h the west
of England, proceeding from thence to London.

"Where--as my brother, or rather my brother's solicitor, writes me
word--some business about your fortune will require our return in
another fortnight. Are you willing, Agatha?"

"Oh yes--quite willing," she cried; for now that her changed life was
floating her far away from her old ties, she began to have a yearning
for them all.

So the honeymoon dwindled to three weeks, at the close of which Mr. and
Mrs. Locke Harper were again in London.

It seemed very strange to Agatha to come back to the known places, and
roll over the old familiar London stones, and see all things going on as
usual; while in herself had come so wide a gap of existence, as if those
one-and-twenty days of absence had been one-and-twenty years.

She had become a little more happy lately; a little more used to her new
life. And day by day something undefinable began to draw her towards
her husband. It was in fact the dawning spirit of love, which should
and might have come before marriage, instead of being, as now, an
after-growth. Beneath its influence Nathanael's very likeness altered;
his face grew more beautiful, his voice softer. Looking at him now, as
he sat by her side, Mr. Harper hardly appeared to her the same man who,
returning from the church as her bridegroom, had impressed her with such
shrinking awe.

He too was more cheerful. All the long railway journey he had tried to
amuse her; the humorous half of his disposition--for Nathanael had, like
most good men, a spice of humour about him--coming out as it had never
done before. However, as they neared London, he as well as his wife had
become rather grave. But when, abruptly turning round, he perceived
her earnestly, even tenderly regarding him (at which Agatha was foolish
enough to blush, as if it were a crime to be looking admiringly at one's
husband), he melted into a smile.

"Here we are in the old quarters, Agatha. The question is, Where shall
we go to, since we have no lodgings taken?"

"You should have let me write to Emma, as I wished."

"No," he said, shortly; "it was a pity to trouble her."

"She would not have thought it so, poor dear Emma."

"Were you very intimate with Mrs. Thornycroft? Did you tell her
everything in your heart, as women do?"

Agatha was amused by the jealous searching tone and look, so replied
carelessly: "Oh yes, all I had to tell, which was not much. I don't
deal in mysteries, nor lik