"I shall be with you long before that," replied Anne, as she closed the door. Amy sat just where Anne had left her only an hour ago; the same hopelessly despairing, fixed, death-like look on her face, which was as white as the shawl wrapped round her. As Anne looked, she wondered if Frances alone had wrought the sad change, while her heart sank within her at the apparently hopeless task her husband had imposed upon her, and she hesitated and faltered slightly ere she went at once, as was her wont, to the point in view. Her sister Julia would have brought the subject gradually round to Frances, but that was not Anne's way; she was, in fact, too impetuous, rushing headlong into a difficulty, facing the danger, and braving it with that strong, true heart. "My husband has been to see Frances Strickland to-day, Amy." There was no reply; Anne hardly expected any, but Amy raised her eyes, and looked hastily and inquiringly in her face. Anne took courage; perhaps the very fact of Amy's knowing another held her secret might open the floodgates of her heart. "She hid nothing from Tom; told him all, everything, and is desperately sorry, as well she may be, for all the misery she has caused you." "As well she may be," repeated Amy. "She is repentant--truly repentant, Amy." "I know it; have known it for days past," was the cold reply. "She begs your forgiveness most humbly." "I know that also, and have given it." "She says otherwise, Amy," said Anne, rather puzzled. "I have forgiven her for my darling's loss. But for the other; if she has dared tell you of it--of her cruelty, I never will. I have said so. Let us talk of something else." "No, Amy, I must talk of this--only of this. Does not the very fact of her having owned her fault show how sincerely sorry she is. Think of Frances, the proud Frances, sueing for forgiveness; think how miserable, utterly miserable, she must be to stoop to that. How, almost broken-hearted! Surely, Amy, for the sake of her prayers--all our prayers, for the sake of the love your poor Bertie had for her, you will forgive her." "No. Had my boy lived he would have avenged his mother's wrongs, and hated her, even as I do." "Alas, Amy! You hate her. Your heart never used to be so cruel as this." "No, it did not. She has made me what I am. Has she not pursued me with her revengeful cruelty for years? Has she not taken my only earthly hope from me, even my husband's love? And yet you wonder that I am changed--can ask me to forgive her." "No, Amy, not taken your husband's love; he loves you still." "If he did, I should not be sitting here, broken hearted and alone, with nothing but my own sorrowful thoughts, and--and you to comfort me." "He will forgive you, and take you to his heart in time, Amy."