Anne charged into her room and dropped her suitcases on the floor with a loud bang. Exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed dramatically. On the verge of passing out, she closed her eyes for no more than a second when there was a knock at the door. She sat up, disoriented, and rubbed her eyes. Another knock.

"Who is it?" Anne called.

"Muriel Stacey."

Anne shook her head in confusion. She willed herself up off of the bed and lunged for the door. When it swung open, there she was: the one, the only, Miss Stacey - teacher, mentor, and bosom friend.

"Miss Stacey. What are you doing here?" Anne said, shocked. "I mean, it's so nice to see you of course but what are you doing here?" They hugged.

"It's very nice to see you too Anne. I happened to be in the neighbourhood and I hoped we could take a turn around town. It's a big grim out there but all the more scope for the imagination I say."

"Oh, Miss Stacey … "

"Muriel, please."

"Muriel." Anne smiled. "Nothing would bring me more joy than to walk with you but you see I've just returned from my train trip to Toronto and Niagara-on-the-Lake with Marilla and I am so tired I can't see straight. You'll be happy to know that my interview went brilliantly and our visit with Marilla's cousin was .. enlightening … but I really am death walking. Please, can we postpone until tomorrow?"

"I wish that we could, Anne, but it's simply not possible. I am booked on the train back to Carmody this afternoon."

"I am very sorry to hear that. It sounds as though a visit is not in the cards for us today, but perhaps we could make plans to connect again sometime soon?"

"Anne," she said sharply. "I hate to be a pest but I simply have to insist you join me. Take a moment to freshen up - splash some water on your face perhaps - and meet me downstairs. Alright? Alright." Miss Stacey was a woman of great resolve and Anne was tired beyond words meaning that she stood no chance and so she did as Miss Stacey instructed and tried her best to rally. Were it not for her bloodshot eyes and rosy checks, she may have almost passed for awake.

The two friends locked arms and headed in the direction of Old St. John's cemetery, a favourite spot of Anne's.

"Charlottetown has other historic spots which may be hunted out by the curious, but none is more quaint and delightful than Old St. John's Cemetery at the very core of the town, with streets of quiet, old-time houses on two sides, and busy, bustling, modern thoroughfares on the others," Anne explained.

There was a big stone wall and a row of enormous trees all around it, and rows of trees all through it, and the oddest old tombstones, with the strangest and quaintest descriptions. Tucked in the middle was a black wrought-iron bench where the two women sat and shared a moment of quiet.

"Forgive me Miss Stacey …"

"Muriel."

"Muriel. I do love hearing all about the friction at city council and your eagerness to resume your passion for hobby angling, but I have the sense that there is something else you wish to speak with me about."

"Anne, you know me too well. Yes, I do wish to talk to you about a more serious matter."

"Alright, let's on with it then."

Miss Stacey took a deep breath and reached for Anne's hand. "Gilbert is very sick. He has typhoid fever and it's serious." Anne sat quite silent and motionless, looking at Miss Stacey. Her face had gone so white that Miss Stacey thought she was going to faint.

"Is—it—true?" asked Anne in a voice that was not hers.

"It's a very bad case. The doctors say he's been terribly run down. He's at the best hospital, though, and Bash tells me everything's being done. Please don't look like that, Anne. While there's life there's hope. He's got the Blythe constitution in his favor, that's what."

Anne gently removed her hand from under Miss Stacey's, stood up, and walked blindly forward. Miss Stacey paused a moment to consider her next move. Making up her mind, she gathered her skirt in her hands for the graveyard was wet and muddy. She jogged to where Anne was and stepped in front of her, putting her hand on Anne's shoulder to steady her.

"I am so very sorry, Anne."

The clouds had crept in while they walked earlier and it was now very dark. The rain was spitting over the shivering grounds. The cemetery was full of the groans of mighty trees wrung in the tempest, and the air throbbed with the thunderous crash of billows on the distant shore. And Gilbert was dying! Anne welled up with tears.

"I love him—I've always loved him! I could no more cast him out of my life without agony than I could have cut off my right hand and cast it from my body. I must go. I must go to him now! Please, excuse me Miss Stacey."

"No, Anne, you cannot go."

"Why?!"

"I can't elaborate except to say that you cannot go."

"Why wouldn't I go? At best I can help summon him from the brink of death and at worst I will experience the bitter solace of being with him at the last. If I had not been so foolish I would be with him now. I must go, Muriel, or he will never know just how much I love him—he will go away from this life thinking that I do not care about him enough to marry him. Oh, the black years of emptiness stretching before me! I must go. Goodbye." She, too, gathered her skirt and took off running. Her grief combined with the lack of sleep made her a little unsteady on her feet but she was determined.

"Stop, Anne. Stop!" called Miss Stacey but Anne ignored her. "Anne, please, stop. You cannot go. Gilbert's engaged!" she yelled. Anne stopped in her tracks. "I'm so sorry," called Miss Stacey running to catch up to where Anne was standing.

"Engaged?" she whispered, almost impossible to hear over the wind. "Engaged to who?"

"I don't know. Bash didn't have the details, or at least his letter didn't reveal them to me. But he was very specific that you should not travel to Toronto; he sent me here to tell you as much. I am so very sorry Anne."

Miss Stacey escorted a broken Anne back to her boarding house, and tucked her into bed. She stayed at Anne's bedside until Diana returned from classes. Miss Stacey provided Diana a thorough briefing on what had happened, promised to keep them posted as things developed, and took her leave to catch the train.

When Diana went down for dinner, Anne cowered down by her window and wished, for the first time in her blissful young life, that she could die, too. If Gilbert went away from her, without one word or sign or message, she could not live. Nothing was of any value without him. She belonged to him and he to her. In her hour of supreme agony she had no doubt of that.