Chapter X - Page 2

lonesome. But then,
I may as well get used to that."

Anne smiled again, bravely facing the long years of
solitary imprisonment before her.

Matthew recollected that he must say what he had come
to say without loss of time, lest Marilla return prematurely.
"Well now, Anne, don't you think you'd better do it and
have it over with?" he whispered. "It'll have to be done
sooner or later, you know, for Marilla's a dreadful deter-
mined woman--dreadful determined, Anne. Do it right off,
I say, and have it over."

"Do you mean apologize to Mrs. Lynde?"

"Yes--apologize--that's the very word," said Matthew eagerly.
"Just smooth it over so to speak. That's what I was trying
to get at."

"I suppose I could do it to oblige you," said Anne
thoughtfully. "It would be true enough to say I am sorry,
because I AM sorry now. I wasn't a bit sorry last night.
I was mad clear through, and I stayed mad all night. I know
I did because I woke up three times and I was just furious
every time. But this morning it was over. I wasn't in a
temper anymore--and it left a dreadful sort of goneness,
too. I felt so ashamed of myself. But I just couldn't think
of going and telling Mrs. Lynde so. It would be so humili-
ating. I made up my mind I'd stay shut up here forever
rather than do that. But still--I'd do anything for you--if
you really want me to--"

"Well now, of course I do. It's terrible lonesome
downstairs without you. Just go and smooth things over--
that's a good girl."

"Very well," said Anne resignedly. "I'll tell Marilla as
soon as she comes in I've repented."

"That's right--that's right, Anne. But don't tell Marilla I
said anything about it. She might think I was putting my oar
in and I promised not to do that."

"Wild horses won't drag the secret from me," promised Anne
solemnly. "How would wild horses drag a secret from a
person anyhow?"

But Matthew was gone, scared at his own success. He fled
hastily to the remotest corner of the horse pasture lest
Marilla should suspect what he had been up to. Marilla herself,
upon her return to the house, was agreeably surprised to hear a
plaintive voice calling, "Marilla" over the banisters.

"Well?" she said, going into the hall.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper and said rude things, and
I'm willing to go and tell Mrs. Lynde so."

"Very well." Marilla's crispness gave no sign of her
relief. She had been wondering what under the canopy she
should do if Anne did not give in. "I'll take you down
after milking."

Accordingly, after milking, behold Marilla and Anne
walking down the lane, the former erect and triumphant,
the latter drooping and dejected. But halfway down