Nobody, except the children, slept much that night. The Glen lay quiet and still, but at Ingleside, one lone light burning in the kitchen told of the lonely vigil held by six worried people. Every nerve was strained to hear the phone ring; every heart was praying for the youngest member of their close-knit group.

It was Nan who finally broke the silence that lay thick and heavy around the table. "Do you remember the party at the lighthouse, the night we heard about the War? Rilla was so excited. Mother thought she was really too young, but—Walter convinced her. Rilla was determined to be the most sought-after girl there."

"She was, too," said Faith, dimpling as she remembered. She and Jem had been married for four years and had two children, yet Faith still looked as young and beautiful as she had the day she charmed Norman Douglas into going to church. Persis was undoubtedly more beautiful, but Faith had a subtle and nameless allure to her that overshadowed all other girls. "Ethel Reese was so furious because Rilla was more popular than she was."

"Do you remember when she was a little girl and Mary Vance chased her down the main street with a codfish?" Jerry suddenly asked, smiling mischievously.

Everyone exploded with laughter at that old memory. Poor Rilla! After a moment, silence fell again, but everyone felt slightly better for that laugh.

"I remember Ken writing to me shortly after he left the Island," Persis said. "He told me he had fallen in love with Rilla, and please not to tell Jem because he was afraid Jem would thrash him for it. I didn't get as many letters from him after that…he was too busy writing to her, instead."

"She grew into such a beautiful woman during the War," Faith mused. "Not just physically, although she did that, but she matured and grew so much. So many other girls would have been crushed by—by everything that we all endured. Nan and Di, you had each other, and I had my nursing, but Rilla was here all alone, and she bore up and supported Mother Blythe…"

"And ran the Junior Reds to perfection," Nan added. "She wasn't completely alone, though. She had Una."

Jerry sighed. "I wish we had Una here now. We could use her comforting presence."

"She's busy comforting other souls now," Persis said solemnly.

"Oh, enough of this!" Di burst out suddenly. "Listen to us, talking as though Rilla is already dead! She's not—she's alive, and if Dad and Jem have anything to say about it, she will stay that way."

Everyone looked slightly taken aback. Shirley patted Di's shoulder. "Easy, now," he murmured. "She's right, though," addressing the others. "If we must talk, let's talk about something simple and normal. It's the only way we'll be able to endure the waiting. Faith, what's the news on Bruce these days?"

Eighteen-year-old Bruce Meredith was in his second year at Redmond, and had already decided that he wanted to go on to divinity school after he received his B.A.

Faith looked relieved at the change in subject. "He's doing well—head of his class, and one of the most sought-after boys of the freshman and sophomore years."

"Little Bruce, a popular date?" Persis asked in surprise. "I always remember him as being so dark and emphatic and threatening-looking, even when he was happy."

Faith smiled. "Apparently that's what makes him so attractive to all the girls. They rave about his tall, dark, mysterious appearance. He wrote and said one girl even compared him to Mr. Darcy! 'Who's he, Mother?' he asked. 'Was he in the War?' We had to explain he was a fictional character from the early 1800s. He was so disgusted."

Di laughed. She was a bit ashamed of her outburst, but she didn't think she could have stood the mournful reminisces any longer. "Has he met anyone he likes yet?"

Jerry was the one who answered this time. "No; you know Bruce. He is so focused on getting through his schooling so he can come back here and replace Dad as minister that he barely notices the girls except as nuisances who distract him from his work."

They were all smiling over that when the phone rang. There was a mad rush for the instrument, but Shirley, who was closest, merely reached out one long arm and answered.

"Yes?"

They listened impatiently to his end of the conversation, which consisted merely of a few "Mm-hmms," and "I sees" and other non-committal phrases. Finally, he hung up and swung around to face them, his face inscrutable as ever.

"Well?" Jerry finally demanded.

Shirley let out a breath. "That was Jem. Rilla made it through—but they couldn't save the baby."

"Oh!" Persis cried. The rest of them were dumb. Relief for their sister mingled with sorrow over their little niece or nephew.

"When may we see her?" Nan asked finally.

Shirley shook his head. "Not for a few days. She's still very weak. She doesn't know about the baby yet. Jem said it was a little boy."

"Little Aidan," Persis murmured. She wiped a tear away from one blue eye with a slender finger. "Ken told me that if it was a boy they were going to name him Aidan Kenneth."

Tears were shining in Nan's nut-brown eyes. "I know it's awful—I should feel horrible about the baby—but I'm just so relieved about Rilla. Our darling baby sister!"

They all indulged in a little cry together—tears of thankfulness and tears of mourning. They gained control over themselves just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

Faith took her two upstairs to their room and laid down with them to catch a little nap before Jem came back. She knew he would need her comfort after such a difficult night.

Nan, Jerry, and Persis took the other three back to the manse, planning on doing the same thing.

Di looked across the table at Shirley. "I'm going for a walk," she said.

"Do you want company?"

"Not this time."

He nodded. "I'll see you in a bit, then."

Di had thought of meandering through Rainbow Valley, but her feet led her instinctively in the other direction, toward Four Winds. She passed Miss Cornelia's big house—they'd always thought it such a pretty color when they were children—and then went by the House of Dreams. The lights were on inside, and she could see Ken's silhouette in the upstairs window, his head in his hands.

She longed to comfort him, but she knew that any outside presence right now, no matter how close, would only intrude. He and Rilla would have to bear their first grief together.

She found the Fords' old rowboat attached to the pier below the House of Dreams and rowed herself over to the Four Winds Point, knowing that this was where she needed to be. Once there, she wandered down to the little rocky point where she had huddled with Walter the night of the lighthouse dance.

She stayed there for over an hour, an hour she never told anyone about, ever. There she wrestled with her deep grief over her sister and brother-in-law's pain; there she wrestled with the unaccountable envy she had felt at the moment Shirley told them the news; there she realized, for the first time, her deep desire for children of her own—yes, she would even bear the sorrow of losing one if she could only give birth! There she found the strength to accept her portion of life and not look back anymore. The past was over and done with; it could never return.

As she left, finally, she couldn't help but glance back one last time at the rocks. The waves were crashing nearby, and for a moment, the mist and foam almost took on the shape of a human.

Di shook her head. It was the early morning light—and her tiredness—and her emotional state—that made her think she could see Walter in the sea mist.