as
usual. Her thoughts were on the island with the children; would it not
be best for them that she should accept the offered allowance, and go
with this strange grandaunt of hers, enduring as best she might her cold
severity? Miss Lois's income was small; the allowance would make the
little household comfortable. A second winter in New York would enable
her to take a higher place as teacher, and also give the self-confidence
she lacked. Yes; it was best.

But a great and overwhelming loneliness rose in her heart at the thought
of another long year's delay before she could be with those she loved.
Rast's last letter was in her pocket; she took it out, and held it in
her hand for comfort. In it he had written of the sure success of his
future; and Anne believed it as fully as he did. Her hand grew warmer as
she held the sheet, and as she recalled his sanguine words. She began to
feel courageous again. Then another thought came to her: must she tell
Miss Vanhorn of her engagement? In their new conditions, would it not be
dishonest to keep the truth back? "I do not see that it can be of any
interest to her," she said to herself. "Still, I prefer to tell her."
And then, having made her decision, she went to Tante.

Tante was charmed with the news (and with the success of her plan). She
discoursed upon family affection in very beautiful language. "You will
find a true well-spring of love in the heart of your venerable
relative," she remarked, raising her delicate handkerchief, like the
suggestion of a happiness that reached even to tears. "Long, long have I
held your cherished grandaunt in a warm corner of my memory and heart."

This was true as regarded the time and warmth; only the latter was of a
somewhat peppery nature.

The next morning Helen was told the news. She threw back her head in
comic despair. "The old dragon has taken the game out of my hands at
last," she said, "and ended all the sport. Excuse the title, Anne. But I
am morally certain she has all sorts of vinegarish names for me. And
now--am I to congratulate you upon your new home?"

"It is more a matter of duty, I think, than congratulation," said Anne,
thoughtfully. "And next, I must tell her of my engagement."

"I wouldn't, if I were you, Crystal."

"Why?"

"She would rather have you free."

"I shall be free, as far as she is concerned."

"Do not be too sure of that. And take my advice--do not tell her."

Anne, however, paid no heed to this