“Hush! You do not understand him yet,” said Anne, gently, as she once more closed her eyes. Many thoughts seemed to sweep over her, but none left a trace of bitterness behind. She was past all restlessness or suffering now.
“How are you all going to keep Christmas, Agatha? You ought to be very happy. After such a week as this has been, everything seems happiness now.”
“Not everything—when you are not with us, Anne—I mean, not with us to-day.”
“But I shall be with you, to-day and every day. I believe I shall never be far away from Thornhurst and Kingcombe, and Kingcombe Holm.”
She said this more to herself than to Agatha, who listened, her throat choking; then answered abruptly, “You are talking too much—you must be quiet.”
Anne smiled—one of her old smiles, so full of cheerfulness. “I think I am quiet enough already, but I will obey.”
She turned her face to the pillow, and lay for a long time without moving. At length she said:
“Agatha, I want you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“I would like to see your husband, and my old friend, Mr. Brian Harper. Will you go and fetch them?”