immensely wealthy. But then, alas, shadows began to darken over their
path. Cordelia was secretly in love with Bertram herself and when
Geraldine told her about the engagement she was simply furious,
especially when she saw the necklace and the diamond ring. All her
affection for Geraldine turned to bitter hate and she vowed that she
should never marry Bertram. But she pretended to be Geraldine s friend
the same as ever. One evening they were standing on the bridge over a
rushing turbulent stream and Cordelia, thinking they were alone, pushed
Geraldine over the brink with a wild, mocking, Ha, ha, ha. But Bertram
saw it all and he at once plunged into the current, exclaiming, I
will save thee, my peerless Geraldine. But alas, he had forgotten he
couldn t swim, and they were both drowned, clasped in each other s arms.
Their bodies were washed ashore soon afterwards. They were buried in the
one grave and their funeral was most imposing, Diana. It s so much
more romantic to end a story up with a funeral than a wedding. As for
Cordelia, she went insane with remorse and was shut up in a lunatic
asylum. I thought that was a poetical retribution for her crime.
How perfectly lovely! sighed Diana, who belonged to Matthew s school
of critics. I don t see how you can make up such thrilling things out
of your own head, Anne. I wish my imagination was as good as yours.
It would be if you d only cultivate it, said Anne cheeringly. I ve
just thought of a plan, Diana. Let you and me have a story club all our
own and write stories for practice. I ll help you along until you can
do them by yourself. You ought to cultivate your imagination, you know.
Miss Stacy says so. Only we must take the right way. I told her about
the Haunted Wood, but she said we went the wrong way about it in that.
This was how the story club came into existence. It was limited to Diana
and Anne at first, but soon it was extended to include Jane Andrews
and Ruby Gillis and one or two others who felt that their imaginations
needed cultivating. No boys were allowed in it--although Ruby Gillis
opined that their admission would make it more exciting--and each member
had to produce one story a week.
It s extremely interesting, Anne told Marilla. Each girl has to read
her story out loud and then we talk it over. We are going to keep them
all sacredly and have them to read to our descendants. We each write
under a nom-de-plume. Mine is Rosamond Montmorency. All the girls
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