Marilla was dismayed at finding herself inclined to laugh over the recollection.
She felt no little dismay over the scene that had just been enacted.
But the former under-stood in dismay that Anne was actually enjoying her valley of humiliation—was reveling in the thoroughness of her abasement.
"Anne, you shouldn’t say such things" rebuked Marilla, striving to overcome that unholy tendency to laughter which she was dismayed to find growing upon her.
"Whatever has gone wrong now, Anne?" queried Marilla in doubt and dismay.
All the fifth-class girls said, "Oh!" partly in excitement, partly in dismay.
Then she swayed, lost her balance, stumbled, staggered, and fell, sliding down over the sun-baked roof and crashing off it through the tangle of Virginia creeper beneath—all before the dismayed circle below could give a simultaneous, terrified shriek.
For a minute Anne, after her first quick exclamation of dismay, was silent.
All at once, as it seemed, and to her secret dismay, she found that the old resentment she had cherished against him was gone—gone just when she most needed its sustaining power.
Anne felt a queer little sensation of dismayed surprise.