Far down the harbour was frosted with a dawning moonlight . The air was full of exquisite sounds -- sleepy robin whistles , wonderful , mournful , soft murmurs of wind in the twilit trees , rustle of aspen poplars talking in silvery whispers and shaking their dainty , heart-shaped leaves , lilting young laughter from the windows of rooms where the girls were making ready for the dance . The world was steeped in maddening loveliness of sound and colour . He would think only of these things and of the deep , subtle joy they gave him . `` Anyhow , no one will expect me to go , '' he thought . `` As Jem says , typhoid has seen to that . '' Rilla was leaning out of her room window , dressed for the dance . A yellow pansy slipped from her hair and fell out over the sill like a falling star of gold . She caught at it vainly -- but there were enough left . Miss Oliver had woven a little wreath of them for her pet 's hair . `` It 's so beautifully calm -- is n't that splendid ? We 'll have a perfect night . Listen , Miss Oliver -- I can hear those old bells in Rainbow Valley quite clearly . They 've been hanging there for over ten years . '' `` Their wind chime always makes me think of the aerial , celestial music Adam and Eve heard in Milton 's Eden , '' responded Miss Oliver . `` We used to have such fun in Rainbow Valley when we were children , '' said Rilla dreamily . Nobody ever played in Rainbow Valley now . It was very silent on summer evenings . Walter liked to go there to read . Jem and Faith trysted there considerably ; Jerry and Nan went there to pursue uninterruptedly the ceaseless wrangles and arguments on profound subjects that seemed to be their preferred method of sweethearting .
And Rilla had a beloved little sylvan dell of her own there where she liked XXXXX sit and dream .
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