So am I. Come , I 'm going to walk home with you . '' Marilla looked curiously at Anne when the latter entered the kitchen . `` Who was that came up the lane with you , Anne ? '' `` Gilbert Blythe , '' answered Anne , vexed to find herself blushing . `` I met him on Barry 's hill . '' `` I did n't think you and Gilbert Blythe were such good friends that you 'd stand for half an hour at the gate talking to him , '' said Marilla with a dry smile . `` We have n't been -- we 've been good enemies . But we have decided that it will be much more sensible to be good friends in the future . Were we really there half an hour ? It seemed just a few minutes . But , you see , we have five years ' lost conversations to catch up with , Marilla . '' Anne sat long at her window that night companioned by a glad content . The wind purred softly in the cherry boughs , and the mint breaths came up to her . The stars twinkled over the pointed firs in the hollow and Diana 's light gleamed through the old gap . Anne 's horizons had closed in since the night she had sat there after coming home from Queen 's ; but if the path set before her feet was to be narrow she knew that flowers of quiet happiness would bloom along it . The joy of sincere work and worthy aspiration and congenial friendship were to be hers ; nothing could rob her of her birthright of fancy or her ideal world of dreams . And there was always the bend in the road ! '' Chapter I The Shadow of Change `` Harvest is ended and summer is gone , '' quoted Anne Shirley , gazing across the shorn fields dreamily . She and Diana Barry had been picking apples in the Green Gables orchard , but were now resting from their labors in a sunny corner , where airy fleets of thistledown drifted by on the wings of a wind that was still summer-sweet with the incense of ferns in the Haunted Wood . But everything in the landscape around them spoke of autumn .
The sea was roaring hollowly in the distance , the fields were bare and sere , scarfed XXXXX golden rod , the brook valley below Green Gables overflowed with asters of ethereal purple , and the Lake of Shining Waters was blue -- blue -- blue ; not the changeful blue of spring , nor the pale azure of summer , but a clear , steadfast , serene blue , as if the water were past all moods and tenses of emotion and had settled down to a tranquility unbroken by fickle dreams .
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