like an
inappropriate garment, and she became pure woman. She forgot Anne's
recent disaffection and her coldness, she forgot the years that had
separated them, and remembered only the time when Anne was the girlfriend
who had loved her, and had come to her in all her griefs, and had made
her house her home.

"What is it, dear?" she murmured.

Anne felt for her hand and pressed it. She tried to speak, but no words
would come.

"Of course," thought Mrs. Eliott, "she cannot tell me. But she knows I
know."

"My dear," she said, "can I or Johnson help you?"

Anne shook her head; but she pressed her friend's hand tighter.

Wondering what she could do or say to help her, Mrs. Eliott resolved to
take Anne's knowledge for granted, and act upon it.

"If there's trouble, dear, will you come to us? We want you to look on
our house as a refuge, any hour of the day or night."

Anne stared at her friend. There was something ominous and dismaying in
her solemn tenderness, and it roused Anne to wonder, even in her grief.

"You cannot help me, dear," she said. "No one can. Yet I had to come to
you and tell you--"

"Tell me everything," said Mrs. Eliott, "if you can."

Anne tried to steady her voice to tell her, and failed. Then Fanny had an
inspiration. She felt that she must divert Anne's thoughts from the grief
that made her dumb, and get her to talk naturally of other things.

"How's Peggy?" said she. She knew it would be good to remind her that,
whatever happened, she had still the child.

But at that question, Anne released Mrs. Eliott's hand, and laid her head
back upon the cushion and cried.

"Dear," whispered Mrs. Eliott, with her inspiration full upon her, "you
will always have _her_."

Then Anne sat up in her corner, and put away her tears, and controlled
herself to speak.

"Fanny," she said, "Dr. Gardner has seen her. He says I shall not have
her very long. Perhaps--a few years--if we take the very greatest
care--"

"Oh, my dear! What is it?"

"It's her heart. I thought it was her spine, because of Edie. But it
isn't. She has valvular disease. Oh, Fanny, I didn't think a little child
could have it."

"Nor I," said Mrs. Eliott, shocked into a great calm. "But surely--if you
take care--"

"No. He gives no hope. He only says a few years, if we leave Scale and
take her into the country. She must never be overtired, never excited. We
must never vex her. He says one violent crying fit might kill her. And