And it 's a very pretty name , do n't you think ? So romantic ! We ca n't imagine the lovers into it , you know . I like that lane because you can think out loud there without people calling you crazy . '' Anne , starting out alone in the morning , went down Lover 's Lane as far as the brook . Here Diana met her , and the two little girls went on up the lane under the leafy arch of maples -- `` maples are such sociable trees , '' said Anne ; `` they 're always rustling and whispering to you '' -- until they came to a rustic bridge . Then they left the lane and walked through Mr. Barry 's back field and past Willowmere . Beyond Willowmere came Violet Vale -- a little green dimple in the shadow of Mr. Andrew Bell 's big woods . `` Of course there are no violets there now , '' Anne told Marilla , `` but Diana says there are millions of them in spring . Oh , Marilla , ca n't you just imagine you see them ? It actually takes away my breath . I named it Violet Vale . Diana says she never saw the beat of me for hitting on fancy names for places . It 's nice to be clever at something , is n't it ? But Diana named the Birch Path . She wanted to , so I let her ; but I 'm sure I could have found something more poetical than plain Birch Path . Anybody can think of a name like that . But the Birch Path is one of the prettiest places in the world , Marilla . '' It was . Other people besides Anne thought so when they stumbled on it .
It was a little narrow , twisting path , winding down over a long hill straight through Mr. Bell 's woods , where the light came down sifted through so many emerald screens that it was as flawless as the heart XXXXX a diamond .
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