But it was not at Jane, Anne gazed that day in dismay and surprise.  It was at Ruby Gillis, who sat beside her in the choir.  What had happened to Ruby?  She was even handsomer than ever; but her blue eyes were too bright and lustrous, and the color of her cheeks was hectically brilliant; besides, she was very thin; the hands that held her hymn-book were almost transparent in their delicacy.

“Is Ruby Gillis ill?” Anne asked of Mrs. Lynde, as they went home from church.

“Ruby Gillis is dying of galloping consumption,” said Mrs. Lynde bluntly.  “Everybody knows it except herself and her family.  They won’t give in.  If you ask them, she’s perfectly well.  She hasn’t been able to teach since she had that attack of congestion in the winter, but she says she’s going to teach again in the fall, and she’s after the White Sands school.  She’ll be in her grave, poor girl, when White Sands school opens, that’s what.”

Anne listened in shocked silence.  Ruby Gillis, her old school-chum, dying?  Could it be possible?  Of late years they had grown apart; but the old tie of school-girl intimacy was there, and made itself felt sharply in the tug the news gave at Anne’s heartstrings.  Ruby, the brilliant, the merry, the coquettish!  It was impossible to associate the thought of her with anything like death.  She had greeted Anne with gay cordiality after church, and urged her to come up the next evening.

“I’ll be away Tuesday and Wednesday evenings,” she had whispered triumphantly.  “There’s a concert at Carmody and a party at White Sands.  Herb Spencer’s going to take me.  He’s my latest. Be sure to come up tomorrow.  I’m dying for a good talk with you.  I want to hear all about your doings at Redmond.”

Anne knew that Ruby meant that she wanted to tell Anne all about her own recent flirtations, but she promised to go, and Diana offered to go with her.

“I’ve been wanting to go to see Ruby for a long while,” she told Anne, when they left Green Gables the next evening, “but I really couldn’t go alone.  It’s so awful to hear Ruby rattling on as she does, and pretending there is nothing the matter with her, even when she can hardly speak for coughing.  She’s fighting so hard for her life, and yet she hasn’t any chance at all, they say.”

The girls walked silently down the red, twilit road.  The robins were singing vespers in the high treetops, filling the golden air with their jubilant voices.  The silver fluting of the frogs came from marshes and ponds, over fields where seeds were beginning to stir with life and thrill to the sunshine and rain that had drifted over them.  The air was fragrant with the wild, sweet, wholesome smell of young raspberry copses.  White mists were hovering in the silent hollows and violet stars were shining bluely on the brooklands.

“What a beautiful sunset,” said Diana.  “Look, Anne, it’s just like a land in itself, isn’t it?  That long, low back of purple cloud is the shore, and the clear sky further on is like a golden sea.”