m sorry"--

"What, to see me?" said Anne, smiling. But the voice was weak, and the
smile had a sickly beauty. Agatha was struck by a change, slight, yet
perceptible, which had come over Miss Valery.

"I hear you have been ill--will you take the arm-chair? Are you better
to day?"

"Oh yes," returned Anne, briefly; she was never much in the habit of
talking about herself. "But you, my dear, how have you been this long
time? Come and let me look at you."

"It is not worth while. Never mind me. Talk of something else."

"Of your husband, then. When did you hear from him?"

"Last week."

"And is he quite well? Will you give a message to him from me when you
write again?"

"I never write."

Miss Valery looked surprised, pained. Evidently to her sick-room had
reached the vaguest possible hints of what had happened. Or else Anne
must have refused to hear or credit what she was persuaded was an
impossible falsehood. In all good hearts scandal unrepeated, unbelieved,
dies a natural death.

To Mrs. Harper's brief, sharp sentence there was no reply; her guest
turned to other topics.

"Harriet Dugdale comes home to-morrow. It is not often she takes it into
her head to pay a three weeks' visit from home. You must have missed her
a good deal."

"No, I did not. I have never been outside the garden."

"Was that quite right, my dear? And your sisters-in-law complain
bitterly that you will not go to Kingcombe Holm."

"They should have taken more trouble in coming to ask me.

"Nay, in this world we should not judge too harshly. We cannot see into
any one's motives. There may have been reasons. I know the Squire has
not been at all well; and Mary has spent her whole time in watching him,
and in coming to Thornhurst to nurse me."

"Have you been so very ill, then? I wish--I wish--"

"That you also had come to see me? Well, you will come now. Not to-day;
for I am going to use this lovely autumn morning in taking a journey."

"Whither?"

"To Weymouth, opposite the Isle of Portland."

After this answer both were silent. Agatha was thinking of the night
when her husband rode to Weymouth. Anne was thinking--of what?

At length she put her thoughts aside, and turned to watch the young
wife, who had fallen into a sullen, absent mood.

"Does your house please you, Agatha? It is very pretty, I think."

"Yes, very. I do not complain. Would you like to look over it? Or shall
I give you some cake and wine? That is the fashi