped in doubt and fear. Cecilia, who had climbed every other tree on the Ingleside property and most of the trees in the Glen with gusto, had never tackled the Tree Lovers. They were the tallest, slimmest trees, with high branches and a smooth bark without many footholds. Still Cecilia made it to the branch where the old string of bells hung and reached forward to tie the new strand around. Almost there--the branch swayed dangerously--!

"Cecilia! Watch out!"

Cecilia scrambled back to the trunk of the tree like a flash. But the branch she had been sitting on did not crack. She let out a breath.

"That was close," she laughed to Joyce.

Then there was a sickening crack. Cecilia did not know what it could be at first-- she though it must be a gunshot. But why would there be a gunshot in Rainbow Valley? Then she heard Joy scream--and then she realized that the branch she was sitting on had split under her weight. She was falling-- she grabbed at the other branches and Uncle Walter's old string of bells, but there wasn't anything to hold on to. She saw the ground rush up toward her and braced for the impact.

She fell to the ground at Joy's feet--there was another sickening crack--and Joy screamed again. Cecilia thought dazedly that the falling branch must have hit her. But Joy was standing over her, looking horrified and unharmed.

"Joy?" Cecilia murmured. Her lips did not quite work. "Blythe--Walter? Mother!"

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"What on earth is that racket?" said Grandfather Blythe crossly as the shouts rose up from Rainbow Valley.

"Oh, hush, Gilbert," smiled Grandmother. "You're grim because you're reading war news--let the children be happy and safe and untouched by it a little longer."

"It sounds like Joyce," said Blythe coming in and sitting down to read over Grandfather's shoulder.

"The neighbors are going to think we're murdering them if they keep screaming that way," grumbled Grandfather, but he, too, smiled.

"Enough of that, anyway," said Grandmother, taking the front page from her husband's hands. "Read something else-- try the funny pages. I won't have us consumed by-- Joyce! Darling, whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, God, come quick!" Joyce screamed. Her face was very pale and her eyes blazed like two burn marks in a sheet. "She's dead-- she's dead-- she landed hard and her head is at such an angle-- she's dead, I know it! She can't possibly be living! Oh God, I told her not to! Oh, God!"

"Who, Joyce?" Blythe took his sister by the shoulders and shook her hard enough to snap her out of it. "Who's dead? Joyce! Who?"

"Cecilia," Joy sobbed. "She--fell--out of the tree--in Rainbow Valley and-- her neck-- is-- all twisted."

"Good God," said Grandfather. He stood and sprinted out the door and down the hill to Rainbow Valley.

Grandmother began to minister to Joyce, who was breathing very rapidly and looked as if she might slide to the floor at any minute. Blythe started to follow Grandfather, but Grandmother held him back.

"Run and fetch Jem," she said, and then, why Bly did not move, for the first time in her life she raised her voice at one of her grandchildren. "Hurry! Now!"

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A/N: Aren't I cruel, to leave it here? Don't worry-- there are more chapters coming.