case, slowly, with heavy
pauses between each step. She crept close to the farther door--behind
the curtain, and listened.

"Agatha--where is she gone to?" said Mary, peeping carelessly into the
dark room.

"Oh, she has followed her husband up-stairs, of course. Think of all the
charges and farewells--the kissing and the crying. 'Tis a wonder she
did not insist on riding with him across the country, and coming back at
midnight, as I suppose Nathanael will do. La? what's to become of these
very devoted husbands and wives."

Agatha crushed her hands against the wall She felt as if she could
almost have torn Eulalie's heart out--if she had a heart. While in her
own bosom, leaping up in all its strength, ready at once for heroism,
love, and fury--for any nobleness or any crime--was that fountain of
all her sex's actions, that mainspring of all her life--the fatal
woman-heart.

She waited until she heard Nathanael descend the stairs, and then, as
he passed into the drawing-room to his sisters, she, by the little
curtained door, passed out into the hall. There she remained until the
rest came; the sisters trooping after Nathanael, and the old Squire
following likewise, to see that his son had the best and steadiest horse
for a night-ride, which ride, he took care to observe, pointedly, was a
most uncourteous proceeding, and warranted by nothing, save the fact of
its being performed on the especial service of Anne Valery.

"Agatha--where is Agatha hiding herself?" said Mary. "She ought not to
keep her husband waiting a minute.''

"Oh, no?" And the little figure, all in white, glided out from some
queer corner of the hall, and stood like a ghost in the moonlight.
"Good night--good night." She threw out her hand with those of the
others--threw it--not gave it.

Nathanael took the hand, but did not say good night--indeed he never
spoke at all.

"Well, are you not going to embrace one another, stage-fashion? Don't
let Mary and me interrupt you, pray." And the two Miss Harpers drew back
a little from the young couple.

Mr. Harper bent coldly over his wife's brow, hid under the shadow of her
heavy hair.

"No, no; not that," Agatha whispered, recoiling from his touch. "Never
that again."

He opened the hall-door--saying adieu to neither father nor
sisters--leaped on his horse, and was gone.

"Agatha, Agatha; where are you running? He is far down the road by this
time. Come in, do! Are you so very reluctant to be left