Poor Agnes wept bitterly as she received the affectionate farewells of her friends in Rodney Place; and Mary, who really loved her, wept too, though it is possible that the severe disappointment which had attended her matrimonial project for her, had a little dulled the edge of the enthusiasm at first excited by the sweetness and beauty of the poor motherless girl. But, under no circumstances, could the grief of Miss Peters at losing sight of her have been comparable to that felt by Agnes herself. How little had the tyranny of Mrs. Barnaby, and all the irksome _désagrémens_ of her home, occupied her attention during the month she had spent at Clifton! How completely it had all been lost sight of in the society of Mary, and the hospitable kindness of Rodney Place! "But, Oh! the heavy change!"... That which had been chased by the happy lightness of her young spirit, as a murky cloud is chased by the bright sun of April, now rolled back upon her, looking like a storm that was to last for ever! She knew it, she felt its approach, and, like a frightened fawn, trembled as she gazed around, and saw no shelter near. "You will write to me, dear Agnes!" said Mary. "I shall think of you very often, and it will be a real pleasure to hear from you." "And to write to you, Mary, will be by far the greatest pleasure I can possibly have. But how can I ask you to write to me in return?... I am sure my aunt will never let me receive a letter; ... and yet, would it not be worth its weight in gold." "Don't take up sorrow at interest, Agnes," replied Mary, laughing. "I don't think your dragon will be so fierce as that either.... I can hardly imagine she would refuse to let you correspond with me." Agnes endeavoured to return her smile, but she blushed and faltered as she said, "I mean, Mary, that she would not pay postage for me." "Impossible!" cried Miss Peters, indignantly; "you cannot speak seriously.... I know my mother does not believe a word about her _very_ large fortune, any more than she does her _very_ generous intention of leaving it to us. But she says that my uncle must have left something like a respectable income for her; and though we none of us doubt (not even Elizabeth) that she will marry with all possible speed, and when she has found a husband, with all her worldly goods will him endow; still, till this happens, it is hardly likely she will refuse to pay the postage of your letters." "Perhaps she will not," said Agnes, blushing again for saying what she did not think; "but, at any rate, try the experiment, dearest Mary.... To know that you have thought of me will be comfort inexpressible." "And suppose Mr. Frederick Stephenson were to ramble back to Clifton, Agnes, ... and suppose he were to ask me which way you are gone ... may I tell him?" "He never will ask you, Mary...." "But an' if he should?" persisted Miss Peters. "Then tell him that it would be a great deal more kind and amiable if he never again talked about me to any one."