ke--the whole family's--nay, her own.
Not just yet!"

Such was his earnestness, such his air of command, that, for the
second time, Anne, looking in his face and reading the old likeness
there--obeyed him.

Agatha, wondering, uncomfortable, recommenced what she jestingly called
"her little rebellion." "I see, Mr. Harper, your heart is inclining to
this place, though why or wherefore I cannot tell. But do incline it
back again! We must have the other house--that delicious Honeywood."

"My dear little wife! Nobody could live at Honeywood under a thousand a
year."

"Well, and have we not that? I am sure I thought I had more money than
ever I could do with. How much have I?"

He hesitated--she fancied it was at the thoughtless "I," and generously
changed the expression.

"How much have _we?_"

"Enough--I will make it enough--to keep you from wanting anything, and
give you all the luxuries to which you were born. But not enough to
warrant us in living at Honeywood. I cannot do it--not even for your
sake, Agatha."

"I do not see the matter as you do."

"You cannot, dear! I know that. But in this one thing--when, on various
accounts, I can judge better than she can--will not my wife trust me?"

And Anne Valery's glance seemed to echo, "Trust him."

Agatha, tried to the utmost of her small stock of patience, grew more
bitter than she could have believed it possible to be with her husband
and Anne Valery.

"You expect too much," she said, sharply. "I cannot trust, even though I
may be compelled to obey."

Mr. Harper turned round anxiously. "Agatha, what must--what can I
do? No," he muttered to himself, "I can do nothing." He walked to the
window, and stood looking out mutely on the little garden--tiny, but so
pretty, with its green verandah, its semicircle of arbutus trees
serving as a frame to the hilly landscape beyond, its one wavy acacia,
woodbine-clasped, at the foot of which a robin-redbreast was hopping and
singing over the few fallen leaves.

While they all thus stood, there came a light foot and a flutter of
draperies to the door.

"My patience! what are you all doing here? So, Agatha--Anne! How d'ye
do, my worthy brother? Why didn't you all come to our house?"

"We were coming directly," Agatha said. "But how did you find out we
were at Kingcombe?"

"You little London-lady! As if anybody, especially the much-beloved Anne
Valery (saving her presence) and the much-wondered-at Mr. and Mrs. Locke
Ha