the eaves she heard sad voices in it she had never
heard before.

Kindly callers hurt her, too, with the well-meant platitudes with which
they strove to cover the nakedness of bereavement. A letter from Phil
Blake was an added sting. Phil had heard of the baby's birth, but not
of its death, and she wrote Anne a congratulatory letter of sweet mirth
which hurt her horribly.

"I would have laughed over it so happily if I had my baby," she sobbed
to Marilla. "But when I haven't it just seems like wanton
cruelty--though I know Phil wouldn't hurt me for the world. Oh,
Marilla, I don't see how I can EVER be happy again--EVERYTHING will
hurt me all the rest of my life."

"Time will help you," said Marilla, who was racked with sympathy but
could never learn to express it in other than age-worn formulas.

"It doesn't seem FAIR," said Anne rebelliously. "Babies are born and
live where they are not wanted--where they will be neglected--where
they will have no chance. I would have loved my baby so--and cared for
it so tenderly--and tried to give her every chance for good. And yet I
wasn't allowed to keep her."

"It was God's will, Anne," said Marilla, helpless before the riddle of
the universe--the WHY of undeserved pain. "And little Joy is better
off."

"I can't believe THAT," cried Anne bitterly. Then, seeing that Marilla
looked shocked, she added passionately, "Why should she be born at
all--why should any one be born at all--if she's better off dead? I
DON'T believe it is better for a child to die at birth than to live its
life out--and love and be loved--and enjoy and suffer--and do its
work--and develop a character that would give it a personality in
eternity. And how do you know it was God's will? Perhaps it was just
a thwarting of His purpose by the Power of Evil. We can't be expected
to be resigned to THAT."

"Oh, Anne, don't talk so," said Marilla, genuinely alarmed lest Anne
were drifting into deep and dangerous waters. "We can't
understand--but we must have faith--we MUST believe that all is for the
best. I know you find it hard to think so, just now. But try to be
brave--for Gilbert's sake. He's so worried about you. You aren't
getting strong as fast as you should."

"Oh, I know I've been very selfish," sighed Anne. "I love Gilbert more
than ever--and I want to live for his sake. But it seems as if part of
me was buried over there in that little harbor graveyard--and it hurts
so much that