Mrs. Lynde and Marilla crept to her door before they went to bed , shook their heads doubtfully at each other over the silence , and went away . The storm raged all night , but when the dawn came it was spent . Anne saw a fairy fringe of light on the skirts of darkness . Soon the eastern hilltops had a fire-shot ruby rim . The clouds rolled themselves away into great , soft , white masses on the horizon ; the sky gleamed blue and silvery . A hush fell over the world . Anne rose from her knees and crept downstairs . The freshness of the rain-wind blew against her white face as she went out into the yard , and cooled her dry , burning eyes . A merry rollicking whistle was lilting up the lane . A moment later Pacifique Buote came in sight . Anne 's physical strength suddenly failed her . If she had not clutched at a low willow bough she would have fallen . Pacifique was George Fletcher 's hired man , and George Fletcher lived next door to the Blythes . Mrs. Fletcher was Gilbert 's aunt . Pacifique would know if -- if -- Pacifique would know what there was to be known . Pacifique strode sturdily on along the red lane , whistling . He did not see Anne . She made three futile attempts to call him . He was almost past before she succeeded in making her quivering lips call , `` Pacifique ! '' Pacifique turned with a grin and a cheerful good morning .
`` Pacifique , '' said Anne faintly , `` did you come XXXXX George Fletcher 's this morning ? ''
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