s. She repeated the address
given by Mr. Trenchard, exactly.

"Good child! When I write I shall tell Frederick how you remembered
him. But he has been equally mindful of you. He asks many questions, and
seems very anxious about you."

"Does he? He is very kind," said Agatha, somewhat moved. She felt all
kindness deeply now.

"He is kind," Miss Harper continued, thoughtfully. "When he was a
boy, there never was a softer heart. Poor Frederick!" And the name was
uttered with a fondness that Agatha had never noticed in any other of
Major Harper's family towards him. It led her to look sympathisingly
towards Elizabeth.

"Are you uneasy about him? Oh! I do hope nothing is wrong with poor
Major Harper." And she almost forgot her own feelings in thinking
how unbrotherly it was of Nathanael to sit there like a stone, saying
nothing. Elizabeth also seemed hurt; the elder brother was clearly her
favourite--clung to as sisters cling, through good report and evil. She
looked gratefully at Agatha.

"Thank you. You are a warm-hearted girl. But you ought to keep a warm
heart for Frederick. You do not know how tenderly he always speaks of
you."

Agatha coloured, she hardly knew why, except because she saw her husband
start and look at her--one of those keen, quick looks that only last a
moment. Under it she blushed still deeper--to very scarlet.

Mr. Harper stood up. "I think, Elizabeth, we must go now. Agatha shall
come to you again in a day or two--and you and she can then talk over
both your sisterly loves for Frederick."

He spoke lightly, but Agatha heard a jarring tone--she was growing so
familiar with his every tone now. Why did he thus speak, thus look,
whenever she uttered or listened to his brother's name? Could it be
possible that Emma had told him--No, she threw that thought from her in
scorn--the scorn with which she had once met the insinuation that
she had been "in love" with Major Harper. Emma could not have been so
foolish, so wicked, or, if she had, any manly honour, any honest pride,
would have made Nathanael speak of it before their marriage. Since, she
felt certain that Mr. Harper had not interchanged a single word alone
with Mrs. Thornycroft.

In disgust and shame that her vanity--oh! not vanity, but a feeling
that, holy as it was, her proud heart still denied--had led her to
form the suspicion, Agatha cast it from her. She who had no secrets, no
jealousies, felt it to be impossible that Nathanael shoul