"I'm afraid," Adrienne acknowledged to herself, "that I am not equal to the emergency. And the task of keeping Aunt Cecily's spirits up is too much for my own. I don't believe anyone in the world could make her happy!" As she mused in this despondent way, she happened to glance up, and she saw she was passing the little white house on the knoll outside the village. A sudden impulse seized her. "I will go and see this little Agatha, who seems to be a kind of modern saint. I dare say she may drive away my dumps." So she made her way to the whitewashed cottage with the green shutters, and opened the little green wooden gate which led into a very pretty flower garden. Here she found Marie Berthod, a woman with a round, smiling face. She was seated just outside the door with a bowl in her lap, preparing vegetables for the midday pottage, but she welcomed Adrienne at once. "You will be the English demoiselle at the Château. We have watched you ride past in the early hours. Come in. I will take you to my little sister. We wondered if we should have the pleasure of a visit from you." She took her straight into a tidy little kitchen; and from thence into another room leading out of it. In this room was a big couch by the open window. Adrienne's first impression was of great purity, great restfulness, and great peace. The room was whitewashed. All the furniture, which was of the simplest description, was painted white. Two big pictures hung on the opposite walls. One of Christ as a tiny boy upon His mother's knee; two other children gambolling on the grass at His feet were holding out flowers which they had plucked. His tiny hands were outstretched to take, but also they seemed in the act of blessing them. It was a wonderfully beautiful picture, and when Adrienne looked at it later, she was lost in admiration. The other picture was of Christ weeping over Jerusalem; the city down below and the walls and pinnacles of the temple were touched with the golden rays of the setting sun. His Figure was in the shadow of a tree above Him, but just one ray of sun was shining upon His Face, and the tender love and longing in His Eyes was depicted by a masterly brush. Underneath was written just these words: "Et vous ne voulez pas!" But for the moment Adrienne did not notice these pictures. Her eyes were upon the couch, and upon little Agatha.