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- Уилки Коллинз
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As
that
reply
passed
his
lips
,
the
old
nurse
appeared
again
at
the
door
,
announcing
another
visitor
.
’
I
’
m
sorry
to
disturb
you
,
my
dear
.
But
here
is
little
Mrs
.
Ferrari
wanting
to
know
when
she
may
say
a
few
words
to
you
.
’
Agnes
turned
to
Henry
,
before
she
replied
.
’
You
remember
Emily
Bidwell
,
my
favourite
pupil
years
ago
at
the
village
school
,
and
afterwards
my
maid
?
She
left
me
,
to
marry
an
Italian
courier
,
named
Ferrari
—
and
I
am
afraid
it
has
not
turned
out
very
well
.
Do
you
mind
my
having
her
in
here
for
a
minute
or
two
?
’
Henry
rose
to
take
his
leave
.
’
I
should
be
glad
to
see
Emily
again
at
any
other
time
,
’
he
said
.
’
But
it
is
best
that
I
should
go
now
.
My
mind
is
disturbed
,
Agnes
;
I
might
say
things
to
you
,
if
I
stayed
here
any
longer
,
which
—
which
are
better
not
said
now
.
I
shall
cross
the
Channel
by
the
mail
to
-
night
,
and
see
how
a
few
weeks
’
change
will
help
me
.
’
He
took
her
hand
.
’
Is
there
anything
in
the
world
that
I
can
do
for
you
?
’
he
asked
very
earnestly
.
She
thanked
him
,
and
tried
to
release
her
hand
.
He
held
it
with
a
tremulous
lingering
grasp
.
’
God
bless
you
,
Agnes
!
’
he
said
in
faltering
tones
,
with
his
eyes
on
the
ground
.
Her
face
flushed
again
,
and
the
next
instant
turned
paler
than
ever
;
she
knew
his
heart
as
well
as
he
knew
it
himself
—
she
was
too
distressed
to
speak
.
He
lifted
her
hand
to
his
lips
,
kissed
it
fervently
,
and
,
without
looking
at
her
again
,
left
the
room
.
The
nurse
hobbled
after
him
to
the
head
of
the
stairs
:
she
had
not
forgotten
the
time
when
the
younger
brother
had
been
the
unsuccessful
rival
of
the
elder
for
the
hand
of
Agnes
.
’
Don
’
t
be
down
-
hearted
,
Master
Henry
,
’
whispered
the
old
woman
,
with
the
unscrupulous
common
sense
of
persons
in
the
lower
rank
of
life
.
’
Try
her
again
,
when
you
come
back
!
’
Left
alone
for
a
few
moments
,
Agnes
took
a
turn
in
the
room
,
trying
to
compose
herself
.
She
paused
before
a
little
water
-
colour
drawing
on
the
wall
,
which
had
belonged
to
her
mother
:
it
was
her
own
portrait
when
she
was
a
child
.
’
How
much
happier
we
should
be
,
’
she
thought
to
herself
sadly
,
’
if
we
never
grew
up
!
’
The
courier
’
s
wife
was
shown
in
—
a
little
meek
melancholy
woman
,
with
white
eyelashes
,
and
watery
eyes
,
who
curtseyed
deferentially
and
was
troubled
with
a
small
chronic
cough
.
Agnes
shook
hands
with
her
kindly
.
’
Well
,
Emily
,
what
can
I
do
for
you
?
’
The
courier
’
s
wife
made
rather
a
strange
answer
:
’
I
’
m
afraid
to
tell
you
,
Miss
.
’
’
Is
it
such
a
very
difficult
favour
to
grant
?
Sit
down
,
and
let
me
hear
how
you
are
going
on
.
Perhaps
the
petition
will
slip
out
while
we
are
talking
.
How
does
your
husband
behave
to
you
?
’
