cast me away. I have nobody in the world but you. Forgive
me! Guide my life which I owe you, and make it worth your saving. Love
me--teach my husband to love me. If you knew how miserable I am, and may
be always."

"No one is miserable always," returned Anne faintly, as she leaned back,
her hands dropping down cold and listless. "We grow content in time. We
shall all be--very happy--some day."

She spoke with hesitation and difficulty. The next minute, in spite
of her declaration that she never fainted, Miss Valery had become
insensible.

CHAPTER XXII.

"What, up and dressed already, without sending for me? Did you not
promise last night that I should do everything for you just as if I were
your child? How very naughty you are, Miss Valery."

Agatha spoke rather crossly; it was a relief to speak so. Anne turned
round--she was sitting at the window of the inn bed-chamber looking on
Weymouth Bay.

"Am I naughty? And you have assumed the right to scold me? That is quite
a pleasure. I have had no one to scold me for a great many years."

There was a certain pathos running through her cheerfulness which made
Agatha's heart burst. She had lain awake half the night thinking of Anne
Valery, and had guessed, or put together many things, which made her
come with uncontrollable emotion into the presence of her whose fate had
been so knotted up with her own. For that this circumstance had in
some way or other brought about Anne's fate--the one fate of a woman's
life--Agatha could not doubt. Neither could she doubt who was this
"friend." But she said nothing--she felt she had no right.

"Don't look at the sea, please. Look at me. Tell me how you feel this
morning."

"Well--quite well. We will go home to-day. What did you tell Mr. Dugdale
last night?"

"Only what you desired me--that, being wearied, you felt inclined to
stay the night at Weymouth."

"That was right.--Look, Agatha, how beautiful the sea is. I must teach
you not to be afraid of it any more. Next year"--

She paused, hesitated, put her hand to her heart, as she often did, and
ceased to speak; but Agatha eagerly continued the sentence:

"Next year we will come and stay here, you and I; or perhaps, as a very
great favour, we'll admit one or two more. Next year, when you are quite
strong, remember. We will be very happy, next year."

She repeated the words strongly, resolutely, dinning them into Miss
Valery's ear, but she only won for answer that si