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"You set your heart too much on things, Anne," said Marilla, with a sigh. "I'm afraid there'll be a great many disappointments in store for you through life."

"Oh, Marilla, looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them," exclaimed Anne.

"You mayn't get the things themselves; but nothing can prevent you from having the fun of looking forward to them.

Mrs. Lynde says, 'Blessed are they who expect nothing for they shall not be disappointed.' But I think it would be worse to expect nothing than to be disappointed."

Marilla wore her amethyst brooch to church that day as usual.

Marilla always wore her amethyst brooch to church.

She would have thought it rather sacrilegious to leave it off-as bad as forgetting her Bible or her collection dime.

That amethyst brooch was Marilla's most treasured possession.

A seafaring uncle had given it to her mother who in turn had bequeathed it to Marilla.

It was an old-fashioned oval, containing a braid of her mother's hair, surrounded by a border of very fine amethysts.

Marilla knew too little about precious stones to realize how fine the amethysts actually were; but she thought them very beautiful and was always pleasantly conscious of their violet shimmer at her throat, above her good brown satin dress, even although she could not see it.

Anne had been smitten with delighted admiration when she first saw that brooch.

"Oh, Marilla, it's a perfectly elegant brooch.

I don't know how you can pay attention to the sermon or the prayers when you have it on.

I couldn't, I know.

I think amethysts are just sweet.

They are what I used to think diamonds were like.

Long ago, before I had ever seen a diamond, I read about them and I tried to imagine what they would be like.

I thought they would be lovely glimmering purple stones.

When I saw a real diamond in a lady's ring one day I was so disappointed I cried.

Of course, it was very lovely but it wasn't my idea of a diamond.

Will you let me hold the brooch for one minute, Marilla? Do you think amethysts can be the souls of good violets?"

ON the Monday evening before the picnic Marilla came down from her room with a troubled face.

"Anne," she said to that small personage, who was shelling peas by the spotless table and singing, "Nelly of the Hazel Dell" with a vigor and expression that did credit to Diana's teaching, "did you see anything of my amethyst brooch? I thought I stuck it in my pincushion when I came home from church yesterday evening, but I can't find it anywhere."

CHAPTER XIV. Anne's Confession

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