the same again when once that cold, sanctifying touch has been laid upon it.
The Reaper Whose Name is death.
“Matthew—Matthew—what is the matter? Matthew, are you sick?”
It was Marilla who spoke, alarm in every jerky word. Anne came through the hall, her hands full of white narcissus (begin subscript)^(end subscript)(begin superscript)C19(end superscript) in time to see Matthew standing in the porch doorway, a folded paper in his hand, his face strangely drawn and gray. Anne dropped her flowers and sprang across the kitchen to him at the same moment as Marilla. They were both too late; before they could reach him
LMM Note C19
—it was long before Anne could love the sight or odour of white narcissus again—
[Montgomery's Notes in this chapter range from C19–K19; on Notes pages 132–134.]
"The reaper whose name is death": From the opening lines of Longfellow's (1839) poem "The Reaper and the Flowers," about the death of innocents and children. The first of seven stanzas reads:
There is a Reaper, whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.