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years agone, with a battered old ship sailing through the sunrise splendor.

ā€œAnd Persis Leigh was on board?ā€ asked Anne.

ā€œYesā€”her and the captainā€™s wife. Theyā€™d had an awful passageā€” storm after stormā€”and their provisions give out, too. But there they were at last. When Persis Leigh stepped onto the old wharf John Selwyn took her in his armsā€”and folks stopped cheering and begun to cry. I cried myself, though ā€˜twas years, mind you, afore Iā€™d admit it. Ainā€™t it funny how ashamed boys are of tears?ā€

ā€œWas Persis Leigh beautiful?ā€ asked Anne.

ā€œWell, I donā€™t know that youā€™d call her beautiful exactlyā€”Iā€” donā€™tā€”know,ā€ said Captain Jim slowly. ā€œSomehow, you never got so far along as to wonder if she was handsome or not. It jest didnā€™t matter. There was something so sweet and winsome about her that you had to love her, that was all. But she was pleasant to look atā€”big, clear, hazel eyes and heaps of glossy brown hair, and an English skin. John and her were married at our house that night at early candlelighting; everybody from far and near was there to see it and we all brought them down here afterwards. Mistress Selwyn lighted the fire, and we went away and left them sitting here, jest as John had seen in that vision of his. A strange thingā€”a strange thing! But Iā€™ve seen a turrible lot of strange things in my time.ā€

Captain Jim shook his head sagely.

ā€œItā€™s a dear story,ā€ said Anne, feeling that for once she had got enough romance to satisfy her. ā€œHow long did they live here?ā€

ā€œFifteen years. I ran off to sea soon after they were married, like the young scalawag I was. But every time I come back from a voyage Iā€™d head for here, even before I went home, and tell Mistress Selwyn all about it. Fifteen happy years! They had a sort of talent for happiness, them two. Some folks are like that, if youā€™ve noticed. They COULDNā€™T be unhappy for long, no matter what happened. They quarrelled once or twice, for they was both high-sperrited. But Mistress Selwyn says to me once, says she, laughing in that pretty way of hers, `I felt dreadful when John and I quarrelled, but underneath it all I was very happy because I had such a nice husband to quarrel with and make it up with.ā€™ Then they moved to Charlottetown, and Ned Russell bought this house and brought his bride here. They were a gay young pair, as I remember them. Miss Elizabeth Russell was Alecā€™s sister. She came to live with them a year or so later, and she was a creature of mirth, too. The walls of this house must be sorter SOAKED with laughing and good times. Youā€™re the third bride Iā€™ve seen come here, Mistress Blytheā€”and the handsomest.ā€

Captain Jim contrived to give his sunflower compliment the delicacy of a violet, and Anne wore it proudly. She was looking her best that night, with the bridal rose on her cheeks and the love-light in her eyes; even gruff old Doctor Dave gave her an approving glance, and told his wife, as they drove home together, that that red-headed wife of the boyā€™s was something of a beauty.

ā€œI must be getting back to the light,ā€ announced Captain Jim. ā€œIā€™ve enjā€™yed this evening something tremenjus.ā€

ā€ You must come often to see us,ā€ said Anne.

ā€œI wonder if youā€™d give that invitation if you knew how likely Iā€™ll be to accept it,ā€ Captain Jim remarked whimsically.

ā€œWhich is another way of saying you wonder if I mean it,ā€ smiled Anne. ā€œI do, `cross my heart,ā€™ as we used to say at school.ā€

ā€œThen Iā€™ll come. Youā€™re likely to be pestered with me at any hour. And Iā€™ll be proud to have you drop down and visit me now and then, too. Ginā€™rally I havenā€™t anyone to talk to but the First Mate, bless his sociable heart. Heā€™s a mighty good listener, and has forgot moreā€™n any MacAllister of them all ever knew, but he isnā€™t much of a conversationalist. Youā€™re young and Iā€™m old, but our souls are about the same age, I reckon. We both belong to the race that knows Joseph, as Cornelia Bryant would say.ā€

ā€œThe race that knows Joseph?ā€ puzzled Anne.

ā€œYes. Cornelia divides all the folks in the world into two kindsā€” the race that knows Joseph and the race that donā€™t. If a person sorter sees eye to eye with you, and has pretty much the same ideas about things, and the same taste in jokesā€”why, then he belongs to the race that knows Joseph.ā€

ā€œOh, I understand,ā€ exclaimed Anne, light breaking in upon her.

ā€œItā€™s what I used to callā€”and still call in quotation marks `kindred spirits.ā€™ā€

ā€œJest soā€”jest so,ā€ agreed Captain Jim. ā€œWeā€™re it, whatever IT is. When you come in tonight, Mistress Blythe, I says to myself, says I, `Yes, sheā€™s of the race that knows Joseph.ā€™ And mighty glad I was, for if it wasnā€™t so we couldnā€™t have had any real satisfaction in each otherā€™s company. The race that knows Joseph is the salt of the airth, I reckon.ā€

The moon had just risen when Anne and Gilbert went to the door with their guests. Four Winds Harbor was beginning to be a thing of dream and glamour and enchantmentā€”a spellbound haven where no tempest might ever ravin. The Lombardies down the lane, tall and sombre as the priestly forms of some mystic band, were tipped with silver.

ā€œAlways liked Lombardies,ā€ said Captain Jim, waving a long arm at them. ā€œTheyā€™re the trees of princesses. Theyā€™re out of fashion now. Folks complain that they die at the top and get ragged-looking. So they doā€”so they do, if you donā€™t risk your neck every spring climbing up a light ladder to trim them out. I always did it for Miss Elizabeth, so her Lombardies never got out-at-elbows. She was especially fond of them. She liked their dignity and stand-offishness. THEY donā€™t hobnob with every Tom, Dick and Harry. If itā€™s maples for company, Mistress Blythe, itā€™s Lombardies for society.ā€

ā€œWhat a beautiful night,ā€ said Mrs. Doctor Dave, as she climbed into the Doctorā€™s buggy.

ā€œMost nights are beautiful,ā€ said Captain Jim. ā€œBut I ā€˜low that moonlight over Four Winds makes me sorter wonder whatā€™s left for heaven. The moonā€™s a great friend of mine, Mistress Blythe. Iā€™ve loved her ever since I can remember. When I was a little chap of eight I fell asleep in the garden one evening and wasnā€™t missed. I woke up along in the night and I was most scared to death. What shadows and queer noises there was! I dursnā€™t move. Jest crouched there quaking, poor small mite. Seemed ā€˜sif there werenā€™t anyone in the world but meself and it was mighty big. Then all at once I saw the moon looking down at me through the apple boughs, jest like an old friend. I was comforted right off. Got up and walked to the house as brave as a lion, looking at her. Manyā€™s the night Iā€™ve watched her from the deck of my vessel, on seas far away from here. Why donā€™t you folks tell me to take in the slack of my jaw and go home?ā€

The laughter of the goodnights died away. Anne and Gilbert walked hand in hand around their garden. The brook that ran across the corner dimpled pellucidly in the shadows of the birches. The poppies along its banks were like shallow cups of moonlight. Flowers that had been planted by the hands of the schoolmasterā€™s bride flung their sweetness on the shadowy air, like the beauty and blessing of sacred yesterdays. Anne paused in the gloom to gather a spray.

ā€œI love to smell flowers in the dark,ā€ she said. ā€œYou get hold of their soul then. Oh, Gilbert, this little house is all Iā€™ve dreamed it. And Iā€™m so glad that we are not the first who have kept bridal tryst here!ā€

CHAPTER 8 MISS CORNELIA BRYANT COMES TO CALL

That September was a month of golden mists and purple hazes at Four Winds Harborā€”a month of sun-steeped days and of nights that were swimming in moonlight, or pulsating with stars. No storm marred it, no rough wind blew. Anne and Gilbert put their nest in order, rambled on the shores, sailed on the harbor, drove about Four Winds and the Glen, or through the ferny, sequestered roads of the woods around the harbor head; in short, had such a honeymoon as any lovers in the world might have envied them.

ā€œIf life were to stop short just now it would still have been richly worth while, just for the sake of these past four weeks, wouldnā€™t it?ā€ said Anne. ā€œI donā€™t suppose we will ever have four such perfect weeks againā€”but weā€™ve HAD them. Everythingā€”wind, weather, folks, house of dreamsā€”has conspired to make our honeymoon delightful. There hasnā€™t even been a rainy day since we came here.ā€

ā€œAnd we havenā€™t quarrelled once,ā€ teased Gilbert.

ā€œWell, `thatā€™s a pleasure all the greater for being deferred,ā€™ā€ quoted Anne. ā€œIā€™m so glad we decided to spend our honeymoon here. Our memories of it will always belong here, in our house of dreams, instead of being scattered about in strange places.ā€

There was a certain tang of romance and adventure in the atmosphere of their new home which Anne had never found in Avonlea. There, although she had lived in sight of the sea, it had not entered intimately into her life. In Four Winds it surrounded her and called to her constantly. From every window of her new home she saw some varying aspect of it. Its haunting murmur was ever in her ears. Vessels sailed up the harbor every day to the wharf at the Glen, or sailed out again through the sunset, bound for ports that might be half way round the globe. Fishing boats went white-winged down the channel in the mornings, and returned laden in the evenings. Sailors and fisher-folk travelled the red, winding harbor roads, light-hearted and content. There was always a certain sense of things going to happenā€”of adventures and farings-forth. The ways of Four Winds were less staid and settled and grooved than those of Avonlea; winds of change blew over them; the sea called ever to the dwellers on shore, and even those who might not answer its call felt the thrill and unrest and mystery and possibilities of it.

ā€œI understand now why some men must go to sea,ā€ said Anne. ā€œThat desire which comes to us all at timesā€”`to sail beyond the bourne of sunsetā€™ā€”must be very imperious when it is born in you. I donā€™t wonder Captain Jim ran away because of it. I never see a ship sailing out of the channel, or a gull soaring over the sandbar, without wishing I were on board the ship or had wings, not like a dove `to fly away and be at rest,ā€™ but like a gull, to sweep out into the very heart of a storm.ā€

ā€œYouā€™ll stay right here with me, Anne-girl,ā€ said Gilbert lazily. ā€œI wonā€™t have you flying away from me into the hearts of storms.ā€

They were sitting on their red sandstone doorstep in the late afternoon. Great tranquillities were all about them in land and sea and sky. Silvery gulls were soaring over them. The horizons were laced with long trails of frail, pinkish clouds. The hushed air was threaded with a murmurous refrain of minstrel winds and waves. Pale asters were blowing in the sere and misty meadows between them and the harbor.

ā€œDoctors who have to be up all night waiting on sick folk donā€™t feel very adventurous, I suppose,ā€ Anne said indulgently. ā€œIf you had had a good sleep last night, Gilbert, youā€™d be as ready as I am for a flight of imagination.ā€

ā€œI did good work

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