“No--I never faint--I am only tired. Don't speak to me for a minute or two, and I shall be well.” With a long sigh she forcibly brought life back to her cheeks--a feeble life at best. Agatha, watching her, was smitten by a dread which now entered her mind for the first time, driving thence all personal feelings, and making her gaze with sorrowful anxiety on the friend beside her who had been all day so cheerful and kind. And she thought with a remorse amounting to positive horror, that she herself during that day had more than once spoken sharply even to Anne Valery. A great awe came upon her, reflecting how often we unconsciously walk hand-in-hand, and talk of our own petty earthly trials, with those whose souls' wings are already growing, already stirring with the air that comes to bear them to the unseen land. It was a relief indescribable, when leisurely strolling along the pavement, she saw among many strange faces one that seemed familiar. The hands knotted loosely at his back, the light hair straggling out from under the hat, that was pushed far up from the forehead--no, she could not be mistaken. She uttered a cry of pleasure. “Look, look! there he is; I am certain it is he.” Anne started violently. “Mr. Dugdale, Mr. Dugdale!” Agatha called out. He came up to the carriage with the most lengthened “E--h!” that she had ever heard him utter. “What brought you two here? This bleak day too. Very wrong of Anne!” “But she would come. She said she wanted a breath of sea-air, and I think, besides, she has business.” “No,” interrupted Anne, “no business, except bringing Agatha to see Weymouth. Now shall we rest, and have some tea at the inn. You'll come with us, Mr. Dugdale?” “Yes, I want to speak to you, Anne. I've got news about--that little affair you know of. That was why I came to Weymouth to-day. Eh, now--just look there!” With a countenance brimful of pleasure he came to Miss Valery's side, and pointed to a steamer that lay in the offing. “It's the _Anna Mary_. She made the passage from New York in no time. I've been aboard her already. I fancied I might find him there. Now, what do you think, Anne?” “Is he come?” said Anne, in a steady voice. She had quite recovered herself now. “No--not this time. But he will sail, for certain, by the next New York packet to Havre.” “Thank God!” It was a very low answer--just a sigh, and nothing more. “And we have satisfactorily ended all that business which you first put into my head,” continued Duke, rubbing his hands with great glee. “It was a risk certainly, but then it was for him. My children will never be a bit the poorer.” “No,” murmured Anne Valery to herself. “And think what an election we shall have! With him to make speeches for Trenchard, and argue in this wonderful way about Free-trade, and tell the farmers all about Canadian wheat! Glorious!” “What are you both talking about?” cried Agatha, who had been considerably puzzled. “Do let me hear, if it is not a secret.”