“I like it.”
“But you will rise soon? You must get well now they are come home. You little think how anxious all are about you.”
“That is kind. Everybody was always very kind to me.”
After a few moments, during which Anne lay with her eyes shut, and Agatha watched, with an unaccountable dread, the wonderful, spiritual calm of her features, she suddenly said:
“You have seen him, have you not?”
“Uncle Brian? Yes.”
“How does he look? Was he harmed by that—that awful three days at sea?
“No; he seems quite well. He drove me to Thornhurst.”
“Then he is here?” And there came a slight trembling over the placid face.
“He had to go back to Kingcombe, I believe,” said Agatha, hesitating. “But he told me to say, if you liked to see an old friend—He does not know how ill you have been,” she added, with irrepressible vexation, “or else I should have felt very, very angry, even with Uncle Brian.”