"I wish I could work as you do," she said.
"I love it," answered Agnes; "it makes me forget. When I have any trouble or any vexation I come to my framework and create a bird, or a flower. Sometimes I dream dreams. It does not matter what I do, but I grow quieter and happier."
"You are a town girl, and I am a country girl," said Ann. "I have lived all my life in the open, in the midst of the flowers and the birds, with my dogs and horses, riding and hunting with Reginald and my father over miles of moorland. Oh, it is glorious! Would you not love it?"
Agnes looked up. "Love it? Indeed I am sure I should!" she answered. "Patience said just now we grow accustomed to things; that is true. I was accustomed to the great dark rooms at the Louvre, and the long dull days; but sometimes, I remember, I used to feel suffocated, as if I were a bird beating against the bars of the cage. I used to look up through the windows at the sky, and long--oh, how I used to long!--to have wings to fly away."
"And yet you say you like France better than England," said Ann.
"I knew of nothing better," said Agnes. "I loved the queen and I loved Henrietta, but still I have always known that it was not my own life, that there must be something better! We used to go to Fontainebleau sometimes, but we children never went beyond the edge of the wood. We were allowed to wander in the great gardens, which were very beautiful, with long avenues of trees and a big pond full of tame carp, which came when we called them, and which we used to feed. It was a great pleasure, but still it was not liberty. I longed for liberty, to ride, to walk, as the desire might come to me. Ah, you are very happy!" she said to Ann. "Tell me about that place up north of which you speak so often."
"Newbolt Manor?" answered Ann. "It is the most beautiful place in the world. Long, long ago it was a monastery, and belonged to a religious order. There are the ruins of the most lovely chapel you ever saw; and although the house has been restored and rebuilt, there are still parts of it which belong to the old days--the great hall, the refectory, and the library. They are very beautiful, with much carved oak and many stained-glass windows."
"And it belonged to the De Lisles!" said Agnes thoughtfully.
"Yes," answered her companion, "and there is a long picture-gallery containing portraits of the family of De Lisles; and now I come to think of it, Agnes, there is one picture of a child who lived a long time ago--oh! a hundred years ago, perhaps. You are exactly like her; is it not strange?"
"Very," said Agnes. "Go on and tell me more."