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Even the fly could look about more in the world, far beyond the Dryad's horizon. France was so great and so glorious, but she could only look across a little piece of it. The land stretched out, world-wide, with vineyards, forests and great cities. Of all these Paris was the most splendid and the mightiest. The birds could get there; but she, never!
Lesbos and verdant Thasos thee adore, And Lydians, in loose flowing dress implore, And raise devoted temples to thy power. Thou Dryad's joy, and Bacchus's guardian, hear My conscious prayer, with an attentive ear. My hands with guiltless blood I never stain'd, Or sacrilegiously the gods prophan'd. To feeble me, restoring blessings send, I did not thee, with my whole self offend.
Having the minister and his wife to tea was a serious and important undertaking, and Marilla was determined not to be eclipsed by any of the Avonlea housekeepers. Anne was wild with excitement and delight. She talked it all over with Diana Tuesday night in the twilight, as they sat on the big red stones by the Dryad's Bubble and made rainbows in the water with little twigs dipped in fir balsam.
"This wood really is haunted now by old memories," said Anne, stooping to gather a spray of ferns, bleached to waxen whiteness by frost. "It seems to me that the little girls Diana and I used to be play here still, and sit by the Dryad's Bubble in the twilights, trysting with the ghosts. Do you know, I can never go up this path in the dusk without feeling a bit of the old fright and shiver?
He writes, when he ought, with a finely appropriate regularity, as in the lovely line on the forest glades That fear the faun's and know the dryad's foot, in which the rule is completely kept, every step of the five stepping from the unaccented place to the accented without a tremor.
They knew all the spots their mother had loved so well in her girlhood at old Green Gables the long Lover's Lane, that was pink-hedged in wild-rose time, the always neat yard, with its willows and poplars, the Dryad's Bubble, lucent and lovely as of yore, the Lake of Shining Waters, and Willowmere.
Occasionally they went there to get a drink, and it figured in many of their plays as a fountain of old romance. Anne knew of it and loved it because it somehow reminded her of the beloved Dryad's Bubble at Green Gables. Rosemary West knew of it; it was her fountain of romance, too.
The Dryad often thought of her; for she had the same wish, and felt the same longing for the great city. The Dryad's tree was bearing its first chestnut blossoms; the birds were twittering round them in the most beautiful sunshine. Then a stately carriage came rolling along that way, and in it sat a grand lady driving the spirited, light-footed horses.
Anne, on her way to Orchard Slope, met Diana, bound for Green Gables, just where the mossy old log bridge spanned the brook below the Haunted Wood, and they sat down by the margin of the Dryad's Bubble, where tiny ferns were unrolling like curly-headed green pixy folk wakening up from a nap. "I was just on my way over to invite you to help me celebrate my birthday on Saturday," said Anne.
She and Diana fairly lived outdoors, reveling in all the delights that Lover's Lane and the Dryad's Bubble and Willowmere and Victoria Island afforded. Marilla offered no objections to Anne's gypsyings.
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