N. L.?--late Curate of Kingcombe parish?"

"No--of Anne Valery's parish. By the way, you have not yet asked a
single question about Anne Valery."

The Major's aspect visibly changed. In all the years of his acquaintance
with the world he had not yet learnt the convenient art of being a
physiognomical hypocrite. "Well, never mind--I ask a dozen questions
now. How could I forget so excellent a friend of the family?"

"She is indeed," said Nathanael, earnestly, while a glow of pleasure or
enthusiasm dyed his pale features, and he even ceased his close watch
over Agatha. "Though I was such a boy when I left, I find I have kept a
true memory of Anne Valery. She is just the woman I always pictured
her, from my own remembrance, and from Uncle Brian's chance allusions;
though, in general, it was little enough he said of England or home. I
was quite surprised to hear from Elizabeth what a strong friendship used
to exist between Uncle Brian, yourself, and Anne Valery."

Major Harper's restlessness increased. "Really, we are indulging our
friends with our whole genealogy--uncles, aunts, and collateral branches
included--which cannot be very interesting to Mrs. and Miss Ianson,
or even to Miss Bowen, however kindly she may be disposed towards the
Harper family."

The Iansons here made polite disclaimers, but Agatha said nothing.
Immediately afterwards, Nathanael's conversation likewise ebbed away
into silence.

The next time Agatha heard him speak was in answer to a sudden
question of his brother's as to what had made him return to London so
unexpectedly. "I thought you would have stayed at least three months."

"No," he said in a low tone; "by that time I shall be far enough away."

"Why so?"

"From circumstances which have lately arisen"--he did not look at
Agatha, but she felt his meaning--"I fear I must return to America at
once."

He said no more, for his brother asked no more questions. But the
tidings jarred painfully on Agatha's mind.

He was then going away, this man of so gentle, true and noble
nature--this, the only man who loved her, and whom, while she thought of
rejecting, she had still hoped to retain as an honoured and dear friend.
He was going away, and she might never see him more. She felt grieved,
and her lonely, unloved position rose up before her in more bitterness
and more fear than it was wont to do. She became as thoughtful and
silent as Nathanael himself.

Mr. Harper never attempted to add