He thinks her cold; his hopes are faint and dim;
But though with seeming mirth she takes her part
In all the dances and the laughter there,
And though to many a youth, on brief demand,
She gives a kind assent and courteous hand,
She loves but him, for him is all her care.
With jealous heed her lessening voice he hears
Down that long vista, where she seems to move
Among fond faces and relays of love,
And sweet occasion, full of tender fears:
Down those long lines he watches from above,
Till with the refluent dance she reappears.
A Country Dance
– Charles Tennyson Turner (1808 – 1879)
The coldness of February was wafting from the snow-covered ground, as a reception was about to begin in a hall in Redmond, one evening in 1886. Colorfully dressed co-eds swarmed merrily. Allie Boonie's Parisian dresses were admired, with covetous glances, as well as Anne Shirley walking next to the charmingly handsome Royal Gardner. Anne was dressed in a cream-colored chiffon rosebud dress, she was looking splendidly vivid, with a delicate keen sparkle in her mien.
A co-ed, whispered audibly, "Apparently mother hasn't met Miss Shirley yet. And look, there's Christine Stuart standing over there by the palm trees, looking sublime in her bluish dress. That Mr. Blythe is amazingly witty, and whenever he happens to look towards me in a lecture, my knees go weak. His gaze is so intense, and those ravishing brown curls, those shoulders, so upright posture. Rumor has it that he and Christine Stuart are spending a lot of time in all kinds of social outings, sometimes even after hours, so scandalous!"
The crowd moved to the edges of the hall as the dance began.
Anne heard dear Phil's recognizable laugh in the distance, but she could hardly notice Roy's usual, romantic compliments, for her attention was focused under the palm trees, shimmering shadows playing on Gilbert's recognizable profile.
Anne felt a small pang in her heart when the girl, who could only be Christine Stuart, all lush ivory skin, and elaborate silky midnight-dark curls, smiled at Gilbert, teasingly, as Gilbert put his arm carefully around Christine's waist, leading her towards the dance floor.
By chance, for a small moment Gilbert's and Anne's eyes met, in the eddies of the dance. Anne could not read anything in Gilbert's eyes. Those dark, hazel long-lashed eyes were like a stranger's, their expression was neutrally polite, as Gilbert carefully tipped his head towards Anne, according to etiquette.
In the foyer, Gilbert lightly wiped his face, and remarked, "How does your dance card look Christine?" Christine glanced at the small folded piece of paper tied to her wrist with a dark blue ribbon, as she countered, impishly "Gil, your duty is done for tonight. I'm sure you miss your books, or are they test tubes this week?"
Gilbert stretched, and thought quietly of those months of hard work, of the lonely summer he spent in the smell of ink, in the Daily News office, fighting with the printing press. He even had his newly sculpted shoulders to thank for that job. A third-rate boardinhouse room, and the only bright spots had been sometimes the letters from Avonlea, for which he had greedily, like a zither guarding his gold, searched for Anne's name, still even after that April night when his heart had been shattered to pieces, in the garden of Pattys Place. Old habits were hard to break, he had watched Anne, in silence, for so long. Although there was no hope, he still enjoyed watching Anne, even if it was quite bittersweet practice to do, in social occasions.
Today there had been something new in Anne's eyes, there had been a spark in their bright grey-green depths. What could have ignited it? Perhaps it was only the pleasure produced by the party, and the eddies of the swirling dance. Gilbert well knew that Anne loved rambles in the woods more than the social ballet that was sometimes Redmond's occasions.
Then there was her, Christine. She was his shield, and surprising comfort. Christine's presence would light up the gloom, always in pre-arranged locations as they explored the hidden, surprisingly diverse corners of Kingsport, not all of which were music-related. There had been countless classical music concerts, and dinners, with various Bluenoses, that set where Christine was at home, sweetly sharp-tongued, but not malicious. Sometimes her airs and graces reminded Gilbert of Phil Gordon, but Christine's style was more stately, than vivacious will o wisp, that Phil was so charming, and clever, who nine times out of ten, solved math problems faster than Gilbert, in their joint lectures.
Honeyblond Claire Hallet cast an inviting look in Gilbert's direction, again Christine noticed as she said in her light humored style, "Gilbert, thank you for your company today. I know you probably thought for a while before agreeing to keep me company, despite what my brother Roland told you about his perhaps overprotective style."
Gilbert, with a polite gesture, handed Christine a cool glass of lemonade as he remarked, "I'll be happy to do this, as you have so often remaked. I can´t study for Cooper Prize all the time. Have you received any more letters?"
At those words, a small calculating smile lit up in Christine's violet eyes, as she nodded, and said lightly, "All plans are going as they should. Andrew will gain experience by traveling, as he should, and when the time comes I will do my part, as we agreed. "
Cautiously, Gilbert inquired, "Is your family against your alliance then, since Roland didn't mention anything about your fiancé in his letter." A slightly bitter laugh rang out in the hall as Christine hummed In Quelle Trine Morbide, from Manon, and when the music had ceased, Christine took a long, pondering look at the charming Gilbert Blythe, as she murmured, " To marry is an aim, the highest, in these circles of mine. Everything else is superfluous. Sometimes it is like gold a cage that feels so narrow. And that's why spending time with you is so refreshing, because in this way I feel we give each other new impulses, and perhaps also horizons, of sorts."
Soulful uplifting violin music shimmered as Gilbert rose and bowed, and said, "Shall we dance?"
The palm trees swayed. Countless high heels echoed on the floor, as the orchestra members, red from the heat, with impeccable suits, played with devotion, as romantic waltz tunes and fashion dances pulsated, alternately. Phil Gordon glanced curiously at the dance floor as Gilbert escorted Christine Stuart into the polonaise that would end the evening. Phil remembered earlier at Patty´s Place Anne's peculiar pallor, and the bitterness of her response when Anne did not accept Jo's pink roses, even though they would have gone perfectly with Anne's dress. Phil shook her brown curls with determination as she joined Anne and Royal. Anne's eyes were twinkling like stars, but there was a little stiffness in her smile that hadn't been there before tonight.
Quietly, behind the large windows, large snowflakes fell to the ground, and gas lamps flickered along the streets of Kingsport as Juniors honoring the Seniors Ball wound slowly to cloisure. Afterwards gossips of Redmond Collage told tall tales of slpendor especially of one Gilbert Blythe, who captured many hearts, all of them unwittingly, as he strolled with determined steps snow and slush covered streets.