“Nathanael, if I did not know you well, and know too whose guidance formed your character, it would be hard to trust you.”
“Anne!” Again the peculiar manner which sometimes appeared in him, making him seem much older than his years, had its strange influence with Miss Valery, guiding her by an under-current deeper even than her judgment.
“Ay,” she said in a whisper, “I will trust you. Let us go down.” And she turned with him to say good-bye to Miss Harper.
The excitement of talking had been too much for “poor Elizabeth.” One of her “dark hours” was upon her. The eyes were closed, and the face sharpened under keen physical pain. Agatha could hardly bear to see her; but Nathanael bent over his sister with that soothing kindness which in a man is so beautiful.
“Shall we stay with you? at least, shall I?”
Elizabeth motioned a decided negative.
“I know,” Miss Valery said, apart, “she had rather be alone. No one can do her good, and it is too much for this child, who is not used to it as we are.”
Calling Elizabeth's maid from the inner room, Anne hurried Agatha away. She, clinging to her husband's arm, heard him say, half to himself:
“And yet we think life hard, and murmur at that we have, and grieve for that we have not! We are very wicked, all of us. Poor Elizabeth!”
The three went very silently down-stairs.