“Must she?--then she is the more glad to see her visitors”--a pleasant voice, a silken-rustling step, which in Agatha's fancy seemed always to enter like daylight into a dusky room--and Miss Valery came to welcome her guests.
She addressed Mrs. Harper first, and then Harrie, who looked confused for the moment. But it was not a trifle that could upset the equanimity of the honest-speaking Harrie Dugdale.
“Bless us, Anne, how softly you walk!' Listeners,' etc.--You know the saying! But you might listen at every door in Dorsetshire, and never hear worse of yourself than I said just now.”
“Thank you. When I want a good character I shall be sure to come to Harriet Dugdale.--And now, what is the news with the little wife! whom I have yet to bid welcome to Thornhurst. Welcome Mrs. Locke Harper.” Anne said the name, as she often did, with a peculiar under-tone of hesitation and tenderness; then, according to her frequent habit, she put her hand on her favourite's shoulder, and began to play with the brown curls. “Have you been quite well and happy since I saw you?”
The question, so simple, so full of kindness, pierced Agatha's soul. Alas? how much had happened since she sat on the stone seat at Corfe Castle, and looked over the view with Anne Valery! How little did Anne or any one know that she was wretched--maddened--hating herself and the whole world--believing in nothing good, nothing holy--not even in her who spoke. The words, the smile, appeared the mocking hypocrisy of one who had persuaded her to marry, and must ere long know of that hasty marriage the miserable result This thought steeled her heart even against Anne Valery.
She burst into a sharp laugh. “Well! Happy! Cannot you see? You are the best person to answer your own question.” And she moved away out of the room.
Anne looked after her, thoughtfully, rather sadly. Perhaps she was used to have her pets glide from her, dancing out indifferently into the merry world. She made no attempt to follow Agatha, but led the way down-stairs into the drawing-room.
“Mr. Trenchard, come and let me introduce you to Mrs. Locke Harper.”
As Miss Valery said this, an elderly gentleman, dapper, dandy, and small, escaped from under the hands of Duke Dugdale--those big earnest hands that were laid upon him in all the apostleship of sincere argument--and came, nothing loth, as his eager bow showed, to do the polite to the young bride who had been lately brought to the county. For Mr. Trenchard, besides the wondrously sweetening power of his candidateship, came of a very ancient name in Dorsetshire. He was evidently a beau too--one of those harmless general adorers whom the influence of a graceful woman touches even unto old age.