Very different this from the plain benches at the Debating Club, filled with the homely, sympathetic faces of friends and neighbors.

These people, she thought, would be merciless critics.

Perhaps, like the white-lace girl, they anticipated amusement from her "rustic" efforts.

She felt hopelessly, helplessly ashamed and miserable.

Her knees trembled, her heart fluttered, a horrible faintness came over her; not a word could she utter, and the next moment she would have fled from the platform despite the humiliation which, she felt, must ever after be her portion if she did so.
But suddenly, as her dilated, frightened eyes gazed out over the audience, she saw Gilbert Blythe away at the back of the room, bending forward with a smile on his face--a smile which seemed to Anne at once triumphant and taunting.