The maple grove was beginning to be misty green.

Rilla looked about her with wistful eyes.

Who said that spring was the joy of the year?
It was the heart-break of the year.

And the pale-purply mornings and the daffodil stars and the wind in the old pine were so many separate pangs of the heart-break.

Would life ever be free from dread again?
"It's good to see P.E.I.twilight once more," said Walter, joining her.
"I didn't really remember that the sea was so blue and the roads so red and the wood nooks so wild and fairy haunted.