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1"Well now, I'm afraid I can't," said Matthew, who was getting a little dizzy. He felt as he had once felt in his rash
2youth when another boy had enticed him on the merry-go-round at a picnic. "Well, whatever it was it must have been
3something nice because she was divinely beautiful. Have you ever imagined what it must feel like to be divinely
4beautiful?" "Well now, no, I haven't," confessed Matthew ingenuously. "I have, often. Which would you rather be if you
5had the choice--divinely beautiful or dazzlingly clever or angelically good?" "Well now, I--I don't know exactly."
6"Neither do I. I can never decide. But it doesn't make much real difference for it isn't likely I'll ever be either.
7It's certain I'll never be angelically good. Mrs. Spencer says--oh, Mr. Cuthbert! Oh, Mr. Cuthbert!! Oh, Mr.
8Cuthbert!!!" That was not what Mrs. Spencer had said; neither had the child tumbled out of the buggy nor had Matthew
9done anything astonishing. They had simply rounded a curve in the road and found themselves in the "Avenue." The
10"Avenue," so called by the Newbridge people, was a stretch of road four or five hundred yards long, completely arched
11over with huge, wide-spreading apple-trees, planted years ago by an eccentric old farmer. Overhead was one long canopy
12of snowy fragrant bloom. Below the boughs the air was full of a purple twilight and far ahead a glimpse of painted
13sunset sky shone like a great rose window at the end of a cathedral aisle. Its beauty seemed to strike the child dumb.
14She leaned back in the buggy, her thin hands clasped before her, her face lifted rapturously to the white splendor
15above. Even when they had passed out and were driving down the long slope to Newbridge she never moved or spoke. Still
16with rapt face she gazed afar into the sunset west, with eyes that saw visions trooping splendidly across that glowing
17background. Through Newbridge, a bustling little village where dogs barked at them and small boys hooted and curious
18faces peered from the windows, they drove, still in silence. When three more miles had dropped away behind them the
19child had not spoken. She could keep silence, it was evident, as energetically as she could talk. "I guess you're
20feeling pretty tired and hungry," Matthew ventured to say at last, accounting for her long visitation of dumbness with
21the only reason he could think of. "But we haven't very far to go now--only another mile." She came out of her reverie
22with a deep sigh and looked at him with the dreamy gaze of a soul that had been wondering afar, star-led. "Oh, Mr.
23Cuthbert," she whispered, "that place we came through--that white place--what was it?" "Well now, you must mean the
24Avenue," said Matthew after a few moments' profound reflection. "It is a kind of pretty place." "Pretty? Oh, pretty
25doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful--wonderful.
26It's the first thing I ever saw that couldn't be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfied me here"--she put one
27hand on her breast--"it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr.
28Cuthbert?" "Well now, I just can't recollect that I ever had." "I have it lots of times--whenever I see anything royally
29beautiful. But they shouldn't call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should
30call it--let me see--the White Way of Delight. Isn't that a nice imaginative name? When I don't like the name of a place
31or a person I always imagine a new one and always think of them so. There was a girl at the asylum whose name was
32Hepzibah Jenkins, but I always imagined her as Rosalia DeVere. Other people may call that place the Avenue, but I shall
33always call it the White Way of Delight. Have we really only another mile to go before we get home? I'm glad and I'm
34sorry. I'm sorry because this drive has been so pleasant and I'm always sorry when pleasant things end. Something still
35pleasanter may come after, but you can never be sure. And it's so often the case that it isn't pleasanter. That has been
36my experience anyhow. But I'm glad to think of getting home. You see, I've never had a real home since I can remember.
37It gives me that pleasant ache again just to think of coming to a really truly home. Oh, isn't that pretty!" They had
38driven over the crest of a hill. Below them was a pond, looking almost like a river so long and winding was it. A bridge
39spanned it midway and from there to its lower end, where an amber-hued belt of sand-hills shut it in from the dark blue
40gulf beyond, the water was a glory of many shifting hues--the most spiritual shadings of crocus and rose and ethereal
41green, with other elusive tintings for which no name has ever been found. Above the bridge the pond ran up into fringing
42groves of fir and maple and lay all darkly translucent in their wavering shadows. Here and there a wild plum leaned out
43from the bank like a white-clad girl tiptoeing to her own reflection. From the marsh at the head of the pond came the
44clear, mournfully-sweet chorus of the frogs. There was a little gray house peering around a white apple orchard on a
45slope beyond and, although it was not yet quite dark, a light was shining from one of its windows. "That's Barry's
46pond," said Matthew. "Oh, I don't like that name, either. I shall call it--let me see--the Lake of Shining Waters. Yes,
47that is the right name for it. I know because of the thrill. When I hit on a name that suits exactly it gives me a
48thrill. Do things ever give you a thrill?" Matthew ruminated. "Well now, yes. It always kind of gives me a thrill to see
49them ugly white grubs that spade up in the cucumber beds. I hate the look of them." "Oh, I don't think that can be
50exactly the same kind of a thrill. Do you think it can? There doesn't seem to be much connection between grubs and lakes
51of shining waters, does there? But why do other people call it Barry's pond?" "I reckon because Mr. Barry lives up there
52in that house. Orchard Slope's the name of his place. If it wasn't for that big bush behind it you could see Green
53Gables from here. But we have to go over the bridge and round by the road, so it's near half a mile further." "Has Mr.
54Barry any little girls? Well, not so very little either--about my size." "He's got one about eleven. Her name is Diana."
55"Oh!" with a long indrawing of breath. "What a perfectly lovely name!" "Well now, I dunno. There's something dreadful
56heathenish about it, seems to me. I'd ruther Jane or Mary or some sensible name like that. But when Diana was born there
57was a schoolmaster boarding there and they gave him the naming of her and he called her Diana." "I wish there had been a
58schoolmaster like that around when I was born, then. Oh, here we are at the bridge. I'm going to shut my eyes tight. I'm
59always afraid going over bridges. I can't help imagining that perhaps, just as we get to the middle, they'll crumple up
60like a jack-knife and nip us. So I shut my eyes. But I always have to open them for all when I think we're getting near
61the middle. Because, you see, if the bridge did crumple up I'd want to see it crumple. What a jolly rumble it makes! I
62always like the rumble part of it. Isn't it splendid there are so many things to like in this world? There, we're over.
63Now I'll look back. Good night, dear Lake of Shining Waters. I always say good night to the things I love, just as I
64would to people. I think they like it. That water looks as if it was smiling at me." When they had driven up the further
65hill and around a corner Matthew said: "We're pretty near home now. That's Green Gables over--" "Oh, don't tell me," she
66interrupted breathlessly, catching at his partially raised arm and shutting her eyes that she might not see his gesture.
67"Let me guess. I'm sure I'll guess right."
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