not quite
understand ourselves or others. The feeling passes away. But as to
Weymouth--do you still dislike to go near the sea?"

"Yes--no! I will try to bear it; I think I could, by your side. And you
shall not go alone on any account."

"Thank you," said Anne, taking her hand. So they went.

An innocent line of railway darted past Kingcombe, in the vain hope of
waking that somnolent town. It was a pleasant whirl across the usual
breezy flats of moorland, by some meadows where a network of serpentine
streams flashed in the sun. Agatha felt more like her own self; with
her, the spirit of Nature was always an exorciser of internal demons;
and Anne's conversation aided the beneficent work.

At Dorchester they took a carriage, and drove across the country to
Weymouth.

"Are you not getting weary? you looked so but lately," said Agatha to
Miss Valery.

"Not at all, I feel strong now." Her eyes and cheeks were indeed very
bright; she leaned forward and gazed eagerly around.

"This Weymouth seems familiar to you, Miss Valery?"

"Yes; we used to come here every summer--Mr. and Mrs. Harper and the
children and I, until she died. She was as good as a mother, or an elder
sister"--here Anne hesitated, but repeated the words--"like an elder
sister--to me. We were all very happy in those times. It is a great
blessing, Agatha, to have had a happy childhood. Where did you spend
yours?"

Agatha looked uneasy. "Chiefly in London--I told you."

"But before then, when you were a very little girl?"

"I do not know. Don't let us talk about that."

"Not if you do not wish it." Anne's eyes, which had watched her closely,
turned away, and after a few minutes were riveted on a line of blue sea
sweeping round a distant headland, and curving off to the horizon. As
she looked she became very pale, and shivered. Agatha hardly noticed
her, being so busy examining the new regions into which they now
entered--the ordinary High Street of an ordinary country town. The sea
view had vanished.

Suddenly the carriage turned a corner, and they burst upon the shore of
Weymouth Bay. A great, blue, glittering bay, with two white headlands
shutting it in; the tide running high, the waves dashing themselves
furiously against the sea-wall of the esplanade, breaking into showers
of spray, and curling back into the foaming whirl below.

Agatha started, and put her hands before her eyes. "I know that sight--I
remember that sound. Oh! where is this p