The fine, empurpling dye of sunset still stained the western skies, but the moon was rising and the water lay like a great, silver dream in her light.
Remembrance wove a sweet and subtle spell over the two young creatures.
"You are very quiet, Anne," said Gilbert at last.
"I'm afraid to speak or move for fear all this wonderful beauty will vanish just like a broken silence," breathed Anne.
Gilbert suddenly laid his hand over the slender white one lying on the rail of the bridge.

His hazel eyes deepened into darkness, his still boyish lips opened to say something of the dream and hope that thrilled his soul.

But Anne snatched her hand away and turned quickly.

The spell of the dusk was broken for her.
"I must go home," she exclaimed, with a rather overdone carelessness.
"Marilla had a headache this afternoon, and I'm sure the twins will be in some dreadful mischief by this time.

I really shouldn't have stayed away so long." She chattered ceaselessly and inconsequently until they reached the Green Gables lane.