sagreeable
that most people would be thankful to get away. She has the dullest,
most monotonous time one can imagine, and hardly ever sees Will alone;
but she is quite happy--not resigned, not forbearing nor any pretence
like that, but really and truly and honestly happy. I call it splendid!
There are lots of people in the world who have hard things to bear, and
who bear them bravely enough, but they are not _happy_ in doing it.
Rachel is--that's the wonderful thing about her!"

"I wonder if she could make me happy. I wonder if she could tell me how
to like lying here!" said poor Vere with a sob, and the idea must have
grown in her mind, for a week after our return home she said suddenly,
"I want to see Rachel Greaves!" and nothing would satisfy her but that
she must be invited forthwith.

Rachel came. I had not seen her for some months, and I thought she
looked thin and pale.

As we went upstairs together our two figures were reflected in the big
mirror on the first landing--one all grey and brown, the other all
white, and pink, and gold. I felt ashamed and uncomfortable at the
contrast in our appearance, but Rachel didn't; not a bit! She just
looked round at me, and beamed in the sweetest way, and said--

"You are more like a flower than ever, Una! It _is_ nice to see you
again!" and she meant it, every word. She really is too good to live!

I took her to Vere's room, and was going to leave them alone, but Vere
called me back, and made me stay. She said afterwards that she wanted
me to hear what was said, so that I could remind her of anything which
she forgot. There was only half an hour before tea, so Vere lost no
time in stupid trivialities.

"I sent for you to come to see me, Rachel, because I wanted particularly
to ask you a question. I have been ill nearly a year now, and I get no
better. I am beginning to fear I shall never get better, but have to be
like this all my life. I have lain here with that thought to keep me
company until I can bear it no longer. I feel sometimes as if I am
going out of my senses. I must find something to help me, or it may
really come to that in the end. I keep up pretty well during the day,
for I hate being pitied, and that keeps me from breaking down in public;
but the nights--the long, long endless nights! Nobody knows what I
endure in the nights! You are so good--everyone says you are so good--
tell me how to bear it and not mind! Tell me what I am to do