“No—unless it was for the sake of my husband.”
Anne gave no reply, and her husband's name plunged Agatha into such a maze of painful thought, that she was for a long time altogether silent.
“Shall I tell you a story, Agatha?”
“Anything—anything, to keep me from thinking.”
“If I do, it is one you must not tell again, unless to Nathanael, for I would put no secrets between husband and wife.”
“Ah, that is right—that is kind. Would that he had thought the same!”
“What did you say, dear?”
“Nothing! Nothing of any consequence. Don't mind me. Go on.”
“It is a history which I think it right and best to tell you. You will both need to keep it sacred for a little while—not for very long.”
As she spoke, a shudder passed through Anne's frame. Was it the involuntary shrinking of mortality in sight of immortality?