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since it happenedā ā€”and I want to be. I want to be quite silent and quiet and try to realize it. I canā€™t realize it. Half the time it seems to me that Matthew canā€™t be dead; and the other half it seems as if he must have been dead for a long time and Iā€™ve had this horrible dull ache ever since.ā€

Diana did not quite understand. Marillaā€™s impassioned grief, breaking all the bounds of natural reserve and lifelong habit in its stormy rush, she could comprehend better than Anneā€™s tearless agony. But she went away kindly, leaving Anne alone to keep her first vigil with sorrow.

Anne hoped that the tears would come in solitude. It seemed to her a terrible thing that she could not shed a tear for Matthew, whom she had loved so much and who had been so kind to her, Matthew who had walked with her last evening at sunset and was now lying in the dim room below with that awful peace on his brow. But no tears came at first, even when she knelt by her window in the darkness and prayed, looking up to the stars beyond the hillsā ā€”no tears, only the same horrible dull ache of misery that kept on aching until she fell asleep, worn out with the dayā€™s pain and excitement.

In the night she awakened, with the stillness and the darkness about her, and the recollection of the day came over her like a wave of sorrow. She could see Matthewā€™s face smiling at her as he had smiled when they parted at the gate that last eveningā ā€”she could hear his voice saying, ā€œMy girlā ā€”my girl that Iā€™m proud of.ā€ Then the tears came and Anne wept her heart out. Marilla heard her and crept in to comfort her.

ā€œThereā ā€”thereā ā€”donā€™t cry so, dearie. It canā€™t bring him back. Itā ā€”itā ā€”isnā€™t right to cry so. I knew that today, but I couldnā€™t help it then. Heā€™d always been such a good, kind brother to meā ā€”but God knows best.ā€

ā€œOh, just let me cry, Marilla,ā€ sobbed Anne. ā€œThe tears donā€™t hurt me like that ache did. Stay here for a little while with me and keep your arm round meā ā€”so. I couldnā€™t have Diana stay, sheā€™s good and kind and sweetā ā€”but itā€™s not her sorrowā ā€”sheā€™s outside of it and she couldnā€™t come close enough to my heart to help me. Itā€™s our sorrowā ā€”yours and mine. Oh, Marilla, what will we do without him?ā€

ā€œWeā€™ve got each other, Anne. I donā€™t know what Iā€™d do if you werenā€™t hereā ā€”if youā€™d never come. Oh, Anne, I know Iā€™ve been kind of strict and harsh with you maybeā ā€”but you mustnā€™t think I didnā€™t love you as well as Matthew did, for all that. I want to tell you now when I can. Itā€™s never been easy for me to say things out of my heart, but at times like this itā€™s easier. I love you as dear as if you were my own flesh and blood and youā€™ve been my joy and comfort ever since you came to Green Gables.ā€

Two days afterwards they carried Matthew Cuthbert over his homestead threshold and away from the fields he had tilled and the orchards he had loved and the trees he had planted; and then Avonlea settled back to its usual placidity and even at Green Gables affairs slipped into their old groove and work was done and duties fulfilled with regularity as before, although always with the aching sense of ā€œloss in all familiar things.ā€ Anne, new to grief, thought it almost sad that it could be soā ā€”that they could go on in the old way without Matthew. She felt something like shame and remorse when she discovered that the sunrises behind the firs and the pale pink buds opening in the garden gave her the old inrush of gladness when she saw themā ā€”that Dianaā€™s visits were pleasant to her and that Dianaā€™s merry words and ways moved her to laughter and smilesā ā€”that, in brief, the beautiful world of blossom and love and friendship had lost none of its power to please her fancy and thrill her heart, that life still called to her with many insistent voices.

ā€œIt seems like disloyalty to Matthew, somehow, to find pleasure in these things now that he has gone,ā€ she said wistfully to Mrs. Allan one evening when they were together in the manse garden. ā€œI miss him so muchā ā€”all the timeā ā€”and yet, Mrs. Allan, the world and life seem very beautiful and interesting to me for all. Today Diana said something funny and I found myself laughing. I thought when it happened I could never laugh again. And it somehow seems as if I oughtnā€™t to.ā€

ā€œWhen Matthew was here he liked to hear you laugh and he liked to know that you found pleasure in the pleasant things around you,ā€ said Mrs. Allan gently. ā€œHe is just away now; and he likes to know it just the same. I am sure we should not shut our hearts against the healing influences that nature offers us. But I can understand your feeling. I think we all experience the same thing. We resent the thought that anything can please us when someone we love is no longer here to share the pleasure with us, and we almost feel as if we were unfaithful to our sorrow when we find our interest in life returning to us.ā€

ā€œI was down to the graveyard to plant a rosebush on Matthewā€™s grave this afternoon,ā€ said Anne dreamily. ā€œI took a slip of the little white Scotch rosebush his mother brought out from Scotland long ago; Matthew always liked those roses the bestā ā€”they were so small and sweet on their thorny stems. It made me feel glad that I could plant it by his graveā ā€”as if I were doing something that must please him in taking it there to be near him. I hope he has roses like them in heaven. Perhaps the souls of all those little white roses that he has loved

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