Mrs. Lynde looked after her indulgently . `` There 's a good deal of the child about her yet in some ways . '' `` There 's a good deal more of the woman about her in others , '' retorted Marilla , with a momentary return of her old crispness . But crispness was no longer Marilla 's distinguishing characteristic . As Mrs. Lynde told her Thomas that night . `` Marilla Cuthbert has got MELLOW . That 's what . '' Anne went to the little Avonlea graveyard the next evening to put fresh flowers on Matthew 's grave and water the Scotch rosebush . She lingered there until dusk , liking the peace and calm of the little place , with its poplars whose rustle was like low , friendly speech , and its whispering grasses growing at will among the graves . When she finally left it and walked down the long hill that sloped to the Lake of Shining Waters it was past sunset and all Avonlea lay before her in a dreamlike afterlight -- `` a haunt of ancient peace . '' There was a freshness in the air as of a wind that had blown over honey-sweet fields of clover . Home lights twinkled out here and there among the homestead trees . Beyond lay the sea , misty and purple , with its haunting , unceasing murmur . The west was a glory of soft mingled hues , and the pond reflected them all in still softer shadings . The beauty of it all thrilled Anne 's heart , and she gratefully opened the gates of her soul to it . `` Dear old world , '' she murmured , `` you are very lovely , and I am glad to be alive in you . '' Halfway down the hill a tall lad came whistling out of a gate before the Blythe homestead . It was Gilbert , and the whistle died on his lips as he recognized Anne . He lifted his cap courteously , but he would have passed on in silence , if Anne had not stopped and held out her hand . `` Gilbert , '' she said , with scarlet cheeks , `` I want to thank you for giving up the school for me .
It was very good XXXXX you -- and I want you to know that I appreciate it . ''
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