In the night she awakened, with the stillness and the darkness about her, and the recollection of the day came over her like a wave of sorrow. She could see Matthew’s face smiling at her as he had smiled when they parted at the gate that last evening⁠—she could hear his voice saying, “My girl⁠—my girl that I’m proud of.” Then the tears came and Anne wept her heart out. Marilla heard her and crept in to comfort her.

“There⁠—there⁠—don’t cry so, dearie. It can’t bring him back. It⁠—it⁠—isn’t right to cry so. I knew that today, but I couldn’t help it then. He’d always been such a good, kind brother to me⁠—but God knows best.”

“Oh, just let me cry, Marilla,” sobbed Anne. “The tears don’t hurt me like that ache did. Stay here for a little while with me and keep your arm round me⁠—so. I couldn’t have Diana stay, she’s good and kind and sweet⁠—but it’s not her sorrow⁠—she’s outside of it and she couldn’t come close enough to my heart to help me. It’s our sorrow⁠—yours and mine. Oh, Marilla, what will we do without him?”