“Yes.  We’ve kept it faithfully.  We’ve had a beautiful friendship, Diana.  We’ve never marred it by one quarrel or coolness or unkind word; and I hope it will always be so.  But things can’t be quite the same after this.  You’ll have other interests.  I’ll just be on the outside.  But ‘such is life’ as Mrs. Rachel says.  Mrs. Rachel has given you one of her beloved knitted quilts of the ‘tobacco stripe’ pattern, and she says when I am married she’ll give me one, too.”

“The mean thing about your getting married is that I won’t be able to be your bridesmaid,” lamented Diana.

“I’m to be Phil’s bridesmaid next June, when she marries Mr. Blake, and then I must stop, for you know the proverb ’three times a bridesmaid, never a bride,’” said Anne, peeping through the window over the pink and snow of the blossoming orchard beneath.  “Here comes the minister, Diana.”

“Oh, Anne,” gasped Diana, suddenly turning very pale and beginning to tremble.  “Oh, Anne—­I’m so nervous—­I can’t go through with it—­Anne, I know I’m going to faint.”

“If you do I’ll drag you down to the rainwater hogshed and drop you in,” said Anne unsympathetically.  “Cheer up, dearest.  Getting married can’t be so very terrible when so many people survive the ceremony.  See how cool and composed I am, and take courage.”

“Wait till your turn comes, Miss Anne.  Oh, Anne, I hear father coming upstairs.  Give me my bouquet.  Is my veil right?  Am I very pale?”

“You look just lovely.  Di, darling, kiss me good-bye for the last time.  Diana Barry will never kiss me again.”

“Diana Wright will, though.  There, mother’s calling.  Come.”

Following the simple, old-fashioned way in vogue then, Anne went down to the parlor on Gilbert’s arm.  They met at the top of the stairs for the first time since they had left Kingsport, for Gilbert had arrived only that day.  Gilbert shook hands courteously.  He was looking very well, though, as Anne instantly noted, rather thin.  He was not pale; there was a flush on his cheek that had burned into it as Anne came along the hall towards him, in her soft, white dress with lilies-of-the-valley in the shining masses of her hair.  As they entered the crowded parlor together a little murmur of admiration ran around the room.  “What a fine-looking pair they are,” whispered the impressible Mrs. Rachel to Marilla.

Fred ambled in alone, with a very red face, and then Diana swept in on her father’s arm.  She did not faint, and nothing untoward occurred to interrupt the ceremony.  Feasting and merry-making followed; then, as the evening waned, Fred and Diana drove away through the moonlight to their new home, and Gilbert walked with Anne to Green Gables.

Something of their old comradeship had returned during the informal mirth of the evening.  Oh, it was nice to be walking over that well-known road with Gilbert again!

The night was so very still that one should have been able to hear the whisper of roses in blossom—­the laughter of daisies—­the piping of grasses—­many sweet sounds, all tangled up together.  The beauty of moonlight on familiar fields irradiated the world.