e half, which
makes--according to the Platonic doctrine--a perfect being. Of
course, this theory would be almost universally considered
"sentimentalism"--Agatha's little infatuation being included therein;
but the frequency of such infatuations existing in the world around us
argues some truth at their origin.

To the young girl--still so girlish, though she was married--there was
an inexplicable attraction in all Anne Valery said or did. The very
sweep of her dress across the floor--her slow soft motions, which might
have been haughty when she was young, but now were only gracious and
self-possessed; the way she had of folding her hands on one another, and
looking straight forward with a kind observant smile, free alike from
sentiment, crossness, or melancholy; her tone and manner, neither showy
nor sharp; her habit of saying the wisest things in the most simple way,
so that nobody recognised them as wisdom till afterwards--all filled
Agatha with a sense of satisfied admiration. She wished either that she
had been a man, to have adored and married Anne years ago--or that her
own marriage had been delayed for a little, until she had grown wiser
and more fit for life's destiny by learning from and loving such a woman
as Miss Valery.

Moreover, with the dawning jealousy that all strong likings bring, she
wished to appropriate her--and was quite annoyed that Anne sat so long
discussing winter mantles with Eulalie and Mary, afterwards diverging
to a Christmas clothing fund to be started at Kingcombe under Mrs.
Dugdale's eye; finally listening to a whispered communication on the
part of the Beauty--which had reference to a certain "Edward"--about
whose position in the family there could be no mistake. At last, to
Agatha's great satisfaction, Miss Valery rose, and proposed that they
two--Mrs. Harper and herself--should go and visit Elizabeth.

Passing through the galleries, Anne seemed tired, and walked slowly,
stopping one minute at a window to show her companion the moonlight over
the hills.

"Is it not a beautiful world? If we could but look at it always as we
do when we are young!" The half sigh, the momentary shadow sweeping over
her quiet face like a cloud over the moon--surprised and touched Agatha.

"Do you know I have stood and looked out of this same window ever since
I was the height of its first pane. No wonder I have a weakness for
stopping here and looking out for a minute at my dear old moon. But let
us p