1. The way of all Flesh

The two ladies of robust, but advancing, years sat on the porch, peering into the distance, where they could just make out the shape of two distant figures, walking hand in hand towards the Birch wood. Around them, the work boxes and linen baskets full of mending, demonstrated that kitchen chores were complete and the pair intended to hunker down for an afternoon's plain sewing and gossip.

"You shouldn't be letting them wander off all day goodness knows where, just the two of them. They have scarce had a minute apart since Gilbert arrived home last week. Out at dawn, back at sunset, or after sunset," said Mrs Rachel, with awful italics, "and not a single eye to see that they remain within the bounds of propriety but that of Providence itself."

"I would have thought Providence to be a good enough chaperone," said Marilla, dryly. "As for their scampering off all over the countryside together, well, they have done it often enough for many years now, it would look most peculiar if I was to try and put a stop to that now."

"Yes, but they weren't engaged then." retorted Mrs Lynde, unanswerably. "Marilla, you mark my words, there will be nothing but trouble come of letting them wander off, goodness knows where, for day after day. Anne has always provided fuel for the gossips, not that I am one to talk out of turn, you know Marilla, but those Pyes are starting to get real insinuating. All the talk is that Gilbert will be dropping his medical course and coming home to farm after all. And with a hasty marriage and a six month baby to follow!" Mrs Lynde's italics increased in their awfulness at this.

"Three years is a long time, and they have both worked so hard, not to mention the Blythe farm is so diminished, what with John Blythe selling chunks here and there to help pay Gilbert's way through college - it's a boon and a blessing that Gilbert got that scholarship - that there would be hardly anything left to handover if Gilbert were to set aside medicine and return home!"

"And the pair of them just don't help themselves. Such a performance at the station last week, when Anne went to collect Gilbert. Mrs Hirom Sloane was there, waiting for the early train to Charlottetown, and she saw Anne race across the platform and positively hurl herself at him." Mrs Rachel's italics became distinctly accusatory. "And there they were, kissing, in broad daylight, on the middle of the platform, in front of the station master, the driver, a train full of passengers and Mrs Hirom Sloane."

Mrs Rachel's tone implied that, whatever one may do in front of such an inconsequential audience as employees of the PEI railway company, and a whole train-full of nameless passengers, to be caught in impropriety under the candid gaze of a Sloane of Avonlea, was a piece of foolhardiness beyond redemption.

"I know you have brought her up with good principles," continued Mrs Lynde, relentlessly, as Marilla attempted an indignant interjection at this point, "but Anne has always been a mite over-emotional. A girl like that, susceptible to her ruling passions, it's not to be wondered at if she finds it difficult to resist temptation. And I think everyone would agree that Gilbert Blythe is tempting."

Mrs Lynde became meditative at this point. "He's always been a good looking boy, the Blythes have always been noted for their charm, but he's turning into a real handsome young man. When you think what a pale, spindly creature he was last autumn, following the fever, it's remarkable the way he's filled out." Mrs Rachel's reverie came to a close and she continued briskly, "But I wonder at you Marilla, allowing her to be so often led into temptation."

"Well Rachel," interpolated Marilla, as Mrs Rachel paused briefly to draw breath, "they are not children anymore."

"I know that!" interjected Mrs Lynde, "that's what I'm afraid off!"

"As I said," continued Marilla, tightly, "they are not children and more than capable of making their own decisions, with all due consideration for the consequences. I trust them to know what is right; I trust both of them to know what is right. What's more, Gilbert Blythe is a patient man, I trust him to do what is right."

"Men!" Retorted Mrs Rachel scornfully, "you can't be trusting to men in a situation like this. They are all the same, even the good ones can't be stopped once their dander's up. Not that you could be expected to know, of course," refined Mrs Rachel, suddenly mindful of Marilla's spinster status; "but all men are sinners and subject to the lusts of the flesh."

There was a brief pause, as Mrs Lynde reflected on the awfulness of the baser sex, before delivering her final, quelling, opinion on the matter: "For the works of the flesh are manifest[i], and when we are in the flesh, the motions of sins do work in our members to bring forth fruit unto death[ii]."

Marilla, who knew better than to pursue a subject once Rachel Lynde had begun to invoke scripture, resumed her stitching. Although quite where Mrs Rachel had gathered her evidence that all men were lascivious, lustful ravishers of innocent maidens, Marilla couldn't fathom. Certainly, she would never think about the meek, mild-mannered, Thomas Lynde in quite the same way again. She merely reiterated her trust in the pair to behave with sense and decorum and, as she repeated the mantra, sincerely hoped that she was correct.

[i] Galatians 5:19

[ii] Romans 7:5