"Oh! but you _have_--_indeed_ you have--you are quite _changed_. And I don't know what I have done--I wish you'd tell me--to deserve it; because--even if there was--another--anything--no matter what--I'm an old friend, and I think it's very unkind; _you_ don't perceive it, perhaps, but you are awfully changed." Agnes laughed a very little, and she answered, looking down on the walk before her, as Sedley thought, with a very pretty blush; and I believe there was. "It is a very serious accusation, and I don't deserve it. No, indeed, and even if it were true, it rather surprises me that it should in the least interest you; because we down here have seen so little of you that we might very reasonably suspect that you had begun to forget us." "Well, I _have_ been an _awful_ fool, it is quite true, and you have punished me, not more than I deserve; but I think you might have remembered that you had not on earth a better friend--I mean a more earnest one--particularly _you_, Agnes, than I." "I really don't know what I have done," pleaded she, with another little laugh. "I was here, you know, as intimate almost as a brother. I don't say, of course, there are not many things I had no right to expect to hear anything about; but if I had, and been thought worthy of confidence, I would at all events have spoken honestly. But--may I speak quite frankly, Agnes? You won't be offended, will you?" "No; I shan't--I'm quite sure." "Well, it was only this--you _are_ changed, Agnes, you know you are. Just this moment, for instance, you were going home, only because _I_ came here, and you fancied I might join you in your walk; and this change began when Cleve Verney was down here staying at Ware, and used to walk with you on the Green." Agnes stopped short at these words and drew back a step, looking at Sedley with an angry surprise. "I don't understand you--I'm certain I don't. I can't conceive what you mean," she said. Sedley paused in equal surprise. "I--I beg pardon; I'm awfully sorry--you'll never know _how_ sorry--if I have said anything to vex you; but I _did_ think it was some influence or something connected with that time." "I really don't pretend to understand you," said Agnes, coldly, with eyes, however, that gleamed resentfully. "I do recollect perfectly Mr. Cleve Verney's walking half-a-dozen times with Charity and me upon the Green, but what that can possibly have to do with your fancied wrongs, I cannot imagine. I fancied you were a friend of Mr. Verney's." "So I was--so I am; but no such friend as I am of yours--_your_ friend, Agnes. There's no use in saying it; but, Agnes, I'd die for you--I would indeed."