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"It's been some time now since we've had a necktie party and it's bound to come. The wonder is it hasn't come before." Gilbert and Grover, comparatively elderly men, said nothing, looked nothing; but upon the faces of the half-dozen cowboys there appeared distinct anticipation.
"There must be some mistake . . . there must. I knew those Pyes would make a mess of things." Mrs. Lynde drove home, meeting several people on the road and stopping to tell them about the hall. The news flew like wildfire. Gilbert Blythe, poring over a text book at home, heard it from his father's hired boy at sunset, and rushed breathlessly to Green Gables, joined on the way by Fred Wright.
Maurice wanted her to reverse the declaration that Gilbert had done wrong; but, alas! this could not be, and she was obliged to send him out with his little sister, hoping that he would work off his grief by exercise. It was mournful to see the first shadow of the penalty of sin falling on the Eden of his childhood! With an aching heart, she went in search of Lucy, who had taken sanctuary in Mrs.
"He went out of the room, shutting the door quietly after him. That afternoon I left for Frascati, where I'd promised to spend the Sunday with some friends. I was glad to escape from Gilbert, and by the same token, as I learned that night, I had also escaped from the eyes.
The tirewoman went down to the river-bank, at some distance, and they sat upon the big stone, hand in hand like two children, and looked at each other. Suddenly the girl's face lightened, as if she had just found out that she was glad; her eyes laughed, and her voice was as happy as a bird's at sunrise. Gilbert had not seen her for a long time.
Here might be seen the swarthy Bohemian, the stern Thuringian rider, the gay Loinhard, and the gigantic Swiss, all mingling together, and apparently indifferent as to where they might be led. Gilbert de Hers felt a new and ardent delight in gazing upon the long and dazzling array of helmets and spears.
Indeed, they were a most cordial pair. But for all that, their acquaintance had not ripened into friendship. Evidently Christine was not a kindred spirit. "Are you going to be in Avonlea all summer?" asked Gilbert. "No. I'm going down east to Valley Road next week. Esther Haythorne wants me to teach for her through July and August.
"No, my dear," interrupted Lady Selina; "no, the title does not come to us. It is a melancholy thought, but the marquisate, in that case, is extinct. No other heir-male from Gilbert, the first marquess. Carr says there is even likely to be some dispute about the earldom. "He is not here?" "No. Lord Montfort does not like him. Very natural.
Let's chuck it for a while. You're obviously off colour, and a holiday'll do you good. Let's go out somewhere for the day anyhow. I've a first night this evening. We'll wind up with that!" "What's the play?" Henry asked. "A revival. They're bringing Wilde's 'The Ideal Husband' on at the St. James's again," Gilbert answered. "Alexander's very good in it...."
I should be glad to leave my name upon something." In a stranger's hand, and upon another sheet of paper, Gilbert read the end of his friend's history. "Sir, I regret to inform you that your friend Mr.
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