Anne stayed up all night in her room, thinking about the fact that Gilbert was dying.
The rain beat down and the wind roared terribly outside.
With the possibility of Gilbert gone forever, she knew now that she loved him—she had always loved him!
If she had not been so blind . . . so foolish . . . she could be nursing him now.
Anne sobbed. Gilbert would never know how she felt; he would die thinking that she did not care.
Anne ached at the thought of life without Gilbert—the black years of emptiness stretching before her!
She cowered down by her window and wished, for the first time in her happy young life, that she could die too.
Early the next morning, she drove the buggy as fast as she could to the Blythe house.
On the way she met one of the men who worked for Mr. Blythe.
"Do you have any news of Gilbert Blythe?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yes, I do," the man said. "He suddenly got much better late last night, and the doctor said he'll recover. I think he'll be all right."
Anne turned the buggy around and drove slowly back to Green Gables.
She could not think straight. Her head was buzzing, and she felt more alive than she had in a long time.
This was love! For Anne it was the most beautiful morning she had ever seen.
The birds were singing, the sun was shining brightly, and best of all, Gilbert was alive.
After his recovery Gilbert visited Green Gables quite often.
Anne did not mention her change in feelings to him.
She believed that Gilbert and Christine Stuart were still a couple.
So Anne tried her best to be just friends.
It was difficult, though, because Anne no longer wanted friendship; she wanted Gilbert's love.
Anne was haunted by a miserable fear that her mistake could never be fixed.
When Gilbert came to Green Gables one afternoon, Anne was waiting for him.
They walked to the graveyard together to put flowers on Matthew's grave.
It was spring again, and the graveyard was particularly beautiful with all the plum trees in bloom.
Anne gently put the flowers on Matthew's grave, and then sat under a tree with Gilbert.
"This place is so beautiful," said Anne softly. "It's like a dream."
"Do you have any dreams, Anne?" asked Gilbert.
The tone of his voice sounded different, the way it had sounded that miserable evening in the orchard at Patty's Place over a year ago.
Anne's heart beat wildly. Despite trembling inside she gave a light answer.
"Of course, I have dreams!" she said. "Everybody has.
We would be as good as dead if we had nothing left to dream about!"
Gilbert turned to look at Anne. "I have a dream," he said.
"I persist in dreaming it, although it has often seemed to me that it could never come true.
I dream of a nice home with a fireplace in it, a cat and a dog, a big garden with fruits and vegetables, good friends coming to visit . . . and you!
You are my dream, Anne. You always have been."
Anne wanted to speak, but she could find no words.
Happiness was breaking over her like a wave. It almost frightened her.
"I asked you a question over two years ago, Anne," Gilbert said.
"If I ask it again today, will you give me a different answer?"
Anne still could not speak, but she lifted her head and looked steadily into Gilbert's eyes.
She could look nowhere else. Her eyes shone with love, and Gilbert needed no other answer.
Gilbert dared to smile, and then Anne smiled too.
She was almost afraid to believe that what was happening was true.
"Surely, this is a dream," she thought.
"Gilbert, my love, my true love, telling me he loves me, on a beautiful afternoon in Avonlea . . . "
"I thought you loved Christine Stuart," Anne later told him reproachfully, as if she had never gone out with Roy Gardner.
Gilbert laughed. "Christine was engaged to somebody in her hometown.
I knew it, and she knew that I knew it. I was friends with her brother.
He told me his sister was coming to Halifax, and asked me if I would look after her. So I did."
Gilbert continued, "Christine is one of the nicest girls I've ever known.
I knew college gossip said we were in love, but I didn't care.
After you told me you could never love me, Anne, nothing mattered much to me for a while.
There was nobody else. There never could be anybody but you for me.
I've loved you ever since that day you broke your slate over my head in school."
"I don't see how you could keep on loving me when I was such a little fool," said Anne.
"Well, I tried to stop," said Gilbert honestly, "and it wasn't easy being told every week by some busybody that you were almost engaged!
Things only changed a few weeks ago.
I had been really sick—close to dying, the doctor said—when a letter arrived from Phil Gordon.
She told me that there was nothing between you and Roy, and that I should try again.
Well, the doctor was amazed at my rapid recovery after that." Gilbert smiled lovingly at Anne.
Anne laughed and then shivered. "I can never forget the night I thought you were dying, Gilbert.
Oh, I knew . . . I knew then how much I loved you . . . and I feared it was too late."
"But it wasn't, Anne, my love," Gilbert said, and he drew Anne close to him and kissed her.
They walked home together in the dusk, happy and together in love.