The Shadow of Change

           “Harvestisendedandsummerisgone,”quotedAnneShirley,gazingacrosstheshornfieldsdreamily.SheandDianaBarryhadbeenpickingapplesintheGreenGablesorchard,butwerenowrestingfromtheirlaborsinasunnycorner,whereairyfleetsofthistledowndriftedbyonthewingsofawindthatwasstillsummer-sweetwiththeincenseoffernsintheHauntedWood.

           Buteverythinginthelandscapearoundthemspokeofautumn.Theseawasroaringhollowlyinthedistance,thefieldswerebareandsere,scarfedwithgoldenrod,thebrookvalleybelowGreenGablesoverflowedwithastersofetherealpurple,andtheLakeofShiningWaterswasblueblueblue;notthechangefulblueofspring,northepaleazureofsummer,butaclear,steadfast,sereneblue,asifthewaterwerepastallmoodsandtensesofemotionandhadsettleddowntoatranquilityunbrokenbyfickledreams.

           “Ithasbeenanicesummer,”saidDiana,twistingthenewringonherlefthandwithasmile.“AndMissLavendar’sweddingseemedtocomeasasortofcrowntoit.IsupposeMr.andMrs.IrvingareonthePacificcoastnow.”

           “Itseemstometheyhavebeengonelongenoughtogoaroundtheworld,”sighedAnne.

           “Ican’tbelieveitisonlyaweeksincetheyweremarried.Everythinghaschanged.MissLavendarandMr.andMrs.Allangonehowlonelythemanselookswiththeshuttersallclosed!Iwentpastitlastnight,anditmademefeelasifeverybodyinithaddied.”

           “We’llnevergetanotherministerasniceasMr.Allan,”saidDiana,withgloomyconviction.

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