Rilla put away her diary and went out to the garden . The spring evening was very lovely . The long , green , seaward-looking glen was filled with dusk , and beyond it were meadows of sunset . The harbour was radiant , purple here , azure there , opal elsewhere . The maple grove was beginning to be misty green . Rilla looked about her with wistful eyes . Who said that spring was the joy of the year ? It was the heart-break of the year . And the pale-purply mornings and the daffodil stars and the wind in the old pine were so many separate pangs of the heart-break . Would life ever be free from dread again ? `` It 's good to see P.E.I. twilight once more , '' said Walter , joining her . `` I did n't really remember that the sea was so blue and the roads so red and the wood nooks so wild and fairy haunted . Yes , the fairies still abide here . I vow I could find scores of them under the violets in Rainbow Valley . '' Rilla was momentarily happy . This sounded like the Walter of yore . She hoped he was forgetting certain things that had troubled him . `` And is n't the sky blue over Rainbow Valley ? '' she said , responding to his mood . `` Blue -- blue -- you 'd have to say ` blue ' a hundred times before you could express how blue it is . ''
Susan wandered by , her head tied up with a shawl , her hands full XXXXX garden implements .
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