descend to at times, especially when recovering from sickness.

"She is a foolish child! Did she fancy nobody loved her? Did she think
everybody believed she was wicked (and so she was, now and then, very
wicked). Does she suppose nobody sees her poor little goodnesses? Oh,
but they do! They will find all out without my telling. It is best to
leave things alone."

"You must not speak; it will do you harm."

"Not thus whispering. Nay, lay the head down again. Imagine it only a
little bird in the air talking to my child. Some kind of characters--I
once knew the like well!"--and Anne's whisper came through a half
sigh--"are very proud and jealous over the thing they love. They
cannot bear a breath to rest on it, or to go from it to any other than
themselves. They are very silent, too; would die rather than complain.
They are strong-willed and secret--and as for persuading them to
anything against their will, you might as well attempt to cleave with
your little hand to the heart of a great oak. You must shine over it,
and rain softly on it, and cling close round it, and it will take
you into its arms, and support you safe, and hang you all round with
beautiful leaves. But you must always remember that it is a noble
forest-oak, and that you are only its dews, or its sunshine, or its ivy
garland. You must never attempt to come between it and the skies."

Anne ceased. Agatha looked up with moistened eyelids.

"I understand; I will try--if you will stay with me. I cannot do
anything right without you."

Anne smiled. "Poor little Agatha! Not even with the help of her
husband?"

"My husband! Oh, teach me to be a good wife, such a wife as you would
have been--as you may be"--

Agatha felt a soft finger closing her lips, and knew that on _that_
subject there must still be, as ever, total silence. She hid her face,
and obeyed.

At length Miss Valery started. "There is a horse coming down the road, I
think. Go, look. It may be your husband."

Agatha rose, and ran to the window.

Anne half rose too. "I fancy I hear two horses. Is anybody with
Nathanael?"

"Only Mr. Dugdale."

"Ah! well!" There was the slightest possible compression of eyelids and
mouth, and Anne resumed her place again. "It is very kind of Marmaduke."

The visitors came in softly. Duke Dugdale was the kindest, gentlest
soul to any one that was ill--wise as a doctor, merry as a child. But
now--though he strove to hide it--his countenance was overcast.