said Mrs. Harper, with no
small dignity; and at this momentous crisis her father-in-law entered
the room.

He entered dressed for riding--looking somewhat younger than the night
before, more cheerful and pleasant too, but not a whit less stately. He
saluted Agatha first, and then his daughters, with a gracious solemnity,
patting their cheeks all round, something after the fashion of a
good-humoured Eastern bashaw. The old gentleman evidently took a secret
pride in his womenkind. Then he shook hands with "my son Nathanael,"
and threw abroad generally a few ordinary remarks, to which his two
daughters listened with great reverence. But in all he did or said was
the same benignant hauteur; he seemed frozen up within a conglomerate
of reserve and formal courtesy; he walked, talked, looked perpetually as
Nathanael Harper, Esquire, of Kingcombe Holm, who never allowed either
his mind or his body to appear _en deshabille_. Agatha wondered how he
could ever have been a baby squalling, a boy playing, or a young man
wooing; nay, more (the thought irresistibly presented itself as she
noticed the extreme feebleness which his dignity but half disguised),
how he would ever stoop to the last levelling of all humanity--the
grave-clothes and the tomb.

"Any letters, my dear children? Any news to tell me before I ride
to Kingcombe?" said he, looking round the circle with a patronising
interest, which Agatha would scarcely have believed real, but for the
kindly expression of the old man's eye.

"There were plenty of letters for Elizabeth, as usual; one for Eulalie
"--here Eulalie looked affectedly conscious--"no others, I think."

"Except one to Nathanael from Frederick," observed the Beauty.

At the name of his eldest son the Squire's mien became a little
graver--a little statelier. He said coldly, "Nathanael, I hope you have
pleasant news from your brother. Where is he now?"

"In the British Channel, on his way to the Continent."

"My son going abroad, and I never heard of it! Some mistake, surely. He
is not really gone?"

"Yes, father, for a year, or perhaps more--but certainly a year."

The old gentleman's fingers nervously clutched the handle of his
riding-whip. "If so, Frederick would certainly have shown his father the
respect of informing _him_ first. Excuse me if I doubt whether my son's
plans are quite decided."

"They are indeed, sir," said Nathanael gently. "And I was aware of,
indeed advised, this journey. He bids