o look up, composedly bowed.

He was come to spend the evening as usual, and she must meet him as
usual too, otherwise he might think--supposing he had not yet seen Emma
Thornycroft, or even if he had,--might think--what made Agatha's cheek
burn like fire. But she controlled herself. The first vehemence of
her pride and anger was over now. She had discovered that the dawning
inclination on which she had bestowed a few dreamings and sighings,
trying, in foolish girlish fashion, to fan a chance tinder-spark into
the holy altar-fire of a woman's first love--had gone out in darkness,
and that her free heart lay quiet, in a sort of twilight shade, waiting
for its destiny; nor for the last few days had she even thought of
Nathanael. His silence had as yet no power to grieve or surprise her; if
it struck her at all, it was with the hope that perhaps his wooing might
die out of itself, and save her the trouble of a painful refusal.
She had begun to think--what girls of nineteen are very slow to
comprehend--that there might be other things in the world besides love
and its ideal dreams. She had read more than usual--some sensible prose,
some lofty-hearted poetry; and was, possibly, "a sadder and a wiser"
girl than she had been that day week.

In this changed mood, after a little burst of well-controlled temper, a
scornful pang, and a slight trepidation of the heart, Miss Agatha Bowen
walked up-stairs to the drawing-room to meet Major Harper.

Her manner in so doing was most commendable, and a worthy example to
those young ladies who have to extinguish the tiny embers of a month
or two's idle fancy, created by an impressible nature, by girlhood's
frantic longing after unseen mysteries, and by the terrible misfortune
of having nothing to do. But Miss Bowen's demeanour, so highly
creditable, cannot be set forward in words, as it consisted in the very
simplest, mildest, and politest "How d'ye do?"

Major Harper met her with his accustomed pleasantly tender air, until
gradually he recollected himself, looked pensive, and subsided into
coldness. It was evident to Agatha that he could not have had any
communication from Mrs. Thornycroft. She was growing vexed again,
alternating from womanly wrath to childish pettishness--for in her heart
of hearts she had a deep and friendly regard for the noble half of her
guardian's character--when suddenly she decided that it was wisest to
leave the room and take refuge in indifference and her pi