Rilla of Ingleside

By Lucy Maud Montgomery

Rilla of Ingleside is the final book in the Anne of Green Gables series, but was the sixth of the eight "Anne" novels. This book draws the focus back onto a single character, Anne, and Gilbert's youngest daughter, Bertha Marilla "Rilla" Blythe. It has a more serious tone, as it takes place during World War I and the three Blythe boys-- Jem, Walter, and Shirley-- along with Rilla's sweetheart Ken Ford, and playmates Jerry Meredith and Carl Meredith-- end up fighting in Europe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Start Publishing LLC
• Release date: Dec 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781625585295

Lucy Maud Montgomery

L. M. (Lucy Maud) Montgomery (1874-1942) was a Canadian author who published 20 novels and hundreds of short stories, poems, and essays. She is best known for the Anne of Green Gables series. Montgomery was born in Clifton (now New London) on Prince Edward Island on November 30, 1874. Raised by her maternal grandparents, she grew up in relative isolation and loneliness, developing her creativity with imaginary friends and dreaming of becoming a published writer. Her first book, Anne of Green Gables, was published in 1908 and was an immediate success, establishing Montgomery's career as a writer, which she continued for the remainder of her life.

Book preview

Dew of Morning

Outside, the Ingleside lawn was full of golden pools of sunshine and plots of alluring shadows. Rilla Blythe was swinging in the hammock under the big Scotch pine, Gertrude Oliver sat at its roots beside her, and Walter was stretched at full length on the grass, lost in a romance of chivalry wherein old heroes and beauties of dead and gone centuries lived vividly again for him.

Rilla was the baby of the Blythe family and was in a chronic state of secret indignation because nobody believed she was grown up. She was so nearly fifteen that she called herself that, and she was quite as tall as Di and Nan; also, she was nearly as pretty as Susan believed her to be. She had great, dreamy, hazel eyes, a milky skin dappled with little golden freckles, and delicately arched eyebrows, giving her a demure, questioning look which made people, especially lads in their teens, want to answer it. Her hair was ripely, ruddily brown and a little dent in her upper lip looked as if some good fairy had pressed it in with her finger at Rilla’s christening. Rilla, whose best friends could not deny her share of vanity, thought her face would do very well, but worried over her figure, and wished her mother could be prevailed upon to let her wear longer dresses. She, who had been so plump and roly-poly in the old Rainbow Valley days, was incredibly slim now, in the arms-and-legs period. Jem and Shirley harrowed her soul by calling her Spider. Yet she somehow escaped awkwardness. There was something in her movements that made you think she never walked but always danced. She had been much petted and was a wee bit spoiled, but still the general opinion was that Rilla Blythe was a very sweet girl, even if she were not so clever as Nan and Di.

Miss Oliver, who was going home that night for vacation, had boarded for a year at Ingleside. The Blythes had taken her to please Rilla who was fathoms deep in love with her teacher and was even willing to share her room, since no other was available. Gertrude Oliver was twenty-eight and life had been a struggle for her. She was a striking-looking girl, with rather sad, almond-shaped brown eyes, a clever, rather mocking mouth, and enormous masses of black hair twisted about her head. She was not pretty but there was a certain charm of interest and mystery in her face, and Rilla found her fascinating. Even her occasional moods of gloom and cynicism had allurement for Rilla. These moods came only when Miss Oliver was tired. At all other times she was a stimulating companion, and the gay set at Ingleside never remembered that she was so much older than themselves. Walter and Rilla were her favourites and she was the confidante of the secret wishes and aspirations of both. She knew that Rilla longed to be out—to go to parties as Nan and Di did, and to have dainty evening dresses and—yes, there is no mincing matters—beaux! In the plural, at that! As for Walter, Miss Oliver knew that he had written a sequence of sonnets to Rosamond—i.e., Faith Meredith—and that he aimed at a Professorship of English literature in some big college. She knew his passionate love of beauty and his equally passionate hatred of ugliness; she knew his strength and his weakness.

Walter was, as ever, the handsomest of the Ingleside boys. Miss Oliver found pleasure in looking at him for his good looks—he was so exactly like what she would have liked her own son to be. Glossy black hair, brilliant dark grey eyes, faultless features. And a poet to his fingertips! That sonnet sequence was really a remarkable thing for a lad of twenty to write. Miss Oliver was no partial critic and she knew that Walter Blythe had a wonderful gift.

Rilla loved Walter with all her heart. He never teased her as Jem and Shirley did. He never called her Spider. His pet name for her was Rilla-my-Rilla—a little pun on her real name, Marilla. She had been named after Aunt Marilla of Green Gables, but Aunt Marilla had died before Rilla was old enough to know her very well, and Rilla detested the name as being horribly old-fashioned and prim. Why couldn’t they have called her by her first name, Bertha, which was beautiful and dignified, instead of that silly Rilla? She did not mind Walter’s version, but nobody else was allowed to call her that, except Miss Oliver now and then. Rilla-my-Rilla in Walter’s musical voice sounded very beautiful to her—like the lilt and ripple of some silvery brook. She would have died for Walter if it would have done him any good, so she told Miss Oliver. Rilla was as fond of italics as most girls of fifteen are—and the bitterest drop in her cup was her suspicion that he told Di more of his secrets than he told her.

He thinks I’m not grown up enough to understand, she had once lamented rebelliously to Miss Oliver, but I am! And I would never tell them to a single soul—not even to you, Miss Oliver. I tell you all my own—I just couldn’t be happy if I had any secret from you, dearest—but I would never betray his. I tell him everything—I even show him my diary. And it hurts me dreadfully when he doesn’t tell me things. He shows me all his poems, though—they are marvellous, Miss Oliver. Oh, I just live in the hope that some day I shall be to Walter what Wordsworth’s sister Dorothy was to him. Wordsworth never wrote anything like Walter’s poems—nor Tennyson, either.

I wouldn’t say just that. Both of them wrote a great deal of trash, said Miss Oliver dryly. Then, repenting, as she saw a hurt look in Rilla’s eye, she added hastily,

But I believe Walter will be a great poet, too—some day—and you will have more of his confidence as you grow older.

When Walter was in the hospital with typhoid last year I was almost crazy, sighed Rilla, a little importantly. They never told me how ill he really was until it was all over—father wouldn’t let them. I’m glad I didn’t know—I couldn’t have borne it. I cried myself to sleep every night as it was. But sometimes, concluded Rilla bitterly—she liked to speak bitterly now and then in imitation of Miss Oliver—sometimes I think Walter cares more for Dog Monday than he does for me.

Dog Monday was the Ingleside dog, so called because he had come into the family on a Monday when Walter had been reading Robinson Crusoe. He really belonged to Jem but was much attached to Walter also. He was lying beside Walter now with nose snuggled against his arm, thumping his tail rapturously whenever Walter gave him an absent pat. Monday was not a collie or a setter or a hound or a Newfoundland. He was just, as Jem said, plain dog—very plain dog, uncharitable people added. Certainly, Monday’s looks were not his strong point. Black spots were scattered at random over his yellow carcass, one of them, apparently, blotting out an eye. His ears were in tatters, for Monday was never successful in affairs of honour. But he possessed one talisman. He knew that not all dogs could be handsome or eloquent or victorious, but that every dog could love. Inside his homely hide beat the most affectionate, loyal, faithful heart of any dog since dogs were; and something looked out of his brown eyes that was nearer akin to a soul than any theologian would allow. Everybody at Ingleside was fond of him, even Susan, although his one unfortunate propensity of sneaking into the spare room and going to sleep on the bed tried her affection sorely.

On this particular afternoon Rilla had no quarrel on hand with existing conditions.

Hasn’t June been a delightful month? she asked, looking dreamily afar at the little quiet silvery clouds hanging so peacefully over Rainbow Valley. We’ve had such lovely times—and such lovely weather. It has just been perfect every way.

I don’t half like that, said Miss Oliver, with a sigh. It’s ominous—somehow. A perfect thing is a gift of the gods—a sort of compensation for what is coming afterwards. I’ve seen that so often that I don’t care to hear people say they’ve had a perfect time. June has been delightful, though.

Of course, it hasn’t been very exciting, said Rilla. The only exciting thing that has happened in the Glen for a year was old Miss Mead fainting in Church. Sometimes I wish something dramatic would happen once in a while.

Don’t wish it. Dramatic things always have a bitterness for some one. What a nice summer all you gay creatures will have! And me moping at Lowbridge!

You’ll be over often, won’t you? I think there’s going to be lots of fun this summer, though I’ll just be on the fringe of things as usual, I suppose. Isn’t it horrid when people think you’re a little girl when you’re not?

There’s plenty of time for you to be grown up, Rilla. Don’t wish your youth away. It goes too quickly. You’ll begin to taste life soon enough.

Taste life! I want to eat it, cried Rilla, laughing. I want everything—everything a girl can have. I’ll be fifteen in another month, and then nobody can say I’m a child any longer. I heard someone say once that the years from fifteen to nineteen are the best years in a girl’s life. I’m going to make them perfectly splendid—just fill them with fun.

There’s no use thinking about what you’re going to do—you are tolerably sure not to do it.

Oh, but you do get a lot of fun out of the thinking, cried Rilla.

You think of nothing but fun, you monkey, said Miss Oliver indulgently, reflecting that Rilla’s chin was really the last word in chins. Well, what else is fifteen for? But have you any notion of going to college this fall?

No—nor any other fall. I don’t want to. I never cared for all those ologies and isms Nan and Di are so crazy about. And there’s five of us going to college already. Surely that’s enough. There’s bound to be one dunce in every family. I’m quite willing to be a dunce if I can be a pretty, popular, delightful one. I can’t be clever. I have no talent at all, and you can’t imagine how comfortable it is. Nobody expects me to do anything so I’m never pestered to do it. And I can’t be a housewifely, cookly creature, either. I hate sewing and dusting, and when Susan couldn’t teach me to make biscuits nobody could. Father says I toil not neither do I spin. Therefore, I must be a lily of the field, concluded Rilla, with another laugh.

You are too young to give up your studies altogether, Rilla.

Oh, mother will put me through a course of reading next winter. It will polish up her B.A. degree. Luckily I like reading. Don’t look at me so sorrowfully and so disapprovingly, dearest. I can’t be sober and serious—everything looks so rosy and rainbowy to me. Next month I’ll be fifteen—and next year sixteen—and the year after that seventeen. Could anything be more enchanting?

Rap wood, said Gertrude Oliver, half laughingly, half seriously. Rap wood, Rilla-my-Rilla.

Moonlit Mirth

Rilla, who still buttoned up her eyes when she went to sleep so that she always looked as if she were laughing in her slumber, yawned, stretched, and smiled at Gertrude Oliver. The latter had come over from Lowbridge the previous evening and had been prevailed upon to remain for the dance at the Four Winds lighthouse the next night.

The new day is knocking at the window. What will it bring us, I wonder.

Miss Oliver shivered a little. She never greeted the days with Rilla’s enthusiasm. She had lived long enough to know that a day may bring a terrible thing.

I think the nicest thing about days is their unexpectedness, went on Rilla. It’s jolly to wake up like this on a golden-fine morning and wonder what surprise packet the day will hand you. I always day-dream for ten minutes before I get up, imagining the heaps of splendid things that may happen before night.

I hope something very unexpected will happen today, said Gertrude. I hope the mail will bring us news that war has been averted between Germany and France.

Oh—yes, said Rilla vaguely. It will be dreadful if it isn’t, I suppose. But it won’t really matter much to us, will it? I think a war would e so exciting. The Boer war was, they say, but I don’t remember anything about it, of course. Miss Oliver, shall I wear my white dress tonight or my new green one? The green one is by far the prettier, of course, but I’m almost afraid to wear it to a shore dance for fear something will happen to it. And will you do my hair the new way? None of the other girls in the Glen wear it yet and it will make such a sensation.

How did you induce your mother to let you go to the dance?

Oh, Walter coaxed her over. He knew I would be heart-broken if I didn’t go. It’s my first really-truly grown-up party, Miss Oliver, and I’ve just lain awake at nights for a week thinking it over. When I saw the sun shining this morning I wanted to whoop for joy. It would be simply terrible if it rained tonight. I think I’ll wear the green dress and risk it. I want to look my nicest at my first party. Besides, it’s an inch longer than my white one. And I’ll wear my silver slippers too. Mrs. Ford sent them to me last Christmas and I’ve never had a chance to wear them yet. They’re the dearest things. Oh, Miss Oliver, I do hope some of the boys will ask me to dance. I shall die of mortification—truly I will, if nobody does and I have to sit stuck up against the wall all the evening. Of course Carl and Jerry can’t dance because they’re the minister’s sons, or else I could depend on them to save me from utter disgrace.

You’ll have plenty of partners—all the over-harbour boys are coming—there’ll be far more boys than girls.

I’m glad I’m not a minister’s daughter, laughed Rilla. Poor Faith is so furious because she won’t dare to dance tonight. Una doesn’t care, of course. She has never hankered after dancing. Somebody told Faith there would be a taffy-pull in the kitchen for those who didn’t dance and you should have seen the face she made. She and Jem will sit out on the rocks most of the evening, I suppose. Did you know that we are all to walk down as far as that little creek below the old House of Dreams and then sail to the lighthouse? Won’t it just be absolutely divine?

When I was fifteen I talked in italics and superlatives too, said Miss Oliver sarcastically. I think the party promises to be pleasant for young fry. I expect to be bored. None of those boys will bother dancing with an old maid like me. Jem and Walter will take me out once out of charity. So you can’t expect me to look forward to it with your touching young rapture.

Didn’t you have a good time at your first party, though, Miss Oliver?

No. I had a hateful time. I was shabby and homely and nobody asked me to dance except one boy, homelier and shabbier than myself. He was so awkward I hated him—and even he didn’t ask me again. I had no real girlhood, Rilla. It’s a sad loss. That’s why I want you to have a splendid, happy girlhood. And I hope your first party will be one you’ll remember all your life with pleasure.

I dreamed last night I was at the dance and right in the middle of things I discovered I was dressed in my kimono and bedroom shoes, sighed Rilla. I woke up with a gasp of horror.

Speaking of dreams—I had an odd one, said Miss Oliver absently. It was one of those vivid dreams I sometimes have—they are not the vague jumble of ordinary dreams—they are as clear cut and real as life.

What was your dream?

I was standing on the veranda steps, here at Ingleside, looking down over the fields of the Glen. All at once, far in the distance, I saw a long, silvery, glistening wave breaking over them. It came nearer and nearer—just a succession of little white waves like those that break on the sandshore sometimes. The Glen was being swallowed up. I thought, ‘Surely the waves will not come near Ingleside’—but they came nearer and nearer—so rapidly—before I could move or call they were breaking right at my feet—and everything was gone—there was nothing but a waste of stormy water where the Glen had been. I tried to draw back—and I saw that the edge of my dress was wet with blood—and I woke—shivering. I don’t like the dream. There was some sinister significance in it. That kind of vivid dream always ‘comes true’ with me.

I hope it doesn’t mean there’s a storm coming up from the east to spoil the party, murmured Rilla.

Incorrigible fifteen! said Miss Oliver dryly. No, Rilla-my-Rilla, I don’t think there is any danger that it foretells anything so awful as that.

There had been an undercurrent of tension in the Ingleside existence for several days. Only Rilla, absorbed in her own budding life, was unaware of it. Dr. Blythe had taken to looking grave and saying little over the daily paper. Jem and Walter were keenly interested in the news it brought. Jem sought Walter out in excitement that evening.

Oh, boy, Germany has declared war on France. This means that England will fight too, probably—and if she does—well, the Piper of your old fancy will have come at last.

It wasn’t a fancy, said Walter slowly. It was a presentiment—a vision—Jem, I really saw him for a moment that evening long ago. Suppose England does fight?

Why, we’ll all have to turn in and help her, cried Jem gaily. We couldn’t let the ‘old grey mother of the northern sea’ fight it out alone, could we? But you can’t go—the typhoid has done you out of that. Sort of a shame, eh?

Walter did not say whether it was a shame or not. He looked silently over the Glen to the dimpling blue harbour beyond.

We’re the cubs—we’ve got to pitch in tooth and claw if it comes to a family row, Jem went on cheerfully, rumpling up his red curls with a strong, lean, sensitive brown hand—the hand of the born surgeon, his father often thought. What an adventure it would be! But I suppose Grey or some of those wary old chaps will patch matters up at the eleventh hour. It’ll be a rotten shame if they leave France in the lurch, though. If they don’t, we’ll see some fun. Well, I suppose it’s time to get ready for the spree at the light.

Jem departed whistling Wi’ a hundred pipers and a’ and a’, and Walter stood for a long time where he was. There was a little frown on his forehead. This had all come up with the blackness and suddenness of a thundercloud. A few days ago nobody had even thought of such a thing. It was absurd to think of it now. Some way out would be found. War was a hellish, horrible, hideous thing—too horrible and hideous to happen in the twentieth century between civilized nations. The mere thought of it was hideous, and made Walter unhappy in its threat to the beauty of life. He would not think of it—he would resolutely put it out of his mind. How beautiful the old Glen was, in its August ripeness, with its chain of bowery old homesteads, tilled meadows and quiet gardens. The western sky was like a great golden pearl. Far down the harbour was frosted with a dawning moonlight. The air was full of exquisite sounds—sleepy robin whistles, wonderful, mournful, soft murmurs of wind in the twilit trees, rustle of aspen poplars talking in silvery whispers and shaking their dainty, heart-shaped leaves, lilting young laughter from the windows of rooms where the girls were making ready for the dance. The world was steeped in maddening loveliness of sound and colour. He would think only of these things and of the deep, subtle joy they gave him. Anyhow, no one will expect me to go, he thought. As Jem says, typhoid has seen to that.

Rilla was leaning out of her room window, dressed for the dance. A yellow pansy slipped from her hair and fell out over the sill like a falling star of gold. She caught at it vainly—but there were enough left. Miss Oliver had woven a little wreath of them for her pet’s hair.

It’s so beautifully calm—isn’t that splendid? We’ll have a perfect night. Listen, Miss Oliver—I can hear those old bells in Rainbow Valley quite clearly. They’ve been hanging there for over ten years.

Their wind chime always makes me think of the aerial, celestial music Adam and Eve heard in Milton’s Eden, responded Miss Oliver.

We used to have such fun in Rainbow Valley when we were children, said Rilla dreamily.

Nobody ever played in Rainbow Valley now. It was very silent on summer evenings. Walter liked to go there to read. Jem and Faith trysted there considerably; Jerry and Nan went there to pursue uninterruptedly the ceaseless wrangles and arguments on profound subjects that seemed to be their preferred method of sweethearting. And Rilla had a beloved little sylvan dell of her own there where she liked to sit and dream.

I must run down to the kitchen before I go and show myself off to Susan. She would never forgive me if I didn’t.

Rilla whirled into the shadowy kitchen at Ingleside, where Susan was prosaically darning socks, and lighted it up with her beauty. She wore her green dress with its little pink daisy garlands, her silk stockings and silver slippers. She had golden pansies in her hair and at her creamy throat. She was so pretty and young and glowing that even Cousin Sophia Crawford was compelled to admire her—and Cousin Sophia Crawford admired few transient earthly things. Cousin Sophia and Susan had made up, or ignored, their old feud since the former had come to live in the Glen, and Cousin Sophia often came across in the evenings to make a neighbourly call. Susan did not always welcome her rapturously for Cousin Sophia was not what could be called an exhilarating companion. Some calls are visits and some are visitations, Mrs. Dr. dear, Susan said once, and left it to be inferred that Cousin Sophia’s were the latter.

Cousin Sophia had a long, pale, wrinkled face, a long, thin nose, a long, thin mouth, and very long, thin, pale hands, generally folded resignedly on her black calico lap. Everything about her seemed long and thin and pale. She looked mournfully upon Rilla Blythe and said sadly,

Is your hair all your own?

Of course it is, cried Rilla indignantly.

Ah, well! Cousin Sophia sighed. It might be better for you if it wasn’t! Such a lot of hair takes from a person’s strength. It’s a sign of consumption, I’ve heard, but I hope it won’t turn out like that in your case. I s’pose you’ll all be dancing tonight—even the minister’s boys most likely. I s’pose his girls won’t go that far. Ah, well, I never held with dancing. I knew a girl once who dropped dead while she was dancing. How any one could ever dance aga’ after a judgment like that I cannot comprehend.

Did she ever dance again? asked Rilla pertly.

I told you she dropped dead. Of course she never danced again, poor creature. She was a Kirke from Lowbridge. You ain’t a-going off like that with nothing on your bare neck, are you?

It’s a hot evening, protested Rilla. But I’ll put on a scarf when we go on the water.

I knew of a boat load of young folks who went sailing on that harbour forty years ago just such a night as this—just exactly such a night as this, said Cousin Sophia lugubriously, and they were upset and drowned—every last one of them. I hope nothing like that’ll happen to you tonight. Do you ever try anything for the freckles? I used to find plantain juice real good.

You certainly should be a judge of freckles, Cousin Sophia, said Susan, rushing to Rilla’s defence. You were more speckled than any toad when you was a girl. Rilla’s only come in summer but yours stayed put, season in and season out; and you had not a ground colour like hers behind them neither. You look real nice, Rilla, and that way of fixing your hair is becoming. But you are not going to walk to the harbour in those slippers, are you?

Oh, no. We’ll all wear our old shoes to the harbour and carry our slippers. Do you like my dress, Susan?

It minds me of a dress I wore when I was a girl, sighed Cousin Sophia before Susan could reply. It was green with pink posies on it, too, and it was flounced from the waist to the hem. We didn’t wear the skimpy things girls wear nowadays. Ah me, times has changed and not for the better I’m afraid. I tore a big hole in it that night and someone spilled a cup of tea all over it. Ruined it completely. But I hope nothing will happen to your dress. It orter to be a bit longer I’m thinking—your legs are so terrible long and thin.

Mrs. Dr. Blythe does not approve of little girls dressing like grown-up ones, said Susan stiffly, intending merely a snub to Cousin Sophia. But Rilla felt insulted. A little girl indeed! She whisked out of the kitchen in high dudgeon. Another time she wouldn’t go down to show herself off to Susan—Susan, who thought nobody was grown up until she was sixty! And that horrid Cousin Sophia with her digs about freckles and legs! What business had an old—an old beanpole like that to talk of anybody else being long and thin? Rilla felt all her pleasure in herself and her evening clouded and spoiled. The very teeth of her soul were set on edge and she could have sat down and cried.

But later on her spirits rose again when she found herself one of the gay crowd bound for the Four Winds light.

The Blythes left Ingleside to the melancholy music of howls from Dog Monday, who was locked up in the barn lest he make an uninvited guest at the light. They picked up the Merediths in the village, and others joined them as they walked down the old harbour road. Mary Vance, resplendent in blue crepe, with lace overdress, came out of Miss Cornelia’s gate and attached herself to Rilla and Miss Oliver who were walking together and who did not welcome her over-warmly. Rilla was not very fond of Mary Vance. She had never forgotten the humiliating day when Mary had chased her through the village with a dried codfish. Mary Vance, to tell the truth, was not exactly popular with any of her set. Still, they enjoyed her society—she had such a biting tongue that it was stimulating. Mary Vance is a habit of ours—we can’t do without her even when we are furious with her, Di Blythe had once said.

Most of the little crowd were paired off after a fashion. Jem walked with Faith Meredith, of course, and Jerry Meredith with Nan Blythe. Di and Walter were together, deep in confidential conversation which Rilla envied.

Carl Meredith was walking with Miranda Pryor, more to torment Joe Milgrave than for any other reason. Joe was known to have a strong hankering for the said Miranda, which shyness prevented him from indulging on all occasions. Joe might summon enough courage to amble up beside Miranda if the night were dark, but here, in this moonlit dusk, he simply could not do it. So he trailed along after the procession and thought things not lawful to be uttered of Carl Meredith. Miranda was the daughter of Whiskers-on-the-moon; she did not share her father’s unpopularity but she was not much run after, being a pale, neutral little creature, somewhat addicted to nervous giggling. She had silvery blonde hair and her eyes were big china blue orbs that looked as if she had been badly frightened when she was little and had never got over it. She would much rather have walked with Joe than with Carl, with whom she did not feel in the least at home. Yet it was something of an honour, too, to have a college boy beside her, and a son of the manse at that.

Shirley Blythe was with Una Meredith and both were rather silent because such was their nature. Shirley was a lad of sixteen, sedate, sensible, thoughtful, full of a quiet humour. He was Susan’s little brown boy yet, with his brown hair, brown eyes, and clear brown skin. He liked to walk with Una Meredith because she never tried to make him talk or badgered him with chatter. Una was as sweet and shy as she had been in the Rainbow Valley days, and her large, dark-blue eyes were as dreamy and wistful. She had a secret, carefully-hidden fancy for Walter Blythe that nobody but Rilla ever suspected. Rilla sympathized with it and wished Walter would return it. She liked Una better than Faith, whose beauty and aplomb rather overshadowed other girls—and Rilla did not enjoy being overshadowed.

But just now she was very happy. It was so delightful to be tripping with her friends down that dark, gleaming road sprinkled with its little spruces and firs, whose balsam made all the air resinous around them. Meadows of sunset afterlight were behind the westerning hills. Before them was the shining harbour. A bell was ringing in the little church over-harbour and the lingering dream-notes died around the dim, amethystine points. The gulf beyond was still silvery blue in the afterlight. Oh, it was all glorious—the clear air with its salt tang, the balsam of the firs, the laughter of her friends. Rilla loved life—its bloom and brilliance; she loved the ripple of music, the hum of

Reviews for Rilla of Ingleside

[rainpebble_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Rilla of Ingleside by L. M. Montgomery; bk 8; (4 1/2*)This is an endearing book. Montgomery has written it in a nostalgic manner which I think some readers may not care for but which I enjoyed a great deal.Anne with an e, and the good doctor's children are grown and growing up. The eve of the Great War is upon us with all of its darkness, horrors, losses and sadness. I did not realize the impact of the Great War upon Canada and it's citizens.The youngest daughter in the family, Rilla, is our main character but this narrative has loads of interesting characters. Not the least of which is the family dog, Dog Monday, who loves Jem with a passion unknown to most of mankind. Also there is the hysterically funny family feline, Doc, so named for his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde persona. The story is filled with the lives and loves of the young people. So many of the young men of the Glen sign up to go as soon as the call comes. We hear of them in their letters to Rilla and in the journal she faithfully keeps.I loved how the young folk had a special little valley where they went for play and as they grew up they met there for talking, sharing, thinking, and wooing. The relationship that Rilla shared with her brother Walter, was so special and quite took me back to my own relationship with my brother Sam, who also died a young and violent death.....though, like Walter's death, it was quick.This is my favorite of the 'Anne' books aside from Anne of Green Gables. Such a beloved series.

[heatherlinc · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This last book in the "Anne" series was, by far, my favourite. Set during the years of World War I, it gave a wonderful insight into what the women, who had brothers, husbands and lovers on the front, had to endure for four long, torturous years. Unable to protect their men, they put on brave faces and went to work keeping vigil, knitting and baking for the soldiers and planning rushed weddings. As Rilla's world crashed around her and challenges bombarded her, she had to grow up quickly, In those unpredictable times, she went from a naive, frivolous teenager to a mature, strong, young woman.I shed tears throughout "Rilla of Ingleside" far more than I did in another "Anne: book and Dog Monday's story had me sobbing. It was so incredibly moving and I could clearly picture him - dear, faithful, little dog.I also liked the analogy of the Pied Piper calling the boys to war. The author did this beautifully and Walter's poem was truly poignant. I also loved following his journey. Walter was such a gentle, sensitive soul and his letter to Rilla was powerful.While the "Anne" series had its ups and downs, "Rilla of Ingleside" finished the series perfectly. A true classic.

[angelab86 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A wonderful coming of age story, though not my favorite of the "Anne" books. Watching Rilla (Anne's youngest child) grow up during World War I is moving and sometimes heartbreaking.

[bookworm12_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is the eighth and final book in the Anne of Green Gables series. I’ve slowly been working my way through the series and in the last couple books I really missed having Anne as one of the main characters. In this installment Anne’s youngest daughter, Rilla takes center stage and the book got back to the heart of the first few books. It embraced all of my favorite elements from the early books. It’s a bit more serious than the previous books. The characters are forced to deal with the realities of war and the loss of their quiet lives as their sons and sweethearts are sent off to fight in World War I. It deals with big issues, but offers perspective and hope along with the drama. The book was published shortly after WWI ended, so the trauma everyone had experienced must have been very fresh in Montgomery’s mind as she wrote this. The characters see firsthand how painful war is as they watch the men in the community leave to fight in battles on another continent. Some of the men feel the need to leave immediately and join the fight; others struggle with a desire to serve their country while wanting peace. The women are left to take care of the homes alone. They all believe the war will be over soon and begin to loose hope as months stretch into years. We see the hurried wedding of a war bride and the fate of an orphaned baby whose father is at the front and whose mother dies in childbirth. Rilla takes care of the war baby and she has to go from being an innocent teenager to a woman over the course of the war. We also see Rilla and her mother, our beloved Anne, stretched to the point of breaking as they fight their own fear and grief. SPOILERS When Walter died my heart broke. Rilla’s brother was the person she was closest to in the whole world. My own brother is one of my best friends and the thought of losing him in a war is terrifying. Walter’s last letter to Rilla will stay with me for years to come. His words about the power of sacrifice and being at peace with death are more beautiful than I can explain. SPOILERS OVER BOTTOM LINE: I love this series so much and this book is now among my favorites. It was a fitting ending to the saga and I look forward to re-reading the whole series in the future. “It is a strange thing to read a letter after the writer is dead, a bittersweet thing in which pain and comfort are strangely mingled.”“Ah yes, you’re young enough not to be scared of perfect things.” 

[castiron_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

WWI hits. The young men of the town go off to war, some never to return, none to return unchanged. The book has a lot of saccharine moments (Rilla’s Soul has been Honed by Tragedy and Work and is now that of a Woman, yeehaw), but the war keeps the book as a whole from being too cloying.

[jey_13-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

For once, when a book claims to change your life, it actually does.

I still remember the evening I sat down with Rilla of Ingleside. 'Misery in books is overrated', I thought, and honestly, very few books have the knack of reaching deep into you- and twisting your heart. This is one of them.

It's 1914, and the Great War is almost upon the world. However, cocooned in her secure world at Ingleside, Rilla's only worry is that she might not be attending a 'very important dance' and might not appear pretty enough. Shallow, you think? Honest. How many young girls can appreciate the consequences of a war?

Through this book- you can see Rilla's character grow- the volunteering at Red Cross society, the gritting of teeth as she adopts an orphan. When she finally realises the sacrifices that country and honor demand, she gives it her all.

As alwats, Montgomery weaves her magic thoroughly. This book has humour in parts, yes, but has a core of steel through it- duty, honor, sacrifice, and the love that only family can provide.

My copy of Rilla of Ingleside is worn, and yellowed, but I wouldn't exchange it for anything in the world. (except for an autographed copy by LMM. :D ) Because that's the true sign of a great book- you never want to let go of YOUR copy of it.

[shanaqui_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was an entirely different book to the very first of the series. And it was quite painful to read, because it is so very much a book about the war, written close to the war and with understanding of it born of experiencing it. I almost don't count it as an Anne of Green Gables book, because it's not like the others at all -- but just as a book on its own, about people I feel I know from all the books before it, it's rather beautiful.

[nadinec.keels · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I've read this book thrice in my life, and I'm pretty sure I was teary-eyed all three times.I mean, the fact that you don't even need to know what "The Piper" by Private Walter Blythe said in order to know what it said... *sigh*

[rainbowdarling · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Rilla is one of the best of the Anne series, second (in most peoples' eyes) only to the one that started it all. Rilla's journey is well-paced and poignant, showing a well-drawn picture of what life was like during the first world war for many people. Rilla of Ingleside never fails ot make me cry, and I root for Rilla just as much as I rooted for Anne when she was tackling geometry and pining for puffed sleeves. It feels like this is the story in which Montgomery came back to the same feeling that was found in Anne of Green Gables, despite the years that spanned in between the first and what would later become the last in the series.

[bekkil1977 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Anne's youngest daughter, Marilla (called Rilla) is all grown up at fifteen and dreaming of boys and dances when WWI rears its ugly head. Her oldest brother Jem enlists, to Anne and Gilbert's horror, as does Kenneth, the boy Rilla has a crush on. Rilla ends up adopting a baby who's mother dies and who's father is off at war, calling him Jims. Rilla grows closer to her brother Walter, who is disgusted by the destruction of war and hates the idea of going but hates being called a coward at college even more, so he ends up enlisting and is killed in action. This book is terribly bittersweet. All I have to do is think about poor Dog Monday and I burst into tears.

[angelag86 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A wonderful coming of age story, though not my favorite of the "Anne" books. Watching Rilla (Anne's youngest child) grow up during World War I is moving and sometimes heartbreaking.

[mrslee_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Nice stories with interesting characters, these later novels do not compare with the first three, but are still very readable.

[wanderlust_lost · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book deals with Anne's youngest daughter and her coming of age. The time is World War I and this book sees Anne's son Walter off to the front and the terrible consequences of war. But it's also a tale of love and of friendship and the loss of childhood. It comes full circle and leaves Anne's youngest daughter where we left Anne back in Avonlea about to embark on her own life. Spoilers: I loved this book and it really stuck with me. I still remember the day I finished it and how much I cried for Walter. I think I probably loved him in a very childish way. He was so sensitive and a poet and even Anne felt he was probably too special for this world. *sigh* I still cry.

[nancynova · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Interesting to read a book published almost 100 years ago, when WWI was just over and WWII not even thought of. Rilla, Anne & Gilbert's youngest, is a fairly flightly girl at 15, until the war arrives & her brothers and sweetheart join up. While collecting $$ for the war effort, she stops at a home where the mother of a newborn has passed away & the aunt of the child is drunk. So, flighty Rilla takes Jims home in a soup tureen, because she didn't want the "war orphan" packed away to an orphanage while Dad is overseas.

[kuglar · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Very charming books! But what happened to Dora? And Marilla and Rachel? They weren't mentioned in the later books, other than a brief mention that Marilla had died.

[puckrobin · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Anne is all grown up, and Montgomery brings us details on the life of her youngest daughter, Rilla (named after Marilla Cuthbert, the woman who adopted Anne years ago at Green Gables). Rilla, like her mother, has a vivid imagination, but is very much more modern with a sharper sense of humour than Anne. While Montgomery allowed Anne to grow up with many of her romantic ideals in tact, Rilla begins to show readers some of Montgomery's less idealistic, darker views on life as Anne's family struggles through the uncertainty, change and personal loss visited on them by World War II.

[mickyfine · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Rilla Blythe is a slightly vain and selfish fifteen year old, positive that the next few years will be the most thrilling of her life. But it's 1914 and the world as Rilla knows it is about to change entirely. As the young men in her small world join the Canadian forces, Rilla is forced to mature quickly as she takes on caring for a war baby and participates in the efforts at home to support "the boys over there."I went into this one knowing it was the WWI novel of the Anne books and expecting it to tug at the heartstrings even more intensely than previous novels in the series. I wasn't wrong. I spent big chunks of the novel willing back tears, although there were also sections where I was smothering laughter. The book isn't short on Canadian (and British Empire) patriotism, which might create mixed feelings for a modern reader. There is also an additional level of heartbreak reading passages on the lessons learned from the war with the modern knowledge of what came afterward. Those considerations aside, the prose is as beautiful as always and the novel is a bittersweet conclusion to Anne's story.

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In Rilla of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery we meet Anne Shirley Blyth’s youngest daughter, Marilla. Rilla is 15 years old and ready to enter into the adult world. She is hoping that soon her life will be filled with parties and fun activities. At her very first dance, she meets a young man who definitely takes her eye. Unfortunately it is 1914 and England and Germany have just declared war. The family eventually sees each of the three boys; Jem, Walter and Shirley, go off to war with Walter never to return home. Rilla also has to say goodbye to her beau, Ken, and makes a promise to wait for him.In my re-read of the Anne of Green Gables series, I really enjoyed the first three “Anne” books. The rest have seen very dated and moralistic but Rilla of Ingleside is an exception. The story is set during World War I and this gives the story a strength and purpose. It’s sentimentality seems exactly right as the family and their friends are seeing their loved ones march off to war. This is also a picture of Canada during the war and what it was like to be so far away from the action yet so involved in all it’s details.The story of Jem’s dog, Monday, waiting patiently at the train station for his master’s return brought me to tears. Rilla of Ingleside is an poignant read and mixes sadness with humor and a touch of romance. This was an excellent way to bring my reading about the Blythe family to an end.

[tjsjohanna_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is, if not the best book in the series, the second best. The novel is unique because it tells the story of the home front in Canada during World War I - one of the few to do so, and written just a few years after the end of the war. There are scenes that had me crying so that I couldn't read the text - who could forget Dog Monday greeting Jem? And there are Ideas in this book - noble and true and inspirational ideas. War is an ugly thing - but there are things worth dying for and Ms. Montgomery makes a case for the value of the things we pay dearly for. As a side note, I discovered that my treasured paperback copy is actually a slightly abridged version - the original 1921 novel is a bit more wordy and there are a number of funny "Susan" speeches that have been cut. The original novel has a subtly different flavor to it and is worth reading.

[savageknight_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book, the final in the "original" Anne of Green Gables series, was such a wonderful volume to end the series on! As mentioned by many - and as can be assumed from the title of the book - this volume is about Anne's youngest daughter, Rilla. It is her coming-of-age tale which happens amidst the shattering events of World War One.We live through "watching" all those we care about in Glen St. Mary as they lose so many of their young men to war (and in some cases to death or dismemberment). While the impact of global events are felt by everyone, Rilla and the rest of the Blythe household persevere and deal with their losses, tragedies, and victories.It's a very different book from the rest of the series as it deals with the harsh realities of life and the resilience of the human spirit, but it is not a completely "dark" book. Even during war, there are still joys to be had. Rilla of Ingleside was definitely a joy to read and probably the only other book in the series -besides the first- that I kept looking forward to continue reading.

[susanbevans · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Rilla of Ingleside is the final book in L.M. Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables series. The story is of Rilla, Anne and Gilbert Blythe's youngest daughter. It has been nearly ten years since the events of Rainbow Valley took place, and Rilla is fourteen. Europe has joined in World War I and many boys from Canada are going to war, including Rilla's brothers and the Meredith boys. With her sisters and friends away at college, Rilla is left at home with her parents. Over the next few years she grows from a fun-loving child into a more mature young woman. Rilla of Ingleside is not much of an Anne book in the classical sense - there is not much Anne in the story, as was the case with the last few books in the series. However, taken alone Rilla of Ingleside is a very interesting and well-written novel. L.M. Montgomery's account of World War I from the homefront and out of the eyes of Rilla Blythe is breathtaking. The tragedy of war is illustrated second-hand, through the effect it has on the women waiting for their sons and husbands at home.Rilla of Ingleside is a realistic and emotional journey through the minds and hearts of the people left behind in war - friends and family waiting, with lives put on hold. Though it is heartbreaking at times (as stories set in times of war tend to be,) it is expressive and penetrative and gives the reader an authentic look at the Canadanian homefront during World War I. Rilla of Ingleside is a beautifully written and powerful novel.

[atimco-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Rilla of Ingleside has long been one of my favorites among the Anne books, which is interesting because it's so very different from the rest of the books. All the sudden the little familiar world of Anne's community, concerned only with its gossip and small funny episodes, is invaded by huge events happening outside on the international stage. World War I begins and everything is changed forever.As the titles implies, this story focuses on Anne's youngest daughter Rilla (short for Bertha Marilla). She is almost fifteen, a lovely, slightly vain and thoughtless young girl enjoying her first dance when the news comes that Britain has declared war on Germany. And Canada cannot let "the old grey mother of the northern sea" fight it out alone. One by one Rilla's brothers and playmates enlist as the war takes over their lives even in secure little Glen St. Mary. Rilla, trying to find herself in the sudden turmoil of her world, finds herself landed with a war-baby to take care of — she, Rilla Blythe, who doesn't even like infants and has no inkling of how to take care of one! I think I love this book so much because Montgomery manages to tie these world-shaking events to the familiar, comfortable lives of her characters. There is great good humor in this story mixed with the tragedy and fear... just like in real life. The war is always looming, but in the midst of it the Ingleside folk still manage to be themselves. Susan Baker in particular is a wonderful example of this. Susan is first introduced in Anne's House of Dreams but it isn't clear then what a fun character she will become. In this story she really comes into her own. We see the war through her eyes, with her optimistic, sometimes scorching commentary on it, and this is a brilliant move on Montgomery's part. It's so funny because Susan firmly believes that the Kaiser is deeply interested in everything that happens in Glen St. Mary, but several times Montgomery takes us past the humor and shows Susan's fierce, honest patriotism. Rilla herself is an unusual heroine for Montgomery. She hasn't a spark of ambition, isn't terribly smart or addicted to poetry and literature, doesn't like babies, and starts off rather vain and selfish and thoughtless. I was never really comfortable with her lack of ambition, being full of it myself. But there is something winning about her, and as I reread the book this time I chuckled to myself at how often my own diaries from that age echo Rilla's. It is good to see how she develops through the awful war years.Montgomery's scorn for pacifists and anyone with pro-German sentiments is quite clear from her depiction of Mr. Pryor — known as "Whiskers-on-the-Moon" because of his great round face and fringe of ridiculous whiskers. He really is a funny character and figures in two of the most hilarious scenes of the book, when Norman Douglas violently stops his pacifist prayer at the union prayer meeting and when Susan chases him out of her kitchen with a pot of boiling dye. Montgomery lived through this war and Rilla of Ingleside was published in 1920. Clearly she felt very strongly about the war and patriotism, and it's hard to argue with her. This story succeeds on so many levels. It's a wonderful addition to the Blythe family chronicles, but it is also a great depiction, in its own right, of life in Canada during World War I. Funny, sad, and ultimately hopeful, Rilla of Ingleside is a treasure.

[t1bclasslibrary · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book stands out a lot from the other books in this series which are a lot more carefree even when the characters are having problems. This one had way too much World War I for my taste. There was too much play by play about different battles and events. Rilla was a good character, and she definitely grows, but I had way too much having to hear about this or that war thing.

[lilygirl_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

For some people it may be difficult to read all 8 of the books, but it is worth the journey to get to this tale. Anne of Green Gables is still my favorite because I read it first, but Rilla of Ingleside never fails to make me cry. It has its own distinct feel to it and I in no way felt that the author was attempting to create a "little Anne." In fact, it is darker and more adult than the first one. I highly recommend this book!

[quaintlittlehead · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Montgomery's writing takes a serious tone in this last book of the "Anne of Green Gables" series as she chronicles the Blythe family's experiences just before and during World War I, mostly as seen through the eyes of youngest daughter Rilla. Montgomery must have either kept a diary of her own experiences of the war or done some research, as she faithfully recounts all the major battles and political engagements of the war. In this respect, the novel is historically valuable in depicting the effects of a war that is not often thought about any more, at least not to the same extent as World War II, and in illustrating the particular relationship between Canada and England, which stands in stark contrast to the American perspective on the events. As literature, the book is neither Montgomery's best or worst; there are some very well-written moments, particularly in the height of tragedy. However, the author has a tendency to over-expound, having multiple characters state the same opinions over and over throughout the story rather than finding subtle ways to reveal their thoughts and emotions through their responses to events around them. She also vacillates between an omniscient narrator and chapters written as entries in Rilla's diary, but always focusses on the perspective at home, which gets a bit repetitive. The story is worth reading to gain a more personal understanding of this time and place in history, but it does not quite match the subtle artistry of books like "Gone with the Wind."

[thornestaff · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The main protagonist is Anne's youngest child, Rilla, who is just beginning to "come out" as a young woman at the onset of Canada's involvement in the First World War. At first she is petulant and selfish, but through the events of the war she really grows into a young woman who will make her parents -- and her community -- proud. The content is necessarily darker, and there is loss to the beloved family. But there are also scenes that remind us that even amidst great tragedy there is mighty triumph, in big and small ways. A fitting end to the 'Anne of Green Gables saga.

[sylviac_43 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Rilla of Ingleside is very much about WWI. Although it takes place entirely on Prince Edward Island, the war is more than just a backdrop to the story. So there is significant loss and sadness, but it is still ultimately a positive book. Rilla (Anne's youngest child) shows huge character development, and there is plenty of humour and love. Next to Anne of Green Gables, it is my favourite book by L. M. Montgomery.

[devafagan-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

[Re-read 2013]

I never really got excited about Rilla as a younger reader, but as an adult this is one of my favorites! It's so fascinating to see WWI through the eyes of Rilla and her family, at home in PEI, while the war rages on and one by one the young men go off to fight. Looking back from our current era, it is so odd and unnerving to read the propaganda, and yet Montgomery makes me understand where these characters are coming from. It is not an entirely comfortable book, for these reasons, but a lovely, heart-wrenching, eye-opening story.

I do especially appreciate Walter's perspective. And Rilla's growth and transformation are wonderfully depicted.

[fuzzi_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The youngest of Anne's children, Rilla, is almost 15, and ready for the gaiety of more grown-up activities such as parties, and dances, and having a beau. But suddenly conflict overseas in Europe flares into war, dragging all the young men into military service; Rilla finds herself growing up quickly as her brothers and friends become soldiers for England and Canada's cause in World War I.The final book in the "Anne of Green Gables" series is a little darker than the preceding books, but that is to be understood, due to the setting. It had been years since I'd read the previous books in this series, so relationships for some of the characters remained a dim memory, but I still enjoyed this story of irrepressible "Anne-with-an-E".

[librarycin · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

3.75 starsRilla Blythe is Anne and Gilbert's youngest child, and this final book in the Anne of Green Gables series primarily focuses on her. The book is set during World War I, so many of the local boys are going off to war, including brothers, friends, and sweethearts. Over the course of the book, Rilla goes from 15 to 19 years old, and besides having to deal with her brothers going to fight in the war, she discovers a "war baby" - a baby whose mother has died and whose father is overseas fighting - and despite not liking babies, she vows to take care of him. I liked this much better than the previous book, Rainbow Valley, I think in part because the "kids" are older, and also because of the time period it was set in, which was very interesting. I don't think I've read other fiction set during WWI. It's hard for me to compare with the rest of the Anne series because it was far too long ago that I read them. I thought Rilla was very likable and charming, similar to Anne when she was younger, and I was amused to find her in a few scrapes that also reminded me of a younger Anne! I may have rated it even higher, except, in particular as I was reading the start of the book, my mind tended to be on other worries. However, once I really focused more on it, it was definitely a very good book.