Nice little quote Diana found

July 22, 1913

Bells a-rrrringing :)

April 16, 1920


For Gil,

Then seek not, sweet, the "If" and "Why"

I love you now until I die.

For I must love because I live

And life in me is what you give.

- Christopher Brennan 

Love, 

Mrs. Anne Blythe

Bend in the road - Final Entry

July 12, 1917

Tomorrow is Alice Penhallow’s wedding and I haven’t fixed my gown yet! I think I may have to just wear it with very little alterations...

I am much too distracted today, Helena. I have been since that ghastly night when Davy so apathetically announced Gilbert’s mortal suffering to typhoid fever. I could never, never forget that, Helena. It all seems like a horrid dream now but last week, it was harrowing reality to lose my dearest friend in the world. I can still see the creases on my bedcovers from my balled up fists, tight and sweaty, as I my head was buried under the pillow. My mattress was damp with tears and sweat rolled from my forehead. The air around me was hot and sticky but I did not want to open my window. I couldn’t bear to close my eyes and feel the breeze kiss my tears whilst Gil was in agony; his heart threatening to halt any moment.

That terrible ordeal brought to me my own Book of Revelation, however. It came as a surprise at first but after some thinking, I discovered that I think I knew it all along. I...I do love Gilbert. Very much. I have wished for a lot of things in the past but if only my eyes were opened, then maybe he might not have been leaving this world thinking I didn’t care for him. I laughed at and despised myself. To think that I had fancied myself in love with Roy when I knew what it felt like to be around Gilbert. 

Gil is much better now, thank the Lord. Those moments I shan’t ever forget either. It was as if I had seen a fresh oasis for the first time after days of traveling across a dry, scorching desert. Life waved at me through the door and welcomed me back from the dark abyss. I had to be there with him. If he couldn’t return then why must I? I cannot begin to contemplate any sort of life without him. The thought of a Gilbert-less life frightens me. 

I can’t help but wish I had accepted him. Never have I regretted anything like this. Gil has been exceedingly friendly since I visited him after the fever and I am glad our old comradeship is back in its place. Although what is he thinking? Christine has not been mentioned once...

Oh! What on earth was that...

Guess who’s hand threw the pebbles that just rapped on my window? You know, up to now, I still don’t understand how he does that without breaking the glass...

Well, I guess I’m off for a quick walk with Gilbert at Lover’s Lane before it gets dark. The maple leaves shimmer exquisitely under the lavender sky at twilight!

Anne 

Free? - Entry 6

May 9, 1917

What is it about May that solicits the sound of wedding bells?

Firstly, dear Phil has finally made her decision to marry for love and accept Jonas. Then there is the much anticipated engagement between Christine Stuart and Gil. Then, of course, there's my own matrimonial matters. 

I declined Roy’s proposal.

Isn’t that crazy? I would love to cry but I think I want to laugh. Laugh that I’m finally free, laugh that I cannot believe I declined him and laugh even more because at the same time, I think I do know the truth exactly. 

Laughing is the reason exactly why I was never destined to be with that Roy Gardner. I only can't understand why it had taken me so long to realise that he does not and could not belong in my life. I was the wildflower in his field of dark roses. The richest plum pudding can be delicious for a while but you couldn't live on it, it will make you sick just as passionate poetry alone could never bind a marriage. 

But I do feel terrible, even more so than Gilbert’s proposal because, this time, I had welcomed his courtship. I wish I could have explained myself to him more plainly---and I would have, were it not for the fact that even I don't know how to elucidate my feelings. Oh, I truly pity him. His proposal had been romantic (under the pavilion where we first met!) and well expressed; I can perceive that his every word was honest and true---and yet, there was no thrill from head to toe when he took my hand and spoke them. 

During these two years, I have led myself to believe that I must be in love with him for he fulfilled every criterion of my ridiculous pipe dream lover. I only wish I had not been so foolish as to have been blinded for two entire years! Blinded by his roses and romantic flattery...if I were to write my thirteen year old self a letter, it will be concerning this. Then, I knew I would have laughed at the notion of rejecting such an utterly winsome inamorato!! It was my childish ideal that Marilla fought so hard to subdue--and rightly so. Diana had been right too. Fred Wright is no Lancelot but they belonged. 

You want to hear something funny? Since I begun my four years at Redmond, I have had a total of four proposals, three of them sincere and one a complete joke (thinking of it cheers me up already). I think I have the right to say that I have had my fair share of "The Question". I don't want to get proposed to ever again!


Ah, so what is there to do now? My Redmond years are over and I can now and forever claim that I am a B.A. When I return to Avonlea in a few days, I will no longer be simply 'Anne Shirley', but 'Anne Shirley: Bachelor of Art'. I shall spend the rest of my days as an old maid writing books in Diana's spare room...
  

Anne 

Morning after the Ball - Entry 5

February 7, 1916

It has been a slow Saturday, Helena. It is past lunch time and I’m still in my sleeping gown. I suppose last night’s ball has exhausted me more than I thought. I feel terribly groggy and cannot be more glad that I have an empty day planned! I only wish Phil will leave me alone today and refrain from pushing my doors open with a smile and hundred questions.

The ball last night was very beautiful, the music was divine, the ballroom splendid and Roy a grand dancer who made sure my dance card was never vacant. 

Gilbert was there too with a lady, Christine Stuart. And she was a lady, indeed! Her fuchsia gown was exquisite, her chestnut hair shone by themselves and her eyes were a pretty sapphire. However, her nose was not half as good as mine. Nonetheless, she was very beautiful. She and Gilbert make a lovely pair. 

Oh, I do miss Gil! We’ve not spoken a word since that affair, save for when he had promptly introduced me to Christine and excused himself immediately. It appears Christine is from a prominent family who are absolutely delighted with him; though that is easy enough to believe for Gil is quite a wonderful friend. 

The rest of the evening was with Roy, naturally. You know, he wrote me a little verse at the dinner table on a napkin and slipped it to me during desert. It was very sweet, although I wish he would write a limerick every once in a while. Ah, listen to me cavil that he isn't writing the kind poetry I would like to hear. It was a pretty verse. I should be swept of my feet.

But...oh, Anne, what is wrong with you now?! 

Who am I fooling but myself? I looked at Roy last night but I hardly saw him because the corner of my eyes were trained on a table under the palm trees across the room. I was not listening to those poetical compliments he murmured as he helped me with my coat. There was no blush or thrill last night.

What is happening to me, Helena? I should love Roy. He is everything I have wanted as a girl.

My White Knight - Entry 4

September 17, 1915

Helena, my dear confidante, I could not feel more ecstatic confiding in you this wonderful night. My last entry was quite a while ago and I do apologize! I think this may be the first time I have sat down alone in weeks. I feel as if I would shatter the world of perfect bliss that I am in now should I ever calm down and think. It’s like that odd state of dreaming when you know you are in a dream and are already half awake but still, you aren’t able to move a muscle or simply don’t because the dream is disturbed. It is an inconvenience with nightmares but lovely dreams are all the sweeter when you can remember every detail after you have awaken. Oh, I’m just rambling now! 

You see, I hardly know express anything such as this, I’ve had so little experience; but I think I have met Prince Charming in the form of a Royal Gardner. I would love to describe him but I’m afraid I will sound irrefutably trite! Roy is tall, dark and handsome in every sense of those words and our first meeting was particularly romantic! 

The clouds were billowing, grey and heavy; the breeze grew colder as they whispered warnings about the cloudburst that shall soon pour over the graveyard’s tranquil afternoon. Suddenly, a flash of lightning flares from the sky and before I could hasten to the boarding house, I found myself in the midst of an angry rainfall. But, alas, a raincoated white knight appears from the ivory mist, bearing his great sword of stretched, waterproof silk and shelters me from the wrathful storm. There, he led me to the nearby pavilion where our names were exchanged and perhaps our hearts too (alright, alright THAT last phrase was much too theatrical---even for me; although, it does sound little bit nice...). 

Now, wasn’t that meeting exactly how I have always wanted? And isn’t Roy simply beyond compare? I can hardly contain myself, I can’t even sit still to write a few lines for Diana or Marilla back home! I am certain they would adore him. Roy is...Roy. Not a morning has passed by since then when I had not been greeted with a new bouquet of flowers at the door with a card saying “To dear Anne” and beside it, little compositions of his. Let me tell you, three weeks pass quicker than ever when you have poetry for breakfast. 

He’s from Nova Scotia too, Phil tells me, and is “the richest, bluest of Bluenoses”. He did have a distinguished air about him when we met at Old St. John’s. And his eyes...they were so gloriously dark and profound. 

Roy is great. 

Anne 

Stop the world, I want to get off! - Entry 3

June 13, 1915

His face and that bitter little laugh. How could I ever forget this? 

Oh, Helena, why must he want more than my friendship? This has spoiled everything now! 

I thought Gilbert would know, of all people, how I felt about all this. The Redmond kids talk and everyone at Avonlea gossips incessantly but Gilbert...I thought I knew him. I remember back at Avonlea years ago, we would lightly hint at and mock all those idle gossip on his anonymous column. We laughed at the town's reaction, especially Charlie's irked and, I soon perceived, jealous ones. When I pulled my hand away two years ago and reacted the way I did, I has so wrongfully assumed he understood. 

I am not to see Gilbert at all this summer because he had taken a job at the Daily News office. He told me so before his question and I recall that I wasn't pleased with the prospect of a Gilbert-less summer. And I still am not pleased with a summer and no Gil. I hate to imagine a day where I don't see him but two whole months? 

Well, I suppose we should have some time apart; everything will sort themselves out eventually, they've got to. But how long do I have to wait before "eventually" comes and will it ever? Already, I feel acutely empty without him. 

I care for him a great deal, like him more than anyone else I know and I've told him so. But to love him! I can't.