Anne and Gilbert were alone in it to say
farewell. Leslie and Susan and Little Jem had gone to
the Glen with the last load of furniture. The sunset
light streamed in through the curtainless windows.
"It has all such a heart-broken, reproachful look,
hasn't it?" said Anne. "Oh, I shall be so homesick at
the Glen tonight!"
"We have been very happy here, haven't we, Anne-girl?"
said Gilbert, his voice full of feeling.
Anne choked, unable to answer. Gilbert waited for her
at the fir-tree gate, while she went over the house and
said farewell to every room. She was going away; but
the old house would still be there, looking seaward
through its quaint windows. The autumn winds would
blow around it mournfully, and the gray rain would beat
upon it and the white mists would come in from the sea
to enfold it; and the moonlight would fall over it and
light up the old paths where the schoolmaster and his
bride had walked. There on that old harbor shore the
charm of story would linger; the wind would still
whistle alluringly over the silver sand-dunes; the
waves would still call from the red rock-coves.
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