lf.

Miss Bowen, even in her tenderest inclinings towards her guardian, had
at times thought him a little too talkative--a little too much of the
brilliant man of the world. Now, in her bitterness against him, his
gaiety was positively offensive to her. She rose, and proposed that they
should quit her own private room for the general drawing-room of the
family.

The Iansons were all there, even the Doctor being prone to linger in his
dull home for the pleasure of Major Harper's delightful company. There
was another, too, the unexpected sight of whom made both Agatha and her
companion start.

As she and the Major entered, there arose, almost like an apparition
from his seat in the window-recess, the tall, slight figure of
Nathanael.

"N. L.! Where on earth have you dropped from? What a _very_
extraordinary fellow you are!" cried the elder brother.

"Perhaps unwelcome also," said the quiet voice.

"Unwelcome--never, my dear boy! Only next time, do be a little more
confidential. Here have I been telling a whole string of apparent fibs
about your movements--have I not Miss Bowen? Do you not consider this
brother of mine the most eccentric creature in the world?"

Agatha looked up, and met the young man's eyes. Their expression could
not be mistaken; they were _lover's eyes_--such as never in her life she
had met before. They seemed constraining her to do what out of pity or
mechanical impulse she at once did--silently to hold out her hand.

Nathanael took it with his usual manner. There was no other greeting
on his part or hers. Immediately afterwards he slipped away to the very
farthest corner of the room.

It would be hard to say whether Agatha felt relieved or disappointed at
his behaviour; but surprised she most certainly was. This was not the
sort of "lover's meeting" of girlish imaginings; nor was he the sort of
lover, so perfectly unobtrusive, self-restrained, and coldly calm.
She was glad she had not been at the pains to write the romantically
pitiful, tender refusal, which she had concocted sentence by sentence
in her deeply-touched heart, during that first wakeful night He did not
seem half miserable enough to need such wondrous compassion.

Freed in a measure from constraint, she became her own natural self, as
women rarely, indeed never, are in the presence of those they love,
or of those by whom they believe themselves loved. Neither unpleasant
consciousness rested heavily on Agatha now; her demeano