He 's made heaps of money , though . '' `` Well , he thought that since he could n't serve God and Mammon he 'd better stick to Mammon , '' said Miss Cornelia crisply . `` So he should n't complain if he does n't find Mammon very good company now . '' Captain Jim went out , but remembered something in the yard and turned back for a moment . `` I 'd a letter from Mr. Ford , Mistress Blythe , and he says the life-book is accepted and is going to be published next fall . I felt fair uplifted when I got the news . To think that I 'm to see it in print at last . '' `` That man is clean crazy on the subject of his life-book , '' said Miss Cornelia compassionately . `` For my part , I think there 's far too many books in the world now . '' CHAPTER 29 GILBERT AND ANNE DISAGREE Gilbert laid down the ponderous medical tome over which he had been poring until the increasing dusk of the March evening made him desist . He leaned back in his chair and gazed meditatively out of the window . It was early spring -- probably the ugliest time of the year . Not even the sunset could redeem the dead , sodden landscape and rotten black harbor ice upon which he looked . No sign of life was visible , save a big black crow winging his solitary way across a leaden field . Gilbert speculated idly concerning that crow . Was he a family crow , with a black but comely crow wife awaiting him in the woods beyond the Glen ? Or was he a glossy young buck of a crow on courting thoughts intent ? Or was he a cynical bachelor crow , believing that he travels the fastest who travels alone ? Whatever he was , he soon disappeared in congenial gloom and Gilbert turned to the cheerier view indoors . The firelight flickered from point to point , gleaming on the white and green coats of Gog and Magog , on the sleek , brown head of the beautiful setter basking on the rug , on the picture frames on the walls , on the vaseful of daffodils from the window garden , on Anne herself , sitting by her little table , with her sewing beside her and her hands clasped over her knee while she traced out pictures in the fire -- Castles in Spain whose airy turrets pierced moonlit cloud and sunset bar-ships sailing from the Haven of Good Hopes straight to Four Winds Harbor with precious burthen .
For Anne was again a dreamer XXXXX dreams , albeit a grim shape of fear went with her night and day to shadow and darken her visions .
For across beyond if in of on that to until