alery
says so."

"Anne Valery!" again repeated Agatha, catching at this second strange
name with which she was supposed to be familiar.

"What, did you never hear of her--my father's ward, my sister's chief
friend--quite one of the family? Is it possible that my brother never
spoke to you of Anne Valery?"

No, certainly not. Agatha was quite sure of that. The circumstance
of Major Harper's having a friend who bore the very suspicious and
romantically-interesting name of Anne Valery could never have slipped
Miss Bowen's memory. She answered Nathanael's question in an abrupt
negative; but all the way through Russell Square she silently pondered
as to who, or what like, Anne Valery could be? finally sketching a
fancy portrait of a bewitching young creature, with blue eyes and golden
hair--the style of beauty which Agatha most envied, because it was most
unlike herself.

Ere reaching Dr. Ianson's door, her attention was called to Mr. Harper,
whose feet dragged so wearily along, that Agatha was convinced that, in
spite of his efforts to conceal it, he was seriously ill. Her womanly
sympathy rose--she earnestly pressed him to come in and consult Dr.
Ianson.

"No--no. Uncle Brian and I always cure ourselves. As he often says, 'A
man after forty is either a doctor or a fool.'"

"But you are only twenty-five."

"Ay, but I have seen enough to make me often feel like a man of forty,"
said he, smiling. "Do not mind me. That strain was rather too much; but
I shall be all right in a day or two."

"I hope so," cried Agatha, anxiously; "since, did you suffer, I should
feel as if it were all of my causing, and for me.

"Do you think I should regret that?" said the young man, in a tone so
low, that its meaning scarcely reached her. Then, as if alarmed at his
own words, he shook hands with her hastily, and walked down the square.

Agatha thought how different was the abrupt, singular manner of
Nathanael from Major Harper's tender, lingering, courteous adieu.
Nevertheless, she fulfilled her kind purpose towards the young man; and
running to her own window, watched his retreating figure, till her mind
was relieved by seeing him safely enter his brother's door.

CHAPTER III.

A week--nay, more than a week slipped by in the customary monotony of
that large, placidly genteel, Bedford Square house, and Agatha heard
nothing of the house round the corner, which constituted one of the
faint few interests of her existence. Som