`` I do n't see how , '' said Marilla . `` Well , '' explained Anne , `` I 've learned a new and valuable lesson today . Ever since I came to Green Gables I 've been making mistakes , and each mistake has helped to cure me of some great shortcoming . The affair of the amethyst brooch cured me of meddling with things that did n't belong to me . The Haunted Wood mistake cured me of letting my imagination run away with me . The liniment cake mistake cured me of carelessness in cooking . Dyeing my hair cured me of vanity . I never think about my hair and nose now -- at least , very seldom . And today 's mistake is going to cure me of being too romantic . I have come to the conclusion that it is no use trying to be romantic in Avonlea . It was probably easy enough in towered Camelot hundreds of years ago , but romance is not appreciated now . I feel quite sure that you will soon see a great improvement in me in this respect , Marilla . '' `` I 'm sure I hope so , '' said Marilla skeptically . But Matthew , who had been sitting mutely in his corner , laid a hand on Anne 's shoulder when Marilla had gone out . `` Do n't give up all your romance , Anne , '' he whispered shyly , `` a little of it is a good thing -- not too much , of course -- but keep a little of it , Anne , keep a little of it . '' CHAPTER XXIX . An Epoch in Anne 's Life Anne was bringing the cows home from the back pasture by way of Lover 's Lane . It was a September evening and all the gaps and clearings in the woods were brimmed up with ruby sunset light . Here and there the lane was splashed with it , but for the most part it was already quite shadowy beneath the maples , and the spaces under the firs were filled with a clear violet dusk like airy wine . The winds were out in their tops , and there is no sweeter music on earth than that which the wind makes in the fir trees at evening .
The cows swung placidly down the lane , and Anne followed them dreamily , repeating aloud the battle canto from MARMION -- which had also been part of their English course the preceding winter and which Miss Stacy had made them learn off by heart -- and exulting XXXXX its rushing lines and the clash of spears in its imagery .
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