Anne awoke the next morning in a fog. She could hardly believe the events of the previous night were real. Had Gilbert really proposed? Had she really said no? It all seemed a dream or, rather, a nightmare, and it took her the better part of the morning to accept that it had really happened. It had really happened. All of it.
"A difference of opinion," she explained over lunch on Monday. "It was simply a difference of opinion, Diana, really."
"Are you sure?" asked Diana, hesitantly.
"Perfectly. His train leaves this evening but I'm perfectly sure that he'll call before then and we can sort it all out. Perfectly sure," stated Anne, categorically, in response.
"Perfectly," echoed Diana, unconvinced.
Anne blew off her English literature class that Monday afternoon so as to ensure that she would be at home when Gilbert called. Two o'clock rolled around and still no visitors. Three o'clock, four. Still nothing. By dinner time, she was worried.
Anne paced back and forth in her room, the pocket dictionary Gilbert had given her so many years earlier clenched in her hand. She practically jumped when she heard a knock at the door.
"Gilbert?" she asked, forgetting altogether that Mrs. Blackmore would never allow a gentleman caller upstairs.
"No, Anne, it's me. Ruby. May I come in?"
"Yes," said Anne, faintly. She sat on her bed, glassy-eyed. Ruby entered the room tentatively.
"He's gone," whispered Ruby.
"What?"
Ruby cleared her throat. "Gilbert. He's gone. Moody told me what happened. Apparently Gilbert changed his ticket and left first thing this morning. I'm so sorry, Anne."
"Really?!" Anne said, hotly. "Well, that's hard to believe. You've been waiting for me to fall flat on my face romantically-speaking ever since Gilbert and I got together. I mean, what are you even doing here? You haven't spoken two words to me for months. Haven't had your fill yet? Planning to kick me when I'm down are you?"
"No … Anne … I …." Ruby's upper lip quivered and tears filled her eyes. She was primed for one of her full-blown meltdowns and Anne just didn't have the patience. Not today.
"I am in the depths of despair and I'm sorry but there's no room in here for all of your big feelings, Ruby." Anne walked over to Diana's desk and quickly scribbled a note, grabbed her hat and coat, and promptly left. As she walked down the stairs, she could hear Ruby's theatrical crying ringing throughout the house. She considered turning back until she heard Josie and the other girls rush in after Ruby which served to further reinforce Anne's resolve to leave. But where would she go?
Gilbert couldn't square what had happened. He'd never intended to propose, and everything Anne had said about why it was too soon rang true. So why was he so hurt and angry? He played the whole thing over and over again - anguishing over his choices and her's - crying and cursing and clutching his heart - for the better part of his train ride until, in the black of night, he slipped into a fitful sleep.
When he awoke the next morning, it was as though a switch had flicked. He was all business as the train was pulled into Union Station. He had only an hour until his first lecture of the day and, with no distractions drawing focus, he could and would earn that gold medal. Just try and stop him.
Gilbert's friends noticed the difference in their old pal immediately. None of them were close enough to prod right off the get-go but they assumed something had gone amiss with Anne (because what else could it be?) They discussed it at length that first evening over a few rounds of parlour games and nominated Christine to say something; Christine was Gilbert's closest friend in Toronto after all. The gang always met for breakfast at The Harris Delicatessen on Queen West on Wednesday mornings before Professor Fisher's punishing chemistry class. Gilbert was strangely cold with Christine that morning, however. So much so that after a quick glance around the group the plan was called off without a word. They resolved to leave things be; Gilbert knew where to find them when he was ready to talk.
He never did, though. Gilbert was an affable chap and always well-liked amongst his peers but he'd had only two real friends his life-long. Anne was one of course, and the other was Bash. But even with them, Gilbert always took his time. He had to work things out for himself before confiding in his friends and still then he held back. It was as though he had a series of walls around his heart, one for every person he'd loved and lost. He was so busy erecting another in Anne's honour that he couldn't see how foolish and proud he was being, and how easily it could be undone if he humbled himself.
Anne found herself on Mrs. Barry's doorstep (where else?) She was quickly ushered in and showered with tea and biscuits and warm linens. She took turns crying on Cole's shoulder, than Mrs. Barry's, then Cole's again. Even in her lowest moments, however, she never wavered from her position - that she was too young to get married - and her supporters were in full agreement. In their eyes, Anne was brave and empowered and an inspiration to women everywhere. She certainly didn't feel brave but by the same token she didn't regret her choice nor did she doubt herself. Watching Gilbert walk away had carved a hole in her heart and it hurt so very badly, but she would survive. She'd been broken before and survived. She was a survivor.
She went to bed in Mrs. Barry's most guest-y-est of guest rooms and awoke the next morning with some renewed perspective. As she'd told Gilbert, there was so much she wanted to do and now was the time to live life - to live her life - to the fullest. And that's exactly what she did. Anne sucked the marrow out of life and took advantage of every opportunity Queen's had to offer that winter and spring. Yet, in spite of all the time that passed, there was still a tiny and private part of her that waited for a letter from Gilbert apologizing and setting everything right. It never came.