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diff --git a/21767-h/21767-h.htm b/21767-h/21767-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e34ed92 --- /dev/null +++ b/21767-h/21767-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,21303 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Agatha's Husband, by Dinah Maria Craik</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify;} + P { text-indent: 2em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Agatha’s Husband, by Dinah Maria Craik</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Agatha’s Husband<br /> +A Novel</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Dinah Maria Craik (AKA: Dinah Maria Mulock)</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Walter Crane</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 8, 2007 [eBook #21767]<br /> +[Most recently updated: August 17, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AGATHA’S HUSBAND ***</div> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="titlepage (32K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h1> + AGATHA'S HUSBAND + </h1> + <h3> + A NOVEL <br /> <br /> BY THE AUTHOR OF <br /> 'JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN' + </h3> + <h2> + DINAH MARIA CRAIK + </h2> + <h3> + AKA: Dinah Maria Mulock + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h4> + With Illustrations By Walter Crane + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h5> + Macmillan And Co. + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1875 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + INSCRIBED TO M. P., <br /> <br /> IN <br /> MEMORIAL OF THE FRIENDSHIP OF A + LIFETIME <br /> <br /> 1852. + </h3> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img alt="frontispiece-p280 (175K)" src="images/frontispiece-p280.jpg" + width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>AGATHA'S HUSBAND.</b></big> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>Illustrations</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> She Began Leisurely to Read P036 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Will You Accept It, With My Love P090 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> Arrival at Kingcombe Holm P148 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> On Horseback P212 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0005"> A Husband's Farewell P280 </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0006"> Along the Road Page P394 </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + AGATHA'S HUSBAND. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + —If there ever was a woman thoroughly like her name, it was Agatha + Bowen. She was good, in the first place—right good at heart, though + with a slight external roughness (like the sound of the g in her name), + which took away all sentimentalism. Then the vowels—the three broad + rich a's—which no one can pronounce with nimini-pimini closed lips—how + thoroughly they answered to her character!—a character in the which + was nothing small, mean, cramped, or crooked. + </p> + <p> + But if we go on unfolding her in this way, there will not be the slightest + use in writing her history, or that of one in whom her life is beautifully + involved and enclosed—as every married woman's should be— + </p> + <p> + He was still in clouded mystery—an individual yet to be; and two + other individuals had been “talking him over,” feminine-fashion, in Miss + Agatha Bowen's drawing-room, much to that lady's amusement and + edification. For, being moderately rich, she had her own suite of rooms in + the house where she boarded; and having no mother—sorrowful lot for + a girl of nineteen!—she sometimes filled her drawing-room with very + useless and unprofitable acquaintances. These two married ladies—one + young, the other old—Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Thornycroft—had been + for the last half-hour vexing their very hearts out to find Agatha a + husband—a weakness which, it must be confessed, lurks in the heart + of almost every married lady. + </p> + <p> + Agatha had been laughing at it, alternately flushing up or looking + scornful, as her mouth had a natural propensity for looking; balancing + herself occasionally on the arm of the sofa, which, being rather small and + of a light figure, she could do with both impunity and grace; or else + rushing to the open window, ostensibly to let her black kitten investigate + street-sights from its mistress's shoulder. Agatha was very much of a + child still, or could be when she chose. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Hill had been regretting some two or three “excellent matches” of + which she felt sure Miss Bowen had thrown away her chance; and young Mrs. + Thornycroft had tried hard to persuade her dearest Agatha how very much + happier she would be in a house of her own, than as a boarder even in this + excellent physician's family. But Agatha only laughed on, and devoted + herself more than ever to the black kitten. + </p> + <p> + She was, I fear, a damsel who rather neglected the <i>bienséances</i> of + life. Only, in her excuse, it must be allowed that her friends were doing + what they had no earthly business to do; since; if there is one subject + above all upon which a young woman has a right to keep her thoughts, + feelings, and intentions to herself, and to exact from others the respect + of silence, it is that of marriage. Possibly, Agatha Bowen was of this + opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Hill, you are a very kind, good soul: and Emma Thornycroft, I like + you very much; but if—(Oh! be quiet, Tittens!)—if you could + manage to let me and 'my Husband' alone.” + </p> + <p> + These were the only serious words she said—and they were but half + serious; she evidently felt such an irresistible propensity to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” continued she, turning the conversation, and putting on a dignified + aspect, which occasionally she took it into her head to assume, though + more in playfulness than earnest—“now let me tell you who you will + meet here at dinner to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Major Harper, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see the 'of course' Mrs. Thornycroft,” returned Agatha, rather + sharply; then, melting into a smile, she added: “Well, 'of course,' as you + say; what more likely visitor could I have than my guardian?” + </p> + <p> + “Trustee, my dear; guardians belong to romances, where young ladies are + always expected to hate, or fall in love with them.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha flushed slightly. Now, unlike most girls, Miss Bowen did not look + pretty when she blushed; her skin being very dark, and not over clear, the + red blood coursing under it dyed her cheek, not “celestial, rosy red,” but + a warm mahogany colour. Perhaps a consciousness of this deepened the + unpleasant blushing fit, to which, like most sensitive people at her age, + she was always rather prone. + </p> + <p> + “Not,” continued Mrs. Thornycroft, watching her,—“not that I think + any love affair is likely to happen in your case; Major Harper is far too + much of a settled-down bachelor, and at the same time too old.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha pulled a comical face, and made a few solemn allusions to + Methuselah. She had a peculiarly quick, even abrupt manner of speaking, + saying a dozen words in the time most young ladies would take to drawl out + three; and possessing, likewise, the rare feminine quality of never saying + a word more than was necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, how funny you are!” laughed her easily-amused friend. “But, dear, + tell me who else is coming?” And she glanced doubtfully down on a gown + that looked like a marriage-silk “dyed and renovated.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no ladies—and gentlemen never see whether one is dressed in + brocade or sackcloth,” returned Agatha, rather maliciously;—“only, + 'old Major Harper' as you are pleased to call him, and——” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I didn't call him very old—just forty, or thereabouts—though + he does not look anything like it. Then he is so handsome, and, I must + say, Agatha, pays you such extreme attention.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha laughed again—the quick, light-hearted laugh of nineteen—and + her brown eyes brightened with innocent pleasure. + </p> + <p> + Young Mrs. Thornycroft again looked down uneasily at her dress—not + from overmuch vanity, but because her hounded mind recurred instinctively + from extraneous or large interests to individual and lesser ones. + </p> + <p> + “Is there really any one particular coming, my dear? Of course, <i>you</i> + have no trouble about evening dress; mourning is such easy comfortable + wear.” (Agatha turned her head quickly aside.) “That handsome silk of + yours looks quite well still; and mamma there,” glancing at the + contentedly knitting Mrs. Hill—“old ladies never require much dress; + but if you had only told me to prepare for company——” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty company! Merely our own circle—Dr. Ianson, Mrs. Ianson, and + Miss Ianson—you need not mind outshining her now——” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed! I am married.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the 'company' dwindles down to two besides yourselves; Major Harper + and his brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! What sort of a person is the brother?” + </p> + <p> + “I really don't know; I have never seen him. He is just come home from + Canada; the youngest of the family—and I hate boys,” replied Agatha, + running the sentences one upon the other in her quick fashion. + </p> + <p> + “The youngest of the family—how many are there in all?” inquired the + elder lady, her friendly anxiety being probably once more on matrimonial + thoughts intent. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure, Mrs. Hill, I cannot tell. I have never seen any of them but + Major Harper, and I never saw him till my poor father died; all which + circumstances you know quite well, and Emma too; so there is no need to + talk a thing twice over.” + </p> + <p> + From her occasional mode of speech, some people might say, and did say, + that Agatha Bowen “had a temper of her own.” It is very true, she was not + one of those mild, amiable heroines who never can give a sharp word to any + one. And now and then, probably from the morbid restlessness of + unsatisfied youth—a youth, too, that fate had deprived of those + home-ties, duties, and sacrifices, which are at once so arduous and so + wholesome—she had a habit of carrying, not only the real black + kitten, but the imaginary and allegorical “little black dog,” on her + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + It was grinning there invisibly now; shaking her curls with short quick + motion, swelling her rich full lips—those sort of lips which are + glorious in smiles, but which in repose are apt to settle into a gravity + not unlike crossness. + </p> + <p> + She was looking thus—not her best, it must be allowed—when a + servant, opening the drawing-room door, announced “Visitors for Miss + Bowen.” + </p> + <p> + The first who entered, very much in advance of the other, appeared with + that easy, agreeable air which at once marks the gentleman, and one long + accustomed to the world in all its phases, especially to the feminine + phase; for he bowed over Agatha's hand, and smiled in Agatha's now + brightening face, with a sort of tender manliness, that implied his being + used to pleasing women, and having an agreeable though not an ungenerous + consciousness of the fact. + </p> + <p> + “Are you better—really better? Are you quite sure you have no cold + left? Nothing to make your friends anxious about you?” (Agatha shook her + head smilingly.) “That's right; I am so glad.” + </p> + <p> + And no doubt Major Harper was; for a true kind-heartedness, softened even + to tender-heartedness, was visible in his handsome face. Which face had + been for twenty years the admiration of nearly every woman in every + drawing-room he entered: a considerable trial for any man. Now and then + some independent young lady, who had reasons of her own for preferring + rosy complexions, turn-up noses, and “runaway” chins, might quarrel with + the Major's fine Roman profile and jet-black moustache and hair; but—there + was no denying it—he was, even at forty, a remarkably handsome man; + one of the old school of Chesterfield perfection, which is fast dying out. + </p> + <p> + Everybody liked him, more or less; and some people—a few men and not + a few women, had either in friendship or in warmer fashion—deeply + loved him. Society in general was quite aware of this; nor, it must be + confessed, did Major Harper at all attempt to disprove or ignore the fact. + He wore his honours—as he did a cross won, no one quite knew how, + during a brief service in the Peninsula—neither pompously nor + boastingly, but with the mild indifference of conscious desert. + </p> + <p> + All this could be at once discerned in his face, voice, and manner; from + which likewise a keen observer might draw the safe conclusion that, though + a decided man of fashion, and something of a dandy, he was above either + puppyism or immorality. And Agatha's rich Anglo-Indian father had not + judged foolishly when he put his only child and her property in the trust + of, as he believed, that rare personage, an honest man. + </p> + <p> + If the girl Agatha, who took honesty as a matter of course in every + gentleman, endowed this particular one with a few qualities more than he + really possessed, it was an amiable weakness on her part, for which, as + Major Harper would doubtless have said with a seriously troubled + countenance, “no one could possibly blame <i>him.</i>” + </p> + <p> + In speaking of the Major we have taken little notice—as little, + indeed, as Agatha did—of the younger Mr. Harper. + </p> + <p> + “My brother, Miss Bowen. He came home when my sister Emily died.” The + brief introduction terminated in a slight fall of voice, which made the + young lady look sympathisingly at the handsome face that took shades of + sadness as easily as shades of mirth. In her interest for the Major she + merely bowed to his brother; just noticed that the stranger was a tall, + fair “boy,” not at all resembling her own friend; and after a polite + speech or two of welcome, to which Mr. Harper answered very briefly, she + hardly looked at him again until she and her guests adjourned to the + family drawing-room of Dr. Ianson. + </p> + <p> + There, the Major happening to be engrossed by doing earnest politeness to + Mrs. Thornycroft and her mother, Agatha had to enter side by side with the + younger brother, and likewise to introduce him to the worthy family whose + inmate she was. + </p> + <p> + She did so, making the whole circuit of the room towards Miss Jane Ianson, + in the hope that he would cast anchor, or else be grappled by that young + lady, and so she should get rid of him. However, fate was adverse; the + young gentleman showed no inclination to be thus put aside, and Miss + Bowen, driven to despair, was just going to extinguish him altogether with + some specimen of the unceremonious manner which she occasionally showed to + “boys,” when, observing him more closely, she discovered that he could not + exactly come under this category. + </p> + <p> + His fair face, fair hair, and thin, stripling-like figure, had deceived + her. Investigating deeper, there was a something in his grave eye and + firmly-set mouth which bespoke the man, not the boy. Agatha, who, treating + him with a careless womanly superiority that girls of nineteen use, had + asked “how long he had been in Canada?” and been answered “Fifteen years,”—hesitated + at her next intended question—the very rude and malicious one—“How + old he was when he left home?” + </p> + <p> + “I was, as you say, very young when I quitted England,” he answered, to a + less pointed remark of Miss Ianson's. “I must have been a lad of nine or + ten—little more.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha quite started to think of the disrespectful way in which she had + treated a gentleman twenty-five years old! It made her shy and + uncomfortable for some minutes, and she rather repented of her habit of + patronising “boys.” + </p> + <p> + However, what was even twenty-five? A raw, uncouth age. No man was really + good for anything until he was thirty. And, as quickly as courtesy and + good feeling allowed her, she glided from the uninteresting younger + brother to the charmed circle where the elder was talking away, as only + Major Harper could talk, using all the weapons of conversation by turns, + to a degree that never can be truly described. Like Taglioni's <i>entrechats</i>, + or Grisi's melodious notes, such extrinsic talent dies on the senses of + the listener, who cannot prove, scarcely even explain, but only say that + it was so. Nevertheless, with all his power of amusing, a keen observer + might have discerned in Major Harper a want of depth—of reading—of + thought; a something that marked out the man of society in contradiction + to the man of intellect or of letters. Had he been an author—which + he was once heard to thank Heaven he was not—he would probably have + been one of those shallow, fashionable sentimentalists who hang like + Mahomed's coffin between earth and heaven, an eyesore unto both. As it + was, his modicum of talent made him a most pleasant man in his own sphere—the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” whispered the good, corpulent Dr. Ianson, who had been laughing + so much that he quite forgot dinner was behind time, “my dear Miss Bowen, + your friend is the most amusing, witty, delightful person. It is quite a + pleasure to have such a man at one's table.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite a pleasure, indeed,” echoed Mrs. Ianson, deeply thankful to + anything or anybody that stood in the breach between herself, her husband, + and the dilatory cook. + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked gratified and proud. Casting a shy glance towards where her + friend was talking to Emma Thornycroft and Miss Ianson, she met the eye of + the younger brother. It expressed such keen, though grave observance of + her, that she felt her cheeks warm into the old, unbecoming, uncomfortable + blush. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a satisfaction that, just then, they were summoned to + dinner; Major Harper, in his half tender, half paternal manner, advancing + to take her downstairs; which was his custom, when, as frequently + happened, Agatha Bowen was the woman he liked best in the room. This was + indeed his usual way in all societies, except when out of kindliness of + heart he now and then made a temporary sacrifice in favour of some woman + who he thought liked <i>him</i> best. Though even in this case, perhaps, + he would not have erred, or felt that he erred, in offering his arm to + Agatha. + </p> + <p> + She looked happy, as any young girl would, in receiving the attentions of + a man whom all admired; and was quite contented to sit next to him, + listening while he talked cheerfully and brilliantly, less for her + personal entertainment than that of the table in general. Which she + thought, considering the dulness of the Ianson circle, and that even her + own kind-hearted, long-known friend, Emma Thornycroft, was not the most + intellectual woman in the world,—showed great good nature on the + part of Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the most silent person at table was the younger brother, whose + Christian name Agatha did not know. However, hearing the Major call him + once or twice by an odd-sounding word, something like “Beynell” or + “Ennell,” she had the curiosity to inquire. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it is N. L.—his initials; which I call him by, instead of the + very ugly name his cruel godfathers and godmothers imposed upon him as a + life-long martyrdom.” + </p> + <p> + “What name is that?” asked Agatha, looking across at the luckless victim + of nomenclature, who seemed to endure his woes with great equanimity. + </p> + <p> + He met her eye, and answered for himself, showing he had been listening to + her all the time. “I am called Nathanael—it is an old family name—Nathanael + Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't look very like a Nathanael,” observed his neighbour, Mrs. + Thornycroft, doubtless wishing to be complimentary. + </p> + <p> + “I think he does,” said Agatha, kindly, for she was struck by the + infinitely sweet and “good” expression which the young man's face just + then wore. “He looks like the Nathanael of Scripture, 'in whom there was + no guile.'” + </p> + <p> + A pause—for the Iansons were those sort of religious people who + think any Biblical allusions irreverent. But Major Harper said, heartily, + “That's true!” and cordially, nay affectionately, pressed Agatha's hand. + Nathanael slightly coloured, as if with pleasure, though he made no answer + of any kind. He was evidently unused to bandy either jests or compliments. + </p> + <p> + If anything could be objected to in a young man so retiring and + unobtrusive as he, it was a certain something the very opposite of his + brother's cheerful frankness. His features, regular, delicate, and + perfectly colourless; his hair long, straight, and of the palest brown, + without any shadow of what painters would call a “warm tint,” auburn or + gold, running through it; his slow, quiet movements, rare speech, and a + certain passive composure of aspect, altogether conveyed the impression of + a nature which, if not positively repellant, was decidedly cold. + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt it, and though from the rule of opposites, this species of + character awoke in her a spice of interest, yet was the interest of too + faint and negative a kind to attract her more than momentarily. + </p> + <p> + In her own mind she set down Nathanael Harper as “a very odd sort of + youth”—(<i>a youth</i> she still persisted in calling him)—and + turned again to his brother. + </p> + <p> + They had dined late,—and the brief evening bade fair to pass as + after-dinner evenings do. Arrived in the drawing-room, old Mrs. Hill went + to sleep; Miss Ianson, a pale young woman, in delicate health, + disappeared; Mrs. Ianson and Mrs. Thornycroft commenced a low-toned, + harmless conversation, which was probably about “servants” and “babies.” + Agatha being at that age when domestic affairs are very uninteresting, and + girlish romance has not yet ripened into the sweet and solemn instincts of + motherhood, stole quietly aside, and did the very rude thing of taking up + a book and beginning to read “in company.” But, as before stated, Miss + Agatha had a will of her own, which she usually followed out, even when it + ran a little contrary to the ultra-refined laws of propriety. + </p> + <p> + The book not being sufficiently interesting, she was beginning, like many + another clever girl of nineteen, to think the society of married ladies a + great bore, and to wonder when the gentlemen would come up-stairs. Her + wish was shortly gratified by the door's opening—but only to admit + the “youth” Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + However, partly for civility, and partly through lack of entertainment, + Agatha smiled upon even him, and tried to make him talk. + </p> + <p> + This was not an easy matter, since in all qualities he seemed to be his + elder brother's opposite. Indeed, his reserve and brevity of speech + emulated Agatha's own; so they got on together ill enough, until by some + happy chance they lighted on the subject of Canada and the Backwoods. + Where is there boy or girl of romantic imagination who did not, at some + juvenile period of existence, revel in descriptions of American + forest-life? Agatha had scarcely passed this, the latest of her various + manias; and on the strength of it, she and Mr. Harper became more + sociable. She even condescended to declare “that it was a pleasure to meet + with one who had absolutely seen, nay, lived among red Indians.'” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, and nearly died among them too,” added Major Harper, coming up so + unexpectedly that Agatha had not noticed him. “Tell Miss Bowen how you + were captured, tied to the stake, half-tomahawked, etc.—how you + lived Indian fashion for a whole year, when you were sixteen. Wonderful + lad! A second Nathaniel Bumppo!” added he, tapping his brother's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The young man drew back, merely answered “that the story would not + interest Miss Bowen,” and retired, whether out of pride or shyness it was + impossible to say. + </p> + <p> + The conversation, taken up and led, as usual, by Major Harper, became a + general disquisition on the race of North American Indians. Accidentally, + or not, the elder brother drew from the younger many facts, indicating a + degree of both information and experience which made every one glance with + surprise, respect, and a little awe, on the delicate, boyish-looking + Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + Once, too, Agatha took her turn as an object of interest to the rest. They + were all talking of the distinctive personal features of that strange + race, which some writers have held to be the ten lost tribes of Israel. + Agatha asked what were the characteristics of an Indian face, often stated + to be so fine? + </p> + <p> + “Look in the mirror, Miss Bowen,” said Nathanael, joining in the + conversation. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + I mean, that were you not an Englishwoman, I should have thought you + descended from a Pawnee Indian—all except the hair. The features are + exact—long, almond-shaped eyes, aquiline nose, mouth and chin of the + rare classic mould, which these children of nature keep, long after it has + almost vanished out of civilised Europe. Then your complexion, of such a + dark ruddy brown—your——” + </p> + <p> + “Stop—stop!” cried the Major, heartily laughing. “Miss Bowen will + think you have learnt every one of her physical peculiarities off by heart + already. I had not the least idea you were gifted with so much + observation.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, do let him go on; it amuses me,” cried the young girl, laughing, + though she could not help blushing a little also. + </p> + <p> + But Nathanael had “shrunk into his shell,” as his brother humorously + whispered to Agatha, and was not to be drawn out for the remainder of the + evening. + </p> + <p> + The Harpers left early, thus affording great opportunity for their + characters being discussed afterwards. Every lady in the room had long + since declared herself “in love” with the elder brother; the fact was now + repeated for the thousandth time, together with one or two remarks about + the younger Harper, who they agreed was rather nice-looking, but so + eccentric! + </p> + <p> + Miss Bowen scarcely thought about Nathanael at all; except that, after she + was in bed, a comical recollection floated through other more serious + ones, and she laughed outright at the notion of being considered like a + Pawnee Indian! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + Of all the misfortunes incidental to youth (falling in love included), + there are few greater than that of having nothing to do. From this trial, + Agatha Bowen, being unhappily a young lady of independent property, + suffered martyrdom every day. She had no natural ties, duties, or + interests, and was not sufficiently selfish to create the like in and + about her own personality. She did not think herself handsome enough to be + vain, so had not that sweet refuge of feminine idleness—dress. Nor, + it must be dolefully confessed, was she of so loving a nature as to love + anybody or everybody, as some women can. + </p> + <p> + Kind to all, and liking many, she was apparently one of those characters + who only really <i>love</i> two or three people in the whole course of + their existence. To such, life is a serious, perilous, and often terrible + journey. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Tittens, I don't know, really, what we are to do with ourselves + this morning,” said Agatha, talking aloud to her Familiar, the black + kitten, who shared the solitude of her little drawing-room. “You'd like to + go and play downstairs, I dare say? It's all very nice for you to be + running after Mrs. Ianson's wools, but I can't see anything amusing in + fancy-work. And as for dawdling round this square and Russell Square with + Jane Ianson and Fido—pah! I'd quite as soon be changed into a + lapdog, and led along by a string. How stupid London is! Oh, Tittens, to + think that you and I have never lived in the country since we were born. + Wouldn't you like to go? Only, then we should never see anybody——” + </p> + <p> + The foolish girl paused, and laughed, as if she did not like to + soliloquise too confidentially, even to a kitten. + </p> + <p> + “Which of them did you like the best last night, Tittens? One was not over + civil to you; but Nathanael—yes, certainly you and that juvenile are + great friends, considering you have met but four evenings. All in one + week, too. Our house is getting quite gay, Miss Tittens; only it is so + much the duller in the mornings. Heigho! + </p> + <p class="poem"> + “Life's a weary, weary, weary,<br/> + Life's a weary coble o' care.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the other verse? And she began humming: + </p> + <p class="poem"> + “Man's a steerer, steerer, steerer,<br/> + Man's a steerer—life is a pool.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder, Tittens, how you and I shall steer through it? and whether the + pool will be muddy or clear?” + </p> + <p> + Twisting her fingers in and about her pet's jetty fur, Agatha sat silent, + until slowly there grew a thoughtful shadow in her eyes, a forewarning of + the gradual passing away of that childishness, which in her, from + accidental circumstances, had lasted strangely long. + </p> + <p> + “Come, we won't be foolish, Tittens,” cried she, suddenly starting up. + “We'll put on our bonnets, and go out—that is, one of us will, and + the other may take to Berlin wool and Mrs. Ianson.” + </p> + <p> + The bonnet was popped on quickly and independently—Miss Bowen + scorned to indulge in the convenience or annoyance of a lady's-maid. + Crossing the hall, the customary question, “Whether she would be home to + dinner?” stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I am not quite sure. Tell Mrs. Ianson not to wait for + me.” + </p> + <p> + And she passed out, feeling keener than usual the consciousness that + nobody would wait for her, or look for her, or miss her; that her comings + in and goings out were perfectly indifferent to every human being in the + house, called by courtesy her “home.” Perhaps this was her own fault, but + she could not help it. It was out of her nature to get up an interest + among ordinary people, where interests there were none. + </p> + <p> + Little more had she in the house whither she was going to pay one of her + extempore visits; but then there was the habit of old affection, begun + before characters develop themselves into the infinite variety from which + mental sympathy is evolved. She could not help liking Emma Thornycroft, + her sole childish acquaintance, whose elder sister had been Agatha's daily + governess, until she died. + </p> + <p> + “I know Emma will be glad to see me, which is something; and if she does + tire me with talk about the babies, why, children are better than Berlin + wool. And there is always the piano. Besides, I must walk out, or I shall + rust to death in this horrible Bedford Square.” + </p> + <p> + She walked on, rather in a misanthropic mood, a circumstance to her not + rare. But she had never known mother, sister, or brother; and the name of + father was to her little more than an empty sound. It had occasionally + come mistily over the Indian Ocean, in the shape of formal letters—the + only letters that ever visited the dull London house where she spent her + shut-up childhood, and acquired the accomplishments of her teens. Mr. + Bowen died on the high seas: and when his daughter met the ship at + Southampton, a closed black coffin was all that remained to her of the + name of father. That bond, like all others, was destined to be to her a + mere shadow. Poor Agatha! + </p> + <p> + Quick exercise always brings cheerfulness when one is young, strong, and + free from any real cares; Agatha's imaginary ones, together with the vague + sentimentalisms into which she was on the verge of falling, yet had not + fallen, vanished under the influence of a cheerful walk on a sunny + summer's day. She arrived at Mrs. Thornycroft's time enough to find that + admirable young matron busied in teaching to her eldest boy the grand + mystery of dining; that is, dining like a Christian, seated at a real + table with a real silver knife and fork. These latter Master James + evidently preferred poking into his eyes and nose, rather than his mouth, + and evinced far greater anxiety to sit on the table than on the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, dear—so glad to see you!” and Emma's look convinced even + Agatha that this was true. “You will stay, of course! Just in time to see + James eat his first dinner, like a man! Now Jemmie, wipe his pretty mouth, + and then give Auntie Agatha a sweet kiss.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha submitted to the kiss, though she did not quite believe in the + adjective; and felt a certain satisfaction in knowing that the title of + “Auntie” was a mere compliment. She did not positively dislike children, + else she would have been only half a woman, or a woman so detestable as to + be an anomaly in creation; but her philoprogenitiveness was, to say the + least, dormant at present; and her sense of infantile beauty being founded + on Sir Joshua's and Murillo's cherubs, she had no great fancy for the ugly + little James. + </p> + <p> + She laid aside her bonnet, and smoothing her curls in the nursery mirror, + looked for one minute at her Pawnee-Indian face, the sight of which now + often made her smile. Then she sat down to lunch with Emma and the + children; being allowed, as a great favour, to be placed next Master + James, and drink with him out of his silver mug. Miss Bowen accepted the + offered honour calmly, made no remark, but—went thirsty. + </p> + <p> + For an hour or two she sat patiently listening to what had gone on in the + house since she was there—-how baby had cut two more teeth, and + James had had a new braided frock—(which was sent for that she might + look at it)—how Missy had been to her first children's party, and + was to learn dancing at Midsummer, if papa could be coaxed to agree. + </p> + <p> + “How is Mr. Thornycroft?” asked Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well—papa is always well. I only wish the little ones took + after him in that respect.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, who was old enough to remember Emma engaged, and Emma newly + married, smiled to think how entirely the lover beloved and the + all-important young husband had dwindled into a mere “Papa;” liked and + obeyed in a certain fashion, for Emma was a good wife, but evidently made + a very secondary consideration to “the children.” + </p> + <p> + The young girl—as yet neither married, nor in love—wondered if + this were always so. She often had such wonderings and speculation when + she came to Emma's house. + </p> + <p> + She was growing rather tired of so much domestic information, and had + secretly taken out her watch to see how many hours it would be to dinner + and to Mr. Thornycroft, a sensible, intelligent man, who from love to his + wife had been always very kind to his wife's friends—when there came + the not unwelcome sound of a knock at the hall-door. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me; that is surely the Harpers. I had quite forgotten Major Harper + and the bears.” + </p> + <p> + “An odd conjunction,” observed Agatha, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Major Harper, who yesterday, for the fifth time, promised to take Missy + to the Zoological Gardens to see the bears. He has remembered it at last.” + </p> + <p> + No, he had not remembered it; it would have been a very remarkable + circumstance if he had; being a person so constantly full of engagements, + for himself and others. The visitor was only his younger brother, who had + often daundered in at Mrs. Thornycroft's house, possibly from a liking to + Emma's friendly manner, or because, cast astray for a fortnight on the + wide desert of London, he had, like Agatha, “nothing to do.” + </p> + <p> + If Nathanael had other reasons, they, of course, never came near the + surface, but lay buried under the silent waters of his quiet mind. + </p> + <p> + Agatha was half pleased, half disappointed at seeing him. Mrs. + Thornycroft, good soul, was always charmed to have a visitor, for her + society did not attract many. Only betraying, as usual, what was uppermost + in her simple thoughts, she could not long conceal her regret concerning + little Missy and the bears. + </p> + <p> + To Agatha's great surprise, Mr. Harper, who she thought, in his dignified + gravity, would never have condescended to such a thing, volunteered to + assume his brother's duty. + </p> + <p> + “For,” said he, with a slight smile, “I have had too many perilous + encounters with wild bears in America, not to feel some curiosity in + seeing a few captured ones in England.” + </p> + <p> + “That will be charming,” cried Mrs. Thornycroft, looking at him with a + mixture of respect and maternal benignity. “Then you can tell Missy all + those wonderful stories, only don't frighten her.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I might She seems rather shy of me.” And the adventurous young + gentleman eyed askance a small be-ribboned child, who was creeping about + the room and staring at him. “Would it not be better if——” + </p> + <p> + “If mamma went?” + </p> + <p> + “There, Missy, don't cry; mamma will go, and Agatha, too, if she would + like it?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” Miss Bowen answered, with a mischievous glance at Nathanael. + “I ought to investigate bears, if only to prove myself descended from a + Pawnee Indian.” + </p> + <p> + So, once more, the heavy nut-brown curls were netted up into the crown of + her black bonnet, and her shawl pinned on carelessly—rather too + carelessly for a young woman; since that gracious adornment, neatness, + rarely increases with years. Agatha was quickly ready. In the ten minutes + she had to wait for Mrs. Thornycroft, she felt, more than once, how much + merrier they would have been with the elder than the younger brother. Also—for + Agatha was a conscientious girl—she thought, seriously, what a pity + it was that so pleasant and kind a man as Major Harper had such an + unfortunate habit of forgetting his promises. + </p> + <p> + Yet she regretted him—regretted his flow of witty sayings that + attracted the humorous half of her temperament, and his touches of + seriousness or sentiment which hovered like pleasant music round the + yet-closed portals of her girlish heart. Until suddenly—conscientiousness + again!—she began to be aware she was thinking a deal too much of + Major Harper; so, with a strong effort, turned her attention to his + brother and the bears. + </p> + <p> + She had leant on Mr. Harper's offered arm all the way to the Regent's + Park, yet he had scarcely spoken to her. No wonder, therefore, that she + had had time for meditation, or that her comparison between the two + brothers should be rather to Nathanael's disadvantage. The balance of + favour, however, began to right itself a little when she saw how kind he + was to Emma Thornycroft, who alternately screamed at the beasts, and made + foolish remarks concerning them; also, how carefully he watched over + little Missy and James, the latter of whom, with infantile pertinacity, + would poke his small self into every possible danger. + </p> + <p> + At the sunken den, where the big brown bear performs gymnastic exercises + on a centre tree, Master Jemmie was quite in his glory. He emulated Bruin + by climbing from his feet into nurse's arms—thence into mamma's, and + lastly, much to her discomfiture, into Miss Bowen's. The attraction being + that she happened to stand close to the railing and next to Mr. Harper, + who, with a bun stuck on the end of his long stick, had coaxed Bruin up to + the very top of the tree. + </p> + <p> + There the creature swayed awkwardly, his four unwieldy paws planted + together, and his great mouth silently snapping at the cakes. Agatha could + hardly help laughing; she, as well as the children, was so much amused at + the monster. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper, give Missy your cane. Missy would like to feed bear,” cried + the mamma, now very bold, going with her eldest pet to the other side of + the den, and attracting the animal thither. + </p> + <p> + At which little James, who could not yet speak, setting up a scream of + vexation, tried to stretch after the creature; and whether from his own + impetuosity or her careless hold, sprang—oh, horror!—right out + of Agatha's arms. A moment the little muslin frock caught on the railing—caught—ripped; + then the sash, with its long knotted ends, which some one snatched at—nothing + but the sash held up the shrieking child, who hung suspended half way over + the pit, in reach of the beast's very jaws. + </p> + <p> + The bear did not at once see it, till startled by the mother's frightful + cries. Then he opened his teeth—it looked almost like a grin—and + began slowly to descend his tree, while, as slowly, the poor child's sash + was unloosing with its weight. + </p> + <p> + A murmur of horror ran through the people near; but not a man among them + offered help. They all slid back, except Nathanael Harper. + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt his sudden gripe. “Hold my hand firm. Keep me in my balance,” + he whispered, and throwing himself over to the whole extent of his body, + and long right arm, managed to catch hold of James, who struggled + violently. + </p> + <p> + “Hold me tight—tighter still, or we are lost,” said he, trying to + writhe back again; his hand—such a little delicate hand it seemed + for a man—quivering with the weight of the child. + </p> + <p> + She grasped him frantically—his wrist—his shoulder—nay,—stretching + over, linked her arms round his neck. Something in her touch seemed to + impart strength to him. He whispered, half gasping,— + </p> + <p> + “Hold me firm, and I'll do it yet, Agatha.” She did not then notice, or + recollect till long afterwards, how he had called her by her Christian + name, nor the tone in which he had said it. + </p> + <p> + The moment afterwards, he had lifted the child out of the den, and poor + Jemmie was screaming out his now harmless terror safe in the maternal + arms. + </p> + <p> + Then, and not till then, Agatha burst into tears. Tears which no one saw, + for the mother, hugging her baby, was the very centre of a sympathising + crowd. Mr. Harper, paler than ordinary, leaned against the stone-work of + the den. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, from what have you saved me?” cried Agatha, as after her thankfulness + for the rescued life, came another thought, personal yet excusable. “Had + Emma lost the child, I should have felt like a murderess to the day of my + death.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael shook his head, trying to smile; but seemed unable to speak. + </p> + <p> + “You have not hurt yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no. Very little. Only a strain,” said he as he removed his hand from + his side. “Go to your friend: I will come presently.” + </p> + <p> + He did come—though not for a good while; and Miss Bowen fancied from + his looks that he had been more injured than he acknowledged; but she did + not like to inquire. Nevertheless he rose greatly in her estimation, less + for his courage than for the presence of mind and common sense which made + it Valuable, and for the self-restraint and indifference which caused him + afterwards to treat the whole adventure as such a trifling thing. + </p> + <p> + It was, after all, nothing very romantic or extraordinary, and happened in + such a brief space of time, that probably the circumstance is not noted in + the traditionary chronicles of the Zoological Gardens, which contain the + frightful legend carefully related that day by several keepers to Mrs. + Thornycroft—how a bear had actually eaten up a child, falling in the + same manner into the same den. + </p> + <p> + But the adventure, slight as it may appear, made a very great and sudden + difference in the slender tie of acquaintanceship, hitherto subsisting + between Agatha and Major Harper's brother. She began to treat Nathanael + more like a friend, and ceased to think of him exactly as a “boy.” + </p> + <p> + Master James's mamma, when she at last turned her attention from his + beloved small self, was full of thanks to his preserver. Mr. Harper + assured her that his feat was merely a little exertion of muscular + strength, and at last grew evidently uncomfortable at being made so much + of. Returning home with them, he would fain have crept away from the scene + of his honours; but the good-natured, motherly-hearted Emma implored him + to stay. + </p> + <p> + “We will nurse you if you are hurt, which I am afraid you must be—it + was such a dreadful strain! Oh, Jemmie, Jemmie!” and the poor mother + shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you must come in,” added Miss Bowen kindly, seeing that Emma's + thoughts were floating away, as appeared this time natural enough, to her + own concerns. “You shall rest all the evening, and we will talk to you, + and be very, very agreeable. Pray yield!” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael argued no more, but went in “quite lamb-like,” as Mrs. + Thornycroft afterwards declared. + </p> + <p> + This acquiescence in him was little rewarded, Agatha thought—for the + evening happened to be duller even than evenings usually passed at the + Thornycrofts'. The head of the household, being detained in the City, did + not appear; and Mrs. Thornycroft's tongue, unchecked by her husband's + presence, and excited by the event of the afternoon, galloped on at a + fearful rapidity. She poured out upon the luckless young man all the baby + biography of her family, from Missy's christening down to the infant + Selina's cutting of her first tooth. To all of which he listened with a + praiseworthy attention, giving at least silence, which was doubtless all + the answer Emma required. + </p> + <p> + But Agatha, whose sympathy in these things was, as before said, at present + small, grew half ashamed, half vexed, and finally rather angry—especially + when she saw the pale weariness that gradually overspread Mr. Harper's + face. More than once she hinted that he should have the armchair, or lie + down, or rest in some way; but he took not the least notice; sitting + immovably in his place, which happened to be next herself, and vaguely + looking across the table towards Mrs. Thornycroft. + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock, becoming paler than ever, he bestirred himself, and + talked of leaving. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to be going too. It is not far, and as our roads agree, I will + walk with you,” said Agatha, simply. + </p> + <p> + He seemed surprised—so much so, that she almost blushed, and would + have retracted, save for the consciousness of her own frank and kindly + purpose. She had watched him closely, and felt convinced that he had been + more injured than he confessed; so in her generous straightforward + fashion, she wanted to “take care of him,” until he was safe at his + brother's door, which she could see from her own. And her solitary + education had been conducted on such unworldly principles, that she never + thought there was anything remarkable or improper in her proposing to walk + home with a young man, whom she knew she could trust in every way, and who + was besides Major Harper's brother. + </p> + <p> + Nor did even the matronly Mrs. Thornycroft object to the plan—save + that it took her visitors away so early. “Surely,” she added, “you can't + be tired out already.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha had an ironical answer on the very tip of her tongue: but something + in the clear, “good” eye of Nathanael repressed her little wickedness. So + she only whispered to Emma that for various reasons she had wished to + return early. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, dear, since you must go, I am sure Mr. Harper will be most + happy to escort you.” + </p> + <p> + “If not, I hope he will just say so,” added Agatha, very plainly. + </p> + <p> + He smiled; and his full, soft grey eye, fixed on hers, had an earnestness + which haunted her for many a day. She began heartily to like Major + Harper's brother, though only as his brother, with a sort of reflected + regard, springing from that she felt for her guardian and friend. + </p> + <p> + This consciousness made her manner perfectly easy, cheerful, and kind, + even though they were in the perilously sentimental position of two young + people strolling home together in the soft twilight of a Midsummer + evening: likewise occasionally stopping to look westward at a new moon, + which peered at them round street-corners and through the open spaces of + darkening squares. But nothing could make these two at all romantic or + interesting; their talk on the road was on the most ordinary topics—chiefly + bears. + </p> + <p> + “You seem quite familiar with wild beast life,” Agatha observed. “Were you + a very great hunter?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, for I never could muster up the courage, or the cowardice, + wantonly to take away life. I don't remember ever shooting anything, + except in self-defence, which was occasionally necessary during the + journeys that I used to make from Montreal to the Indian settlements with + Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian,” repeated Agatha, wondering whether Major Harper had ever + mentioned such a personage, during the two years of their acquaintance. + She thought not, since her memory had always kept tenacious record of what + he said about his relatives—which was at best but little. It was one + of the few things in him which jarred upon Agatha's feelings—Agatha, + to whose isolation the idea of a family and a home was so pathetically + sweet—his seeming so totally indifferent to his own. All she knew of + Major Harper's kith and kin was, that he was the eldest brother of a large + family, settled somewhere down in Dorsetshire. + </p> + <p> + These thoughts swept through her mind, as Agatha, repeated interrogatively + “Uncle Brian?” + </p> + <p> + “The same who fifteen years since took me out with him to America; my + father's youngest brother. Has Frederick never told you of him? They two + were great companions once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” And Agatha, seeing that Nathanael at least showed no + dislike, but rather pleasure, in speaking of his family, thought she might + harmlessly indulge her curiosity about the Harpers of Dorsetshire. “And + you went away with Mr. Brian Harper, at ten years old. How could your + mother part with you?” + </p> + <p> + “She was dead—she died when I was born. But I ought to apologise for + thus talking of family matters, which cannot interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, they do—very much!” cried Agatha; and then blushed + at her own earnestness, at which Nathanael brightened up into positive + warmth. + </p> + <p> + “How kind you are! how I wish you knew my sisters! It is so pleasant to me + to know them at last, after writing to them and thinking about them for + these many years. How you would like our home—I call it home, + forgetting that I have been only a visitor, and in a short time must go + back to my real home, Montreal.” + </p> + <p> + “Must you indeed!” And Agatha felt sorry. She had been at once surprised + and gratified by the confidential way in which this usually reserved young + man talked to her, and her alone. “Why do you live in America? I hate + Americans.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” said he, smiling, as if he read her thoughts. “But I have + neither Yankee blood nor education. I was English born; brought up in + British Canada, and by Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke the latter words with a certain proud affection, as if his + uncle's mere name were sufficient guarantee for himself. Agatha secretly + wondered what could possibly be the reason that Major Harper had never + even mentioned this personage, whom Nathanael seemed to hold in such + honour. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” he continued, “though I dearly like England, though”—and + he sunk his voice a little—“though now it will be doubly hard to go + away, I could never think of leaving Uncle Brian to spend his old age + alone in the country of his adoption.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” returned Agatha, absently, her thoughts still running on this + new Mr. Harper. “What profession is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing now. He has led an unsettled life—always poor. But he took + care to settle me in a situation under the Canadian Government. We both + think ourselves well to do now.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's sense of womanly decorum could hardly keep her from pressing her + companion's arm, in instinctive acknowledgment of his goodness. She + thought his face looked absolutely beautiful. + </p> + <p> + However, restraining her quick impulses within the bounds of propriety, + she walked on. “And so you will again cross that fearful Atlantic Ocean?” + she said at length, with a slight shudder. The young man saw her gesture, + and looked surprised—nay, gladdened. But nevertheless he remained + silent. + </p> + <p> + Agatha did the same, for the mention of the sea brought back to her the + one only noteworthy incident of her life, which had given her this strange + antipathy to the sea and to the thought of traversing it. But this subject—the + horrible bugbear of her childhood—she rarely liked to recur to, even + now; so it did not mingle in her conversation with Mr. Harper. + </p> + <p> + At last Nathanael said: “I would it were possible—indeed I have + often vainly tried—to persuade Uncle Brian to come back to England. + But since he will not, it is clearly right for me to return to Canada. + Anne Valery says so.” + </p> + <p> + “Anne Valery!” again repeated Agatha, catching at this second strange name + with which she was supposed to be familiar. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “No—no. Uncle Brian and I always cure ourselves. As he often says, + 'A man after forty is either a doctor or a fool.'” + </p> + <p> + “But you are only twenty-five.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” cried Agatha, anxiously; “since, did you suffer, I should + feel as if it were all of my causing, and for me. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + 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. Sometimes she felt vexed at the lengthened + absence of her friend and “guardian,” as she persisted in considering him; + sometimes the thought of young Nathanael's pale face crossed her fancy, + awakening both sincere compassion and an uncomfortable doubt that all + might not be going on quite right within the half-drawn window-blinds, at + which she now and then darted a curious glance. + </p> + <p> + At last her curiosity or interest rose to such a pitch, that it is to be + feared that Agatha in her independent spirit, and ignorance of, or + indifference to the world, might have committed the terrific impropriety + of making a good-natured inquiry at the door of this + bachelor-establishment. She certainly would, had it consisted only of the + harmless youth Nathanael; but then Major Harper, at the mention of whose + name Mrs. Ianson now began to smile aside, and the invalid Jane to dart + towards Agatha quick, inquisitive looks—No; she felt an invincible + repugnance to knocking, on any pretence, at Major Harper's door. + </p> + <p> + However, having nothing to do and little to think of, and, moreover, being + under the unwholesome necessity of keeping all her thoughts to herself, + her conjectures grew into such a mountain of discomfort—partly + selfish, partly generous, out of the hearty gratitude which had been + awakened in her towards the younger brother since the adventure with the + bear—that Miss Bowen set off one fine morning, hoping to gain + intelligence of her neighbours by the round-about medium of Emma + Thornycroft. + </p> + <p> + But that excellent matron had had two of her children ill with some + infantine disease, and had in consequence not a thought to spare for any + one out of her own household. The name of Harper never crossed her lips + until Agatha, using a safe plural, boldly asked the question, “Had Emma + seen anything of them?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornycroft could not remember.—Yes, she fancied some one had + called—Mr. Harper, perhaps; or no, it must have been the Major, for + somebody had said something about Mr. Nathanael's being ill or out of + town. But the very day after that the measles came out on James, and poor + little Missy had just been moved out of the night-nursery into the spare + bed-room, etc. etc. etc. + </p> + <p> + The rest of Emma's information concerning her babies was, as they say in + the advertisements of lost property, “of no value to anybody but the + original owner.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha bestowed a passing regret on young Nathanael, whether he were ill + or out of town; she would have liked to have seen more of him. But that + Major Harper should contrive to saunter up to the Regent's Park to visit + the Thornycrofts, and never find time to turn a street-corner to say “How + d'ye do” to <i>her</i>! she thought neither courteous nor kind. + </p> + <p> + There was little inducement to spend the day with Emma, who, in her + present mood and the state of her household, was a mere conversational Dr. + Buchan—a walking epitome of domestic medicine. So Miss Bowen + extended her progress; took an early dinner with Mrs. Hill, and stayed all + the afternoon at that good old lady's silent and quiet lodgings, where + there was neither piano nor books, save one, which Agatha patiently read + aloud for two whole hours—“The life of Elizabeth Fry.” A volume + uninteresting enough to a young creature like herself, yet sometimes + smiting her with involuntary reflections, as she contrasted her own + aimless, useless existence with the life of that worthy Quakeress—the + prison-angel. + </p> + <p> + Having tired herself out, first with reading and then with singing—very + prosy and lengthy ballads of the old school, which were the ditties Mrs. + Hill always chose—Agatha departed much more cheerful than she came. + So great strength and comfort is there in having something to do, + especially if that something happens to be, according to the old + nursery-rhyme— + </p> + <p> + Not for ourself, but our neighbour. + </p> + <p> + Another day passed—which being rainy, made the Doctor's dull house + seem more inane than ever to the girl's restless humour. In the evening, + at his old-accustomed hour, Major Harper “dropped in,” and Agatha forgot + his sins of omission in her cordial welcome. Very cordial it was, and + unaffected, such as a young girl of nineteen may give to a man of forty, + without her meaning being ill-construed. But under it Major Harper looked + pathetically sentimental and uncomfortable. Very soon he moved away and + became absorbed in delicate attentions towards the sick and suffering Jane + Ianson. + </p> + <p> + Agatha thought his behaviour rather odd, but generously put upon it the + best construction possible—viz. his known kind-heartedness. So she + herself went to the other side of the invalid couch, and tried to make + mirth likewise. + </p> + <p> + Asking after Mr. Harper, she learnt that her friend had been acting as + sick-nurse, to his brother for some days. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow—he will not confess that he is ill, or what made him + so. But I hope he will be about again soon, for they are anxiously + expecting him in Dorsetshire. Nathanael is the 'good boy' of our family, + and as worthy a creature as ever breathed.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha smiled with pleasure to see the elder brother waxing so generously + warm; but when she smiled, Major Harper sighed, and cast his handsome eyes + another way. All the evening he scarcely talked to her at all, but to Mrs. + and Miss Ianson. Agatha was quite puzzled by this pointed avoidance, not + to say incivility, and had some thoughts of plainly asking him if he were + vexed with her; but womanly pride conquered girlish frankness, and she was + silent. + </p> + <p> + After tea their quartett was broken by a visitor, whom all seemed + astonished to see, and none more so than Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Nathanael, I thought you were safely disposed of with your sofa and + book. What madness makes you come out to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Inclination, and weariness,” returned the other, indifferently, as, + without making more excuses or apologies, he dragged himself to the + arm-chair, which Miss Bowen good-naturedly drew out for him, and slipped + into the circle, quite naturally. + </p> + <p> + “Well, wilful lads must have their way,” cried his brother, “and I am only + too glad to see you so much better.” + </p> + <p> + With that the flow of the Major's winning conversation recommenced; in + which current all the rest of the company lay like silent pebbles, only + too happy to be bubbled round by such a pleasant and refreshing stream. + </p> + <p> + The younger Harper sat in his arm-chair, leaning his forehead on his hand, + and from under that curve now and then looking at them all, especially + Agatha. + </p> + <p> + At a late hour the brothers went away, leaving Mrs. and Miss Ianson in a + state of extreme delight, and Miss Bowen in a mood that, to say the least, + was thoughtful—more thoughtful than usual. + </p> + <p> + After that lively evening followed three dull days, consisting of a + solitary forenoon, an afternoon walk through the squares, dinner, + backgammon, and bed; the next morning, <i>de capo al fine</i>, and so on; + a dance of existence as monotonous as that of the spheres, and not half so + musical. On the fourth day, while Miss Bowen was out walking, Nathanael + Harper called to take leave before his journey to Dorsetshire. He stayed + some time, waiting Agatha's return, Mrs. Ianson thought; but finally + changed his mind, and made an abrupt departure, for which that young lady + was rather sorry than otherwise. + </p> + <p> + The fifth day, Emma Thornycroft appeared, and, strange to say, without any + of her little ones; still stranger, without many references to them on her + lips, except the general information that they were all getting well now. + </p> + <p> + The busy woman evidently had something on her mind, and plunged at once <i>in + médias res</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, dear, I came to have a little talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Agatha smiling; calmly and prepared to give up her + morning to the discussion of some knotty point in dress or infantile + education. But she soon perceived that Emma's pretty face was too + ominously important for anything short of that gravest interest of + feminine life—matrimony; or more properly in this case—match-making. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, love,” repeated Emma, with the affectionate accent that was + always quite real, but which now deepened under the circumstances of the + case, “do you know that young Northen has been speaking to Mr. Thornycroft + about you again.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry for it,” was the short answer. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear, isn't it a great pity that you could not like the young + man? Such a good young man too, and with such a nice establishment + already. If you could only see his house in Cumberland Terrace—the + real Turkey carpets, inlaid tables, and damask chairs.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't marry carpets, tables, and chairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, you are <i>so</i> funny! Certainly not, without the poor man + himself. But there is no harm in him, and I am sure he would make an + excellent husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I sincerely hope so, provided he is not mine. Come, Tittens, tell Mrs. + Thornycroft what <i>you</i> think on the matter,” cried the wilful girl, + trying to turn the question off by catching her little favourite. But Emma + would not thus be set aside. She was evidently well primed with a stronger + and steadier motive than what usually occupied and sufficed her easy mind. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, how can you be so childish! But when you come to my age”—- + </p> + <p> + “I shall, in a few more years. I wonder if I shall be as young-looking as + you, Emma?” This was a very adroit thrust on the part of Miss Agatha, but + for once it failed. + </p> + <p> + “I hope and trust so, dear. That is, if you have as good a husband as I + have. Only, be he what he may, he cannot be such another as my dear + James.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha internally hoped he might not; for, much as she liked and respected + Emma's good spouse, her ideal of a husband was certainly not Mr. James + Thornycroft. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” continued the anxious matron, keeping up the charge—“tell + me, Agatha, do you ever intend to marry at all? + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps so; I can't say. Ask Tittens!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever think in earnest of marrying? And”—here with an air of + real concern Emma stole her arm round her friend's waist—“did you + ever see anybody whom you fancied you could like, if he asked you?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha laughed, but the colour was rising in her brown cheek. “Tut, tut, + what nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Look at me, dear, and answer seriously.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, thus hemmed in, turned her face full round, and said, with some + dignity, “I do not know, Emma, what right you have to ask me that + question.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, it is so; I feared it was,” sighed Emma, not in the least offended. + “I often thought so, even before he hinted——”— + </p> + <p> + “Who hinted—and what?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you; I promised not. And of course you ought not to know. + Oh, dear, what am I letting out!” added poor Mrs. Thornycroft, in much + discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + “Emma, you will make me angry. What ridiculous notion have you got into + your head? What on earth do you mean?” cried Miss Bowen, speaking quicker + than her usual quick fashion, and dashing the kitten off her knee as she + rose. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be vexed with me, my poor dear girl. It may not be so—I hope + not; and even if it were, he is so handsome, so agreeable, and talks so + beautifully—I am sure you are not the first woman by many a dozen + that has been in love with him.” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” was the sharp question, as Agatha grew quite pale. + </p> + <p> + “I must not say.—Ah, yes—I must. It may be a mere supposition. + I wish you would only tell me so, and set my mind at rest, and his too. He + is quite unhappy about it, poor man, as I see. Though, to be sure, he + could not help it, even if you did care for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Him—what 'him?'” + </p> + <p> + “Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's storm of passion sank to a dead calm. She sat down again + composedly, turning her flushed cheeks from the light. + </p> + <p> + “This is a new and very entertaining story. You will be kind enough, Emma, + to tell me the whole, from beginning to end.” + </p> + <p> + “It all lies in a nutshell, my dear. Oh, how glad I am that you take it so + quietly. Then, perhaps it is all a mistake, arising from your hearty + manner to every one. I told him so, and said that he need not scruple + visiting you, or be in the least afraid that——” + </p> + <p> + “That I was in love with him? He <i>was</i> afraid, then? He informed you + so? Very kind of him! I am very much obliged to Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “There now—off you go again. Oh, if you would but be patient” + </p> + <p> + “Patient—when the only friend I had insults me!—when I have + neither father, nor brother,—nobody—nobody——” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and her throat choked; but the struggle was in vain; she + burst into uncontrollable tears. + </p> + <p> + “You have me, Agatha, always me, and James!” cried Emma, hanging about her + neck, and weeping for company; until, very soon, the proud girl shut down + the floodgates of her passion, and became herself again. Herself—as + she could not have been, were there a mightier power dwelling in her heart + than pride. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Emma, since you have seen how the thing has vexed me, though not”—and + she laughed—“not as being one of the many dozens of fools in love + with Major Harper—will you tell me how this amusing circumstance + arose?” + </p> + <p> + “I really cannot, my dear. The whole thing was so hurried and confused. We + were talking together, very friendly and sociably, as the Major and I + always do, about you; and how much I wished you to be settled in life, as + he must wish likewise, being the trustee of your little fortune, and + standing in a sort of fatherly relation towards you. He did not seem to + like the word; looked very grave and very”— + </p> + <p> + “Compassionate, doubtless! Said 'he had reason to believe, that is to + fear, I did not regard him quite as a father!' That was it, Emma, I + suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, I am glad to see you laughing at it I don't remember his + precise words.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably these: 'My dear Mrs. Thornycroft, I am greatly afraid poor + Agatha Bowen is dying for love of me.' Very candid—and like a + gentleman!” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are too sarcastic; for he is a gentleman, and most kind-hearted + too. If you had only seen how grieved he was at the bare idea of your + being made unhappy on his account!” + </p> + <p> + “How considerate!—and how very confidential he must have been to + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, he hardly said anything plainly; I assure you he did not. Only + somehow he gave me the impression that he was afraid of—what I had + feared for a long time. For as I always told you, Agatha, Major Harper is + a settled bachelor—too old to change. Besides, he has had so many + women in love with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he count their names, one by one, on his fingers, and hang their + locks of hair on his paletot, after the Indian fashion Nathanael Harper + told us of?—Poor Nathanael!” And on her excited mood that pale + “good” face rose up like a vision of serenity. She ceased to mock so + bitterly at Nathanael's brother and her own once-honoured friend. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like your abusing Major Harper in this way,” said Emma, gravely; + “we all know his little weaknesses, but he is an excellent man, and my + husband likes him. And it is nothing so very wonderful if he has been + rather confidential with a steady married woman like me—just the + right person, in short. It was for your good too, my dear. I am sure I + asked him plainly if he ever could think of marrying you. But he shook his + head, and answered, 'No, that was quite impossible.'” + </p> + <p> + “Quite impossible, indeed,” said Agatha, her proud lips quivering. “And + should he favour you with any more confidences, you may tell him that + Agatha Bowen never knew what it was to be 'in love' with any man. + Likewise, that were he the only man on earth, she would not condescend to + fall in love with or marry Major Frederick Harper.—Now, Emma, let us + go down to lunch.” + </p> + <p> + They would have done so, after Mrs. Thornycroft had kissed and embraced + her friend, in sincere delight that Agatha was quite heart-whole, and + ready to make what she called “a sensible marriage,” but they were stopped + on the stairs by a letter that came by post. + </p> + <p> + “A strange hand,” Miss Bowen observed, carelessly. “Will you go + down-stairs, Emma, and I will come when I have read it.” + </p> + <p> + But Agatha did not read it. She threw it on the floor, and turning the + bolt of the door, paced her little drawing-room in extreme agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad I did not love him—I thank God I did not love him,” she + muttered by fits. “But I might have done so, so good and kind as he was, + and I so young, with no one to care for. And no one cares for me—no + one—no one!” + </p> + <p> + “Young Northen” darted through her mind, but she laughed to scorn the + possibility. What love could there be in an empty-headed fool? + </p> + <p> + “Never any but fools have ever made love to me! Oh, if an honest, noble + man did but love me, and I could marry, and get out of this friendless + desolation, this contemptible, scheming, match-making set, where I and my + feelings are talked of, speculated on, bandied about from house to house. + It is horrible—horrible! But I'll not cry! No!” + </p> + <p> + She dried the tears that were scorching her eyes, and mechanically took up + her letter; until, remembering how long she had been upstairs, and how all + that time Emma's transparent disposition and love of talk might have laid + her and her whole affairs open before the Iansons, she quickly put the + epistle in her pocket unread, and went down into the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + It was not till night, when she sat idly brushing out her long curls, and + looking at her Pawnee face in the mirror—alas! the poor face now + seemed browner and uglier than ever!—that Agatha recollected this + same letter. + </p> + <p> + “It may give me something to think about, which will be well,” sighed she; + and carelessly pushing her hair behind her ears, she drew the candle + nearer, and began leisurely to read. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img src="images/p036.jpg" width="100%" + alt="She Began Leisurely to Read P036" /> + </div> + <p> + The commencement was slightly abrupt: + </p> + <p> + “A month ago—had any one told me I should write this letter, I could + not have believed it possible. But strange things happen in our lives—things + over which we seem to have no control; we are swept on by an impulse and a + power which most often guide us for our good. I hope it may be so now. + </p> + <p> + “I came to England with no intention save that of seeing my family, and no + affection in my heart stronger than for them. Living the solitary life + that Uncle Brian leads, I have met with few women, and have never loved + any woman—until now. + </p> + <p> + “You may think me a 'boy;' indeed, I overheard you say so once; but I am a + man—with a heart full of all a man's emotions, passionate and + strong. Into that heart I took <i>you</i>, from the first moment I ever + saw your face. This is just three weeks ago, but it might have been three + years—I know you so well. I have watched you continually; every + trait of your character—every thought of your mind. From other + people I have found out every portion of your history—every daily + action of your life. I know you wholly and completely, faults and all, and—I + love you. No man will ever love you more than I. + </p> + <p> + “That you should have the least interest in me now, is, I am aware, + unlikely; indeed, almost impossible; therefore I shall not expect or + desire any answer to this letter, sent just before I leave for + Dorsetshire. + </p> + <p> + “On my return, a week hence, I shall come and see you, should you not + forbid it. I shall come merely as a <i>friend</i>, so that you need have + no scruple in my visiting you, once at least. If afterwards, when you know + me better, you should suffer me to ask for another title, giving to you + the dearest and closest that man can give to woman—then—oh! + little you think how I would love you, Agatha! + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha read this letter all through with a kind of fascination. Her first + emotion was that of most utter astonishment. It had never crossed her mind + that Nathanael Harper was the sort of being very likely to fall in love + with anybody—and for him to love her! With such a love, too, that + despite its suddenness carried with it the impression of quiet depth, + strength, and endurance irresistible. It was beyond belief. + </p> + <p> + She read over again fragments of his own words. “I took you into my heart + from the first moment I ever saw you;”—“I love you—no man will + ever love you more than I.” “Little you think how I would love you, + Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha—who a minute before had been pondering mournfully that no one + cared for her—that she was of no use to any one—and that no + living soul would miss her, were her existence blotted out from the face + of earth that very night! + </p> + <p> + She began to tremble; ay, even though she felt that Nathanael had judged + correctly—that she did not now love him, and probably never might—still, + overwhelmed with the sudden sense of <i>his</i> great love, she trembled. + A strange softness crept over her; and for the second time that day she + yielded to a weakness only drawn from her proud heart by rare emotions—Agatha + wept. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + To say that Agatha Bowen slept but ill that night would be unnecessary; + since there is probably no girl who did not do so after receiving a first + love-letter. And this was indeed her first; for the commonplace and + business-like episode of young Northen had not been beautified by any such + compositions. A second harmless adventure of like kind had furnished her + with a little amusement and some vexation,—but never till now had + her girlish heart been approached by any wooing which she could + instinctively feel was that of real love. It touched her very much; for a + time absorbing all distinct resolutions or intentions in a maze of + pleasant, tender pity, and wonderment not unmixed with fear. + </p> + <p> + Half the night she lay awake, planning what she should do and say in the + future; writing in her head a dozen imaginary answers to Mr. Harper's + letter, until she recollected that he had expressly stated it required + none. Nevertheless, she thought she must write, if only to tell him that + she did not love him, and that there was not the slightest use in his + hoping to be anything more to her than a friend. + </p> + <p> + “A friend!” She recoiled at the word, remembering how sorely her pride and + feelings had been wounded by him she once held to be the best friend she + had. She never could hold him as such any more. Her impulsive anger + exaggerated even to wickedness the vanity of a man who fancied every woman + was in love with him. She forgot all Major Harper's good qualities, his + high sense of honour, his unselfish kindheartedness, his generous, gay + spirit She set him down at once as unworthy the name of friend. Then—what + friend had she? Not one—not one in the world. + </p> + <p> + In this strait, strangely, temptingly sweet seemed to come the words, “<i>I + love you; no man will ever love you better than I.</i>” + </p> + <p> + To one whose heart is altogether free, the knowledge of being deeply + loved, and by a man whose attachment would do honour to any woman, is a + thought so soothing, so alluring, that from it spring half the marriages—not + strictly love-marriages—which take place in the world; sometimes, + though not always, ending in real happiness. + </p> + <p> + Agatha began to consider that it would seem very odd if she wrote to Mr. + Harper, in his home, among his family. Perhaps his sisters might notice + her handwriting—a useless fear, since they had never seen it; and at + all events it would be a pity to trouble his happiness in that pleasant + visit, by conveying prematurely the news of his rejection. She would wait, + and give him no answer for at least a day or two; it was such a bitter + thing to inflict pain on any human being, especially on one so gentle and + good as Nathanael Harper. + </p> + <p> + With this determination she went to sleep. She woke next morning, having a + confused sense that something had happened, that some one had grieved and + offended her; and—strange consciousness, softly dawning!—that + some one loved her—deeply, dearly, as in all the days since she was + born she had never been loved before. That even now some one might be + thinking of her—of her alone, as his first object in the world. The + sensation was new, inexplicable, but pleasant nevertheless. It made her + feel—what the desolate orphan girl rarely had felt—a sort of + tenderness for, and honouring of, herself. As she dressed, she once looked + wistfully, even pensively, in the looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + “It is certainly a queer, brown, Pawnee face! I wonder what he could see + in it to admire. He is very good, very! I wish I could have cared for + him!” + </p> + <p> + Her heart trembled; all the woman in her was touched. But Agatha was + resolved not to be sentimental, so she fastened her morning-dress rather + more tastefully than usual, and descended to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Beside her plate lay a letter, which was pretty closely eyed by the Ianson + family, as their inmate's correspondence had always been remarkably small. + </p> + <p> + “A black edge and seal. No bad news, I hope, my dear Miss Bowen?” said the + doctor's wife, sympathetically. + </p> + <p> + Agatha did not fear. Alas! in the whole wide world she had not a relative + to lose! And, glancing at the rather peculiar hand, she recognised it at + once. She remembered likewise, to account for the black seal, that one of + the Miss Harpers had died within the year. So, whether from the spice of + malice in her composition she wished to disappoint the polite + inquisitiveness of the Iansons, or whether from more generous reasons of + her own, Miss Bowen left her letter unopened until the meal was done; + when, carelessly taking it up, she adjourned to her own sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + There was not the slightest necessity for any such precaution, as the + missive contained merely these lines:— + </p> + <p> + “In my letter of yesterday—which I doubt not you have received, + since I posted it myself—I omitted to say that not even my brother + is aware of it, or of its purport; as I rarely inform any one of my own + private affairs. Though, of course, I presume not to lay the same + restriction on you. God bless you!” + </p> + <p> + The “God bless you!” was added hastily in less neat writing, as if the + letter had been broken open to do it. The signature was merely his + initials, “N. L. H.,” and the date “Kingcombe Holm,” which Agatha supposed + was his father's house in Dorsetshire. + </p> + <p> + Then, even there, amidst his dear home circle, he had thought of her! + Agatha was more moved by that trifling circumstance, and by the + self-restraint and silence that accompanied it, than she would have been + by a whole quire of ordinary love-letters. + </p> + <p> + He did not write again during seven entire days, and while this pause + lasted she had time to think much and deeply. She ceased to play and talk + confidentially with Tittens, and felt herself growing into a woman fast. + Great mental changes may at times be wrought in one week, especially when + it happens to be one of those not infrequent July weeks, which seem as if + the sky were bent upon raining out at once the tears of the whole summer. + </p> + <p> + On the Friday evening, when Miss Bowen, heartily tired of her + weather-bound imprisonment, stood at the dining-room window, looking out + on a hazy, yellow glow that began to appear in the west, sparkled on the + drenched trees of the square, and made little bright reflections on the + rain-pools of the pavement,—there appeared a gentleman from the + house round the corner, carefully picking his steps by the crossing, and + finally landing at Doctor Ianson's door. It was Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + Agatha instinctively quitted the window, but on second thoughts returned + thither, and when he chanced to look up, composedly bowed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + 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 piano. + There she stayed for certainly an hour. + </p> + <p> + At length, Major Harper came softly into her sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “Don't let me disturb you—but, when you have quite finished playing, + I should like to say a word to you.—Merely on business,” he added, + with a slightly confused manner, unusual to the perfect self-possession of + Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + Agatha sat down and faced him, so frigidly, that he seemed to withdraw + from the range of her eyes. “You do not often converse with me on + business.” + </p> + <p> + He drew back. “That is true. But I considered that with so young a lady as + yourself it was needless.—And I hate all business,” he added, + imperatively. + </p> + <p> + “Then I regret that my father burdened you with mine. + </p> + <p> + “No burden; it is a pleasure—if by any means I can be of use to you. + Believe me, my dear Miss Bowen, your advantage, your security, is my chief + aim. And therefore in this investment, of which I think it right to inform + you——” + </p> + <p> + “Investment?” she repeated, turning round a childish puzzled face. “Oh, + Major Harper, you know I am quite ignorant of these things. Do let us talk + of something else.” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” he responded, evidently much relieved, and turned the + somewhat awkward conversation to the first available topic, which chanced + to be his brother Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot think how much I miss him in my rooms, even though he was such + a short time with me. An excellent lad is N. L., and I hear they are + making so much of him in Dorsetshire. They tell me he will certainly stay + there the whole three months of his leave.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed!” observed Agatha, briefly. She hardly knew whether to be + pleased or sorry at this news, or by doubting it to take a feminine pride + in being so much better informed on the subject than the Harper family. + </p> + <p> + “No wonder he is so happy,” continued the Major, with one of his + occasional looks of momentary, though real sadness. “Fifteen years is a + long time to be away. Though I fear, I myself have been almost as long + without seeing the whole family together.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they all together now?”—Agatha felt an irresistible desire to + ask questions. + </p> + <p> + “I believe so; at least my father and my three unmarried sisters. Old + bachelors and old maids are plentiful in the Harper family. We are all + stiff-necked animals; we eschew even gilded harness.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's cheek glowed with anger at this supposed benevolent warning to + herself. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say your sisters are very happy, nevertheless; marriage is not + always a 'holy estate,'” said she carelessly. “But there was some other + Dorsetshire lady whom Mr. Harper told me of. Who is Anne Valery?” + </p> + <p> + Major Frederick Harper actually started, and the deep sensitive colour, + which not even his forty years and his long worldly experience could quite + keep down, rose in his handsome face. + </p> + <p> + “So N. L. spoke to you of her. No wonder. She is an—an excellent + person.” + </p> + <p> + “An excellent person,” repeated Agatha mischievously. “Then she is rather + elderly, I conclude?” + </p> + <p> + “Elderly—Anne Valery elderly! By Heavens, no!” (And the excited + Major used the solitary asseveration which clung to him, the last trace of + his brief military experience.) “Anne Valery old! Not a day older than + myself! We were companions as boy and girl, young man and young woman, + until—stay—ten—fifteen years ago. Fifteen years!—ah, + yes—I suppose she would be considered elderly now.” + </p> + <p> + After this burst, Major Harper sank into one of his cloudy moods. At last + he said, in a confidential and rather sentimental tone, “Miss Valery is an + excellent lady—an old friend of our family; but she and I have not + met for many years. Circumstances necessitated our parting.” + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha guessed the truth—or fancied she did; and her wrathful pride + was up again. More trophies of the illustrious Frederick's unwilling + slaughters—more heart's blood dyeing the wheels of this unconscious + Juggernaut of female devotees! Yet there he sat, looking so pathetically + regretful, as if he felt himself the blameless, helpless instrument of + fate to work the sentimental woe of all womankind! Agatha was absolutely + dumb with indignation. + </p> + <p> + She was a little unjust, even were he erring. It is often a great + misfortune, but it is no blame to a good man that good women—more + than one—have loved him; if, as all noble men do, he hides the + humiliation or sorrow of their love sacredly in his own heart, and makes + no boast of it. Of this nobility of character—rare indeed, yet not + unknown or impossible—Frederick Harper just fell short. Kind, + clever, and amusing, he might be, but he was a man not sufficiently great + to be humble. + </p> + <p> + No more was said on the mysterious topic of Miss Anne Valery. Agatha was + too angry; and the subject seemed painful to Major Harper. Though he did + what was not his habit—especially with female friends—he + endeavoured, instead of encouraging, to throw off his momentary + sentimentality, and become his usual witty, cheerful, agreeable self. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “N. L.! Where on earth have you dropped from? What a <i>very</i> + extraordinary fellow you are!” cried the elder brother. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps unwelcome also,” said the quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked up, and met the young man's eyes. Their expression could not + be mistaken; they were <i>lover's eyes</i>—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 demeanour was therefore + very sweet, candid, and altogether pleasing. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper even forgot his benevolent precautions on Miss Bowen's + account, and tried to render himself as agreeable as heretofore, talking + away at a tremendous rate, and with most admirable eloquence, while his + brother sat silent in a corner. The contrast between them was never so + strong. But once or twice Agatha, wearied out with laughing and listening, + stole a look towards the figure that she felt was sitting there; and + encountered the only sign Nathanael gave,—the unmistakeable “lover's + eyes.” They seemed to pierce into her heart and make it quiver—not + exactly with tenderness, but with the strange controlling sense by which + the love of a strong nature, reticent, and self-possessed even in its + utmost passion—at times appears to enfold a woman—and any true + affection, whether of lover or friend, to those who have never known it, + and are unconsciously pining for lack of it, comes at first like water in + a thirsty land. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bowen's frank gaiety died slowly away, and she fell into more than + one long reverie, which did not escape the benign notice of her guardian. + He grew serious, and made an attempt to remove from her his own dangerous + proximity. + </p> + <p> + “Come, N. L., it is time we vanished. You have never told me the least + fragment of news from home—that is, from Kingcombe.” + </p> + <p> + “You were too much engaged, brother. But we have plenty of time.” + </p> + <p> + “Kingcombe; is that the place your father lives at?” said Mrs. Ianson, who + took a patronising interest in the young man. “What a pretty name! Were + you aware of it, Miss Bowen?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, for her life, could not help changing colour as she answered + “Yes,” knowing perfectly well who was watching her the while, and that he + and she were thinking of the same thing, namely, the brief note whose date + was her only information as to the family residence of the Harpers. + </p> + <p> + “Kingcombe is as pretty as its name,” observed the elder brother,—“a + name more peculiar than at first seems. It was given by a loyal Harper + during the Protectorate. It had been St. Mary's Abbey, but he, with + pretended sanctimoniousness, changed the name, and called it <i>Kingcombe + Holm</i>; as a gentle hint from the Dorsetshire coast to Prince Charles + over the water. Ah! a clever fellow was my great-great-grandfather, + Geoffrey Harper!” + </p> + <p> + All laughed at the anecdote, and the Iansons looked with additional + respect on the man who thus carelessly counted his grandfathers up to the + Commonwealth. But Mrs. Ianson's curiosity penetrated even to the Harpers + of Queen Victoria's day. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed we can't let you two gentlemen away so early. If you have family + matters to talk over, suppose we send you for half-an-hour to Miss Bowen's + drawing-room! or, if they are not secrets, pray discuss them here. I am + sure we are all greatly interested; are we not, Miss Bowen?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha made some unintelligible answer. She thought Nathanael's quick eyes + darted from her to Mrs. Ianson and back again, as if to judge whether, + young-lady-like, she had told his secret to all her female friends. But + there was something in Agatha's countenance which marked her out as that + rare character, a woman who can hold her tongue—even in a love + affair. + </p> + <p> + After a minute she looked at Mr. Harper gravely, kindly, as if to say, + “You need not fear—I have not betrayed you;” and meeting her candid + eyes, his suspicions vanished. He drew nearer to the circle, and began to + talk. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Ianson is very kind, but we need not hold any such solemn conclave, + Frederick,” said he, smiling. “All the news that I did not unfold in my + letter of yesterday, I can tell you now. I would like every one here to be + interested in our good sisters and in all at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—oh, yes,” responded the other, mechanically. “Any messages for + me?” + </p> + <p> + “My father says he hopes to see you this autumn at Kingcombe. He is + growing an old man now.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, indeed!—An admirable man is my father, Miss Bowen. Quite a + gentleman of the old school; but peculiar—rather peculiar. Well, + what else, Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth, since Emily's death, seems to have longed after you very much.—You + were the next eldest, you know, and she fancies you were always very like + Emily. She says it is so long since you have been to Kingcombe.” + </p> + <p> + “It is such a dull place. Besides I have seen them all elsewhere + occasionally.” + </p> + <p> + “All but Elizabeth; and, you know, unless you go to Kingcombe, you never + can see Elizabeth,” said the younger brother, gently. + </p> + <p> + “That is true!—Poor dear soul!” Frederick answered, looking grave. + “Well, I will go ere long.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps at Eulalie's wedding, which I told you of?” + </p> + <p> + “True—true. Eulalie is the youngest Miss Harper, as we should + explain to our kind friends here—whom I hope we are not boring very + much with our family reminiscences. And Eulalie, contrary to the usual + custom of the Harpers, is actually going to be married. To a clergyman, is + he not, N. L.?—late Curate of Kingcombe parish?” + </p> + <p> + “No—of Anne Valery's parish. By the way, you have not yet asked a + single question about Anne Valery.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The Iansons here made polite disclaimers, but Agatha said nothing. + Immediately afterwards, Nathanael's conversation likewise ebbed away into + silence. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said in a low tone; “by that time I shall be far enough away.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He said no more, for his brother asked no more questions. But the tidings + jarred painfully on Agatha's mind. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper never attempted to address her or attract her attention during + all that strange, long evening, which comprised in itself so many slight + circumstances, so many conflicting states of feeling. Almost the only word + this very eccentric lover said to her was in a whisper, just as his hand + touched hers in bidding good-bye. + </p> + <p> + “As I am leaving England so soon, may I come here again to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not to-morrow;” and then, her kind heart repenting of the evident + pain she gave, she added, “Well, the day after to-morrow, if you like. + But——” + </p> + <p> + Whatever that forbidding “but” was meant to hint, Nathanael did not stay + to hear. He was gone in a moment. + </p> + <p> + However, that night a chance word of Mrs. Ianson's did more for the suit + of the unloved, or only half-loved lover, than he himself ever dreamed of. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said that lady, with sly, matronly smile, as, showing more + attention than usual, she lighted Agatha's candle for bed—“Well, my + dear Miss Bowen, is the wedding to be at my house?” + </p> + <p> + “What wedding?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you know; you know! I have guessed it a long while, but to-night—surely, + I may congratulate you? Never was there a more charming man than Major + Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked furious. “Has he then”—“told you the lie he told to + Emma”—she was about to say, but luckily checked herself. “Has he + then been so premature as to give you this information?” + </p> + <p> + “No! oh, of course not. But the thing is as plain as light.” + </p> + <p> + “You are mistaken, Mrs. Ianson. He is one of my very kindest friends; but + I have never had the slightest intention of marrying Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + With that she took her candle, and walked slowly to her own room. There, + with her door locked, though that was needless, since there was no welcome + or unwelcome friendship likely to intrude on her utter solitude,—she + gave way to a woman's wounded pride. Added to this, was the terror that + seizes a helpless young creature, who, all supports taken away, is at last + set face to face with the cruel world, without even the steadfastness + given by a strong sorrow. If she had really loved Frederick Harper, + perhaps her condition would have been more endurable than now. + </p> + <p> + At length, above the storm of passion there seemed floating an audible + voice, just as if the mind of him who she knew was always thinking of her, + then spoke to her mind, with the wondrous communication that has often + happened in dreams, or waking, between two who deeply loved. A + communication which appears both possible and credible to those who have + felt any strong human attachment, especially that one which for the sake + of its object seems able to cross the bounds of distance, time, life, or + eternity. + </p> + <p> + It was a thing that neither then or afterwards could she ever account for, + and years elapsed before she mentioned the circumstance to any one. But + while she lay weeping across her bed, Agatha seemed to hear distinctly, + just as if it had been a voice gliding past the window, half-mixing with + the wind that was then rising, the words: + </p> + <p> + “<i>I love you! No man will ever love you like me.</i>” + </p> + <p> + That night, before she slept, her determination was taken. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + Next morning Miss Bowen astonished every one, and excited once more Mrs. + Ianson's incredulous smile, by openly desiring the servant who waited to + take a message for her to Major Harper's. It was to the effect that she + wished immediately to see that gentleman, could he make it convenient to + visit her. + </p> + <p> + The message was given by her very distinctly, and with most creditable + calmness, considering that the destinies of her whole life hung on the + sentence. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper appeared, and was shown into Miss Bowen's drawing-room. She + was not there, and the Major waited rather uneasily for several minutes, + unaware that half of that time she had been standing without, her hand on + the lock of the door. But her tremulousness was that of natural emotion, + not of fluctuating purpose. No physiognomist studying Agatha's mouth and + chin would doubt the fact, that though rather slow to will—when she + had once willed, scarcely anything had power to shake her resolution. + </p> + <p> + She went in at last, and bade Major Harper good morning. “I have sent for + you,” she said, “to talk over a little business.” + </p> + <p> + “Business!”—And the hesitation and discomfort which seemed to arise + in him at the mere mention of the word again were visible in Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + “Not trust business—something quite different,” said Agatha, + scarcely able to help smiling at the alarm of her guardian. + </p> + <p> + “Then anything you like, my dear Miss Bowen! I have nothing in the world + to do to-day. That stupid brother of mine is worse company than none at + all. He said he had letters to write to Kingcombe, and vanished up-stairs! + The rude fellow! But he is an excellent fellow too.” + </p> + <p> + “So you have always said. He appears to love his home, and be much beloved + there. Is it so?” + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly. Already they know him better than they do me, and care + for him more; though he has been away for fifteen years. But then he has + kept up a constant correspondence with them; while I, tossing about in the + world—ah! I have had a hard life, Miss Bowen!” + </p> + <p> + He looked so sad, that Agatha felt sorry for him. But his melancholy moods + had less power to touch her than of old. His gaiety so quickly and + invariably returned, that her belief in the reality of his grief was + somewhat shaken. + </p> + <p> + She paused a little, and then recurred again, indifferently as it were, to + Nathanael—the one person in his family of whom Major Harper always + spoke gladly and warmly. + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have a great love for your younger brother. Is he then so + noble a character?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you call a noble character, my dear young lady?” + </p> + <p> + The half-jesting, half-patronising manner irritated Agatha; but she + answered boldly: + </p> + <p> + “A man honest in his principles, faithful to his word; just, generous, and + honourable.” + </p> + <p> + “What a category of qualities! How interested young ladies are in a pale, + thin boy! Well then”—seeing that Agatha looked serious—“well + then, I declare to Heaven that, even according to your high-flown + definitions, he is as noble a lad as ever breathed. I can find no fault in + him, except that, as I said, he is such a mere boy. Are you satisfied? Did + you want to try if I were indeed a heartless, unbrotherly, + good-for-nothing fellow, as you appear to think me sometimes?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Agatha briefly, noticing with something like scorn the Major's + instinctive assumption that her questions must have some near or remote + reference to himself, while he never once guessed their real motive. That + answered, she changed the conversation. + </p> + <p> + After half-an-hour's chat, Major Harper delicately alluded to the supposed + business on which she had wished to see him, though in a tone that showed + him to be rather doubtful whether it existed at all. + </p> + <p> + Agatha coloured, and her heart quailed a little, as any girl's would, in + having to speak so openly of things which usually reach young maidens + softly murmured amidst the confessions of first love, or revealed by + tender parents with blessings and tears. Life's earliest and best romance + came to her with all its bloom worn away—all its sacredness and + mystery set aside. For a moment she felt this hard. + </p> + <p> + “I wished to inform you of something nearly concerning me, which, as the + guardian appointed by my father, it is right you should know. I have had”—here + she tried to make her lips say the words without faltering—“I have + had an offer of marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul!” stammered out Major Harper, completely thrown off his + guard by surprise. A very awkward pause ensued, until, his natural good + feeling conquering any other, he said, not without emotion, “The fact of + your consulting me shows that this offer is—is not without interest + to you. May I ask—is it likely—that I shall have to + congratulate you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + He rose up slowly, and walked to the window. Whether his sensations were + merely those of wounded vanity, or whether he had liked her better than he + himself acknowledged, certain it was that Major Frederick Harper was a + good deal moved—so much so, that he succeeded in concealing it. He + came back, very kind, subdued, and tender, sat down by her side and took + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You will not wonder that I am somewhat surprised—nay, affected—by + these sudden tidings, viewing you as I have always done in the light of a—younger + sister—or—or a daughter. Your happiness must naturally be very + dear to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” murmured Agatha; and the tears came into her eyes. She felt + that she had been somewhat harsh to him; but she felt, too, with great + thankfulness, that, despite this softening compunction, her heart was free + and firm. She had great liking, but not a particle of love, for Major + Harper. + </p> + <p> + “I trust the—the gentleman you allude to is of a character likely to + make you happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned Agatha, for she could only speak in monosyllables. + </p> + <p> + “Is he—as your friend and guardian I may ask that question—is + he of good standing in the world, and in a position to maintain you + comfortably?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know—I have never thought about that,” she cried, + restlessly. “All I know is that he—loves me—that I honour him—that + he would take me”—“out of this misery,” she was about to say, but + stopped, feeling that both the thought and the expression were unworthy + Nathanael's future wife, and unfit to be heard by Nathanael's brother. + </p> + <p> + “That he would take me,” repeated she firmly, “into a contented and happy + home, where I should be made a better woman than I am, and live a life + more worthy of myself and of him.” + </p> + <p> + “You must then esteem him very highly?” + </p> + <p> + “I do—more than any man I ever knew.” + </p> + <p> + The Major winced slightly, but quickly recovered himself. “That is, I + believe, the feeling with which every woman ought to marry. He who wins + and deserves such an attachment is”—and he sighed—“is a happy + man!—Happier, perhaps, than those who have remained single.” + </p> + <p> + Again there ensued a pause, until Major Harper broke it by saying: + </p> + <p> + “There is one more question—the last of all—which, after the + confidence you have shown me, I may venture to ask: do I know this + gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha replied by putting into his hands his brother's letter. + </p> + <p> + The moment she had done so she felt remorse for having betrayed her + lover's confidence by letting any eyes save her own rest on his tender + words. Had she loved him as he loved her, she could not possibly have done + so; and even now a painful sensation smote her. She would have snatched + the letter back, but it was too late. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper's eyes had merely skimmed down the page to the signature, + when he threw it from him, crying out vehemently: + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! Agatha marry Nathanael—Nathanael marry Agatha!—He + is a boy, a very child! What can he be thinking of? Send his letter back—tell + him it is utter nonsense! Upon my soul it is!” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper was very shortsighted and inconsiderate when he gave way to + this burst of vexation before any woman—still more before such a + woman as Agatha. + </p> + <p> + She let him go on without interruption, but she lifted the letter from the + floor, refolded it, and held it tenderly—more tenderly than she had + ever until now felt towards it or its writer. Something of the grave + sweetness belonging to the tie of an affianced wife began to cast its + shadow over her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Major Harper, when you have quite done speaking, perhaps you will sit + down and hear what I have to say.” + </p> + <p> + Struck by her manner, he obeyed, entreating her pardon likewise, for he + was a gentleman, and felt that he had acted very wrongly. + </p> + <p> + “Yet surely,” he began—until, looking at her, something convinced + him that his arguments were useless. He stretched out his hand again for + the letter, but with a slight gesture which expressed much, Agatha + withheld it. After a pause, he said, meekly enough, as if thoroughly + overcome by circumstances,—“So, it is quite true? You really love my + brother?” + </p> + <p> + “I honour him, as I said, more than I do any man.” + </p> + <p> + “And love him—are you sure you love him?” + </p> + <p> + “No one,” she answered, deeply blushing—“No one but himself has a + right to receive the answer to that question.” + </p> + <p> + “True, true. Pardon me once more. But I am so startled, absolutely amazed. + My brother Nathanael—he that was a baby when I was a grown man—he + to marry—marrying you too—and I——Well; I suppose I + am really growing into a miserable, useless old bachelor. I have thrown + away my life: I shall be the last apple left on the tree—and a + tolerably withered one too. But no matter. The world shall see the sunny + half of me to the last.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed rather tunelessly at his own bitter jest, and after a brief + silence, recovered his accustomed manner. + </p> + <p> + “So so; such things must be, and I, though a bachelor myself, have no + right to forbid marriages. Allow me to congratulate you. Of course you + have answered this letter? My brother knows his happiness?” + </p> + <p> + “He knows nothing; but I wished that he should do so to-day, after I had + spoken to you. It was a respect I felt to be your due, to form no + engagement of this kind without your knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “You have been good and kind to me,” continued Agatha, a little touched, + “and I wished to have your approval in all things—chiefly in this. + Is it so?” + </p> + <p> + He offered his hand, saying, “God bless you!” with a quivering lip. He + even muttered “child;” as though he felt how old he was growing, and how + he had let all life's happiness slip by, until it was just that he should + no longer claim it, but be content to see young people rejoicing in their + youth. After a pause, he added, “Now, shall I go and fetch my brother?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Agatha, “send for him, and do you stay here.” + </p> + <p> + “As you please,” said Major Harper, a good deal surprised at this very + original way of conducting a love affair. After courteously offering to + withdraw himself to the dining-room, which Agatha declined, he sat and + waited with her during the few minutes that elapsed before his brother + appeared. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael looked much agitated; his boyish face seemed to have grown years + older since the preceding night. He paused at the door, and glanced with + suspicion on his brother and Miss Bowen. + </p> + <p> + “You sent for me, Frederick?” + </p> + <p> + “It was I who sent for you,” said Agatha. And then steadfastly regarding + him whom she had tacitly accepted as her husband, the guide and ruler of + her whole life—her self-possession failed. A great timidity, almost + amounting to terror, came over her. Vaguely she felt the want of something + unknown—something which in the whirl of her destiny she could grasp + and hold by, sure that she held fast to the right. It was the one emotion, + neither regard, liking, honour, or esteem, yet including and surpassing + all—the <i>love</i>, strong, pure love, without which it is so + dangerous, often so fatal, for a woman to marry. + </p> + <p> + Agatha, never having known this feeling, could scarcely be said to have + sacrificed it; at least not consciously. But even while she believed she + was doing right in accepting the man who loved her, and whom she could + make so happy, she trembled. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper sat looking out of the window in an uncomfortable silence, + which he evidently knew not how to break. It was a very awkward and + somewhat ridiculous position for all three. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael was the first to rise out of it. Slowly his features settled + into composure, and his strong, earnest purpose gave him both dignity and + calmness, even though all hope had evidently died. He looked steadily at + his brother, avoiding Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, I think I understand now. She has been telling you all.” + </p> + <p> + “It was right she should. Her father left her in my care. She wishes you + to learn her decision in my presence,” said Major Harper, unwittingly + taking a new and even respectful tone to the younger brother, whom he was + wont to call “that boy.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael grasped with his slight, long fingers, the chair by which he + stood. “As she pleases. I am quite ready. Still—if—yesterday—without + telling you or any one—she had said to me—But I am quite ready + to hear what she decides.” + </p> + <p> + Despite his firmness, the words were uttered slowly and with a great + struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him everything, Miss Bowen; it will come better from yourself,” said + Frederick Harper, rising. + </p> + <p> + Agatha rose likewise, walked across the room, and laid her hand in that of + him who loved her. The only words she said were so low that he alone could + hear them: + </p> + <p> + “I have been very desolate—be kind to me!” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael made no answer; indeed for the moment his look was that of a man + bewildered—but he never forgot those words. + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt her hand clasped—softly—but with a firm grasp that + seemed to bind it to his for ever. This was the only sign of betrothal + that passed between them. In another minute or two, unable to bear the + scene longer, she crept out of the room and walked up-stairs, feeling with + a dizzy sense, half of comfort, half of fear—yet, on the whole, the + comfort stronger than the fear—that the struggle was all over, and + her fate sealed for life. + </p> + <p> + When she descended, an hour after, the Harpers had gone; but she found a + little note awaiting her, just one line: + </p> + <p> + “If not forbidden, I may come this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha knew she had no right to forbid, even had she wished it, now. So + she waited quietly through the long, dim, misty day—which seemed the + strangest day she had ever known; until, in the evening, her lover's knock + came to the door. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting with Jane Ianson, near whom, partly in shy fear, partly + from a vague desire for womanly sympathy, she had closely kept for the + last hour. As yet, the Iansons knew nothing. She wondered whether from his + manner or hers they would be likely to guess what had passed that morning + between herself and Mr. Harper. + </p> + <p> + It was an infinite relief to her when following, nay preceding, Nathanael, + there appeared his elder brother, with the old pleasant smile and bow. + </p> + <p> + But amidst all his assumed manner, Major Harper took occasion to whisper + kindly to Agatha; “My brother made me come—I shall do admirably to + talk nonsense to the Iansons.” + </p> + <p> + And so he did, carrying off the restraint of the evening so ingeniously + that no one would have suspected any deeper elements of joy or pain + beneath the smooth surface of their cheerful group. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael sat almost as silent as ever; but even his very silence was a + beautiful, joyful repose. In his aspect a new soul seemed to have dawned—the + new soul, noble and strong, which comes into a man when he feels that his + life has another life added to it, to guard, cherish, and keep as his own + until death. And though Mr. Harper gave little outward sign of what was in + him, it was touching to see how his eyes followed his betrothed + everywhere, whether she were moving about the room, or working, or trying + to sing. Continually Agatha felt the shining of these quiet, tender eyes, + and she began to experience the consciousness—perhaps the sweetest + in the world—of being able to make another human being entirely + happy. + </p> + <p> + Only sometimes, when she looked at her future husband—hardly able to + believe he was really such—and thought how strangely things had + happened; how here she was, no longer a girl, but a woman engaged to be + married, sitting calmly by her lover's side, without any of the + tremblingly delicious emotions which she had once believed would + constitute the great mystery, Love—a strange pensiveness overtook + her. She felt all the solemnity of her position, and, as yet, little of + its sweetness. Perhaps that would come in time. She resolved to do her + duty towards him whom she so tenderly honoured, and who so deeply loved + herself; and all the evening the entire gentleness of her behaviour was + enough to charm the very soul of any one who held towards her the relation + now borne by Nathanael Harper. + </p> + <p> + At length even the good-natured elder brother's flow of conversation + seemed to fail, and he gave hints about leaving, to which the younger + tacitly consented. Agatha bade them both good-night in public, and crept + away, as she thought, unobserved, to her own sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + There she stood before the hearth, which looked cheerful enough this wet + July night,—the fire-light shining on her hands, as they hung down + listlessly folded together. She was thinking how strange everything seemed + about her, and what a change had come in a few days, nay, hours. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a light touch was laid on her hand. It startled her, but she did + not attempt to shake it off. She knew quite well whose hand it was, and + that it had a right to be there. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + She half turned, and said once more “Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, <i>my</i> Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + And for a minute he stood, holding her hand by the fire-light, until some + one below called out loudly for “Mr. Harper.” Then a kiss, soft and timid + as a woman's, trembled over Agatha's mouth, and he was gone. + </p> + <p> + This was the first time she had ever been kissed by any man. The feeling + it left was very new, tremulous, and strange. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <p> + The next morning was Sunday. Under one of the dark arches in Bloomsbury + Church—with Mrs. Ianson's large feathers tossing on one side, and + Jane's sickly unhappy face at the other—Agatha said her prayers in + due sabbatical form. “Said her prayers” is the right phrase, for trouble + had not yet opened her young heart to pray. Yet she was a good girl, not + wilfully undevout; and if during the long missionary-sermon she secretly + got her prayer-book and read—what was the most likely portion to + attract her—the marriage service, it was with feelings solemnised + and not unsacred. Some portions of it made her very thoughtful, so + thoughtful that when suddenly startled by the conclusion of the sermon, + she prayed—not with the clergyman, for “Jews, Turks, Infidels, and + Heretics”—but for two young creatures, herself and another, who + perhaps needed Heaven's merciful blessings quite as much. + </p> + <p> + When she rose up it was with moist eyelashes; and then she perceived what + until this minute she had not seen,—that close behind her, sitting + where he had probably sat all church-time, was Nathanael Harper. + </p> + <p> + If anything can touch the heart of a generous woman, when it is still a + free heart, it is that quiet, unobtrusive, proudly-silent love which, + giving all, exacts nothing. Agatha's smile had in it something even of shy + tenderness when at the church-door she was met by Mr. Harper. And when, + after speaking courteously to the Iansons, he came, quite naturally as it + were, to her side, and drew her arm in his, she felt a strange sense of + calm and rest in knowing that it was her betrothed husband upon whom she + leant. + </p> + <p> + At the door he seemed wishful enough to enter; but Mrs. Ianson invariably + looked very coldly upon Sunday visitors. + </p> + <p> + And something questioning and questionable in the glances of both that + lady and her daughter was very painful to Miss Bowen. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day,” she whispered, as her lover detained her hand. “To-morrow I + shall have made all clear to the Iansons.” + </p> + <p> + “As you will! Nothing shall trouble you,” said he, with a gentle + acquiescence, the value of which, alas! she did not half appreciate. + “Only, remember, I have so few to-morrows.” + </p> + <p> + This speech troubled Agatha for many minutes, bringing various thoughts + concerning the dim future which as yet she had scarcely contemplated. It + is wonderful how little an unsophisticated girl's mind rests on the + common-sense and commonplace of marriage,—household prospects, + income, long or short engagements, and the like. When in the course of + that drowsy, dark Sunday afternoon, with the rain-drops dripping heavily + on the balcony, she took opportunity formally to communicate her secret to + the astonished Mrs. Ianson, Agatha was perfectly confounded by the two + simple questions: “When are you to be married? And where are you going to + live?” + </p> + <p> + “And oh! my dear,” cried the doctor's wife, roused into positive sympathy + by a confidence which always touches the softest chord in every woman's + heart—“oh, my dear, I hope it will not be a long engagement. People + change so—at least men do. You don't know what misery comes out of + long engagements!” And, lowering her voice, she turned her dull grey eyes, + swimming with motherly tears, towards the corner sofa where the pale, + fretful, old-maidish Jane lay sleeping. + </p> + <p> + Agatha understood a little, and guessed more. After that day, however + ill-tempered and disagreeable the invalid might be, she was always very + patient and kind towards Jane Ianson. + </p> + <p> + After tea, when her daughter was gone to bed, Mrs. Ianson unfolded all to + the Doctor, who nearly broke Miss Bowen's fingers with his congratulatory + shake; John the footman, catching fragments of talk, probably put the + whole story together for the amusement of the lower regions; and when + Agatha retired to rest she was quite sure that the whole house, down to + the little maid who waited on herself, was fully aware of the important + fact that Miss Bowen was going to be married to Mr. Locke Harper. + </p> + <p> + This annoyed her—she had not expected it. But she bore it stoically + as a necessary evil. Only sometimes she thought how different all things + were, seen afar and near; and faintly sighed for that long ago lost + picture of wakening fancy—the Arcadian, impossible love-dream. + </p> + <p> + She sat up till after midnight, writing to Emma Thornycroft, the only + near friend to whom she had to write, the news of her engagement—information + that for many reasons she preferred giving by pen, not words. Finishing, + she put her blind aside to have one freshening look at the trees in the + square. It was quite cloudless now, the moon being just rising—the + same moon that Agatha had seen, as a bright slender line appearing at + street corners, on the Midsummer night when she and Nathariael Harper + walked home together. She felt a deep interest in that especial moon, + which seemed between its dawning and waning to have comprised the whole + fate of her life. + </p> + <p> + Quietly opening the window, she leant out gazing at the moonlight, as + foolish girls will—yet who does not remember, half pathetically, + those dear old follies! + </p> + <p> + “Heigho! I wonder what will be the end of it all!” said Agatha Bowen; + without specifying what the pronoun “it” alluded to. + </p> + <p> + But she stopped, hearing a footstep rather policeman-like passing up and + down the railing under the trees. And as after a while he crossed the + street—she saw that the “policeman” had the very unprofessional + appearance of a cloak and long fair hair:—Agatha's cheek burned; she + shut down the window and blind, and relighted the candle. But her heart + beat fast—it was so strange, so new, to be the object of such love. + “However, I suppose I shall get used to it—besides—oh, how + good he is!” + </p> + <p> + And the genuine reverence of her heart conquered its touch of feminine + vanity; which, perhaps, had he known, Nathanael would have done wiser in + going to bed like a Christian, than in wandering like a heathen idolater + round his beloved's shrine. But, however her pride may have been + flattered, it is certain that Agatha went to sleep with tears, innocent + and tender enough to serve as mirrors for watching night-angels, lying on + her cheek. + </p> + <p> + The next morning she waited at home, and for the first time received her + betrothed openly as such. She was sitting alone in her little drawing-room + engaged at her work; but put it down when Mr. Harper entered, and held out + her hand kindly, though with a slight restraint and confusion. Both were + needless: he only touched this lately-won hand with his soft boyish lips—like + a <i>preux chevalier</i> of the olden time—and sat down by her side. + However deep his love might be, its reserve was unquestionable. + </p> + <p> + After a while he began to talk to her—timidly yet tenderly, as + friend with friend—watching her fingers while they moved, until at + length the girl grew calmed by the calmness of her young lover. So much + so, that she even forgot he was a young man and her lover, and found + herself often steadfastly looking up into his face, which was gradually + melting into a known likeness, as many faces do when we grow familiar with + them. Agatha puzzled herself much as to who it could be that Mr. Harper + was like—though she found no nearer resemblance than a head she had + once seen of the angel Gabriel. + </p> + <p> + She told him this—quite innocently, and then, recollecting herself, + coloured deeply. But Nathanael looked perfectly happy. + </p> + <p> + “The likeness is very flattering,” said he, smiling. “Yet I would only + wish to be—what you called me once, the first evening I saw you. Do + you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—well—it was not probable you should,” he answered, as if + patiently taking upon himself the knowledge which only a strong love can + bear—that it is <i>alone</i> in its strength. “It was merely when + they were talking of my name, and you said I looked like a Nathanael. Now, + do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and I think so still,” she replied, without any false shame. “I + never look at you, but I feel there is 'no guile' in you, Mr. Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks,” he said, with much feeling. “Thanks—except for the last + word. How soon will you try to say 'Nathanael?'” + </p> + <p> + A fit of wilfulness or shyness was upon Agatha. She drew away her hand + which he had taken. “How soon? Nay, I cannot tell. It is a long name, + old-fashioned, and rather ugly.” + </p> + <p> + He made no answer—scarcely even showed that he was hurt; but he + never again asked her to call him “Nathanael.” + </p> + <p> + She went on with her work, and he sat quietly looking at her for some + little time more. Any Asmodeus peering at them through the roof would have + vowed these were the oddest pair of lovers ever seen. + </p> + <p> + At last, rousing himself, Mr. Harper said: “It is time, Agatha”—he + paused, and added—“dear Agatha—quite time that we should talk + a little about what concerns our happiness—at least mine.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him—saw how earnest he was, and put down her work. The + softness of her manner soothed him. + </p> + <p> + “I know, dear Agatha, that it is very wrong in me; but sometimes I can + hardly believe this is all true, and that you really promised—what I + heard from your own lips two days ago. Will you—out of that good + heart of yours—say it again?” + </p> + <p> + “What must I say?” + </p> + <p> + “That you love—no, I don't mean that—but that you care for me + a little—enough to trust me with your happiness? Do you?” + </p> + <p> + For all reply, Agatha held out the hand she had drawn back. Her lover kept + it tight in that peculiar grasp of his—very soft and still, but firm + as adamant. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. You shall never regret your trust. My brother told me all you + said to him on Saturday morning. I know you do not quite love me yet.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha started, it was so true. + </p> + <p> + “Still, as you have loved no one else—you are sure of that?” + </p> + <p> + She thought a minute, then lifted her candid eyes, and answered: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, quite sure!” + </p> + <p> + He, watching her closely, betrayed himself so far as to give an inward + thankful sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Agatha, since I love you, I am not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I,” she answered, and a tear fell, for she was greatly moved. Her + betrothed put his arm round her, softly and timidly, as if unfamiliar with + actions of tenderness; but she trembled so much that, still softly, he let + her go, only keeping firm hold of her hand, apparently to show that no + power on earth, gentle or strong, should wrest that from him. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes after, he began speaking of his affairs, of which Agatha was + in a state of entire ignorance. She said, jestingly—for they had + fallen into quite familiar jesting now, and were laughing together like a + couple of children—that she had not the least idea whether she were + about to marry a prince or a beggar. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered her lover, smiling at her unworldliness, and thereby + betraying that, innocent as he looked, his was not the innocence of + ignorance. “No; but I am not exactly a prince, and as a beggar I should + certainly be too proud to marry <i>you</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I understand you are a very rich young lady (I don't know how + rich, for I never thought of the subject or inquired about it till + to-day), while I am only able to earn my income year by year. Yet it is a + good income, and, I earnestly hope, fully equal to yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what mine is. But why are you so punctilious?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian, impressed upon me, from my boyhood, that one of the greatest + horrors of life must be the taunt of having married an heiress for her + money.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he ever married?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “And is he a very old man?” Miss Bowen asked, less interested in money + matters than in this Uncle Brian, whose name so constantly floated across + his nephew's conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen years in the colonies makes a man old before his time. And he was + not very young, probably full thirty, when he went out But I could go on + talking of Uncle Brian for ever; you must stop me, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “Not I—I like to hear,” she answered, beginning to feel how sweet it + was to sit talking thus confidentially, and know herself and her words + esteemed fair and pleasant in the eyes of one who loved her. But as she + looked up and smiled, that same witching smile put an effectual stop to + the chronicle of Brian Harper. + </p> + <p> + “And I have to go back to Canada so soon!” whispered Nathanael to himself, + as his gaze, far less calm than heretofore, fell down like a warm sunshine + over his betrothed, “The time of my stay here will soon be over, and what + then—Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + She did not wholly comprehend the question, and so let it pass. She was + quite content to keep him talking about things and people in whom her + interest was naturally growing; of Kingcombe Holm, the old house on the + Dorset coast, where the Harpers had dwelt for centuries; of its present + owner, Nathanael Harper, Esquire, of that venerable name so renowned in + Dorsetshire pedigrees, that one Harper had refused to merge it even in the + blaze of a peerage. Of the five Miss Harpers, of whom one was dead, and + another, the all-important “married sister,” Mrs. Dugdale, lived in a town + close by. Of Eulalie, the pretty <i>cadette</i> who was at some future + time going to disappear behind the shadows of matrimony; of busy, + housekeeping Mary, whom nobody could possibly do without, and who couldn't + be suffered to marry on any account whatever. Last of all, was the eye, + ear, and heart of the house, kept tenderly in its inmost nook, from which + for twenty years she had never moved, and never would move until softly + carried to the house appointed for all living—Elizabeth, the eldest—of + whom Nathanael's soft voice grew softer as he spoke. His betrothed + hesitated to ask many questions about Elizabeth. The one of whom she had + it in her mind always to inquire, and whose name somehow always slipped + past, was Miss Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + All this conversation—wherein the young lover bore himself much more + bravely than in regular “love-making”—a manufacture at which he was + not <i>au fait</i> at all, caused the morning to pass swiftly by. Agatha + thought if all her life were to move so smoothly and pleasantly, she need + never repent trusting its current to the guidance of Nathanael Harper. And + when, soon after he departed, Emma Thornycroft came in, all smiles, + wonderings, and congratulations, Miss Bowen was in a mood cheerful enough + to look the happy <i>fiancée</i> to the life; besides womanly and tender + enough to hang round her friend's neck, testifying her old regard—until + Master James testified his also, and likewise his general sympathy in the + scene, by flying at them both with bread-and-buttery fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Agatha, there is nothing like being a wife and mother! you see what + happiness lies before you,” cried the affectionate soul, hugging her + unruly son and heir. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bowen slightly shuddered; being of a rather different opinion; which, + however, she had the good taste to keep to herself, since occasionally a + slight misgiving arose that either she was unreasonably harsh, or that the + true type of infantile loveableness did not exist in the young + Thornycrofts. + </p> + <p> + As a private penance for possible injustice, and also out of the general + sunniness of her contented heart, she was particularly kind to Master + James that day, and moreover promised to spend the next at the Botanic + Gardens—not the terrific Zoological!—with Emma and the babies. + </p> + <p> + “And,” added the young matron, with a gracious satisfaction, “you + understand, my dear, we shall—now and always—be most happy to + see Mr. Harper in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <p> + Whether Mr. Harper, being a rather proud and reserved individual, was not + “so happy to be seen in the evening” as an attendant planet openly + following his sphered idol, or whether, like all true lovers, he was very + jealous over the lightest public betrayal of love's sanctity, most + certainly he did not appear until he had been expected for at least two + hours. Even then his manner was somewhat constrained. Emma's smiling, + half-jesting congratulations were nipped in the bud; she felt as she + afterwards declared—“quite frightened at him.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, too, met him rather meekly, fearing lest she had led him into a + position distasteful to his feelings. She was relieved when, taking little + notice of herself, he fell into conversation with Mr. Thornycroft—a + serious discussion on political and general topics. Once or twice, + glancing at him, and noticing how well he talked, and how manly and + self-possessed he looked, Agatha began to feel proud of her betrothed. She + could not have endured a lover who—in not unfrequent lover-like + fashion—“made a fool of himself” on her account. + </p> + <p> + While the two gentlemen still talked, Miss Bowen stood secretly listening, + but apparently watching the rich twilight that coloured the long sweep of + the Regent's Park trees—a pretty sight, even though in the land of + Cockayne. + </p> + <p> + “There's a carriage at our door!” screamed Missy from the balcony, + receiving a hurried maternal reproof for ill-behaviour. Mrs. Thornycroft + wondered who the inopportune visitor could be. + </p> + <p> + It was a lady, who gave no name, but wished to know if Mr. Locke Harper + were there, and if so, would he come to the carriage and speak to her a + moment? + </p> + <p> + Nathanael did so, looking not less surprised than the rest of the party. + After five minutes had elapsed, he was still absent from the room. + </p> + <p> + “Very odd!” observed Emma, half in jest, half earnest; “I should inquire + into the matter if I were you. Let me see—I fancy the carriage is + still at the door. It would be rude to peep, you know, but we can inquire + of the maid.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Agatha, gently removing Mrs. Thornycrofts hand from the bell; + “Mr. Harper will doubtless tell me all that is necessary. He is perfectly + able to conduct his own affairs.” + </p> + <p> + It was speech implying more indifference than she really felt, for this + mysterious interview did not quite please her. She tried vainly to go on + talking with Mrs. Thornycroft, and actually started when she heard the + carriage drive off, and Nathanael come up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + His countenance was a good deal troubled, but he did not give the + slightest explanation—not even when Mrs. Thornycroft joked him about + his supposed “business.” + </p> + <p> + “With a lady, too! Not, I hope, a young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” he asked, absently, his eyes fixed afar off on Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “I hope your visitor in the carriage was not a young lady?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” The answer was in a tone that put an end to any more jesting. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael sat down, and tried to take up the thread of politics just + dropped with Mr. Thornycroft, but only for a few minutes. Then, stealing + round by Miss Bowen's side, he whispered: + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you: would you mind coming home soon?” + </p> + <p> + “At once, if you wish it,” she answered, perceiving that something was + wrong, and feeling towards him too much of kindness and too little of + jealous love, to be in any way displeased at his strange behaviour. + </p> + <p> + “Will you do it, then, dear Agatha? Do it for me.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was ill at contrivance, but she managed somehow to get away; and + before it was dark she and her betrothed were out in the broad terrace. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said she, taking his arm kindly, “if anything is amiss, you can + tell me all as we walk home. Better walk than ride.” + </p> + <p> + “No, we must ride; I would not lose a minute,” Nathanael answered, as he + hurried her into a conveyance, and gave the order to drive to Bedford + Square. + </p> + <p> + Miss Bowen felt a twinge of repugnance at this control so newly exercised + over the liberty of her actions; but her good-heartedness still held out, + and she waited patiently for her lover to explain. However, he seemed to + forget that any explanation was necessary. He leaned back in the corner + quite silent, with his hand over his eyes. Had she loved him, or not known + that he was her lover, Agatha would soon have essayed the womanly part of + comforter, but now timidity restrained her. + </p> + <p> + At length timidity was verging into distrust, when he suddenly said, just + as they were entering the square: + </p> + <p> + “I have used the dear right you lately gave me, in taking a strange + liberty with you and your house. I have appointed to meet me there + to-night one whom I must see, and whom I could not well see in any other + way—a lady—a stranger to you. But, stay, she is here!” + </p> + <p> + And as they stopped at the door, where another carriage had stopped + likewise, Nathanael unceremoniously leaped out, and went to this + “mysterious stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “Go in, dear Agatha,” said he returning; “go to your own sitting-room, and + I will bring her to you.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, half reluctant to be so ordered about, and thoroughly bewildered + likewise, mechanically obeyed. Nevertheless, with a sort of pleasure that + this humdrum courtship was growing into something interesting at last, she + waited for the intruding “lady.” + </p> + <p> + That she was a lady, the first glimpse of her as she entered the room + leaning rather heavily on Nathanael's arm, brought sufficient conviction. + She was tall, and a certain slow, soft way of moving, cast about her an + atmosphere of sweet dignity. Her age was not easily distinguishable, but + her voice, in the few words addressed to Mr. Harper, “Is your friend + here?” seemed not that of a very young woman. + </p> + <p> + In her presence, Miss Bowen instinctively rose. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she is here,” said Nathanael, answering the stranger. “You could not + have learnt what I wrote yesterday to my father and to Elizabeth. She is + Agatha Bowen, my—my wife that will be. Agatha, this lady is Miss + Anne Valery.” + </p> + <p> + It would be hard to say which of the two thus suddenly introduced to each + other was most surprised. However, the elder lady recovered herself + soonest. + </p> + <p> + “I was not aware of this; but I am very glad. And I need not now apologise + for thus intruding.” + </p> + <p> + She went up to the young betrothed, and took her by the hand warmly, + seeming at once and without further explanation to comprehend all; while + on Agatha's side, her look, her voice, her touch, communicated a sudden + trust and pleasure. It was one of those instinctive, inexplicable + attractions which almost every one has experienced more or less during + life. She could not take her eyes off Miss Valery; the face and manner + seemed at once familiar and strange. She had never been so impressed by + any woman before. + </p> + <p> + To show all hospitable attentions, to place an arm-chair for her guest, + and even, as she appeared weary, to entreat her to put aside her bonnet + and mantle—seemed quite natural to Miss Bowen, just as if they had + been friends of years. Anne thanked her courteously, let her do what she + would—but all the while looked anxiously at Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “You know we have much to say. Is she aware of what I told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet; I could not tell her; it shocked me so. Oh, my poor uncle!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, who was unfastening her guest's cloak, turned round. + </p> + <p> + “What, your Uncle Brian? Has anything happened? You speak almost as if he + were dead.” + </p> + <p> + Anne Valery shivered. + </p> + <p> + “Dead! God forbid!” cried the young man, more deeply moved than his + betrothed had ever seen him. “But we have had ill news. He went as + interpreter on a Government mission, as he had often done before; he was + so popular among the Indians. But from some treachery shown them, the + tribe grew enraged and carried him off prisoner. Heaven only knows if they + have spared his life. But I think—I feel they will. He was so just + to the red men always. He is surely safe.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is safe,” repeated Miss Valery, as if any alternative but that + were utterly incredible and impossible. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael continued: “The tidings reached Kingcombe yesterday, and our + friend here, coming to London, volunteered to bring them, and consult with + me. If there is any good deed to be done, it is sure to be done by Anne + Valery,” added Nathanael, stretching out his hand to hers. + </p> + <p> + She took it without speaking, being apparently much exhausted. And now + that her bonnet was off, and she sitting near the lamp, Agatha discerned + that Miss Valery was by no means young or beautiful. At all events, she + was at that time in an unmarried woman's life when it ceases to signify + whether she is handsome or not. Her hair at first seemed brown, but on + looking closer, there appeared on either side the parting broad silvery + lines, as if two snow-laden hands laid on the head had smoothed it down, + leaving it shining still. + </p> + <p> + Agatha turned from her passing examination of Miss Valery to the subject + in question, evidently so painful to her betrothed. + </p> + <p> + “You two wish to consult together? Do so. Pray stay here. I am very sorry + for your trouble, Mr. Harper. Anything that I can do for you or your + friend, you know”—and her voice dropped softly—“it is my duty + now.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael looked at her, as if longing to clasp her to his heart and say + how happy he was; but he restrained himself and let his eyes alone declare + what he felt. They were very eloquent. + </p> + <p> + While this passed between the young people, the elder lady arose from her + chair; quietness seemed painful to her. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, every minute is precious to anxiety such as you must feel. + Have you thought what had better be done, since you are the right person + to do it?” + </p> + <p> + “As yet I have thought of nothing. And, alas! what <i>can</i> be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, and let us consider,” said she, laying her hand on his, with a + force soft yet steady as that of her words. + </p> + <p> + Agatha was gliding out of the room, but her lover's quick movement and + Miss Valery's look stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “Do not go, Miss Bowen; you are not so unknown to me as I am to you. I had + much rather you stayed.” + </p> + <p> + So she took up her position a little distance off, and listened while the + two friends consulted; pondering the while on what a rare kind of man Mr. + Brian Harper must be to win such regard. + </p> + <p> + “You say the news came accidentally?” Mr. Harper observed. “It may not be + true, then.” + </p> + <p> + “It is. I had it confirmed to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I went to the Colonial Office myself.” (“Kind Anne Valery!” murmured the + young man.) “It was best to do so before I told you anything. You, knowing + the whole facts, would then decide more readily.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right and wise as ever. Now, tell me exactly what you heard.” + </p> + <p> + “While a treaty was going forward for the Government purchase of Indian + lands, there arose a quarrel, and two red men were upon slight grounds + punished cruelly. Then the whole tribe went off in the night, carrying as + prisoners two Englishmen—one by force. The other is believed to have + offered himself willingly as a hostage, until the reparation of what he + considered an injustice shown by his countrymen to the Indians. You may + guess who he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian, of course,” cried Nathanael, pacing the room. “Just like + him! He would do the maddest things for the sake of honour.” + </p> + <p> + Anne Valery's eyes flashed in the dark a momentary brightness, as if they + were growing young again. + </p> + <p> + “But his life is surely safe: all over the Indian country they respect the + very name of Brian Harper. No harm can touch him—it is quite + impossible!” + </p> + <p> + “I think so too.” And Miss Valery drew a long breath. “Still, such danger + is very terrible—is it not?” And she turned slightly, to include + Agatha in their conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, terrible!” the girl cried, deeply interested. “But could he not be + sought for—rescued? Could not a party be despatched after him? If I + were a man I would head one immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery, faintly smiling, patted Agatha's hand. It was easy to see + that this good heart opened itself at once to Nathanael's young betrothed. + </p> + <p> + “That is what I had in my own mind, and should have spoken of to his + nephew here—a party of search which the Canadian Government, if + urged, would no doubt consent to. Nathanael could propose it—plan + it. He is both ingenious and wise.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he is; he seems to know everything!” cried Agatha warmly. “Surely, + Mr. Harper, you could think of something—do something?” + </p> + <p> + “I could,” said the nephew, slowly waking from a long interval of thought. + “I could do—what perhaps I ought, and will—for him who has + been more than a father to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” Agatha asked, while Miss Valery regarded him silently. + </p> + <p> + “To go back to America—head a search; or, if that is refused me, + search for him myself alone, and never give up until I find him—living + or dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do so! that will be right, generous, noble—you could not fail.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no saying, Agatha; only, if done, it must be done without delay. + I must start at once—in a week—nay a day—leaving + England, home, you, everything. That is hard!” + </p> + <p> + He uttered the last words inaudibly, and his left hand was suddenly + clenched, as he turned and walked once up the room and down again. + </p> + <p> + Agatha knew not what to say. Only a great love conscious of the extent of + its own sacrifice, would have had boldness to urge the like sacrifice upon + him. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery's voice broke the troubled pause: + </p> + <p> + “You cannot start yet, Nathanael; you would have to apply to the + Government here. It would be impossible for you to leave under at least a + fortnight.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” he sighed, momentarily relieved, which was but natural “Yet, how + wrong I am! for my poor uncle's sake I ought not to lose a day. Surely + there would be some way of hastening the time, if inquiries were to be set + on foot.” + </p> + <p> + “I have made all that could be made; still, try yourself, though I fear it + is useless. The suspense is bitter, but what is inevitable must be borne,” + said Anne, with the smile of one long used to the practice of that + doctrine. “And in a fortnight—a fortnight is a long time, Miss + Bowen?” + </p> + <p> + The smile, flitting to Agatha, took a cheerfulness which hitherto in the + sad subject of her talk Miss Valery had not displayed. A certain + benevolent meaning, which Agatha rather guessed at than discerned, was + likewise visible there. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” said she, “for this night we can do nothing; but having settled + what we shall do, or rather what Mr. Harper will do, let us make ourselves + at rest. Be content, my dear Nathanael. Heaven will take care of him for + whom we fear.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice trembled, Agatha fancied; and the young girl thought how full + and generous was this kind woman's sympathy! likewise how good Nathanael + must be to have awakened so deep a regard in such an one as Miss Anne + Valery. + </p> + <p> + The clock struck ten. “We are early folk in Dorsetshire; but as my old + servant Andrews has secured my lodgings close by (I am a very independent + woman, you see, Miss Bowen), if you will allow me, I should like to sit + another half-hour, and become a little better acquainted with you.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha gave her a delighted welcome, and astonished the Ianson family by + ordering all sorts of hospitalities. The three began to converse upon + various matters, the only remarkable fact being that no one inquired for + or alluded to a person, doubtless familiar to all—Frederick Harper. + On Agatha's part this omission was involuntary; he had quietly slipped out + of her thoughts hour by hour and day by day, as her interest in him became + absorbed in others more akin to her true nature. + </p> + <p> + But though every one tried to maintain the conversation on indifferent + topics, the feelings of at least two out of the three necessarily drew it + back to one channel. There they sat, running over the slight nothings, + probable and improbable, which in hard suspense people count up; though + still the worst Nathanael seemed to fear was the temporary hardship to + which his uncle would be exposed. + </p> + <p> + “And he is not so young as he used to be. How often have I urged him to be + content with his poverty and come home. He <i>shall</i> come home now. If + once I get him out of these red fellows' hands, he shall turn his face + from their wild settlements for ever. He can easily do it, even if I must + stay in Canada.” + </p> + <p> + The young man looked at his newly-betrothed wife, and looked away again. + It was more than he could bear. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha,” said Miss Valery, after a pause, during which she had closely + observed both the young people—“I may call you <i>Agatha</i>, for + the sake of my friend here, may I not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the low answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, Agatha, shall you and I have a little talk? We need not mind + that foolish boy; he was a boy, just so high, when I first knew him. Let + him walk up and down the room a little, it will do him good.” + </p> + <p> + She moved to the sofa, and took Agatha by her side. + </p> + <p> + “My dear”—(there was a rare sweetness in the way Miss Valery said + the usually unsweet words <i>my dear</i>)—“I need not say, what, of + course, we two both think, that she will be a happy woman who marries + Nathanael Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, with her eyes cast down, looked everything a young girl could be + expected to look under the circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “Your happiness, as well as your history, is to me not like that of an + entire stranger. I once knew your father.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that accounts for all!” cried Agatha, delighted to gain this + confirmation of her strange impression in favour of Miss Valery. “When was + this, and where was I?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither born nor thought of.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's countenance fell. “Then of course it was impossible—yet I + felt certain—I could even believe so now—that I have seen you + before.” + </p> + <p> + While the girl looked, a quick shadow passed over Anne Valery's still + features, for the moment entirely changing their expression. But soon + returned their ordinary settled calm. + </p> + <p> + “We often fancy that strangers' faces are familiar. It is usually held to + be an omen of future affection. Let me hope that it will prove so now. I + have long wished, and am truly glad, heart-glad to see you, my dear + child.” + </p> + <p> + She bent Agatha's forehead towards her, and kissed it. Gradually her lips + recovered their colour, and she began to talk again, showing herself + surprisingly familiar with the monotonous past life of the young girl, and + likewise with her present circumstances. + </p> + <p> + “How kind of you to take such an interest in me!” cried Agatha, her wonder + absorbed in pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “It was natural,” Anne said, rather hastily. “A woman left orphan from the + cradle as I was, can feel for another orphan. And though my acquaintance + with your father was too slender to warrant my intruding upon you—still + I never lost sight of you. Poor child, yours has been a desolate position + for so young a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, very desolate,” said Agatha; and suddenly the recollection crossed + her mind of how doubly she should feel that desolation when her betrothed + husband was gone, for how long, no one could tell! A regret arose, half + tenderness, half selfishness; but she deemed it wholly the latter, and so + crushed it down. + </p> + <p> + “How long have you been engaged to Nathanael?” asked Miss Valery, in a + manner so sweet as entirely to soften the abruptness of the question, and + win the unhesitating answer. + </p> + <p> + “A very short time—only a few days. Yet I seem to have known him for + years. Oh, how good he is! how it grieves me to see him so unhappy!” + whispered Agatha, watching his restless movements up and down. + </p> + <p> + “It will be a hard trial for him, this parting with you. Men like + Nathanael never love lightly; even sudden passions—and his must have + been rather sudden—in them take root as with the strength of years. + I am very sorry for the boy.” + </p> + <p> + And Miss Valery's eyes glistened as they rested on him whom probably from + old habit she thus called. + </p> + <p> + “Well, have you done your little mysteries?” said he, coming up to the + sofa, with an effort to be gay. “Have you taken my character to pieces, + Anne Valery? Remember, if so, I have little enough time to recover it. A + fortnight will be gone directly.” + </p> + <p> + No one answered. + </p> + <p> + “Come, make room; I <i>will</i> have my place. I <i>will</i> sit beside + you, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sort of desperation in his “I will” that indicated a great + change in the reserved, timid youth. Agatha yielded as to an irresistible + influence, and he placed himself by her side, putting his arm firmly round + her waist, quite regardless of the presence of a third person—though + about Anne there was an abiding spirit of love which seemed to take under + its shadow all lovers, ay, even though she herself were an old maid. But + perhaps that was the very reason. + </p> + <p> + “I was doing you no harm, Nathanael,” said she, smiling. “And I was + thinking, like you, how soon a fortnight will be gone, and how hard it is + for you to part from this little girl that loves you.” + </p> + <p> + The inference, so natural, so holy, which Miss Valery had unconsciously + drawn, Agatha had not the heart to deny. She knew it was but right that + she should love, and be supposed to love, her betrothed husband. And + looking at him, his suffering, his strong self-denial, she almost felt + that she did really love him, as a wife ought. + </p> + <p> + “If,” said the soft voice of the good angel—“if you had not known + each other so short a time, and been so newly betrothed, I should have + said—judging such things by what they were when I was young,”—here + she momentarily paused—“I should have said, Nathanael, that there + was only one course which, as regarded both her and yourself, was wisest, + kindest, best.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that?” cried he, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “To do a little sooner what must necessarily have been done soon—to + take one another's hands—thus.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt strong, wild fingers grasping her own; a dizziness came over + her—she shrank back, crying, “No, no!” and hid her face on Miss + Valery's shoulder. Nathanael rose up and walked away. + </p> + <p> + When he returned, it was with his “good” aspect, tender and calm. + </p> + <p> + “No, Anne, I was wrong even to think of such a thing. Assure her I will + never urge it. She is quite right in saying 'No'—What man could + expect such a sacrifice?” + </p> + <p> + “And what woman would deem it such?” whispered Miss Valery. “But I know I + am a very foolish, romantic old maid, and view these things in a different + light to most people. So, my dear, be quite at rest,” she continued, + soothing the young creature, who still clung to her. “No one will urge you + in any way; <i>he</i> will not, he is too generous; and I had no right + even to say what I did, except from my affection for him.” + </p> + <p> + She looked fondly at the young man, as if he had been still a little + child, and she saw him in the light of ancient days. These impelled her to + speak on earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Another reason I had; because I am old, and you two are young. Often, it + seems as if the whole world—fate, trial, circumstance—were set + against all lovers to make them part. It is a bitter thing when they part + of their own free will. Accidents of all kinds—change, sorrow, even + death—may come between, and they may never meet again. Agatha, + Nathanael—believe one who has seen more of life than you—rarely + do those that truly love ever attain the happiness of marrying one + another. One half the world—the best and noblest half—thirst + all their lives for that bliss which you throw away. What, Agatha, + crying?” + </p> + <p> + And she tried to lift up the drooping head, but could not. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, dear, I was wrong to grieve you so. Please God, you two may meet + again, and marry and be happy, even in this world. Come, Nathanael, you + can say all this much better than I. Tell her you will be quite content, + and wait any number of years. And, as to this parting, it is a right and + noble sacrifice of yours; let her see how nobly you will bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, Agatha, I will,” said the young lover firmly, as he stood before her, + half stooping, half kneeling—though not quite kneeling, even then. + But his whole manner showed the crumbling away of that clear but icy + surface with which nature or habit had enveloped the whole man. + </p> + <p> + Agatha lifted her head, and looked at him long and earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “I will,” he repeated; “I promise you I will. Only be content—and in + token that you are so, give me your hand.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him both, and then leaned back again on Miss Valery's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him—I will go with him—anywhere—at any time—if + it will only make him happy.” + </p> + <p> + The same night, when Nathanael and Anne Valery had left her, Agatha sat + thinking, almost in a dream, yet without either sorrow or dread—that + all uncertainty was now over—that this day week would be her + wedding-day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <p> + “I wish, as I stated yesterday, that Miss Bowen's property should be + settled entirely upon herself. This is the only course which to my + thinking can reconcile a man to the humiliation of receiving a large + fortune with his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “An odd doctrine, truly! Where did you learn it?” laughed Major Harper, + who was pacing the Bedford Square drawing-room with quick, uneasy steps; + while his brother stood very quiet, only looking from time to time at the + closed door. It was the Saturday before the marriage; and Agatha's trustee + had come to execute his last guardianship of her and her property. There + was lying on a corner-table, pored over by a lawyer-like individual—that + formidable instrument, a marriage-settlement. + </p> + <p> + “Where did I learn it?” returned Mr. Harper, smiling. “Why, where I + learned most of my opinions, and everything that is good in me—with + Uncle Brian. Poor Uncle Brian!” and the smile faded into grave anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Are you really going on that mad expedition?” said the elder brother, + with the air of a man who, being perturbed in his own mind, is ready to + take a harsh view of everything. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think it mad—and anything short of madness I ought to + undertake, and shall—for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” muttered the other, “there it is, Brian always made everybody love + him.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued Nathanael, “as I said last night to Miss Bowen, I shall + do nothing foolishly. We must hold ourselves prepared for the worst; + still, if better tidings should come—though that is scarcely + possible now—then perhaps——” + </p> + <p> + “You would not go!” cried Major Harper, eagerly. “Which would of course + delay your marriage. How very much better that would be.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” said the bridegroom, with a piercing look. + </p> + <p> + Frederick appeared confused, but threw it off with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, women like a little longer courtship. They are never caught all in a + minute, unless they are quite indifferent as to who catches them. And even + then—'marry in haste'—you know the proverb—nay, don't be + angry,” he added, as his brother turned abruptly away. “I was only + jesting; and a happy fellow like you can afford to be laughed at by a + miserable old bachelor like me.” + </p> + <p> + The momentary annoyance passed. Nathanael was, indeed, too happy to be + seriously vexed at anything. + </p> + <p> + “Still, for some reasons,” continued Major Harper, “I wish my fair ward + were not becoming my sister in such a terrible hurry. So much to be done + in one week, and by a man like me who hates the very name of business; it + is next to impossible but that some things should he slurred and hurried + over. For instance, there was no time, Grimes said, to draw up a long deed + of settlement, showing precisely where her money was invested.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I wanted nothing of the kind. I scarcely understand your + English law. But can it not be stated in plain legal form—a dozen + lines would surety; do it—that every farthing Agatha has is settled + upon herself exclusively from the day she becomes my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “That is done. I—I—in fact, Mr. Grimes had already advised + such a course as being the shortest.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is the use of saying any more about it?” + </p> + <p> + “But, brother,” observed Major Harper, in whose manner was perceptible a + certain vague uneasiness, “if—though I assure you Grimes has + transacted all these matters, and he is a sharp man of business, while I + am none—still, if it would be any satisfaction to you to know + particulars concerning where Miss Bowen's money is invested”— + </p> + <p> + “In the funds; and to remain there by her father's will, to I think you + said.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely. It <i>was</i> invested there,” returned the brother, with an + accent so light on the past tense that Nathanael, preoccupied with other + things than money matters, did not observe it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, so let it stay. Don't let us talk any more about this matter. + I trust entirely to you. To whom should I trust, if not to my own + brother?” + </p> + <p> + At these hearty words Major Harper's face, quick in every mobile + expression of feeling, betrayed much discomposure. He walked the room in a + mood of agitation, compared to which the bridegroom's own restlessness was + nothing. Then he went to the farther end of the apartment, and hurriedly + read over the marriage-settlement. + </p> + <p> + “Faugh, Grimes! what balderdash is this?” he whispered angrily. + “Balderdash?—nay, downright lies!” + </p> + <p> + “Drawn up exactly as you desired, and as we arranged, Major Harper,” + answered Mr. Grimes, formally. “Settling upon the lady and her heirs for + ever all her property now in the 'Three per Cent. Consols.'” + </p> + <p> + “Just heavens! and there's not a penny of it there!” + </p> + <p> + “But there will be by the time the marriage is celebrated, or soon after—since + you are determined to sell out those shares.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could—I wish to Heaven I could!” cried the poor Major, in + a despair that required all the warnings of his legal adviser to smother + it down, so as to keep their conference private. “I've been driven nearly + mad going from broker to broker in the City to-day. I might as well + attempt to sell out shares in the Elysian Fields as in that confounded + Wheal Caroline.” + </p> + <p> + “Fluctuations, my dear sir; mere fluctuations! 'Tis the same in all + Cornish mines. Yet, as I said, both concerning your own little property + and Miss Bowen's afterwards, I would wish no better investment. I have the + greatest confidence in the Wheal Caroline shares.” + </p> + <p> + “Confidence!” echoed the Major, ruefully. “But where is my brother's + confidence in me, when I tell him?—'Pon my life, I can't tell him!” + </p> + <p> + “There is not the slightest need; I have accurate information from the + mine, which next week will raise the shares to ten per cent, premium, and + then, since you are so determined to sell out that most promising + investment”— + </p> + <p> + “I will, as sure as I live. I vow I'll never be trustee to any young lady + again, as long as my name is Frederick Harper. However, if this must + stand”—and he read from the deed—“'all property now invested + in the Three per Cents.'—Oh, oh!” Major Harper shook his head, with + a deep-drawn sigh of miserable irresolution. + </p> + <p> + Yet there lay the parchment, sickening him with its prevaricating if not + lying face; and his invisible good angel kept pulling him on one side—nay, + at last pulled him halfway across the room to where, absorbed in a reverie—pardonable + under the circumstances—his brother sat. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, pray get out of that brown study, and have five minutes' talk + with me. If you only knew the annoyance I have endured all this week + concerning Agatha's fortune! How thankful I shall be to transfer it from + my hands into yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” said the lover, rather absently. + </p> + <p> + “And I hope it will give you less trouble and more reward than it has + given me,” continued the elder brother, still anxiously beating about the + bush, ere he came to a direct confession. “I declare, I have been as + anxious for the young lady's benefit as if I had intended marrying her + myself.” + </p> + <p> + The bridegroom's quick, fiery glance showed Major Harper that he had gone + a little too far, even in privileged jesting. + </p> + <p> + But happily Nathanael had heard the door open. He hastily went forward and + met his bride. With her were Mr. and Mrs. Thornycroft, Dr. and Mrs. + Ianson, and another lady. The latter quickly passed out of the immediate + circle, and sat down in a retired corner of the room. + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked pale and worn out, which was no wonder, considering that for + several days she had endured, morning, noon, and night, all the wearisome + preparations which the kind-hearted Emma deemed indispensable to “a really + nice wedding.” But her betrothed noticed her paleness with troubled eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are not ill, my darling?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Agatha, abruptly, blushing lest any one should hear the tender + word, which none had ever used to her before, and blushing still deeper + when, meeting Major Harper's anxious looks fixed on them both, she fancied + he had heard. A foolish sensitiveness made her turn away from her lover, + and talk to the first person who came in her way. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Mr. Thornycroft and Dr. Ianson, with a knowledge that time was + precious, had gone at once to the business of the meeting, and were deep + in perusal of the marriage-settlement of which they were to be witnesses. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Miss Bowen, you are a richer girl than I knew,” said Emma's worthy + husband, coming forward, with his round pleasant face. “I congratulate + you; at this particular crisis, when hundreds are being ruined by last + year's mania for railway speculation, it is most fortunate to have safe + funded property.” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper's conscience groaned within, and it was all over. He resigned + himself to stern necessity and force of circumstances—hoping + everything would turn out for the best. + </p> + <p> + Then they all gathered round the table, and Mr. Grimes droned out the + necessary formalities. The bride-elect listened, half in a dream—the + bridegroom rather more attentively. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure,” said he, pausing, with the pen in his hand, and + casting his eyes keenly over the document—“are you quite sure this + deed answers the purpose I intended? This is the total amount of property + which Mr. Bowen left?” + </p> + <p> + And he looked from his brother to the lawyer with an anxiety which long + afterwards recurred bitterly to Agatha's mind. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grimes bowed, and assured him that all was correct. So the young + bridegroom signed with a steady hand, and afterwards watched the rather + tremulous signature of his bride. Then an inexpressible content diffused + itself over his face. Putting her arm in his, he led her away proudly, as + though she were already his own. + </p> + <p> + Confused by her novel position, Agatha looked instinctively for some + womanly encouragement, but Emma Thornycroft was busily engaged in + admiring observation of some wedding presents, and Mrs. Ianson was worse + than nobody. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Valery!—what has become of Miss Valery? said the bride, her + eyes wandering restlessly around. Other eyes followed hers—Major + Harper's. Incredulously these rested on the silent lady in the background, + whose whole mien, figure, and attire, in the plain dark dress, and close + morning cap, marked her a woman undeniably and fearlessly middle-aged. + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” he exclaimed. “Can that be Anne Valery?” + </p> + <p> + The lady arose, and met him with extended hand. “It is Anne Valery, and + she is very glad to see you, Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands; his confused manner contrasting strongly with her + perfect serenity. After a moment Miss Bowen, who could not help watching, + heard him say: + </p> + <p> + “I, too, am glad we have met at last. I hope it is as friends!” + </p> + <p> + “I was never otherwise to you,” she answered, gently; and joined the + circle. + </p> + <p> + This rather singular greeting, noticed by none but herself, awakened + Agatha's old wrath against Major Harper, lest, as her romantic imagination + half suggested, the secret of Anne Valery's always remaining Anne Valery, + was, that his old companion had been first on the illustrious Frederick's + long list of broken hearts. If so, never was there a broken heart that + made so little outward show, or wore such a cheerful exterior, as Miss + Valery's. + </p> + <p> + But Agatha's own heart was too full of the busy trembling fancies natural + to her position to speculate overmuch on the hearts of other people. Very + soon Major Harper quitted the house, and the Thornycrofts also. She was + left alone with her lover and with Anne—Anne, who ever since her + arrival had seemed to keep a steady watch over Nathanael's bride. They had + rarely met, and for brief intervals; yet Agatha felt that she was + perpetually under this guardianship, gentle, though strong—holding + her fluctuating spirit firm, and filling her with all cheerful hopes and + tender thoughts of her future husband. She seemed to grow a better woman + every time she saw Anne Valery. It was inexpressibly sweet to turn for a + few moments each day from the lace and the ribbons, the dresses and the + bridecake, and hear Anne talk of what true marriage really was—when + two people entirely and worthily loved one another. + </p> + <p> + Only Agatha had not the courage to confess, what she began to hope was a + foolish doubt, that the “love” which Miss Valery seemed to take for + granted she felt towards Nathanael, was a something which as yet she + herself did not quite understand. + </p> + <p> + That Saturday afternoon, nevertheless, she was calmer and more at ease. + Signing the settlement had removed all doubts from her mind, and made her + realise clearly that she would soon be Mr. Harper's wife. And he was so + tender over her, so happy. Her marriage with him appeared to make every + one happy. That very day he had brought her a heap of letters from + Dorsetshire; her first welcome from his kindred—her own that would + be. + </p> + <p> + They seemed to know all about her—from Anne Valery doubtless—and + to be delighted at Nathanael's choice. There was a kind but formal missive + from the old father, implying his dignified satisfaction that at last one + of his sons would marry to keep up the family name. From the daughters + there were letters varying in style and matter, but all cordial except, + perhaps, Eulalie's, who had years to wait before <i>she</i> married, and + was rather cross accordingly. One note, in neat and delicate writing, made + Agatha's heart beat; for it was signed, “Your affectionate <i>sister</i>, + Elizabeth.” + </p> + <p> + She, who had longed for a sister all her life! Heaven was very good to + her, to give her all ties through one! It seemed, indeed, right and holy + that she should be married to Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + One only unutterable terror she had, which by a fortunate chance was never + alluded to by any one, and she was too much occupied to have it often + forced on her mind. This was, the thought of having to cross the seas to + Canada. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she sighed, as she sat, with the letters on her lap, listening to + what her lover said of his sisters and his family—“oh! that we could + do as your father seems to wish, and go and live in Dorsetshire, near + Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it too, if it would please you, dear; but it seems impossible. How + could I live in England without a profession?—even supposing Uncle + Brian did consent to return and settle at home. Sometimes, but very + rarely, he has hinted at such a possibility.—He has indeed, Anne,” + continued the young man, noticing how keenly Miss Valery's eyes were fixed + on him. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “But he always said he would never return till he was grown either very + rich or very old. Alas; the latter chance may come, but the former never! + Poor Uncle Brian! If he comes at all, it is sure not to be for many + years.” + </p> + <p> + “Not for many years!” repeated Miss Valery, who was crossing over to + Agatha's side with a piece of rich lace she had been unfolding. As she + walked, her hand was unconsciously pressed upon her chest, a habit she had + after any quick movement. And, leaning over Agatha, she breathed painfully + and hard. + </p> + <p> + “My dear?” The young girl looked up. “Your sisters that are to be desired + me to give you from them a wedding-present. It was to be your veil. But I + had a whim that I would like to give you your veil myself. Here it is. + Will you accept it, with my love?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img src="images/p090.jpg" width="100%" + alt="Will You Accept It, With My Love P090 " /> + </div> + <p> + So saying, she laid over the bride's head a piece of old point lace, + magnificent in texture. Agatha had never seen anything like it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Valery, to think of your giving me this! It is fit for a queen!” + And she looked at Mr. Harper, hesitating to accept so costly a gift. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, take it,” said he smiling. “Never scruple at its costliness; it + cannot be richer than Anne's heart.” And he grasped his old friend's hand + warmly. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery continued, with a slight colour rising in her cheek. “This was + given me twenty years ago for a wedding-veil. It has been wasted upon me, + you see, but I wish some one to wear it, and would like it to be worn by a + Mrs. Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha blushed crimson. Nathanael looked delighted. Neither noticed Anne + Valery; who, her passing colour having sunk into a still deeper paleness, + quietly returned to her seat, and soon after quitted the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <p> + It was a most unconscionably early hour on the wedding morning when Mrs. + Thornycroft, who had insisted on mounting guard overnight in Bedford + Square, to see that all things were made ready to go off “merry as a + marriage bell,” came into Agatha's room and roused the bride. + </p> + <p> + “I never knew such a thing in all my life! Well, he is the most + extraordinary young man! What is to be done, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “What—what?” said Agatha, waking, with a confused notion that + something very dreadful had happened, or was going to happen. She + recollected that this day on which she so early opened her eyes was some + day of great solemnity. It seemed so like that of her father's funeral. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be frightened, love. Nothing has occurred; only there is Mr. Harper + in the parlour below, wanting to speak with you. I never heard of such a + request from a bridegroom. It is contrary to all rules of common sense and + decorum.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Agatha, trying to collect her thoughts. “Tell me exactly his + message.” + </p> + <p> + “That he wished to speak with you at once, before you dress for church; + and will wait for you in the dining-room. What—you are not going to + do as he desires?—I wouldn't! One should never <i>obey</i> till + after marriage.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha made no answer, but composedly began to dress. In a few minutes she + had once more put on the mourning, laid aside as she thought for ever the + night before, and had gone down-stairs to her bridegroom. + </p> + <p> + He was standing in the only available corner of the room not occupied by a + chaotic mass of hymeneal preparations, and gazing vacantly out into the + square, where the trees cast the long shadows of early morning, while the + merry little sparrows kept up a perpetual din. + </p> + <p> + As the door moved, Mr. Harper turned round. He had a sickly, worn look, as + if he had scarcely slept all night, and in his manner was a strange + mingling of trouble and of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha—how kind! I ought to apologise,” he began, taking both her + hands. “But no! I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is wrong? No misfortune happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Misfortune? God forbid! Surely I do not look as if it were a misfortune? + I am only too glad—too happy. Whatever results from it, I am indeed + happy!” + </p> + <p> + “Then so am I, whatsoever it may be,” returned Agatha, softly. “Still, do + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Her bridegroom, as he pressed her to his bosom, looked as if he had for + the moment forgotten all about his tidings; but afterwards, when her + second entreaty came, he took out a letter and bade her read, holding her + fast the while with a light firm hand on her shoulder. He seemed almost to + fear that at the news he brought she would glide out of his grasp like + snow. + </p> + <p> + “It is an odd hand—strange to me,” said Agatha. “Is it”—and a + sudden thought struck her—“is it——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—thank God.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then, he is safe—I am so glad—so glad!” cried Agatha, in + the true sympathy of her heart. But her very gladness appeared to affect + contrariwise the troubled mood of her lover. His hand dropped + imperceptibly from her shoulder—he sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Read the letter, which came late last night. I thought you would be + pleased—that was why I thus disturbed you.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, who had not yet learned the joy or pain of reading momently the + changes of a beloved face, immediately perused the letter. It was rather + eccentric of its kind: + </p> + <p> + “Lodge of O-me-not-tua. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Boy, + </p> + <p> + “If ever you get into the hands of those red devils, be not alarmed: it + isn't so bad as it seems. If you saw me now, in the big buffalo-cloak of a + medicine man, after smoking dozens of pipes of peace with every one of the + tribe, sitting at the door of my lodge, with miles of high prairie-grass + rolling in waves towards the sunset, you would rather envy me than + otherwise, and cry out, as I have often done, 'Away with civilisation!' + </p> + <p> + “I am not scalped—I thought I should not be; the tribe (it wastes + valuable paper to write their long name, but you will have heard it) the + tribe know me too well. I make a capital white medicine-man. I might have + escaped any day, but, pshaw! honour!—So I choose to see a little of + the great western forests, until I know how my two red friends have been + treated on Lake Winnipeg shore. But in no case is any harm likely to come + to me, except those chances of mortality which are common to all. + </p> + <p> + “You will receive this (which a worthy psalm-singing missionary conveys to + New York) almost as soon as the news of our adventure reaches Europe. I + send it to relieve you, dear nephew, and all friends, if I have any left, + from further anxiety concerning me, and especially from useless search, as + under no circumstances whatever shall I consent to return to Montreal + until it seems to me good. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, stay in Europe as long as, or longer than, you planned, and + God prosper you, Nathanael, my good boy. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate uncle, + </p> + <p> + “Brian Locke Harper. + </p> + <p> + “I trust earnestly that this scrawl will reach Kingcombe Holm. Possibly, + no more news of me may ever reach there.—Yet I fear not, for He who + is everywhere is likewise in the wild western prairies; and life is not so + sweet that I should dread its ending. Still, if it does end, remember me + to my brother, my nieces, and all old friends, including Anne Valery. If + living, I shall reappear sometime, somewhere. B. L. H.” + </p> + <p> + “This is indeed happy news;—so far;” said Agatha, “though he seems + in no cheerful mood.” + </p> + <p> + “Melancholy was always his way at times.” + </p> + <p> + “What a strange man he must be!” she continued, still thinking more of the + letter than of anything else. “But”—and she turned to Nathanael—“your + mind is now at rest? You will not need to go to America?” + </p> + <p> + “Not just yet.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him a moment in surprise, for there was something peculiar + in his manner. She felt half angry with him for sitting so still, and + speaking so briefly, while she herself was trembling with delight. “Have + you told Miss Valery?” He shook his head. “Ah, then, go at once and tell + her, so happy as she will be! Do go.” + </p> + <p> + “Presently. Come and sit down here. I want to talk to you, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + She let him place her by his side. He took her hands, and regarded her + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember what day this was to have been?” + </p> + <p> + “Was to have been?” she repeated, and instinctively guessed what he had + doubtless come to say. Her heart began to beat violently, and her eyes + dropped in confusion. + </p> + <p> + “I say '<i>was</i>,' because, if you desire it, it shall not be. I see the + very idea is a relief to you. I saw it in your sudden joy.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was amazed—she had till this moment never thought of such a + thing. Mr. Harper's whole manner of speech and proceeding was so very + incomprehensible—like a lover's—that she told the entire truth + in simply saying “that she did not understand him.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me repeat it in plainer words.” But the plainer words would not come; + after one or two vain efforts, he sat with averted face, speechless. At + last he said abruptly, “Agatha, do you wish to defer our marriage?” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, his grasp of her hand was so fierce that it positively hurt + her. “Oh, let me go—you are not kind,” she cried, shrinking from the + pain, which he did not even perceive he had inflicted—so strange a + mood was upon him. He loosed her hand at once, and stood up before her, + speaking vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “I meant to be kind—very kind—just in the way that I knew + would most please you. I meant to tell you that I wish you to hold + yourself quite free, both as to this day or any other days: that you have + only to say the word, and—What a fool I am making of myself!” + </p> + <p> + Muttering the last words, he turned and walked quickly to the far end of + the room, leaving Agatha to meditate. It was a new thing to see such + passion in him; and while half frightened she was interested and touched. + She would have been more so, but for a certain something in him which + roused her pride, until she could not do as she had at first intended—follow + him, and ask why he was angry. The humility of love was not yet hers. + </p> + <p> + So she sat without moving, her eyes fixed on her hand, where the red mark + left by her lover's grasp was slowly disappearing; until a minute after, + he approached. + </p> + <p> + “Was that the mark of my fingers on your wrist? Did I hurt you, my poor + Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me!” And sitting down beside her, he bent his lips to where his + rude grasp had been, kissing the little wrist over and over again, though + he did not speak. + </p> + <p> + His humility in this, the first ripple which had ever stirred their + calmest of all calm courtships, moved Agatha even more than his sudden + gust of passion. It is a curious fact, that some women—and they not + of the weaker or more foolish kind—like very much to be ruled. A + strong nature is instinctively attracted by one still stronger. Most + certainly Agatha had never so distinctly felt the cords—not exactly + of love, but of some influence akin thereto—which this young man had + netted round her, as when he began to draw them with a tight, firm hand, + less that of a submissive lover than of a dominant husband. She had never + liked him half so well as when, taking her hand once more into his + determined hold, he said—gently, indeed, but in a tone that would be + answered— + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me, what do you wish?” + </p> + <p> + “What do I wish?” echoed she, feeling as though some hard but firm support + were about to relax from her, leaving her trembling and insecure to the + world's open blasts. “I do not know—I cannot tell. Talk to me a + little; that will help me to judge.” + </p> + <p> + His eye brightened, though faintly. “I will speak, but you shall decide, + for all lies in your own hands. I thought this right, and came here + determined on telling you so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” said Agatha, expectantly. + </p> + <p> + “You promised me this hand to-day, believing I was to leave England at + once. My not leaving frees you from that promise—at least at + present. If you would rather wait until you know me better, or love me + better, then”— + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “We will quite blot out this day—crush it—destroy it, no + matter what it was to have been. We will enter upon to-morrow, not as wife + and husband, but mere lovers—friends—acquaintances—anything + you like. Nay—I am growing a fool again.” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand to his forehead, sighed heavily, and then continued with + less violence. + </p> + <p> + “If this is what you wish—as from your silence I conclude it is—be + assured, Agatha, that I shall consent. I will take no wife against her + will. The kisses of her lips would sting me, if there were no love in her + heart.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was still silent. + </p> + <p> + “Well then, it must be so,” said he, in slow, measured speech. “I must go + away out of this house, for I am no bridegroom. You may tell the women to + put away this white finery till it is wanted—which may be—never!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “I repeat—<i>never</i>. The currents of life, so many and so fierce, + may sweep us asunder at any moment. I may become mercenary, and choose a + richer wife even than yourself; or you may turn from me to some one more + pleasing, more winning—my brother, perhaps”— + </p> + <p> + Agatha recoiled, while the angry blood flashed from brow to throat. Her + lover saw it, and for the moment a strange intentness was in his gaze. But + immediately he smiled, as a man would at some horrible phantom of his own + creating, and continued with a softened manner: + </p> + <p> + “Or, if our own wills hold secure, many things may happen, as Anne Valery + forewarned us, to prevent our union. Even ere a month or two—for if + you are ever mine it must be as soon as then—but even within that + time one or other of us may have gone away where no loving, no regretting, + can ever call us back any more.” + </p> + <p> + Terrible was the imagined solitude of a world from which had passed the + only being who cherished her—the only being whom she thoroughly + honoured. Agatha drew closer to Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “Still, for all that,” continued he, striving to keep even in his mind the + balance of honour and generous tenderness against the arguments of selfish + passion, “if for any reason you wish to postpone this day for weeks, + months, or years, I will take the chance. All shall be as you deem best + for your own happiness. As for mine—I will try to be content.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a little, but it was a pause which no woman could misunderstand. + Then, turning back to her, he said in a low tone, + </p> + <p> + “When am I to go away, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + Her brow dropped slowly against his arm, as, much agitated, yet not + unhappy, she whispered the one word “<i>Never</i>.” + </p> + <p> + For one moment Agatha felt against her own the loud convulsive throbs of + the heart that loved her—an embrace which, in its fierce rapture, + was like none that came before it, or after. When she learned to count and + chronicle such tokens of love, as one begins to count each wave when the + sand grows dry, this embrace remained to her as a truth, a reality, which + no succeeding doubts could explain away or gainsay. + </p> + <p> + It lasted, as such moments can but last, a space too brief to be reckoned, + dying out of its own intensity. Agatha slid from her lover's arms, and + swiftly passing out at the door, met Emma coming in. The unlucky + bridegroom was left to make his own explanation to Mrs. Thornycroft, and + how he performed that feat remains a mystery to this day. + </p> + <p> + Solemnly, and much affected, the bride went up-stairs to put on her + wedding-garments. + </p> + <p> + Anne Valery had just arrived. She sat alone in Miss Bowen's dressing-room, + playing with the orange-wreath. Her face wore a thoughtful, sickly, sad + look, but the moment she heard some one at the door this expression + vanished. + </p> + <p> + “So, my dear, you have a rather unconscionable bridegroom, Mrs. + Thornycroft tells me. He has been here already.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly all that had happened recurred to Agatha. She forgot her own + agitation in the joy of being the first to bring good news. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you little know why he came. Uncle Brian—there is a letter from + Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + And in her warm-heartedness of delight she threw her arms round Miss + Valery's neck. She was very much surprised that Anne did not speak a + single word, and that the cheek against which her young glowing one was + pressed felt as cold as marble. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not glad, Miss Valery?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very glad. Now will you go down-stairs and fetch me the letter?” + </p> + <p> + And, gently putting the young girl from her, Anne sat down! As Agatha left + the room, she fancied she heard a faint sound—a sigh or gasp; but + Miss Valery had not moved. She sat as at first—her hands clasped on + her lap, the veil of her bonnet falling over her face. And coming back + some minutes after, Agatha found her in precisely the same position. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, dear.” She held out her hand for the letter, and then retired + with it to a far window. It took a good while to read. All the time that + the young bride was being dressed by Emma and the maid, Miss Valery stood + in that recess, her back turned towards them, apparently reading or + pondering over that strange scrawl from the Far West. + </p> + <p> + At last Mrs. Thornycroft gently hinted that there was hardly time for her + to return home and dress for the wedding. + </p> + <p> + “Dress for the wedding,” repeated Anne, absently. “Oh, yes; I remember, it + was to be early. No fear! I will be quite ready.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room, walking slowly, but at the door turned to look at + the bride, on whose head Emma was already placing the orange-blossoms. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't she look pretty?” appealed the gratified matron-ministrant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; very pretty.—God bless her!” said Miss Valery, and kissed her + on the forehead. Agatha quite started—the lips were so cold. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” cried Emma Thornycroft, as the door closed, “I do wish, my dear, + that little Missy had been grown up enough to be your bridesmaid instead + of that very quiet ordinary-looking old maid. But, after all, the contrast + will be the greater.” + </p> + <p> + At nine o'clock the bride's half of the wedding-party were all safely + assembled in Doctor Ianson's drawing-room, and everything promised to go + off successfully—to which result Emma, now all in her glory, prided + herself as having been the main contributor—and no doubt the kind, + active, sensible little matron was right.—When, lo!—there came + an unlucky <i>contretemps</i>. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper, who of course was to give away the bride, sent word that on + account of sudden business he could not possibly be at the church before + eleven. At that hour he promised faithfully to meet his brother there. The + note which he sent over was a very hurried and disjointed scrawl. This was + all that the vexed bridegroom knew of the matter. + </p> + <p> + So for two long hours Agatha sat in her wedding-dress, strangely quiet and + silent—sometimes playing with the wreath of orange-blossoms which + her lover had sent her, and which, being composed of natural flowers, + according to a whim of Mr. Harper's, was already beginning to fade. Still + she refused to put it aside, though the prudent Emma warned her it would + be quite withered before she reached the church; “as was sure to be the + case when people were so ridiculous as to wear real flowers.” + </p> + <p> + The good soul went about, half scolding, half crying; hoping nothing might + happen, or consoling herself with looking alternately at her pretty + peach-coloured dress, and her “James,” who walked about, indulging in gay + reminiscences of his own wedding, and looking the most comfortable + specimen imaginable of a worthy middle-aged “family man.” Nevertheless, in + spite of Mr. Thornycroft's efforts to cheer up the dreariness of the + group, it was a great relief to everybody when, at the earliest reasonable + time, the bride's small party started, and were at length assembled under + the dark arches of Bloomsbury Church—darker than usual today, for + the morning had gloomed over, and become close, hot, and thundery. + </p> + <p> + Punctually at eleven, but not a minute before, which—Emma whispered—was + certainly not quite courteous in a bridegroom, Mr. Harper came in. There + was no one with him. + </p> + <p> + “My brother not here?” he said in anxiety. + </p> + <p> + Some one hinted that Major Harper was never very punctual. + </p> + <p> + “He ought to be, this day at least,” observed Mr. Thornycroft. “And I am + confident I saw him not half-an-hour ago walking homeward round the other + side of Bedford Square. Do not be alarmed about him, pray.” This last + remark was addressed to Agatha, who, overpowered by the closeness of the + day, and by these repeated disasters, had begun to turn pale. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael watched her with a keen anxiety, which only agitated her the + more. Every one seemed uneasy and rather dull;—a circumstance not + very remarkable, since, in spite of the popular delusion on that subject, + very few ever really look happy at a wedding. It makes clearer to each one + the silent ghost sitting in every human heart, which may take any form—bliss + long desired, lost, or unfulfilled—or, in the fulfilling changed to + pain—or, at best, looked back upon with a memory half-pensive if + only because it is the past. + </p> + <p> + For forty interminable minutes did the little party wait in the dreary + church aisles, until the clock, and likewise the beadle, warned them it + was near the canonical hour. + </p> + <p> + “What are we to do?” whispered the bridegroom, looking towards Anne + Valery. She took his hand, and drawing it towards Agatha's which hung on + her arm, said earnestly: + </p> + <p> + “Wait no longer—life's changes will not wait Marry her <i>now</i>—nothing + should come between lovers that love one another.” + </p> + <p> + Anne's manner, so faltering, so different from her usual self, + irresistibly impressed the hearers. Silently the little group moved to the + altar; the clergyman, weary of delay, hurried the service, and in a few + minutes the young creatures who eight weeks before had scarcely heard each + other's names, were made “not two, but one flesh.” + </p> + <p> + It was all like a dream to Agatha Bowen; she never believed in its reality + until, signing that name, “Agatha Bowen,” in the register-book, she + remembered she was so signing it for the last time. A moment after, Emma's + husband, who had assumed the office of father to the bride, cordially + shaking her hand, wished all happiness to <i>Mrs. Harper</i>. + </p> + <p> + Agatha started, shivered, and burst into tears. It was a natural thing, + after so many hours of overstrained excitement; nor were her tears those + of unhappiness, yet they seemed, every drop, to burn on her bridegroom's + heart. To crown all, while these unlucky tears were still falling, some + one at the vestry door cried out, “There's Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed himself. He entered the church hurriedly—very pale—with + beads of dew standing on his brow. + </p> + <p> + “Are they married? Am I too late—are they married?” cried he. + </p> + <p> + Some uncontrollable feeling made Nathanael move to his wife's side, and + snatch her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, meeting his brother's eye, “we are married.” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper sank into one of the vestry-chairs, muttering something, + inaudible to all ears save those which seemed fatally gifted with + preternatural acuteness—the young bridegroom's. Nathanael fancied—nay, + was certain—that he heard his brother say, “<i>Oh, my poor Agatha.</i>” + He looked suddenly at his bride, whose weeping had changed into silent but + violent trembling. He dropped her hand, then with a determined air again + took possession of it, saying sharply to his brother: + </p> + <p> + “What is the reason of all this? Is anything amiss?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nothing—have I said anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Then why startle us thus? It is not right, Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush—perhaps he is ill,” whispered Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper looked up, and among the many inquiring eyes, met hers. It + seemed to fix him, sting him, rouse him to self-command. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite well,” he cried, with a hoarse attempt at laughter. “A gay + bachelor always feels doubly cheery at a wedding. So it is all over, + Nathanael? I beg your pardon for being too late; but I have been running + about town on important business, till I am half-dead. Still, let me offer + my congratulations to the bride.” + </p> + <p> + He came forward jauntily, seized Agatha's hand and was about to kiss it, + but for a slight shrinking on her part. The colour rushed to her face—his + darkened with an expression of uncontrollable pain. At least so it + appeared to one who never for a moment relaxed his watch—the younger + brother. + </p> + <p> + “Really,” said Mr. Thornycroft, who, during the few minutes thus occupied, + had bustled in and out of the vestry—“really, are we never intending + to come home? Somebody must make a diversion here. Major Harper, will you + take my wife? Miss Valery, allow me.” + </p> + <p> + This fortunate interference effected a change. All moved away a little + from the bridegroom, who was still standing by his wife's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha—will you come?” + </p> + <p> + She mechanically rose; Mr. Harper drew her arm in his, and led her down + the aisle. There were a few stray lookers-on at the church-door, who + peered at them curiously. An inexplicable shadow hung over them. Never + were a newly-married couple more silent or more grave. + </p> + <p> + Only, as they stood on the entrance-steps that were wet with a past shower + of thunder-rain, and Agatha in her thin white shoes was walking right on, + her husband drew her back. + </p> + <p> + “It will not hurt me. Do let me go,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “No, you must not; you are mine now,” was the answer, with a look that + would have made the tone of control sound in any loving bride's ear the + sweetest ever heard. + </p> + <p> + He left Agatha in the church, and hurried a little in advance. His brother + and Mrs. Thornycroft were standing at the porch outside, Emma laughing and + whispering. And while waiting for the carriage, it so chanced that + Nathanael caught what they were saying. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Major Harper, you look as dull as if you had been in love with + Agatha yourself! And after what you confessed to me, I did positively + believe she was in love with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha in love with me! really you flatter me,” said Major Harper, + looking down and tapping his boot, with his own self-complacent, regretful + smile. + </p> + <p> + “I did indeed think it, from her agitation when I hinted at such a thing. + And I never was more amazed in my life than when she told me she was going + to marry your brother. I do hope, poor dear Agatha”— + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak of her,” cried Major Harper, in a burst of real emotion. “And + she liked me so well, poor child! Oh, I wish to Heaven I had married her, + and saved her from”— + </p> + <p> + Here a voice was heard calling “Mr. Harper—Mr. Harper,” but the + bridegroom was nowhere to be seen. Some one—not her husband—put + Agatha into the carriage. Several minutes after, Nathanael appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been? Your wife is waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “My wife?” He looked round bewildered, as if the words struck him with the + awful irrevocable sense of what was done. Hurriedly he ran down the steps, + sprang into the carriage beside Agatha, and they drove away. + </p> + <p> + Through many streets and squares they passed, for the breakfast was to be + at Emma's house. Agatha sat for the first time alone with her husband. The + sun just coming out threw a soft crimson light through the closed carriage + blinds; the very air felt warm and sweet, like love. Agatha's heart was + stirred with a new tenderness towards him into whose keeping she had just + given her whole life. + </p> + <p> + For a little while she sat, her eyes cast down, wondering what he would + say or do, whether he would take her hand, or draw her softly to his + breast and let her cry her heart out there, as she almost longed to do—poor + fatherless, motherless, brotherless, sisterless girl, who in her husband + alone must concentrate every earthly tie. + </p> + <p> + But he never spoke—never moved. He leaned back in the carriage as + pale as death, his lips rigidly shut together, his eyes shut too, except + that now and then they opened and closed again, to show that he was not in + a state of total unconsciousness. But towards his young wife no look ever + once wandered. + </p> + <p> + At length he started as from a trance and saw her sitting there, very + quiet, for the pride of her nature was beginning to rise at this strange + treatment from him to whom she had just given herself—her all. She + was nervously moving the fingers of her left hand, where the newly placed + ring felt heavy and strange. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael snatched the hand with violence. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha,—are you not my Agatha? Tell me the truth—the whole + truth. I will have it from you!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper!” she exclaimed, half frightened, half angry. + </p> + <p> + His long, searching gaze tried to read her every feature—her pale + cheeks—her lips proud, nay, almost sullen—her eyes, from which + the softness so lately visible had changed into inquietude and trouble. + There was in her all maidenly innocence—no one could doubt that; but + nothing could be more unlike the shy tenderness of a bride, loving, and + married for love. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, slowly, the young bridegroom's gaze fell from her, and his + thoughts settled into dull conviction. All his violence ceased, leaving an + icy composure, which in itself bore the omen of its lasting stay. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” he said, in a kind but cold voice, while his vehement grasp + relaxed into a loose hold. “You are my dear wife now, and I will try to be + a good husband to you, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + Stooping forward, his lips just touched her cheek—which shrank from + him, Agatha scarcely knew why. + </p> + <p> + “I see!” he muttered to himself “Well, be it so! and God help us both!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped. Honest Mr. James Thornycroft was at the door, bidding + a gay and full-hearted welcome to the bridegroom and bride. + </p> + <p> + What a marriage-day! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <h3> + “Are you quite warm there, Agatha?” + </h3> + <p> + “Yes, thank you, quite warm,” she said, turning round a little, and then + turning back. She sat working, or seeming to work, at a large bay window + that fronted the sea at Brighton. Already there had come over her the + slight but unmistakable change which indicates the wife—the girl no + longer. She had been married just one week. + </p> + <p> + Her husband sat at a table writing, as was his habit during the middle of + the day, in order that they might walk out in the evening. He had often + been thus busy during the week, even though it was the first week of the + honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + The honeymoon! How different the word now sounded to Agatha! Yet she had + nothing to complain of. Mr. Harper was very kind; watchful and tender over + her to a degree which she felt even more than she saw. In the mornings he + read to her, or talked, chiefly upon subjects higher and withal pleasanter + than Agatha had ever heard talked of before; in the evenings they drove + out or walked, till far into the starry summer night. They were together + constantly, there never passed between them a quick or harsh word, and yet— + </p> + <p> + Agatha vainly tried to solve the dim, cloudy “yet” which had no tangible + form, and only arose now that the first bewilderment of her changed + existence was settling into reality, and she was beginning to recognise + herself as Agatha Harper, no longer a girl, but a married woman. The sole + conclusion she could come to was, that she must be now learning what she + supposed every one had to learn—that a honeymoon is not quite the + dream of bliss which young people believe in, and that few married couples + are quite happy during the first year of their union. + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Harper (or Mrs. Locke Harper, as her husband had had printed on + the cards, omitting the name which she had once stigmatised as “ugly,”) + was probably not altogether wide of the truth, though in this case she + judged from mistaken because individual evidence. It is next to impossible + that two lives, unless assimilated by strong attachment and rare outward + circumstances, if suddenly thrown together, should at once mingle and flow + harmoniously on. It takes time, and the influence of perfect love, to melt + and fuse the two currents into one beautiful whole. Perhaps, did all young + lovers believe and prepare for this, there would be fewer disappointed and + unhappy marriages. + </p> + <p> + Though sitting at the open window, with the sharp sea-breeze blowing in + upon her—it happened to be a sunless and gloomy day—Agatha had + answered that she was “quite warm.” Nevertheless her heart felt cold. Not + positively sad, yet void. A great deal of passionate devotion is necessary + to make two active human beings content with one another's sole company + for eight entire days, having nothing to occupy them but each other. + </p> + <p> + Wanting this—yet scarcely conscious of her need—the young wife + sat, in her secret soul all shivering and a-cold. At last, wearied with + the long grey sweep of undulating sea, she closed the window. + </p> + <p> + “I thought the breeze would be too keen for you,” said Mr. Harper, whom + her lightest movement always seemed to attract. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no; but I am tired of watching the waves. How melancholy it must be to + live here. I have a perfect terror of the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Had I known that, I would not have proposed our coming to-day from + Leamington to Brighton. But we can leave to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean that,” she answered quickly, dreading lest her husband + might have thought her speech ungracious or unkind. “We need not go—unless + you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + The bridegroom made no immediate reply: but there was a melancholy + tenderness in his eyes, as, without her knowing it, he sat watching his + young wife. At length he rose, and putting her arm in his, stood a long + time with her at the window. + </p> + <p> + “I think, dear Agatha, that you are right. The sea is always sad. How + dreary it looks now—like a wide-stretched monotonous life whose + ending we see not, yet it must be crossed. How shall we cross it?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “The sea I mean,” he continued, with a sudden change of tone. “Shall we go + over to France for a week or two?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no”—and she shuddered. “It would kill me to cross the water.” + </p> + <p> + He looked surprised at her unaccountable repugnance, which she had + scarcely expressed than she seemed overpowered by confusion. Her husband + forbore to question her further; but the next day told her that he had + arranged for their quitting Brighton and making a tour through the west of + England, proceeding from thence to London. + </p> + <p> + “Where—as my brother, or rather my brother's solicitor, writes me + word—some business about your fortune will require our return in + another fortnight. Are you willing, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes—quite willing,” she cried; for now that her changed life was + floating her far away from her old ties, she began to have a yearning for + them all. + </p> + <p> + So the honeymoon dwindled to three weeks, at the close of which Mr. and + Mrs. Locke Harper were again in London. + </p> + <p> + It seemed very strange to Agatha to come back to the known places, and + roll over the old familiar London stones, and see all things going on as + usual; while in herself had come so wide a gap of existence, as if those + one-and-twenty days of absence had been one-and-twenty years. + </p> + <p> + She had become a little more happy lately; a little more used to her new + life. And day by day something undefinable began to draw her towards her + husband. It was in fact the dawning spirit of love, which should and might + have come before marriage, instead of being, as now, an after-growth. + Beneath its influence Nathanael's very likeness altered; his face grew + more beautiful, his voice softer. Looking at him now, as he sat by her + side, Mr. Harper hardly appeared to her the same man who, returning from + the church as her bridegroom, had impressed her with such shrinking awe. + </p> + <p> + He too was more cheerful. All the long railway journey he had tried to + amuse her; the humorous half of his disposition—for Nathanael had, + like most good men, a spice of humour about him—coming out as it had + never done before. However, as they neared London, he as well as his wife + had become rather grave. But when, abruptly turning round, he perceived + her earnestly, even tenderly regarding him (at which Agatha was foolish + enough to blush, as if it were a crime to be looking admiringly at one's + husband), he melted into a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are in the old quarters, Agatha. The question is, Where shall we + go to, since we have no lodgings taken?” + </p> + <p> + “You should have let me write to Emma, as I wished.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, shortly; “it was a pity to trouble her.” + </p> + <p> + “She would not have thought it so, poor dear Emma.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you very intimate with Mrs. Thornycroft? Did you tell her everything + in your heart, as women do?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was amused by the jealous searching tone and look, so replied + carelessly: “Oh yes, all I had to tell, which was not much. I don't deal + in mysteries, nor like them. But the chief mystery now seems to be, where + are we to go? If Emma may not be troubled, surely Mrs. Ianson, or your + brother”— + </p> + <p> + “My brother is out of town.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” And Agatha looked as she felt, neither glad nor sorry, but + purely indifferent. Her husband, observing it, became more cheerful. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, my dear Agatha, you shall not be inconvenienced. We will go first to + some quiet lodgings I know of, where Anne Valery always stays when she is + in London—though she has returned home now, I think. And afterwards, + if you find the evening very dull”— + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” exclaimed the young wife, smiling a beautiful negative. + </p> + <p> + “We will go and take a sentimental walk through those very squares we + strolled through that night—do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” + </p> + <p> + How strange seemed that recollection!—how little she had then + thought she was walking with her future husband! + </p> + <p> + Yet, when a few hours after she trod the well-known streets, with her + wifely feelings, sweet and grave, and thought that the arm on which she + now leaned was her own through life, Agatha Harper was not unhappy, nor + would she for one moment have wished to be again Agatha Bowen. + </p> + <p> + The next day, by the husband's express desire—the declaring of which + was a great act of self-denial on his part—word was sent to the + Thornycrofts of the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Locke Harper. + </p> + <p> + Very trembling, shy, and bewitching the bride sat, waiting for the + meeting; and when Emma did really come, very tragico-comic, half pleasure, + half tears, was the hearty embrace between the two women. Mr. Harper stood + and looked on—he played the young husband as composedly as he had + done the lover and the bridegroom, except for a slight jealous movement as + he saw the clinging, the kisses, the tears, which, with the warmth of a + heart thrilled by new emotions and budding out into all manner of new + tendernesses, Agatha lavished on her friend. + </p> + <p> + Yet, whatever he felt, no one could observe but that Nathanael was + extremely polite and kind to Mrs. Thornycroft. She on her part admired + him extremely—in whispers. + </p> + <p> + “How well he looks! Really quite changed! No one would ever think of + calling him a 'boy' now. You must be quite proud of your husband, my + dear.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha smiled, and a light thrill at her heart betrayed its answer. Very + soon she ceased to be shy and shame-faced, and sat talking quite at ease, + as if she had been Mrs. Locke Harper for at least a year. + </p> + <p> + Emma Thornycroft was a person not likely to waste much time on the + sentimentalities of such a meeting; she soon dashed into the common-sense + question of what were their plans in London? and when they would come and + dine with herself and “James” “Quite friendly. We will ask no one, except + of course Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “He is out of town,” said Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “What a pity—Yet, no wonder; London is so terribly hot now. Is he + quite well?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe so,” Agatha answered for her husband, who had moved off. + </p> + <p> + “Because James has met him frequently of late, rushing about the City as + pale as a ghost, and looking so miserable. We were afraid something was + wrong with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope not,” exclaimed Agatha, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “My brother is quite well,” Mr. Harper again observed, from his outpost by + the window; and something in his tone unconsciously checked and changed + the conversation. + </p> + <p> + Whether by Agatha's real inclination, or by some unnoticed influence of + Nathanael's, who, gentle as his manners were, through a score of other + opposing wills seemed always silently to attain his own, Mrs. + Thornycroft's hospitable schemes were overruled. At least, the <i>venue</i> + was changed from Regent's Park to the Harpers' own temporary home—where, + as if by magic, a multitude of small luxuries had already gathered round + the young wife. She took all quite naturally, never pausing to think how + they came. + </p> + <p> + It was with a trepidation which had yet its pleasure, that she arrayed + herself for this, the first time of her taking her place at the head of + her husband's table. She put on a high white gown, which Mr. Harper had + once said he liked—she was beginning to be anxious over her dress + and appearance now. Glancing into the mirror, there recurred to her mind a + speech she had once heard from some foolish matron—“Oh, it does not + signify what I wear, or how I look—I'm married!” Agatha thought what + a very wrong doctrine that was! and laughed at herself for never having + much cared to seem pleasing until she had some one to please. Nay, now for + the first time she grumbled at the Pawnee-face, wishing it had been + fairer! + </p> + <p> + But fair or not, when it came timidly and shone over Nathanael's shoulder, + he sitting leaning thoughtfully on his hand, the result was such as + materially to relieve any womanly doubts about her personal appearance. He + kissed her in unwonted smiling tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “I like that dress; and your curls—softly touching them—your + curls fall so prettily. How well you look, Agatha! Happy, too! Is it + really so? Are you getting more used to me and my faults, dear?” There was + something inexpressibly tender in the way he said “Dear,” the only + caressing word he ever used. + </p> + <p> + “Your faults?” re-echoed she in a merry incredulous tone. But before she + could say more, the guests most inopportunely arrived. And Agatha, very + naturally, darted from her husband to the other side of the room like a + flash of lightning. + </p> + <p> + If the Thornycrofts had expected to find a couple of turtle-doves cooing + in a cage, they were certainly disappointed. Mr. and Mrs. Locke Harper had + apparently settled down into an ordinary husband and wife, resuming + serenely their place in society, and behaving towards each other, and the + world in general, just like sensible old married people. Their friends, + taking the hint, treated them in like manner; and thus, now and for ever, + vanished Agatha's honeymoon. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, Emma, anxious about Agatha's proceedings, and still more + anxious to have a hand in the same, for she was never happy unless busy + about her own or other people's affairs, made inquiries as to the future + plans of the young couple. + </p> + <p> + Agatha could give no answer, for, to her great thankfulness, her husband + had hitherto avoided the subject. She looked at him for a reply. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Mrs. Thornycroft, it will probably be three months before I”—he + smilingly corrected himself, and said “<i>we</i> return to Canada.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what do you intend to do meanwhile? Of course, Agatha dear, you will + remain in London?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” she replied, accustomed to decide for herself, and forgetting at + the moment that there was now another to whose decision she was bound to + defer. Blushing, she looked towards her husband, who was talking to Mr. + Thornycroft. He turned, as indeed he always did when he heard her + speaking; but he made no remark, and the “Yes” passed as their mutual + assent to Emma's question. + </p> + <p> + “I know a place that would just suit you,” pursued the latter; “that is, + if you take a furnished house.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like it much.” + </p> + <p> + “It is but a cottage—rather small, considering your means; + by-the-by, Agatha, how close our friend the Major kept all your affairs. + No one imagined you were so rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither did I, most certainly. But—the cottage.” + </p> + <p> + “The prettiest little place imaginable. Such a love of a drawing-room! I + went there to call on young Northen's sister when she married, last year. + Poor thing—sad affair that, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” said Agatha, who now felt an interest in all stories of + marriages. + </p> + <p> + “It happened a fortnight ago, soon after your wedding. They quarrelled—she + got through a window, and ran away home to her father. It seems she had + never cared a straw for her husband, but had married him out of spite, + liking some one else better all the time. His own brother, too, they say.” + </p> + <p> + “What a wicked—wicked thing!” cried Agatha warmly. So warmly, that + she did not see, close by her chair, her husband—watching her + intently, nay wildly. As she ceased, he rose from his stooping attitude. + His countenance became wonderfully beautiful, altogether glowing. + </p> + <p> + “Really you seem to have comprehended the matter at once,” said Mr. + Thornycroft, startled in the winding-up of a long harangue about the Corn + Laws by the exceedingly bright look which his hearer turned towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think I shall soon comprehend everything,” was the answer, as Mr. + Harper placed himself on the arm of his wife's chair in the gay attitude + of a very boy. She, moving a little, made room for him and smiled. Nay, + she even leant silently against his arm, which he had thrown round the + back of her chair. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Agatha, I want to hear about that wonderful house which your friend + is persuading you to take. You know, I happen to have a little concern in + the matter likewise. Have I not, Mr. Thornycroft?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; since you have turned out to be that no less wonderful + personage which my wife has been perpetually boring me about for the last + two years—Agatha's Husband,” said Mr. Thornycroft, patiently + resigning the Corn Laws to their inevitable doom—oblivion. + </p> + <p> + But Emma, plunging gladly into her native element, discussed the whole + house from attic to kitchen. Mr. Harper listened with a complaisant and + amused look. Beginning to discern the sterling good there was in the + little woman, he passed over her harmless small-mindedness; knowing well + that in the wide-built mansion of human nature there must be always a + certain order of beings honourable, useful, and excellent in themselves, + to form the basement-story. + </p> + <p> + The twilight darkened while Emma talked, the faster perhaps that her + “James,” whose respected presence always restrained her tongue, was + discovered to be undeniably asleep. But the young couple were excellent + listeners. Nathanael still sat balancing himself on the arm of his wife's + chair; his hand having dropped playfully among her curls. He joined with + gaiety in all the discussions. More than once, in talking of the various + arrangements of their new household, his voice faltered, and the hearts of + the husband and wife seemed trembling towards one another. + </p> + <p> + The conversation ended in Emma's receiving <i>carte-blanche</i> to take + the house, if practicable, that the Harpers might settle there for three + months certain. + </p> + <p> + “Come, this is better than I expected,” cried the worthy little woman. “We + shall be neighbours, and I can teach Agatha house-keeping. She will have a + nice little <i>ménage</i>, and can give a proper 'At Home' and charming + wedding parties. Shall she not, Mr. Harper?” + </p> + <p> + “If she wishes.” + </p> + <p> + But Agatha's whispered “No,” and kind pressure of the hand, brought to him + a most blissful conviction that she did <i>not</i> wish, and that she + would be, as she said, “happier living quietly at home.” <i>Home</i>! what + a word of promise that sounded in both their ears! + </p> + <p> + When the lights came, Mr. Thornycroft woke up; with many apologies, poor + man; only, as his wife said, “Everybody knew how hard James worked, and + how tired he was at night.” The two gentlemen fraternised once more. They + began one of those general arguments on the history of the times, which + when spoken, are intensely interesting, and being written as intensely + prosy. The ladies listened in a most wife-like and pleased submission. + </p> + <p> + “How well my husband talks—doesn't he?” whispered Emma, with + sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + Agatha agreed, and indeed Mr. Thornycroft's strong sense and acute + judgment were patent to every one. But when Mr. Harper spoke, his clear + views on every point, his trenchant but pleasant wit, by which he rounded + off the angularities of argument, and above all his keen, far-seeing + intellect, which dived into wondrous depths of knowledge, and invariably + brought something precious to light—these things were to the young + wife a positive revelation. + </p> + <p> + She sat attentive, beginning to learn, what strange to say was no pain—her + own ignorance, and her husband's superior wisdom. She had never before + felt at once so humble and so proud. + </p> + <p> + When the Thornycrofts departed, and Mr. Harper returned up-stairs from + bidding them good-bye, he found his wife in a thoughtful mood. + </p> + <p> + “Well, dear, have you had a pleasant evening? Are you content with our + plans?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—indeed, more so than I deserve. Oh, how good you are!” she + whispered; and her shortcomings towards him grew into a great burden of + regret. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he answered, smiling; “we will not begin discussing one another's + goodness, or you know the subject would be interminable. And I would like + us to hold a little serious consultation before to-morrow. You are not + sleepy?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Stretch yourself out on the sofa, and let me sit beside you. There—are + you quite comfortable?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” she said, and thought for the hundredth time how sweet it was + to have some one to take care of her. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my wife, listen! You seemed to long for that cottage very much, and + you shall have it. Nay, you ought, because at present you are the rich + lady; while I, so long as I remain in England, receive none of my salary + from Montreal, and am, comparatively speaking, poor. In fact, nothing but + that very secondary character, Agatha's Husband.'” + </p> + <p> + Though he laughed, there was a little jarring tone in this confession; but + Agatha was too simple to notice it. He continued quickly, + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, this question is only temporary; I shall be quite your + equal in Canada.” + </p> + <p> + “In Canada!” she echoed dolefully. “Oh, surely—surely we need not + go?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in earnest, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “I am indeed,” said she, gathering up courage to speak to him of what ever + since her marriage had been growing an inexpressible dread. + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I am afraid to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you? You cannot bear to leave your old friends? You fear to + go into a new country, entirely among strangers, with only your husband?” + </p> + <p> + His suddenly suspicious tone stopped the frank denial that was bursting to + his wife's lips. She only said a little hurt, “If that were true, I would + have told you. I always speak exactly what I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so? is it indeed so?” he cried, with a lightening of countenance as + sudden as its shade. “Oh, Agatha, forgive me,” and his heart seemed + melting before her. “I am not good to you—but you do not quite + understand me yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I feel that. Yet what can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! Only wait I will try to cure myself without paining you. But, + for the sake of our whole life's happiness, henceforward always be open + with me, Agatha! Don't hide from me anything! Set your frank goodness + against my wicked suspiciousness, and make me ashamed of myself, as now.” + </p> + <p> + He had not spoken so freely or with so much emotion since they were + married; and his wife was deeply touched. She made no answer, but half + raising herself, crept to his arms, almost as if she loved him. So she + truly did, in a measure, though not with the spontaneous, self-existent + love, which, once lit in a woman's breast, is like the central fire hidden + in the earth's bosom, enduring through all surface variations—through + summer and winter, earthquakes, floods, and storms—utterly + unchangeable and indestructible. And, however wildly extravagant this + simile may sound—however rare the fact it illustrates, nevertheless + such Love is a great truth, possible and probable, which has existed and + may exist—thank God for it!—to prove that He did not found the + poetry of all humanity upon a beautiful deceit. + </p> + <p> + Something of this mystery was beginning to stir in the wife's heart; the + girl-wife, married before her character was half formed—before the + perfecting of real love, which, taking, as all feelings must, the impress + of individual nature, was in her of slow development. + </p> + <p> + As Agatha lay, her head hidden on her husband's shoulder, guessing out of + her own heart something of what was passing in his, there came to her the + first longing after that oneness of spirit, without which marriage is but + a false or base union, legal and sanctified before men, but, oh! how + unholy in the sight of God! + </p> + <p> + The young wife felt as if now, and not until now, she could unfold to her + husband all the secrets of her heart, all its foolishness, ignorance, and + fears. + </p> + <p> + “If you will listen to me, and not despise me very much, I will tell you + something that I have never told to any one until now.” + </p> + <p> + She could not imagine why, but at this soft whisper he trembled; however, + he bade her go on. + </p> + <p> + “You wonder why it is I am so terrified at leaving England? It is not for + any of the reasons you said, but for one so foolish that I am half ashamed + to confess it. I dare not cross the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” Mr. Harper cried, and the unutterable dread which had + actually blanched his cheek disappeared instantaneously. He felt himself + another man. + </p> + <p> + “Wait, and I'll tell you why this is,” continued Agatha. “When I was a + little child, somewhere about four years old, I was at some seaport town—I + don't know where nor ever did, for there was no one with me but my nurse, + and she died soon after. One day, I remember being in a little boat going + to see a large ship. There were other people with us, especially one lady. + Somehow, playing with her, I fell overboard.” Here Agatha shuddered + involuntarily. “It may be very ridiculous, but even now, when I am ill or + restless in mind, I constantly dream over again that horrible drowning.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband drew her closer to him, murmuring, “Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I was indeed a poor child! When, after being brought to life again—for + I fancy I must have been nearly dead—my nurse forbade me ever to + speak of what had happened, no one can tell into what a terror it grew. I + never shall overcome it, never! The very sight of the sea is more than I + can bear. To cross it—-to be on it”— + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear, quiet yourself,” said her husband, soothingly. “Now, tell me + all you can remember about this.” + </p> + <p> + “Scarcely anything more, except that when I came to myself I was lying on + the beach, with the stranger lady by me.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was she?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the slightest idea. Being so young, I recollect little about + her—in fact, only one thing: that just as she was leaving me to go + on in the little boat, my nurse called out, 'The ship is gone!' and the + lady fell flat down—dead, as I thought then. They carried me away, + and I never saw or heard of her again.” + </p> + <p> + “How strange!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued Agatha, gathering courage as she found her husband did + not smile at this story, and beginning to speak with him more freely than + she had ever done with any person in her life, “but you have no idea what + a vivid impression the circumstance left on my mind. For years I made of + this lady—to whom I feel sure I owed in some way or other the saving + of my life—a sort of guardian angel I believe I even prayed to her—such + a queer, foolish child I was—oh, so foolish!” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely, dear; we all are,” said Mr. Harper, gaily. “And you are + quite sure you never saw your angel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor any one like her. The person most like, and yet very unlike, too, + in some things, was—don't laugh, please—was Miss Valery. That, + I fancy, was the reason why I liked her so from the first, and was ready + to do anything she bade me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then when you consented to be married it was not for love of me but of + Anne Valery?” And beneath Nathanael's smile lingered a little sad earnest. + </p> + <p> + His wife did not answer—even yet she was too shy to say the words, + “I love you.” But she took his hand, and reverently kissed it, whispering, + </p> + <p> + “I am quite content. I would not have things otherwise than they are. And + all I mean by telling such a long foolish story is this—teach me how + to conquer myself and my fears, and I will go with you anywhere—even + across the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “My own dear wife!” His voice was quite broken; so sudden, so unexpected + was this declaration from her, and by the tremblings which shook her all + the while he saw how great her struggle had been. + </p> + <p> + For many minutes, holding her little head on his arm, the young husband + sat silent, buried in deep thought; Agatha never saw the changes, bitter, + fierce, sorrowful, that by turns swept over the face under which her own + lay so calmly, with sweet shut eyes. Strange difference between the woman + and the man! + </p> + <p> + “Agatha,” he said at last, “I have quite decided.” + </p> + <p> + “Decided what?” + </p> + <p> + “That I will give up my office at Montreal, and we will live in England.” + </p> + <p> + She was so astonished that at first she could not speak; then she burst + into joyful tears, and hung about him, murmuring unutterable thanks. For + the moment he felt as if this reward made his sacrifice nothing, and yet + it had cost him almost everything that his manly pride held dear. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will not go? You will never cross the terrible Atlantic again?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not promise that: for I must go, soon or late, if only to persuade + Uncle Brian to return with me to England.—Uncle Brian! what will he + say when he learns that I have given up my independence, and am living + pensioner on a rich wife?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued he, trying to make a jest of the matter, “though I do + renounce my income in the New World, I am not going to live an idler on + your little ladyship's bounty. I intend to work hard at anything that I + can find to do. And it will be strange if, in this wide, busy England, I + cannot turn to some honourable profession. If not, I'd rather go into the + fields and chop wood with this right hand”— + </p> + <p> + And suddenly dashing it down on the table, he startled Agatha very much; + so much that she again clung to him, and innocently begged him not to be + angry with her. + </p> + <p> + Then, once more, Nathanael took his wife in his arms, and became calm in + calming her. Thus they sat, until the silence grew heavenly between the + two, and it seemed as if, in this new confidence, and in the joy of mutual + self-renunciation, were beginning that true marriage, which makes of + husband and wife not only “one flesh,” but one soul. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. + </h2> + <p> + It had been arranged with Emma Thornycroft that Mrs. Harper should take + the benefit of that lady's superior domestic and worldly experience—for + Agatha herself was a perfect child in such matters—and that they two + should go over the intended house together. Accordingly, in the course of + the following day Mrs. Thornycroft appeared to carry away the young wife, + and give her the first lesson in household responsibilities. + </p> + <p> + From this important business, Mr. Harper was laughingly excluded, as being + only a “gentleman,” and required merely to pronounce a final decision upon + the niceties of feminine choice. + </p> + <p> + “In fact,” said Emma, gaily assuming the autocracy of her sex, “husbands + ought to have nothing at all to do with house-choosing or house-keeping, + except to pay the rent and the bills.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha could not help laughing at this, until she saw that Mr. Harper was + silent. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes before they started he took his wife aside, and showed her a + letter. It was the formal renunciation of the appointment he held at + Montreal. + </p> + <p> + “How kind!” she cried in unfeigned delight. “And how quickly you have + fulfilled your promise!” + </p> + <p> + “When I have once decided I always like to do the thing immediately. This + letter shall go to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—let me post it,” whispered Agatha, taking a wilful, childish + pleasure in thus demolishing every chance of the future she had so + dreaded. + </p> + <p> + “What! cannot you yet trust me?” returned her husband. “Nay, there is no + fear. What is done is done. But you shall have your way.” + </p> + <p> + And walking with them a little distance, he suffered Agatha with her own + hands to post the decisive letter. + </p> + <p> + After he left them, she told Mrs. Thornycroft the welcome news, enlarging + upon Mr. Harper's goodness in resigning so much for her sake. + </p> + <p> + “Resigning?” said Emma, laughing. “Well, I don't see much noble + resignation in a young man's giving up a hardworking situation in the + colonies to live at ease on his wife's property in England. My dear, + husbands always like to make the most of their little sacrifices. You + mustn't believe half they say.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband never said one word of his,” cried Agatha, rather indignantly, + and repented herself of her frankness to one whose ideas now more than + ever jarred with her own. Three weeks' constant association with a man + like Nathanael had lifted her mind above the ordinary standard of + womanhood to which Emma belonged. She began to half believe the truth of + what she had once with great astonishment heard Anne Valery declare—ay, + even Anne Valery—that if the noblest moral type of man and of woman + were each placed side by side, the man would be the greater of the two. + </p> + <p> + But this thought she kept fondly to herself, and suffered Emma to talk on + without much attending to her conversation. It was chiefly about some City + business with which “her James” had been greatly annoyed of late—having + to act for a friend who had been ruined by taking shares in a bubble + company formed to work a Cornish mine. Agatha had often been doomed to + listen to such historiettes. Mrs. Thornycroft had a great fancy for + putting her harmless fingers into her husband's business matters, for + which the chief apology in her friend's eyes was the good little wife's + great interest in all that concerned “my James.” So Agatha had got into a + habit of listening with one ear, saying, “Yes,” “No,” and “Certainly;” + while she thought of other things the while. This habit she to-day + revived, and, pondered vaguely over many pleasant fancies while hearing + mistily of certain atrocities perpetrated by “City scoundrels”—Emma + was always warm in her epithets. + </p> + <p> + “The 'Company,' my dear, is a complete take-in—all sham names, + secretaries, treasurers, and even directors. The whole affair was got up + among two or three people in a lawyer's office; and who do you think that + lawyer is, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Mrs. Harper, feeling as perfectly indifferent as if + he were the man in the moon. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure that I ought to tell you, for James only found it out, or + rather guessed it, this morning at breakfast-time. And if the thing can + only be proved, it will go very suspiciously against the people who have + been mixed up in the affair, and especially against this Mr. Grimes.—There, + I declare I've let the cat out of the bag at last, for all James cautioned + me not!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, be content,” said Agatha, awaking from a reverie as to how many + days her husband intended to stay at Kingcombe Holm, whither they were + this week going on a formal invitation, and whether the new house would be + quite ready on their return—“Be content, Emma; I really did not + catch the name.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad of it,” said the gossiping little woman—though she looked + extremely sorry. “Of course, if Major Harper had known—why, you + would have heard.” + </p> + <p> + “Heard what” asked Agatha, her curiosity at last attracted by her + brother-in-law's name. But now Emma seemed wilfully bent upon maintaining + a mysterious silence. + </p> + <p> + “That's exactly what I can't tell you, my dear, except thus much—that + my husband is afraid Major Harper has been losing a good deal of money, + since more than two-thirds of the shares in Wheal Caroline were in his + name, and now the vein has failed—that is, if ever there was a vein + or a mine at all—and the other shareholders declare there has been a + great deal of cheating somewhere—and—you understand.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha did not understand one jot. All she drew from this confused + volubility was the fact that Major Harper had somehow lost money, for + which she was very sorry. But to her utter ignorance of financial or + business matters the term “losing money” bore very little meaning. + However, she recurred with satisfaction to her own reputed wealth, and + thought if Major Harper were in any need he would of course tell his + brother, and she and Nathanael could at once supply what he wanted. She + determined to speak to her husband the first opportunity, and so dismissed + the subject, as being not half so interesting as that of “the new house.” + </p> + <p> + At the gate of this the two ladies now stood, and Emma, with a matronly + importance, introduced the gratified young wife to all its perfections. + </p> + <p> + If there be one instinct that lurks in a woman's breast, ready to spring + up when touched, and bloom into all sorts of beautiful and happy feelings, + it is the sense of home—of pleasant domestic sway and domestic + comfort—the looking forward to “a house of one's own.” Many ordinary + girls marry for nothing but this; and in the nobler half of their sex even + amidst the strongest and most romantic personal attachment there is a + something—a vague, dear hope, that, flying beyond the lover and the + bridegroom, nestles itself in the husband and the future home.—The + home as well as the husband, since it is given by him, is loved for his + sake, and made beautiful for his comfort, while he is the ruler, the + guide, and the centre of all. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harper, as she went through the rooms of this, the first house she + had ever looked on with an eye of interest, admiring some things, + objecting to others, and beginning to arrange and decide in her own mind,—felt + the awakening of that feeling which philosophers call “the domestic + instinct”—the instinct which makes of women good wives, fond + mothers, and wise mistresses of pleasant households. She wondered that, as + Agatha Bowen, she had thought so little of these things. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said she, brightening up as she listened to Emma's long-winded + discourse upon furniture and arrangements, and learning for the first time + to appreciate the capital good sense of that admirable domestic oracle and + young housekeeper's guide—“Yes, I think this will just do. And, as + you say, we easily manage to buy it, furniture and all, so as to make what + improvements we choose. Oh, how delicious it will be to have a house of + one's own!” + </p> + <p> + And the tears almost came into her eyes at thought of that long vista of + future joy—the years which might pass in this same dwelling. + </p> + <p> + “My husband,” she said to the person who showed them over the place—and + her cheeks glowed, and her heart dilated with a tender pride as she used + the word—“my husband will come to-morrow and make his decision. I + think there is very little doubt but that we shall take the house.” + </p> + <p> + So anxious was she to conclude the matter and let Mr. Harper share in all + her pleasant feelings, that she excused herself from staying at Emma's + until he came to fetch her, and determined to walk back to meet him. + </p> + <p> + “What, with nobody to take care of you?” said Emma. + </p> + <p> + “The idea of anybody's taking care of me! We never thought of such a thing + three months ago. I used to come and go everywhere at my own sweet will, + you know.” Nevertheless, it was a sweet thought that there <i>was</i> + somebody to take care of her. Her high spirit was beginning to learn that + there are dearer pleasures in life than even the pleasure of independence. + </p> + <p> + Pondering on these things—and also on the visit to Kingcombe Holm + which her husband had that morning decided—she walked through the + well-known squares, her eyes and her veil lowered, her light springy step + restrained into matronly dignity. Agatha had a wondrous amount of dignity + for such a little woman. Her gait, too, had in it something very peculiar—a + mixture of elasticity, decision, and pride. Her small figure seemed to + rise up airily between each footpress, as if unaccustomed to creep. There + was a trace of wildness in her motions; hers was anything but a dainty + tread or a lazy drawing-room glide; it was a bold, free, Indian-like walk—a + footstep of the wilderness. + </p> + <p> + No one who had once known her could ever mistake Agatha, be she seen ever + so far off; and as she went on her way, a gentleman, crossing hastily from + the opposite side of the square, saw her, started, and seemed inclined to + shrink from recognition. But she, attracted by his manner, lifted up her + eyes, and soon put an end to his uncertainty. Though a good deal surprised + by the suddenness of the <i>rencontre</i>, there was no reason on earth + why Mrs. Harper should not immediately go up and speak to her husband's + brother. + </p> + <p> + She did so, holding out her hand frankly. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper's response was hesitating to a painful degree. He looked, in + the common but expressive phrase, “as if he had seen a ghost.” + </p> + <p> + “Who would have thought of meeting you here, Miss Bowen—Mrs. Harper + I mean?” he added, seeing her smile at the already strange sound of her + maiden name. What could have possessed Major Harper to be guilty of such + uncourteous forgetfulness? + </p> + <p> + “You evidently did not think I was my real self, or you would not have + been going to pass me by; I—that is, <i>we</i>”—-at the word + Nathanael's wife cast off her shyness, and grew bravely dignified—“we + came back to London two days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother,” she had not yet quite the courage to say “my husband,” + when speaking of him, especially to Frederick Harper—“your brother + thought you were out of town.” + </p> + <p> + “I?—yes—no. No, it was a mistake. But are you not going in? + Good morning!” + </p> + <p> + In his confusion of mind he was handing her up the steps of Dr. Ianson's + door, which they were just passing. Agatha drew back; at first surprised, + then alarmed. His strange manner, his face, not merely pale but ghastly, + the suppressed agitation of his whole aspect, seemed forewarnings of some + ill. It was her first consciousness that she was no longer alone, in + herself including alike all her pleasure and all her pain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell me,” she cried, catching his arm, “is there anything the matter? + Where is my husband?” + </p> + <p> + The quick fear, darting arrow-like to her heart, betrayed whose image lay + there nearest and dearest now. Major Harper looked at her, looked and—sighed! + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid,” he said kindly; “all is well with your husband, for + aught I know. He is a happy fellow in having some one in the world to be + alarmed on his account.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha blushed deeply, but made no reply. She took her brother-in-law's + offered arm, offered with a mechanical courtesy that survived the great + discomposure of mind under which he evidently laboured, and turned with + him towards home. She was at once puzzled and grieved to see the state he + was in, which, deny it and disguise it as he would—and he tried hard + to do so—was quite clear to her womanly perception. His laugh was + hollow, his step hurried, his eyes wandering from side to side as if he + were afraid of being seen. How different from his old cheerful lounge, + full of a good-natured conceit, apparently content with himself, and + willing that the whole street should gaze their fill at Major Frederick + Harper. + </p> + <p> + So old he looked, too; as if the moment his merry mask of smiles was + thrown off, the cruel lurking wrinkles appeared. Agatha pitied him, and + felt a return of the old liking, warm and kind, such as it was before the + innuendoes of foolish friends had first lured her to distrust the nature + of her own innocent feelings, and then changed them into positive contempt + and aversion. + </p> + <p> + She said, with an air of gentle matronly freedom, half sisterly, too, and + wholly different from the shy manner of Agatha Bowen to Major Harper: + </p> + <p> + “You must come home with me. I fear you are ill, or in anxiety. Why did + you not tell your brother?” And suddenly she thought of Emma's statement + of the morning. But Agatha, in her unworldliness, never supposed such a + trivial loss as that of money could make any man so miserable as Major + Harper seemed. + </p> + <p> + “I ill? I anxious? I tell my brother?” he repeated, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, as you will. Only do come to us. He will be so glad to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad to see me?” He again repeated her words, as though he had none of + his own, or were too bewildered to use them. Nevertheless, through a + certain playful influence which Agatha could exert when she liked, making + almost everybody yield to her, Major Harper suffered himself to be led + along; his companion talking pleasantly to him the while, lest he might + think she noticed his discomposure. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at home, they found that Nathanael had walked to the Regent's Park + to fetch his wife, according to agreement. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harper looked sorry. She had already learned one little secret of her + husband's character—his dislike to any unpunctuality, any altered + plans or broken promises. “Still, you must come in and wait for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait for whom?” said Major Harper, absently. + </p> + <p> + “Your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “My brother!—I, wait to see my brother! Impossible—I—I'll + write. Good morning—good morning.” + </p> + <p> + He was leaving the hall—more hurried and agitated than ever—when + Mrs. Harper, now really concerned, laid her hand upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I will not let you go. Come in, and tell me what ails you.” + </p> + <p> + The soft whisper, the eyes of genuine compassion—womanly compassion + only, without any love—were more than Major Harper could resist. + </p> + <p> + “I will go,” he muttered. “Better tell it to you than to my brother.” And + he followed her up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + The cool shadow of the room seemed to quiet his excitement; he drank a + glass of water that stood by, and became more like himself. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear young lady,” he said, with some return of the paternal + manner of old times, “when did you come back to London?” + </p> + <p> + “Two days since, as I told you. And, as you will soon hear, your brother's + plans are all changed—we are going to live in London.” + </p> + <p> + “To live in London?” + </p> + <p> + “He has given up his appointment at Montreal. We have taken a house, or + shall take it to-day, and settle here. He intends entering at the bar, or + something of the sort; but you must persuade him not. What is the use of + his toiling, when I—that is we—are so rich?” + </p> + <p> + While Agatha thus talked, chiefly to amuse her brother-in-law and make him + feel that she was really his sister, one and the same in family interests—while + she talked, she was astonished to see Major Harper's face overspread with + blank dismay. + </p> + <p> + “And—Nathanael has really given up his appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “He has, and for my sake. Was it not good of him?” + </p> + <p> + “It was madness! Nay—it is I that have been the madman—it is I + that have done it all Agatha, forgive me! But no—you never can!” + </p> + <p> + As they stood together by the fireplace he snatched her hand, gazing down + upon her with unutterable remorse. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Bowen's daughter that he trusted to me! Such a mere child too! Oh, + forgive me, Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + She thought some extraordinary delusion had come upon him—perhaps + the forerunner of some dreadful illness. She tried to take her hand away, + though kindly, for she firmly believed him to be delirious. Nothing could + really have happened to herself that Mr. Harper did not know. With him to + take care of her, she was quite safe. And in that moment—for all + passed in a moment—Nathanael's wife first felt how implicitly she + was beginning to put her trust in him. + </p> + <p> + While she remained thus—her hand still closed tightly in her + brother-in-law's grasp, half terrified, yet trying not to show her terror—the + door opened, and her husband entered. + </p> + <p> + At first Mr. Harper seemed petrified with amazement; then he turned deadly + white. Crossing the room, he laid a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, you forget yourself; this is my wife,—Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + The searching agony of that one word, as he turned and looked her full in + the face, was unutterable. She scarcely perceived it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I am so glad you are come,” was all she said. He drew her to his side—indeed, + she had sprung there of her own accord—and wrapped his arms tightly + round her, as if to show that she was his possession, his own property. + </p> + <p> + “Now, brother, whatever you wished to say to my wife, say it to us both.” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “He was waiting to see you; he is ill—very ill, I think,” whispered + Agatha to her husband. “Shall I leave you together?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered, releasing her, but only to draw her back again, with + the same wildly questioning look, the meaning of which was to her + innocence quite inexplicable.—“My wife?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear husband!” + </p> + <p> + At that whisper, which burst from her full heart in the comfort of seeing + him and of knowing that he would take on himself the burden of all her + anxiety, Nathanael let her go. She crept away, most thankful to get out of + the room, and leave Major Harper safe in his brother's hands. + </p> + <p> + But when a quarter of an hour—half-an-hour—passed by, and + still the two gentlemen remained shut up together, without sending for her + to join their conference, or, as she truly expected, to tell her that poor + Major Harper must be taken home in the delirium of brain fever—Agatha + began rather to wonder at the circumstance. + </p> + <p> + She apprehended no evil, for her even course of existence had never been + crossed by those sudden tragedies, the impression of which no one ever + entirely overcomes, which teach us to walk trembling along the ways of + life, lest each moment a gulf should open at our feet. Agatha had read of + such misfortunes, but believed them only in books; to her the real world, + and her own fate therein, appeared the most monotonous thing imaginable. + It never entered her mind to create an adventure or a mystery. + </p> + <p> + She waited another fifteen minutes—until the clock struck five, and + the servant came up to her to announce dinner, and to know whether the + same information should be conveyed to the gentlemen in the drawing-room. + Servants seem instinctively to guess when there is something extraordinary + going on in a house, and the maid—as she found her mistress sitting + in her bed-chamber, alone and thoughtful—wore a look of curiosity + which made Mrs. Harper colour. + </p> + <p> + “Go down and tell your master—no, stay, I will go myself.” + </p> + <p> + She waited until the maid had disappeared, and then went down-stairs, but + stopped at the drawing-room door, on hearing within loud voices, at least + one voice—Major Harper's. He seemed pleading or protesting + vehemently: Agatha might almost have distinguished the words, but—and + the fact is much to her credit, since her brother-in-law's apparently sane + tones having suppressed her fears, she was now smitten with very natural + curiosity—but she stopped her ears, and ran up-stairs again. There + she remained, waiting for a lull in the dispute—in which, however, + she never caught one tone of Nathanael's. + </p> + <p> + At last, feeling rather humiliated at being thus obliged to flutter up and + down the stairs of her own abode, and crave admittance into her own + drawing-room, Mrs. Harper ventured to knock softly, and enter. + </p> + <p> + Frederick Harper was sitting on the sofa, his head crushed down upon his + hands. Nathanael stood at a little distance, by the fireplace. The + attitude of the elder brother indicated deep humiliation, that of the + younger was freezing in its sternness. Agatha had never seen such an + expression on Nathanael face before. + </p> + <p> + “What did you want?” he said abruptly, thinking it was the servant who + entered. + </p> + <p> + She could not imagine what made him start so, nor what made the two + brothers look at her so guiltily. The fact left a very uncomfortable + impression on her mind. + </p> + <p> + “I only came”—she began. + </p> + <p> + “No matter, dear.” Her husband walked up to her, speaking in a low voice, + studiously made kind, she thought “Go away now—we are engaged, you + see.” + </p> + <p> + “But dinner,” she added. “Will not your brother stay and dine with us?” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper turned with an imploring look to his brother's wife. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr. Harper emphatically; held the door open for Agatha to + retire, and closed it after her. Never in all her life had she been + treated so unceremoniously. + </p> + <p> + The newly-married wife returned to her room, her cheeks burning with no + trifling displeasure. She began to feel the tightening pressure of that + chain with which her life was now eternally bound. + </p> + <p> + But, after five minutes of silent reflection, she was too sensible to + nourish serious indignation at being sent out of the room like a mere + child. There must have been some good reason, which Mr. Harper would + surely explain when his brother left. The whole conversation was probably + some personal affair of the Major's, with which she had nothing to do. Yet + why did her brother-in-law regard her so imploringly? It was, after all, + rather extraordinary. So, genuine female curiosity getting the better of + her, never did Blue Beard's Fatima watch with greater anxiety for “anybody + coming” than did Agatha Harper watch at her window for somebody going—viz., + Major Harper. She was too proud to listen, or to keep any other watch, and + sat with her chamber-door resolutely closed. + </p> + <p> + At length her vigil came to an end. She saw her late guardian passing down + the street—not hastily or in humiliation, but with his usual + measured step and satisfied air. Nay, he even crossed over the way to + speak to an acquaintance, and stood smiling, talking, and swinging his + cane. There could not be anything very wrong, then. + </p> + <p> + Agatha thought, having been once sent out of the room, she would not + re-enter it until her husband fetched her—a harmless ebullition of + annoyance. So she stood idly before the mirror, ostensibly arranging her + curls, though in reality seeing nothing, but listening with all her ears + for the one footstep—which did not come. Not, alas! for many, many + minutes. + </p> + <p> + She was still standing motionless, though her brows were knitted in deep + thought, and her mouth had assumed the rather cross expression which such + rich, rare lips always can, and which only makes their smiling the more + lovely—when she saw in the mirror another reflection beside her own. + </p> + <p> + Her husband had come softly behind her, and put his arms round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “Did you think I was a long time away from you? I could not help it, dear. + Let us go down-stairs now.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was surprised that, in spite of all the tenderness of his manner, + he did not attempt the slightest explanation. And still more surprised was + she to find her own questions, wonderings, reproaches, dying away + unuttered in the atmosphere of silentness which always seemed to surround + Nathanael Harper. This silentness had from the very beginning of their + acquaintance induced in her that faint awe, which is the most ominous yet + most delicious feeling that a woman can have towards a man. It seems an + instinctive acknowledgment of the much-condemned, much-perverted, yet + divine and unalterable law given with the first human marriage—“<i>He + shall rule over thee</i>.” + </p> + <p> + After all that Agatha had intended to say, she said—nothing. She + only turned her face to her husband, and received his kiss. Very soft it + was—even cold—as though he dared not trust himself to the + least expression of feeling. He merely whispered, “Now, come down with + me;” and she went. + </p> + <p> + But on the staircase she could not forbear saying, “I thought you two + would never have done talking. Is it anything very serious? I trust not, + since your brother walked down the street so cheerfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he?—and—were you watching him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed,” returned Agatha, for she had no notion of doing anything + that she would be afterwards ashamed to confess. “But what put him into + such a state of mind, and made him behave to me so strangely?” + </p> + <p> + “How dared he behave?” asked the husband, with quickness, then stopped. + “Forgive me. You know, I have never inquired—I never shall inquire + about anything.”—Again he paused, seeing how his mood alarmed her. + “Do not be afraid of me! Poor child—poor little Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + Waiting for no reply, he led her in to dinner. + </p> + <p> + While the servants waited, Mr. Harper scarcely spoke, except when + necessary. Only in his lightest word addressed to Agatha was a certain + tremulousness—in his most careless look a constant tender + observance, which soothed her mind, and quite removed from thence the + impression of his hasty and incomprehensible words. She laid all to the + charge of Major Harper and his unpleasant business. + </p> + <p> + At dessert, Nathanael sat varying his long silences with a few commonplace + remarks which showed how oblivious he was of all around him, and how + sedulously he tried to disguise the fact, and rise to the surface of + conversation. Agatha's curiosity returned, not unmingled with a feeling + tenderer, more woman-like, more wife-like, which showed itself in stray + peeps at him from under the lashes of net brown eyes. At length she took + courage to say: + </p> + <p> + “Now—since we seem to have nothing better to talk about, will you + tell me what you and your brother were plotting together, that you kept + poor little me out of the room so long?” + </p> + <p> + “Plotting together? Surely, Agatha, you did not mean to use that word?” + </p> + <p> + She had used it according to a habit she had of putting a jesting form of + phrase upon matters where she was most in earnest. She was amazed to see + her husband take it so seriously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, blot out the offending word, and put in any other you choose; only + tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you wish to know, little Curiosity?” said he, recovering himself, + and eagerly catching the tone his wife had adopted. + </p> + <p> + “Why? Because I am a little Curiosity, and like to know everything.” + </p> + <p> + “That is both presumptuous and impossible, your ladyship! If one-half the + world were always bent on knowing all the secrets of the other half, what + a very uncomfortable world it would be!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see that, even if the first half included the wives, and the + second the husbands; which is apparently what you mean to imply.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not plead guilty to anything by implication.” + </p> + <p> + They went on a few moments longer in this skirmish of assumed gaiety, when + Agatha, pausing, leant her elbows on the table, and looked seriously at + her husband, + </p> + <p> + “Do you know we are two very foolish people?” + </p> + <p> + “Wherefore?” + </p> + <p> + “We are pretending to make idle jests, when all the time we are both of us + very much in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true!” And he sighed, though within himself, as though he did not + wish her to hear it. “Agatha, come over to me.” He held out both his + hands; she came, and placed herself beside him, all her jesting subdued. + She even trembled, at the expectation of something painful or sorrowful to + be told. But her husband said nothing—except to ask if she would + like to go anywhere this evening. + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt annoyed. “Why do you put me off in this manner, when I know + you have something on your mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I?” he said, half mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Then tell it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay. I always thought it was wisest, kindest, for a man to bear the + burden of his own cares.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael had spoken in his most gentle tone, and slowly, as if impelled + to what he said by hard necessity. He was not prepared to see the sudden + childish burst of astonishment, anger, and resistance. + </p> + <p> + “From this, I understand, what you might as well have said plainly, that I + am not to inquire what passed between you and your brother?” + </p> + <p> + He moved his head in assent, and then sunk it on his left hand, holding + out the other to his wife, as though talking were impossible to him, and + all he wished were silence and peace. Agatha was too angry for either. + </p> + <p> + “But if I do not choose at nineteen to be treated like a mere child—if + I ask, nay, <i>insist</i>”—She hesitated, lest the last word might + have irritated him too far. Vague fears concerning the full meaning of the + word “obey” in the marriage service rushed into her mind. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael sat motionless, his fingers pressed upon his eyelids. This + silence was worse than any words. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper!” + </p> + <p> + “I hear.” And the grave, sad eyes—and without any displeasure—were + turned upon her. Agatha felt a sting of conscience. + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean to speak rudely to my husband; but I had my own reasons + for inquiring about Major Harper, from something Emma said to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What was that?” + </p> + <p> + “How eager you look! Nay, I can keep a secret too. But no, I will not.” + And the generous impulse burst out, even accompanied by a few childish + tears and childish blushes. “She told me he had probably lost money. I + wished to say that if such a trifle made him unhappy he might take as much + as he liked of mine. That was all!” + </p> + <p> + Her husband regarded her with mingled emotions, which at last all melted + into one—deep tenderness. “And you would do this, even for him? + Thank God! I never doubted your goodness, Agatha. And I <i>trusted</i> you + always.” + </p> + <p> + Wondering, yet half-pleased, to see him so moved, Agatha received his + offered hand. “Then all is settled. Now tell me everything that passed + between you.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + Gentle as the tone was, there was something in it which implied that to + strive with Nathanael would be like beating against a marble wall. A great + terror came over Agatha—she, who had lived like a wild bird, knowing + no stronger will than her own. Then all the combativeness of her nature, + hitherto dormant because she had known none worthy to contend against, + awoke up, and tempted her to struggle fiercely with her chain. + </p> + <p> + She unloosed her hands and sprang from him. “Mr. Harper, you are teaching + me early how men rule their wives.” + </p> + <p> + “I only ask my wife to trust me. She would, if she knew how great was the + sacrifice.” + </p> + <p> + “What sacrifice? How many more mysteries am I to be led through + blindfold?” + </p> + <p> + And her crimson cheek, her quick wild step across the room, showed a new + picture to the husband's eyes—a picture that all young wives should + be slow to let any man see, for it is often a fatal vision. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael closed his eyes—was it to shut it out?—then spoke, + steadily, sorrowfully: + </p> + <p> + “We have scarcely been married a month. Are we beginning to be angry with + one another already?” + </p> + <p> + She made him no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Will you listen to me—if for only two minutes?” + </p> + <p> + She felt his step approaching, his hand fastening on hers, and replacing + her in her chair. Resistance was impossible. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, had I trusted you less than I do, I might easily have put off + your questions, or told you what was false. I shall do neither. I shall + tell you truth.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all I wish.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael said, with a visible effort, “To-day I learnt from my brother + several rather painful circumstances—some which I was ignorant of—one”—his + voice grew cold and hard—“one which I already knew, and knew to be + irremediable.” + </p> + <p> + His wife looked much alarmed; seeing it, he forced a smile. + </p> + <p> + “But what is irremediable can and must be borne. I can bear things better, + perhaps, than most people. The other cares may be removed by time and—silence. + To that end I have promised Frederick to keep his confidence secret from + every one, even from my own wife, for a year to come. A sacrifice harder + than you think; but it must be made, and I have made it.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha turned away, saying bitterly; “Your wife ought to thank you! She + was not aware until now how wondrously well you loved your brother.” + </p> + <p> + There was a heavy silence, and then Mr. Harper said, in a hoarse voice, + “Did you ever hear the story of a man who plunged into a river to save the + life of an enemy, and when asked why he did it, answered, 'It was because + he <i>was</i> an enemy?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand you,” cried Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “No”—her husband returned, hastily—“better not. A foolish, + meaningless story. What were we talking about?” + </p> + <p> + He—when her heart was bursting with vexation and wounded feeling—he + pretended to treat all so lightly that he did not even remember what they + were saying! It was more than Agatha could endure. + </p> + <p> + Had he been irritated like herself—had he shown annoyance, pain—had + they even come to a positive quarrel—for love will sometimes + quarrel, and take comfort therein—it would have been less trying to + a girl of her temperament. But that grave superior calm of unvarying + kindness—her poor angry spirit beat against it like waves against a + shining rock. + </p> + <p> + “We were talking of what, had I considered the matter a month ago, I might + possibly have saved myself the necessity of discussing or practising—a + wife's blind obedience to her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + “When I married,” she recklessly pursued, “I did not think what I was + doing. It is hard enough blindly to obey even those whom one has known + long—trusted long—loved long—but you”— + </p> + <p> + “I understand. Hush! there needs not another word.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha began to hesitate. She had only wished to make him feel—to + shake him from that rigid quietude which to her was so trying. She had not + intended to wound him so. + </p> + <p> + “Are you angry with me?” she asked at length. + </p> + <p> + “No, not angry. No reproaches of yours can be more bitter than my own.” + </p> + <p> + She was just about to ask him what he meant—nay, she even considered + whether her woman's pride might not stoop to draw aside the tight-pressed + hands, entreating him to look up and forgive her and love her, when in + burst Mrs. Thornycroft. + </p> + <p> + “Oh—so glad to catch you—have not a minute to spare, for James + is waiting. Where is your husband?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper had risen, and stood in the shadow, where his face was not + easily visible. Agatha wondered to see him so erect and calm, while her + own cheeks were burning, and every word she tried to utter she had to gulp + down a burst of tears. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper, it was you I wanted—to ask your decision about the + house. A mere formality. But I thought I would just call as we went to + grandmamma's, and then I can settle everything for you to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, but”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, perhaps you would rather see the house yourself! Quite right. Of + course you will take it!” + </p> + <p> + “I fear not.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, as well as Mrs. Thornycroft, was so utterly astonished, that + neither of them could make any observation. To give up the house, and all + her dear home-visions! She was aghast at the idea. + </p> + <p> + “Bless me, what does your husband mean? Mr. Harper, what possible + objection?——”— + </p> + <p> + “None, except we have changed our plans. It is quite uncertain how long we + may stay at Kingcombe Holm, or where we may go from thence.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to America, surely? You would not break your word to poor dear + Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “I never break my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Harper, I declare I can't understand you,” cried Emma, sharply. + “I only hope that Agatha does. Is all this with your knowledge and + consent, my poor child?” + </p> + <p> + She said this, eyeing the husband with doubt and the wife with curiosity, + as if disposed to put herself in the breach between the two, if breach + there were. + </p> + <p> + Agatha heard Nathanael's quick breathing—caught her friend's look of + patronising compassion. Something of the dignity of marriage, the shame + lest any third party should share or even witness aught that passes + between those two who have now become one—awoke in the young girl's + spirit. The feeling was partly pride, yet mingled with something far + holier. + </p> + <p> + She put Emma gently aside. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever my husband's decision may be, I am quite satisfied therewith.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thornycroft was mute with amazement However, she was too good-natured + to be really angry. “Certainly, you are the most extraordinary, + incomprehensible young couple! But I can't stay to discuss the matter. + Agatha, I shall see you to-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I will bring her to you to-morrow,” said Mr. Harper, cheerfully, as + their visitor departed. + </p> + <p> + The husband and wife regarded one another in silence. At last he said, + taking her hand: + </p> + <p> + “I owe you thanks, Agatha, for”— + </p> + <p> + “For doing my duty. I hope I shall never forget that.” + </p> + <p> + At the word “duty,” so coldly uttered, Mr. Harper had let her hand fall He + stood motionless, leaning against the marble chimney-piece, his face as + white as the marble itself, and, in Agatha's fancy, as hard. + </p> + <p> + “Have you, then, quite decided against our taking the house?” she asked at + length. + </p> + <p> + “I find it will be impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? But I forget; it is useless to ask <i>you</i> questions.” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my inquiry, but do you still keep to your plan of leaving next + week for Dorsetshire?” + </p> + <p> + “If you are willing.” + </p> + <p> + “I willing?” And she thought how, two hours before, she had rejoiced in + the prospect of seeing her husband's ancestral home—her + father-in-law—her new sisters. Her heart failed her—the poor + girlish heart that as yet knew not either the world or itself. She burst + into tears. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Mr. Harper caught her in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Agatha, forgive me!—Have patience with me, and we may still be + happy; at least, you may. Only trust your husband, and love him a little—a + very little—as much as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I trust you, whom I do not thoroughly understand? how can I—love”— + </p> + <p> + Her hesitation—her pride warring with the expression of that feeling + which her very anger taught her was there—seemed to pierce her + husband to the soul. + </p> + <p> + “I see,” he said, mournfully. “We are both punished, Agatha; I for the + selfishness of my love towards you, and you—Alas! how can I make you + happier, poor child?” Her tears fell still, but less with anger than + emotion. “I know now, we ought never to have been married. Yet, since we + are married”— + </p> + <p> + “Ay, since we are married, let us try to be good to one another, and bear + with one another. I will!” + </p> + <p> + She kissed his hand, which held up her drooping head, and Nathanael + pressed his lips on her forehead. So outward peace was made between them; + but in sadness and in fear, like a compact sealed tremblingly over a + newly-closed grave. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. + </h2> + <p> + “And this is Dorsetshire! What a sharp bleak wind!” said Agatha, + shivering. + </p> + <p> + Her husband, who was driving her in a phaeton which had met them at the + railway station, turned to wrap a cloak round her. + </p> + <p> + “Except in the height of summer it is always cold across these moors. But + we shall soon be safe at Kingcombe Holm. Are you very tired?” + </p> + <p> + She answered “No,” which was hardly the truth. Yet her heart was more + weary than her limbs. + </p> + <p> + During the few days that elapsed between Major Harper's visit and their + quitting London, she had scarcely seen her husband. He had been out + continually, coming home to dinner tired and exhausted, though afterwards + he always tried to talk and be cheerful. To her surprise, Major Harper + never again called, nor, except in the brief answer to her question, “that + Frederick was gone from home,” did Nathanael ever mention his brother's + name. + </p> + <p> + “This is Kingcombe,” said Mr. Harper, as they drove through a little town, + which Agatha, half blinded by the wind, scarcely opened her eyes to look + at. “My sister, Mrs. Dugdale, lives here. I thought they might have met us + at the station; but the Dugdales are always late. Ah, there he is!” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “My brother-in-law, Marmaduke Dugdale—or 'Duke Dugdale,' as + everybody about here calls him. Holloa, Duke!” + </p> + <p> + And Agatha, through her blue veil, “was ware,” as old chronicles say, of a + country-looking gentleman coming down the street in a mild, lazy, dreamy + fashion, his hat pushed up at a considerable elevation from his forehead, + leaving a mass of light hair straggling out at the back, his eyes bent + thoughtfully on the pavement, and his hands crossed behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Holloa, Duke!” cried Nathanael, for the second time, before he caught the + attention of this very abstracted personage. + </p> + <p> + “Eh—is it you? You don't say so! E—h!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was amused by the long, sweet-sounding drawl of the last + monosyllable, which seemed formed out of all the five vowels rolled into + one. It was said in such a pleasant voice, with such a simple, child-like + air of delighted astonishment, that Agatha, conquering her shyness at this + first meeting with one of her husband's family, peeped behind Nathanael's + shoulder at Mr. Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + She saw—what to her keen sense of beauty was a considerable shock—the + very plainest man she thought she had ever beheld! + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dugdale—my wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Very glad to see her.” And Agatha who was intending merely to + bow, felt her hand buried in another thrice its size, which gave it a shy, + gentle, but thoroughly cordial shake. “And really, now I think of it, I + was coming to meet you. The Missus told me to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “How is 'the Missus?'” asked Mr. Harper. + </p> + <p> + “Quite well—they're all waiting for you. So make haste—the + Squire is very particular as to time, you know!” + </p> + <p> + Nodding to them both with a smile which diffused such an extraordinary + light over the uncomely face that Agatha was quite startled and began to + reconsider her first impression regarding it,—“Duke” Dugdale turned + to walk on; but just as the horse was starting, came back again. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, you are here just in time—general election coming. + You're a Free-trader of course?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I never thought much about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh!—What a pity! But we'll convert you, and you shall convert your + father. Ah, yes—I think we'll get the Squire on our side at last + Good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is 'the Missus' and who is 'the Squire'” asked Agatha, as they drove + off. + </p> + <p> + “'The Missus' is his wife—my sister Harriet, and 'the Squire' is my + father,” said Nathanael, smiling. His face had worn a pleasant look ever + since he caught sight of Duke Dugdale's. “When I first came home I was as + much amused as yourself at these queer Dorsetshire phrases, but I like + them now; they are so simple and patriarchal.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha agreed; yet she could hardly help laughing. But though this + brother-in-law of Mr. Harper's—and she suddenly remembered that he + was her own brother-in-law too—used provincial words, and spoke with + a slight accent, which she concluded was “Dorset,”—though his dress + and appearance had an anti-Stultzified, innocent, country look, still + there was something about Marmaduke Dugdale which bespoke him unmistakably + the gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad we met him,” said Mr. Harper, looking back down the street. + “There he is, talking to a knot of people at the market-hall—farmers, + no doubt, whom he will try to make Free-traders of, and who would listen + to him affectionately, even if he tried to make them Mahometans. The good + soul! There isn't a better man in all Dorsetshire.” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that Nathanael greatly liked “Duke Dugdale.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha would have asked a score of questions; about his age, which defied + all guessing, and might have been anything from thirty to fifty-five—also + about his “Missus,” for he looked like a man who never could have made + love, or thought of such a thing, in all his life. But her curiosity was + restrained, partly by that of the old servant behind, who kept up a close + though reverential observance of all the sayings and doings of + “Ma-a-ester” Nathanael's wife. She did not like even accidentally to + betray how very little of Kingcombe her reserved husband had told her, and + how she knew scarcely more of his family than their names. + </p> + <p> + Having parted from his brother-in-law, and gradually lost the benign + influence which Duke Dugdale seemed to impart, Mr. Harper's face + re-assumed that gravity, almost sadness, which, except when talking with + herself, his wife now continually saw it wear. + </p> + <p> + They drove on, pushing against a fierce wind, that appeared like an + invisible iron barrier to intercept their way. Every now and then, Agatha + could not help shivering and creeping closer to her husband; whenever she + did so, he always turned round and wrapped her up with most sedulous care. + </p> + <p> + “It is a dreary day for you to see our county for the first time, Agatha. + If the sun were shining, these wide bleak sweeps of country would look all + purple with heather, and that dun-coloured, gloomy range of hills;—we + must call them hills out of compliment, though they are so small—would + stand out in a clear line against the sky. Beyond them lies the British + Channel, with its grand sea-coast.” + </p> + <p> + “The sea—ah! always the sea.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, dear, don't be afraid, how don't'ee—as we Dorset people would + say. Kingcombe Holm lies in a valley. You would never know you were so + near the ocean. It is the same at Anne Valery's house.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is that!” said Agatha, brightening up at the mention of the name. + </p> + <p> + “Why, this animal seems inclined to show me—even if I did not know + it of long habit,” answered Mr. Harper, bestowing a little less of his + attention on his wife, and more on the obstreporous pony, who, in regard + to a certain turn of the road, had grown peculiarly wrong-headed. + </p> + <p> + “Don't'ee give in, sir! T'Squire bought he o' Miss Valery, and she do gi' + un their own way, terrible bad,” hinted the groom. + </p> + <p> + “Unfortunately, his own way happens to be a wrong one,” said Nathannael, + quietly, as he drew the reins tighter, and set himself to do that which it + takes a very firm man to do to conquer an obstinate and unruly horse. + Agatha remembered what she had heard or read somewhere about such a case + being no bad criterion of a man's character, “lose your temper, and you'll + lose your beast,” ay, and perhaps your own life into the bargain. She was + considerably frightened, but she sat quite still, looking from the + struggling animal to her husband, in whose fair face the colour had risen, + while the boyish lips were set together with a will, fierce, rigid, and + man-like. She could hardly take her eyes from him. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, are you afraid? Will you descend?” asked he, suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “No—I will stay with you.” + </p> + <p> + The struggle between man and brute lasted a minute or two longer, at the + end of which, all danger being over, they were speeding on rapidly to + Kingcombe Holm. Agatha sat very thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” she said—when he tried to draw her out of her + contemplative mood, showing her the wild furzy slopes and the fir-trees, + almost the only trees that grow in this region—standing in black + clumps on the hill-tops, like sentinel-ghosts of the old Romans, who used + to encamp there—“I fear you have made <i>me</i> as much in awe of + you as you have the pony.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, and was quoting something about “love casting out fear,” when + he suddenly corrected himself, and grew silent. In that silence they swept + on to the gates of Kingcombe Holm. + </p> + <p> + It was a place—more like an ancient manorial farm than a gentleman's + residence—nestled snugly in one of those fairy valleys which are + found here and there among the bleak wastes of Dorsetshire coast scenery—the + richer for the barrenness of all around. Before and behind the house rose + sudden acclivities, thick with autumn-tinted trees. On another side was a + smooth, curving, wavy hill, bare in outline, with white dots of grazing + sheep floating about upon its green. The Holm, with its garden and park, + lay on a narrow plain of verdurous beauty, at the bottom of the valley. + Nothing was visible beyond it, save a long, bare, terraced range of hill, + and the sky above all. There was no other habitation in sight, except a + tiny church, planted on one acclivity, and two or three labourers' + cottages, in the doors of which a few rolypoly, open-eyed children stood, + poking their fingers in their mouths, and staring intensely at Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a delicious nest,” she cried—overcome with excitement at + her first view of Kingcombe Holm, where, however, there was not a creature + visible but the great dog, that barked a furious welcome from the + courtyard, and the peacock, that strutted to and fro before the blank + windows, sweeping his draggled tail. “Are they at home, I wonder? Will + they all be waiting for us?” + </p> + <p> + “In the drawing-room, most likely. It is my father's way. He receives + there all strangers—new-comers, I mean. We shall see nobody till + then.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too sure of that, brother Nathanael,” said a quick, lively + voice. “So, ho! Dunce, hold still, do'ee! You used to be as precise as the + Squire himself, bless his heart! Now then, N. L. Jump down!” + </p> + <p> + The speaker of all this had come flying out of the hall-door—a + vision of flounces, gaiety, and heartiness, had given the pony a few pats, + or rather slaps, <i>en passant</i>, and now stood balancing herself on one + of the spokes of the wheel, and leaning over into the carriage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img src="images/p148.jpg" width="100%" + alt="Arrival at Kingcombe Holm P148 " /> + </div> + <p> + “Is that you, Harrie? Agatha, this is my sister Mrs. Dugdale.” + </p> + <p> + And Agatha found herself face to face (literally speaking, too, for + “Harrie” kissed her) with a merry-looking, pretty woman, of a style a + little too <i>prononcée</i> perhaps, for her features were on a similar + mould to Major Harper's. Still, there could be no doubt as to the + prettiness, and the airy, youthful aspect—younger, perhaps, than her + years. Agatha was perfectly astounded to find in this gay “Harrie” the + wife of the grave and middle-aged Duke Dugdale! + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear—ahem! what shall I call you?—that I can't be + formal and polite, and it's no use trying. So I just left my father + sitting stately in the drawing-room with Mary on one side, as mistress of + the household; Eulalie on the other, looking as bewitching and effective + as she can, and both dying with curiosity to run out and see you. But I'm + not a Miss Harper now; so, while they longed to do it, I—did it. + Here I am! Welcome home, Mrs. Locke Harper!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” stammered the young bride, hardly knowing whether to laugh or + to cry. Her husband was scarcely less agitated than herself, but showed it + only in the nervous trembling of his upper lip, and in the extreme brevity + of his words. He lifted his wife down from the carriage, and Mrs. Dugdale, + throwing back the blue veil, peered curiously into the face of her new + sister. + </p> + <p> + “E—h!” she said, in that long musical ejaculation just like her + husband—the only thing in which she was like him. Never was a pair + who so fully exemplified the theory of matrimonial opposites. “E—h, + Nathanael!” And her quick glance at her brother indicated undisguised + admiration of “the Pawnee-face.” + </p> + <p> + He himself looked restless, uncomfortable, as if his sister slightly + fidgeted him; she had indeed, with all her heartiness, a certain + quicksilverishness of manner, jumping here, there, and everywhere like + mercury on a plate, in a fashion that was very perplexing at first to + quiet people. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, my dear,” continued Harrie, tucking the young wife under her + arm—“come and beautify a little—the Squire likes it. And run + away to your father, N. L., my boy!” added she to her younger brother—younger—as + a closer inspection of her fresh country face showed—possibly by + some five or six years. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper assented with as good a grace as he could, and resigned his + wife to his sister. + </p> + <p> + For the next ten minutes Agatha had a confused notion of being taken + through many rooms and passages, hovered about by Mrs. Dugdale, her + flounces, and her lively talk—of trying to answer a dozen questions + per minute, and being so bewildered, that she succeeded in answering none, + save that she had met Mr. Dugdale—that she did <i>not</i> think him + “a beauty,” and (she hastily and in terror added this fact) that there was + not the least necessity for his being so. + </p> + <p> + “Not the least, my dear. I always thought the same! You'll love him + heartily in a week—I did! Bless him for a dear, good, ugly, + beautiful old soul!” + </p> + <p> + Here Agatha, who stood listening, and nervously arranging the long curls + that <i>would</i> fall uncurled and untidy, felt a renewal of her old + girlish enthusiasm for all true things; her eyes brightened, and her heart + warmed towards “Harrie.” She would have liked to stay talking longer, but + for a vision of Mr. Harper waiting uncomfortably down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + “So you have finished adorning, and want to go! You can't bear to be ten + minutes away from your husband, that's clear! Well, my dear, you'll get + wiser when you have been married as long as I have. But I don't know,” + added Mrs. Dugdale laughing; “I'm always glad enough to get rid of Duke + for an hour or two; yet somehow, when he is away, I'm always wanting him. + By-the-by, did he happen to say what time he was coming over here—only + to see you, you know? He has quite enough of 'the Missus.'” + </p> + <p> + Agatha laughingly asked how long “the Missus” had borne that title. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't possibly count! Look at Gus and Fred in jacket and trousers, and + little Brian learning to ride. Frightful antiquity! And yet when I married + I was a girl like you; only ten times wilder—the greatest + harum-scarum in the county! I often wonder poor Duke was not afraid to + marry me! Heigho! Well, here we are down-stairs, and here—take your + wife, most solemn brother Nathanael! If you were but a little more like + Frederick! By the way, have you seen Fred lately?” + </p> + <p> + “He has left town,” said Mr. Harper, shortly, as he drew his young wife's + arm through his own, and led her to his father's presence. + </p> + <p> + Agatha was conscious of a tall, thin, white-haired gentleman—not + unlike Major Harper frozen into stately age—who rose and came to + meet her. + </p> + <p> + “I am most happy to welcome my son's wife to Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt the withered fingers touching her own—the kiss of + welcome formally sealed on her forehead. She trembled exceedingly for a + moment, but recovered herself, and met old Mr. Harper's keen observant + gaze with one as clear and as composed as his own. One glance told her + that he was not the sort of man into whose fatherly arms she could throw + herself, and indulge the emotion brimming over in her heart. But his + examination of her was evidently favourable. + </p> + <p> + “You are most welcome, believe me. And my daughters”—here he turned + to two ladies, of whom Agatha at first distinguished nothing, save that + one was very pretty, the other much older, and plain—“my daughters, + receive your new sister.” Here the ladies aforesaid approached and shook + hands, the plain one very warmly.—“You also can tell her how truly + glad we are to receive—Mrs. Harper.” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated a little before the latter word, and pronounced it with some + tremulousness, as though the old man were thinking how many years had + passed since the name “Mrs. Harper” had been unspoken at Kingcombe Holm. + </p> + <p> + His daughters looked at one another—even Harriet observing a grave + respect No one spoke, or took outward notice of the circumstance; but from + that time the subject of much secret conjecture was set at rest, and + Agatha was called by every one “Mrs. Harper.” + </p> + <p> + During the somewhat awkward quarter of an hour that followed, in which the + chief conversation was sustained by “the Squire,” and occasionally by + Nathanael—Mrs. Dugdale having vanished—the young girl observed + her two sisters-in-law. Neither struck her fancy particularly, perhaps + because there was nothing particular to strike it. The Misses Harper were, + like most female branches of “county families,” vegetating on their + estates from generation to generation in uninterrupted gentility and + uniformity. Of the two, Agatha liked Mary best; for there was great + goodnature shining through her fearless plainness—a sort of placid + acknowledgment of the fact that she was born for usefulness, not ornament. + Eulalie, on the contrary, carried in her every gesture a disagreeable + self-consciousness, which testified to her long assumption of one + character—the beauty of the family. Despite Agatha's admiration of + handsome women in general, she and the youngest Miss Harper eyed one + another uncomfortably, as if sure from the first that they shall never + like one another. + </p> + <p> + All this while Nathanael spoke but little to his wife, apparently leaving + her to nestle down at her own will among his family. But he kept + continually near her, within reach of a word or glance, had she given him + either; and she more than once felt his look of grave tenderness reading + her very soul. She could not think why, in spite of all his efforts to the + contrary, he should be continually so serious, while she was quite ready + to be happy and at ease. + </p> + <p> + There was one thing, however, which gave her keen satisfaction—the + great honour in which her husband was evidently held by his family. + </p> + <p> + Very soon a heterogeneous post-prandial repast was announced for the + benefit of the travellers; to which Mr. Harper graciously bade them retire—even + leading his daughter-in-law to the dining-room door. + </p> + <p> + “He'll not come further in,” whispered Mrs. Dugdale, who made herself most + active about Agatha. “You arrived at seven, and my father would as soon + think of changing his six o'clock dinner hour as he would of changing his + politics; for all Duke says to the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was not sorry, since the idea of dining under the elaborate + kindness and dignified courtliness of old Mr. Harper was rather alarming. + Besides, she was so hungry! + </p> + <p> + The moment her father-in-law had closed the door, the sisters came + gathering like bees round herself and her husband, Mary busy over every + possible physical want, Harrie, sitting at, or rather, on the table. She + had a wild and not ungraceful way of throwing herself about—rattling + on like a very Major Harper in petticoats, and flinging away <i>bon mots</i> + and witty sayings enough to make the fortune of many a “wonderfully clever + woman,”—the very last character which this light-spirited + country-lady would probably have imagined her own. For Eulalie, she had + relaxed into a few words, and fewer smiles, the quality of neither being + of sufficient value to make one regret the quantity. Nobody minded her + much but Mary, who was motherly, kind, and reverential always to the inane + beauty. + </p> + <p> + Such were Agatha's first impressions of her new sisters. With a shyness + not unnatural she had taken little notice of her husband. He had chatted + among his sisters, with whom he seemed very popular: but always in the + intervals of talk the pale, grave, tired look came over him. + </p> + <p> + In quitting the dining-room—where Agatha, irresistibly led on by + Mrs. Dugdale's pleasantness, had begun to feel quite at home, and had + laughed till she was fairly tired out—he said, in a half whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Now, dear, I think we ought to go and see Elizabeth.” + </p> + <p> + In the confusion of her arrival, Agatha had forgotten that there was + another sister—in truth, the Miss Harper of the family—Mary, + its head and housekeeper, being properly only “Miss Mary.” She noticed + that as Nathanael spoke, the other three looked at him and herself + doubtfully, as if to inquire how much she knew—and anxiously, as + though there were something painful and uncomfortable in a stranger's + first seeing Elizabeth. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harper felt her cheeks tingle nervously, but still she put her arm in + her husband's, and said, “I should much like to go.” + </p> + <p> + Mary sent for lights, and prepared to accompany them herself, the other + two moving away into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Through the same sort of old-fashioned passages, but, as it seemed, to + quite a different part of the house, Agatha went with her husband and his + sister. The strangeness and gloom of the place, the doubt as to what sort + of person she was going to see—for all she had heard was that from + some great physical suffering Elizabeth never quitted her room—made + the young girl feel timid, even afraid. Her hand trembled so that her + husband perceived it. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, you need not mind,” he whispered. “You will see nothing to pain you. + We all dearly love her, and I do believe she is very happy—poor + Elizabeth!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke Mary opened a door, and they passed from the dark staircase + into a large, well-lighted, pleasant room—made scrupulously + pleasant, Agatha thought. It was filled with all sorts of pretty things, + engravings, statuettes, vases, flowers, books, a piano; even the paper on + the walls and the hangings at the window were of most delicate and careful + choice. No rich drawing-room could show more taste in its arrangements, or + have a more soothing effect on a mind to which the sense of æsthetic + fitness is its native element. + </p> + <p> + At first, Agatha thought the room was empty, until, lying on a sofa—though + so muffled in draperies as nearly to disguise all form—she saw what + seemed at first the figure of a child. But coming nearer, the face was no + child's face. It was that of a woman, already arrived at middle age. Many + wrinkles seamed it; and the hair surrounding it in soft, close bands, was + quite grey. The only thing notable about the countenance was a remarkable + serenity, which in youth might have conveyed that painful impression of + premature age often seen in similar cases, but which now in age made it + look young. It was as if time and worldly sorrow had alike forgotten this + sad victim of Nature's unkindness—had passed by and left her to keep + something of the child's paradise about her still. + </p> + <p> + This face, and the small, thin, infantile-looking hands, crossed on the + silk coverlet, were all that was visible. Agatha wondered she had so + shrunk from the simple mystery now revealed. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael led her to the sofa, and placed her where Elizabeth could see + her easily without turning round. + </p> + <p> + “Here is my wife! Is she like what you expected, sister?” + </p> + <p> + The head was raised, but with difficulty; and Agatha met the cheerful, + smiling, loving eyes of her whom people called “poor Elizabeth.” Such + thorough content, such admiring pleasure, as that look testified! It took + away all the painful constraint which most people experience on first + coming into the presence of those whom Heaven has afflicted thus; and made + Agatha feel that in putting such an angelic spirit into that poor + distorted body, Heaven had not dealt hardly even with Elizabeth Harper. + </p> + <p> + “She is just what I thought,” said a voice, thin, but not unmusical. “You + described her well. Come here and kiss me, my dear new sister.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha knelt down and obeyed, with her whole heart in the embrace. Of all + greetings in the family, none had been like this. And not the least of its + sweetness was that her husband seemed so pleased therewith, looking more + like himself than he had done since they entered his father's doors. + </p> + <p> + They all sat down and talked for a long time, Elizabeth more cheerfully + than any. She appeared completely versed in the affairs of the whole + family, as though her mind were a hidden gallery in which were clearly + daguerreotyped, and faithfully retained, all impressions of the external + world. She seemed to know everybody and everybody's circumstances—to + have ranged them and theirs distinctly and in order, in the wide, empty + halls of her memory, which could be filled in no other way. For, as Agatha + gradually learned, this spinal disease, withering up the form from + infancy, had been accompanied with such long intervals of acute physical + pain as to prevent all study beyond the commonest acquirements of her sex. + It was not with her, as with some, that the intellect alone had proved + sufficient to make out of a helpless body a noble and complete human + existence; Elizabeth's mind was scarcely above the average order, or if it + had been, suffering had stifled its powers. Her only possession was the + loving heart. + </p> + <p> + She asked an infinitude of questions, her bright quick eyes seeming to + extort and gain more than the mere verbal answers. She talked a good deal, + throwing more light than Agatha had ever before received on the manners, + characters, and history of the Harper family, the Dugdales, and Anne + Valery. But there was in her speech a certain reticence, as though all the + common gossip of life was in her clear spirit received, sifted, purified, + and then distributed abroad in chosen portions as goodly and pleasant + food. She seemed to receive the secrets of every one's life and to betray + none. + </p> + <p> + Agatha now learnt why there had been such a mystery of regret, reverence, + and love hanging over the very mention of the eldest Miss Harper. + </p> + <p> + When the tumult of this strange day had resolved itself into silence, + Agatha, believing her husband fast asleep, lay pondering over it, + wondering why he had not asked her what she thought of his family—wondering, + above all, what was the strange weight upon him which he tried so hard to + conceal, and to appear just the same to every one, especially to her. Her + coming life rose up like a great maze, about which all the characters now + apparently mingled therein wandered mistily in and out. Among them, those + which had gained most vivid individuality in a fancy not prone to catch + quick interests, affecting her alternately with a sense of pensive ideal + calm, and cheerful healthy human liking, were Elizabeth Harper, the + “Missus,” and Duke Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + Likewise, as an especial pleasure, she had discovered the one to whom she + clung as to a well-known friend among all these strangers, lived within + eight miles of Kingcombe Holm. + </p> + <p> + “And”—she kept recurring to a fact spread abroad in the house just + before bed-time, and apparently diffusing universal satisfaction—“and + Anne Valery is sure to be here to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. + </h2> + <p> + On the morning—her first morning at Kingcombe Holm—Mrs. Harper + woke refreshed to a bright day. All the terraced outline of the hills was + pencilled distinctly against the bluest of blue skies, which hung like a + tent over the shut-up valley. She stood at the window looking at it, while + Mary Harper made the breakfast and Eulalie curiously examined Agatha's + dress, supposed to be the latest bridal fashion from London. Nathanael sat + writing letters until breakfast was ready, and then took his father's + place at the foot of the table. + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth bade me ask you,” said Mary, addressing him, “if you had any + letters this morning from Frederick? You know she likes to look at all + family letters—they amuse her. Shall I take this one?” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael put his hand upon a heap, among which was plainly + distinguishable Major Harper's writing. “No, Mary—not now. If + necessary, I will read part of it to Elizabeth myself.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, who had before vainly asked the same question, was annoyed by her + husband's reserve. His silence in all his affairs, especially those + relating to his brother, was impenetrable. + </p> + <p> + But this was rousing in her, day by day, a strong spirit of opposition. + Had not the presence of his sisters restrained her, for her external + wifely pride grew as much as her inward antagonism—she would have + again boldly put forward her claim to read the letter. As it was, she had + self-control enough to sit silent, but her mouth assumed that peculiar + expression which at times revealed a few little mysteries of her nature—showing + that beneath the quietude and simplicity of the girl lay the strong, + desperate will of a resolute woman. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast, when Mr. Harper, with some slight apology, had gone to + his letters again, she rose, intending to stroll about and explore the + lawn. She had never been used to ask any one's permission for her + out-goings and in-comings, so was departing quite naturally, when Mary + stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will not mind it, but we always stay in the house until my + father comes down-stairs. He likes to see us before he begins the day.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha submitted—with a good grace, of course; though she thought + the rule absolute was painfully prevalent in the Harper family. But as + half-an-hour went by, and the morning air, so fresh and cool, tempted her + sorely, she tried to set aside this formal domestic regulation. + </p> + <p> + Mary looked quite frightened at her overt rebellion.—“My dear Mrs. + Harper—indeed we never do it. Do we, Nathanael?” said she, + appealingly. + </p> + <p> + He listened to the discussion a moment.—“My dear wife, since my + father would not like it, you will not go, I know.” + </p> + <p> + The tone was gentle, but Agatha would as soon have thought of overleaping + a stone wall as of opposing a desire thus expressed. She sat quietly down + again—or would have done so, but that she saw Eulalie smile + meaningly at her sister. Intercepting the young wife, the smile changed + into affected condolence. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael will have his way, you see. If you only knew what he was as a + little boy,” and the Beauty shrugged her shoulders pathetically. “Really, + as Harrie says, most men would never get wives at all, did their lady + loves know them only half as well as their sisters do.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay,” said the good-natured Mary, “but Harrie also says that men, like + wine, improve with age, especially if they are kept cool and not too much + shaken up. She has no doubt that even her Duke was a very disagreeable + boy. So, Mrs. Harper, let me assure you——”— + </p> + <p> + “There is no need; I am quite satisfied,” said Mrs. Harper, with no small + dignity; and at this momentous crisis her father-in-law entered the room. + </p> + <p> + He entered dressed for riding—looking somewhat younger than the + night before, more cheerful and pleasant too, but not a whit less stately. + He saluted Agatha first, and then his daughters, with a gracious + solemnity, patting their cheeks all round, something after the fashion of + a good-humoured Eastern bashaw. The old gentleman evidently took a secret + pride in his womenkind. Then he shook hands with “my son Nathanael,” and + threw abroad generally a few ordinary remarks, to which his two daughters + listened with great reverence. But in all he did or said was the same + benignant hauteur; he seemed frozen up within a conglomerate of reserve + and formal courtesy; he walked, talked, looked perpetually as Nathanael + Harper, Esquire, of Kingcombe Holm, who never allowed either his mind or + his body to appear <i>en déshabille</i>. Agatha wondered how he could ever + have been a baby squalling, a boy playing, or a young man wooing; nay, + more (the thought irresistibly presented itself as she noticed the extreme + feebleness which his dignity but half disguised), how he would ever stoop + to the last levelling of all humanity—the grave-clothes and the + tomb. + </p> + <p> + “Any letters, my dear children? Any news to tell me before I ride to + Kingcombe?” said he, looking round the circle with a patronising interest, + which Agatha would scarcely have believed real, but for the kindly + expression of the old man's eye. + </p> + <p> + “There were plenty of letters for Elizabeth, as usual; one for Eulalie “—here + Eulalie looked affectedly conscious—“no others, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Except one to Nathanael from Frederick,” observed the Beauty. + </p> + <p> + At the name of his eldest son the Squire's mien became a little graver—a + little statelier. He said coldly, “Nathanael, I hope you have pleasant + news from your brother. Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “In the British Channel, on his way to the Continent.” + </p> + <p> + “My son going abroad, and I never heard of it! Some mistake, surely. He is + not really gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, for a year, or perhaps more—but certainly a year.” + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman's fingers nervously clutched the handle of his + riding-whip. “If so, Frederick would certainly have shown his father the + respect of informing <i>him</i> first. Excuse me if I doubt whether my + son's plans are quite decided.” + </p> + <p> + “They are indeed, sir,” said Nathanael gently. “And I was aware of, indeed + advised, this journey. He bids me explain to you that when this letter + arrives he will be already gone.” + </p> + <p> + The father started—and broke the whip he was playing with. He stood + a minute, the dull red mounting to his temples and lying there like a + cloud. Then he took the fragments of the riding-whip from his son's ready + hand—thanked him—bade good morning to the womenkind all round, + and left them. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I ride with you, father?” said Nathanael, following him to the + hall-door, with a concerned air. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-day—I thank you! Not to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Mary and Eulalie looked at one another. “This will be a sad blow to papa,” + said the former. “Frederick was always a great anxiety to him.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha inquired wherefore. + </p> + <p> + “Because papa abhors a gay 'vagabondising' life, and always wished his + eldest son to settle down in the county. I know—though he says + nothing—that this has been a sore point between them for nearly + twenty years.” + </p> + <p> + “And I know,” added Eulalie, mysteriously, “that papa was going to make a + last effort, and have Frederick proposed as member for Kingcombe. A pretty + fight there would have been—papa and Frederick against Marmaduke and + his pet candidate!” + </p> + <p> + “'Tis well that is prevented! Everything happens for the best,” said Mary, + sagely. “But here comes Nathanael. Don't tell him, Mrs. Harper, or he + would say we had been gossiping.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harper was standing moralising on the ins and outs of family life, + from which her own experience had hitherto been so free. Her eyes were + wandering up the road, where her father-in-law had just disappeared, + riding slowly, but erect as a young man. While she looked, there came up + one of those delicious little country pony-carriages, which a lady can + drive, and make herself independent of everybody. + </p> + <p> + “It is Anne Valery!” was the general cry, as all ran to meet her at the + door—Agatha being the first. + </p> + <p> + “My dear—my dear!” murmured Anne Valery, leaning out of her little + carriage to pat the brown curls. “Are you quite well?—quite happy? + And your husband?” She glanced from one to the other, with a keen inquiry. + “Is all well, Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael, smiling at his wife, whose look of entire pleasure brought, as + usual, the reflection of the same to him also, answered, warmly, “Yes, + Anne, all is well!” + </p> + <p> + She seemed satisfied, and took his hand to dismount from her carriage. + Agatha noticed that she walked more feebly, in spite of the bright colour + which the wind had brought to her cheeks; and that soon after she came + into the house this tint gradually faded, leaving her scarcely even so + healthy-looking as she had appeared a month ago—the last time they + had seen her. But her talk was full of cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + “I am come to stay the whole day with you, by your father's desire—and + my own. May I, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! We shall be so glad, especially Elizabeth, who was wondering and + longing after you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not been well. London never suits me,” said Anne carelessly. “But + come, now I am about again, let me see what is to be done to-day. In the + first place, I must have a long talk with Elizabeth. Is she risen yet, + Eulalie?” + </p> + <p> + Eulalie did not know; but Mary added, that she feared this was one of + Elizabeth's “hard days,” when she could not talk much to any one till + evening. + </p> + <p> + Anne continued, after a pause—“I want to drive over to Kingcombe + about some business. I have had so much on my hands since poor Mr. + Wilson's death.” + </p> + <p> + “Anne's steward,” whispered the Beauty importantly to her sister-in-law. + “You know that half Kingcombe belongs to Anne Valery?” And Agatha noticed, + with some amusement, what an extreme deference was infused into the + usually nonchalant, contemptuous manner of the youngest Miss Harper. + </p> + <p> + “So poor Wilson is dead! And who have you to manage all your property?” + asked Mr. Harper suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “No one at present I am very particular in my choice. As I am only a + woman, my steward has necessarily considerable influence. I would wish him + always to be what Mr. Wilson was: if possible a friend, but undoubtedly a + gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + As Miss Valery spoke, Nathanael listened in deep thought; then, meeting + her eyes, he coloured slightly, but quickly recovering himself, said, in a + low tone, “Some time to-day, Anne, I would like to have a little talk with + you.” + </p> + <p> + She assented with an inquiring look. But she seemed to understand + Nathanael well enough to content herself with that look, asking no further + questions. + </p> + <p> + “And, for the third important business which should be done to-day, and + perhaps the sooner the better, I must certainly take Agatha up Holm Hill, + and show her the view of the Channel.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha drew back from the window. “Ah, not the sea!—I cannot bear + the sea.” Anne Valery watched her with peculiar earnestness. + </p> + <p> + “Were you ever on the sea, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Once, long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I must teach you to admire our magnificent coast. On with your + bonnet, and come along that great hill-terrace—do you see it?—with + Nathanael and me.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will be tired,” Mrs. Harper said, reluctant still, yet loth to + resist Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Tired? no! The salt breeze gives me strength—health. I hardly live + when I am not in sight of the Channel. Make haste, and let us go, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + She seemed so eager, that no further objection was possible. So they soon + started—they three only, for Mary had occupation in the house, and + the Beauty was mightily averse to exercise and sea-air. + </p> + <p> + They climbed the steep road, overhung with trees, at whose roots grew + clusters of large primrose leaves, showing what a lovely walk it must be + in spring; then higher, till all this vegetation ceased, leaving only the + short grass cropped by the sheep, the purple thistles, and the + furze-bushes, yellow and cheerful all the year round. They then drove + along a high ridge for a mile or two, till they got quite out of sight of + Kingcombe Holm. Miss Valery talked gaily the whole way; and, as though the + sea-breeze truly gave her life, was the very first to propose leaving the + carriage and walking on, so as to catch the earliest glimpse of the + Channel. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she said, breathlessly, and quitting Mr. Harper's arm, crossed + over to his wife. “There, Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + It was such a view as in her life the young girl had never beheld. They + stood on a high ridge, on one side of which lay a wide champaign of + moorland, on the other a valley, bounded by a second ridge, and between + the two sloping greenly down, till it terminated in a little bay. Parallel + to the valley ran this grand hill-terrace—until it likewise reached + the coast, ending abruptly in precipitous gigantic cliffs, against which + the tides of centuries might have beat themselves in vain. Beyond all, + motionless in the noonday dazzle, and curving itself away in a mist of + brightness where the eye failed, was the great, wide, immeasurable sea. + </p> + <p> + The three stood gazing, but no one spoke. Agatha trembled, less with her + former fear than with that awestruck sense of the infinite which is always + given by the sight of the ocean—that ocean which One “holdeth in the + hollow of his hand.” Gradually this awe grew fainter, and she was able to + look round her, and count the white dots scattered here and there on the + dazzling sheet of waves. + </p> + <p> + “There go the ships,” said Nathanael. “See what numbers of them—numbers, + yet how few they seem!—are moving up and down on this highway of all + nations. Look, Agatha, at that one, a mere speck, dipping in the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember Tennyson's lines?—they reached Uncle Brian and me + even in the wild forests of America: + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “'Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail Which brings our friends + up from the under world; Sad as the last which reddens over one That + sinks, with all we love, below the verge.'” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “There! it is gone now,” cried Agatha, almost with a sense of loss. She + felt Anne Valery's fingers tighten convulsively over her arm, and saw her + with straining eyes and quivering lips watching the vanishing—nay, + vanished—ship, as if all her soul were flying with it to the “under + world.” + </p> + <p> + The sight was so startling, so moving—especially in a woman of Miss + Valery's mature age and composed demeanour—that Nathanael's wife + instinctively turned her eyes away and kept silence. In a minute or two + Anne had returned to Mr. Harper's arm, and the three were walking on as + before; until, ere long, they nestled themselves in a sheltered nook, + where the sea-wind could not reach them, and the sun came in, warm as + summer. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael began to show his wife the different points of scenery—especially + the rocky island of Portland, beyond which the line of coast sweeps on + ruggedly westward to the Land's End. + </p> + <p> + “But I believe,” he said, “that there is nowhere a grander coast than we + have here—not even in Cornwall.” + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of Cornwall,” Miss Valery said, closely observing Nathanael, “I + lately heard a sad story about some mines there.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper seemed restless. “The speculation had failed, having been + ill-managed, or, as I greatly fear, a cheat from the beginning. As I had + property near in the county—what, did you not know that, Nathanael—I + was asked to do something for the poor starving miners of Wheal Caroline. + Have you heard the name, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Agatha, innocently, not paying much attention, except to the + lovely view. + </p> + <p> + “Not heard? That is strange. But you, Nathanael”— + </p> + <p> + “I know all,” he said hastily. “It is a sad history—too sad to be + talked of here. Another time”— + </p> + <p> + His eye met hers—and both turned upon Agatha, who sat a little + apart, enjoying the novel scene, and rejoicing above all that the sea—vague + object of nameless terror—could ever appear so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” murmured Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Anne!” Nathanael whispered, so imploringly—nay, commandingly, + that Anne was startled. + </p> + <p> + “How like you are to”— + </p> + <p> + “What were you saying?” asked Agatha, turning at last. + </p> + <p> + “I was saying,” Miss Valery replied hastily—“I was saying how like + Nathanael looked just then to his Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he indeed? Was that all you were speaking of?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite all; but I find your husband knows the story; he will tell you, + <i>as he ought</i>,” added Anne pointedly. + </p> + <p> + “Surely I will, one day,” said Nathanael. “But in this case, as in many + others, where there has been misfortune or wrong, I consider the best, + wisest, most charitable course is not to spread it abroad until the wrong + has had a chance of being remedied. Do you not think so, Anne?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, her eyes fixed upon the resolute young face that + seemed compelling her to silence almost against her will. It was + marvellous to see the influence Nathanael had, even over Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” continued Mr. Harper, “while I am alone with you and my wife”—here + he drew Agatha within the circle of talk, and made her lean against his + knee, his arm shielding her from the wind—“I wanted to talk with + you, Anne, about some plans I have.” + </p> + <p> + “Say on.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given up—as Agatha wrote you word—all idea of our + settling at Montreal. It is necessary that I should at once find some + employment in England.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet—not just yet,” said his wife. + </p> + <p> + “I must, dear. It is right—it is necessary. Anne herself would say + so.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery assented, much to Agatha's surprise. + </p> + <p> + “The only question then is—what can I do? Nothing in the professions—for + I have acquired none; nothing in literature—for I am not a genius; + but anything in the clear, straightforward, man-of-business line—Uncle + Brian used to accuse me of being so very practical.—Anne,” he added, + smiling, “I wish, instead of having to puff off myself thus, Uncle Brian + were here to advertise my qualifications.” + </p> + <p> + “Qualifications for what?” inquired Agatha, Miss Valery being silent + </p> + <p> + “For obtaining from my friend here what I would at once have applied for + to any stranger; poor Wilson's vacant post as her overseer, land-agent, + steward, or whatever the name may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Steward!” cried Mrs. Harper. “Surely you would never dream of being a + steward?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Because I am unworthy of the situation, or—as I fear my + proud little wife thinks—because the situation is not worthy of me? + Nay, a man never loses honour by earning his bread in honourable fashion; + and Miss Valery herself said that for this office she required both a + gentleman and a friend. Will she accept me?” + </p> + <p> + And he extended, proudly as his father might—yet with a frank + independence nobler than the pride of all the Harpers—his honest + right hand. Anne Valery took it, the tears rising in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I could never have offered you this, Nathanael; but since you are so + steadfast, so wise——Yes! it is indeed, considering all things, + the wisest course you can pursue. Only, I will agree to nothing unless + your wife consents.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not consent,” said Agatha, determinedly. + </p> + <p> + There was an uncomfortable pause. + </p> + <p> + “I see in your plan no reason—no right,” continued she, forgetting + in her annoyance even the outward deference with which her sense of + conjugal dignity led her invariably to treat her husband. “Why was I never + told this before?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I never thought of it myself until this morning.” + </p> + <p> + The exceeding gentleness of his tone surprised her, and restrained many + more words, not over-sweet, which were issuing from her angry lips. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, Agatha—I may speak before Anne Valery whom we both + love”— + </p> + <p> + “And who loves you both as if you had been her own kindred.” + </p> + <p> + These words, so tremulously said, swept away a little bitterness that was + rising up in Agatha's heart against Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “It is necessary,” Mr. Harper went on—“imperatively so, for my + comfort—that I should at once do something. And in choosing one's + work, it always seemed to me there was great wisdom in the rule—'Whatsoever + thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.' Many things I could not do; + this I can, well and faithfully, as Anne will find. Nor need I feel + ashamed of being steward to Miss Valery.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt her spirit of opposition quaking on its throne. “But your + father—your sisters. What will they all say at Kingcombe Holm?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing that I cannot combat. My father will be glad of our settling near + him in Dorsetshire.” + </p> + <p> + “In Dorsetshire!” echoed Mrs. Harper dolefully; and thereupon fled her + last visions of a gay London home. Yet she already liked her husband's + county and people well enough to bear the sacrifice with tolerable + equanimity. + </p> + <p> + “And whatever he says, whatever any one else says, I have no fear, if my + wife will only stand by me, and trust that I do everything for the best.” + </p> + <p> + His wife listened, not without agitation, for she remembered their first + dispute, only a few days ago. Here was rising another storm. Yet either + she felt weaker to contend, or something in Nathanael's manner lured her + to believe him in the right. She listened—only half-convinced, yet + still she listened. + </p> + <p> + Anne Valery did the same, though she took no part in the argument Only + continually her eyes wandered to Nathanael, less with smiling heart-warm + affection than with the pensive tenderness with which one watches a dead + likeness revived in a living face. + </p> + <p> + At last, when he had expressed all he could—everything except + entreaty or complaint—Mr. Harper paused. “Now, Agatha, speak.” + </p> + <p> + She felt that she must yield, yet tried to struggle a little longer. She + had been so unused to control. + </p> + <p> + “You should have consulted with me—have explained more of your + reasons, which as yet I do not comprehend. Why should you be so wondrously + anxious to begin work? It is unreasonable, unkind.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I unkind to you, my poor Agatha?” His accent was that of unutterable + pain. + </p> + <p> + “No! no! that you never are! Only—I suppose because I am young and + lately married—I do not half understand you. What must I do, Miss + Valery?” + </p> + <p> + Anne looked from one to the other—Nathanael, who, as was his habit + in all moments of great trial, assumed an aspect unnaturally hard—and + Agatha whose young fierce spirit was just bursting out, wrathful, yet half + repentant all the while. “What must you do? You must try to learn the + lesson that every woman has to learn from and for the man she loves—to + have faith in him.” + </p> + <p> + “We women,” she continued softly, “the very best and wisest of us, cannot + enter thoroughly into the nature of the man we love. We can only love him. + That is, when we once believe him worthy of affection. Firmly knowing + that, we must bear with all the rest; and where we do not quite + understand, we must, as I said, <i>have faith in him</i>. I have heard of + some women whose faith has lasted all their life.” + </p> + <p> + Anne's serious smile, and the beautiful steadfastness of her eyes, which + vaguely turned seaward—though apparently looking at nothing—made + a deep impression on the young wife. + </p> + <p> + She answered, thoughtfully, “I believe in my husband too, otherwise I + would not have married him. Therefore, since our two wills seem to clash, + and he is the older and the wiser—let him decide as he thinks best—I + will try to 'have faith in him.'” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael grasped her hand, but did not speak—it seemed impossible + to him. Soon after, they all rose and turned homeward, leaving the breezy + terrace and the bright sunshiny sea. None turned to look back at either, + excepting only—for one lingering, parting glance—Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. + </h2> + <p> + The same afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Harper and Miss Valery drove to + Kingcombe, to see if in that quaint little town there was a house suitable + for the young couple. They had not said a word to either of the Miss + Harpers concerning this sudden arrangement, agreeing that the father of + the household ought to be shown the respect of receiving the first + information. + </p> + <p> + “And then,” said Nathanael, “I trust mainly to Anne Valery to overcome his + scruples. Anne can do anything she likes with my father. Don't you + remember,” he continued, leaning over to the front seat where the two + ladies were, and looking quite cheerful, as though a great load had been + taken off his mind—“don't you remember—I do, though I was such + a little boy—how there was one day a grand family tumult because + Frederick wanted his commission, and my father refused it—how you + walked up and down the garden, first with one and then with the other, + persuading everybody to be friends, while Uncle Brian and I”— + </p> + <p> + “There, that will do,” said Miss Valery. “Never mind old times, but let us + look forward to the future. Here we are at Kingcombe. Agatha, how do you + like the place?” + </p> + <p> + And Agatha, on this glowing autumn afternoon, eagerly examined her future + home. + </p> + <p> + It was a rather noteworthy country town; small, clean, with an air of + sober preservation, reminding one of a well-kept, dignified, healthy old + age. It wore its antiquity with a sort of pride, as if its quaint streets, + intersecting one another in cruciform shape, still kept the impress of + mediaeval feet, baron's or priest's, in the days when Kingcombe had + sixteen churches and a castle to boot—as if the Roman walls which + enclosed it lay solemnly conscious that, at night, ghosts of old Latin + warriors glided over the smooth turf of those great earthen mounds where + the town's-children played. Even the very river, which came up to the town + narrow and slow, with perhaps one sailing-barge on it visible far across + the flat country, and looking like a boat taking an insane pedestrian + excursion over the meadows—even the river seemed to run silently, as + if remembering the time when it had floated up Danish ships with their + fierce barbarian freight, and landed them just under that red sand-cliff, + where the lazy cows now stood, and the innocent blackberry-bushes grew. + </p> + <p> + It was a curious place Kingcombe, or so Agatha thought. + </p> + <p> + “How strange it is,” Mr. Harper observed. “All these old spots seem to me + like places beheld in a dream. Uncle Brian often used to talk about them. + I think to this day he remembers everything and everybody about + Kingcombe.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he?” + </p> + <p> + “And that some day or other he will come back again I do most firmly + believe. Do not you, Anne?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” As she spoke, her hand involuntarily was pressed upon her side. + Agatha wondered she responded so coldly and with so melancholy a look, to + such a joyous prospect as Uncle Brian's return would surely be to all the + family. + </p> + <p> + But here they were in Kingcombe streets—very quiet, sleepy streets, + which seemed to have taken an undisturbed doze for a few centuries, to + atone for the terrible excitements there created successively by Danish, + Roman, Saxon, and baronial ruffians. The poor little town seemed + determined to spend its old age in peace and solitude, for you might have + planted a cannonade at the market-place, and swept down East Street, West + Street, North Street, and South Street, without laying more than a dozen + official murders on your soul. There was indeed great reason for Mrs. + Harper's innocent inquiry—“Where are all the people gone to?” + </p> + <p> + “Except on market-days, we rarely see more street passengers than now in + Kingcombe,” Aline Valery answered, smiling. “You will get accustomed to + that and many other things when you are a country lady. Now, shall we + drive to the Dugdales, or look first at the two houses I told you of?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper preferred the latter course, under fear, his wife merrily + declared, of being circumvented by Mrs. Dugdale. The brother and sister, + she had already discovered, seemed on as pleasant terms as fire and water, + since, as Harrie punningly averred, one invariably “put out” the other. + They did not squabble—Nathanael Harper never squabbled—but + they always met with a gentle hissing, like water sprinkled on coals. + Agatha, who was quite new to these harmless fraternalities, always + occurring in large families, was mightily amused thereat. + </p> + <p> + The first house the little party looked over was, as Emma Thornycroft + would have phrased it, “a love of a place!” Dining-room, drawing-rooms, + conservatory, gardens—quite a gentleman's mansion. Agatha set her + heart upon it at once, and it blotted out even her lingering regret over + the lost home in the Regent's Park. She ran over the rooms with the glee + of a child, and only came back to her husband to urge him to take it, + giving her this thing and that thing necessary to its beautification. + </p> + <p> + He patted her cheek with a pleased yet sad look. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, I will give you all I can; be quite sure of that. But”— + </p> + <p> + “Nay, no buts; I must have this house. Besides, Miss Valery says it is the + only house to let in Kingcombe.” + </p> + <p> + “Except the one I showed you as we passed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that mean little cottage—impossible. We could never think of + living there.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, let us look at it. You know we are but just beginning the + world, and 'small beginnings make great endings' as Uncle Brian would + sagely observe. Come along, my little wife.” + </p> + <p> + She tried to slip from his hand and appeal to Miss Valery, but Anne had + moved forward, and left them alone. There was no resource; and even while + Agatha's spirit was rather restive under the coercion, she could not but + acknowledge the pleasantness with which it was enforced. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll go with you, but I hereby declare rebellion. I will not have + that miserable nutshell of a house,” said she, laughing. + </p> + <p> + Yet it was a pretty nutshell—quite after the “love in a cottage” + fashion—though adorned and perfected by the late Mr. Wilson, an old + bachelor. + </p> + <p> + “Did he die here?” asked Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “No; in Cornwall,” Anne answered. “He had gone over to look at some + property I have lately bought there. The people on it, miners thrown out + of work, gave him more anxiety than he could bear, for he was not strong. + He said their misery broke his heart.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery spoke softly, but the words caught Nathanael's ear. He looked + greatly shocked—and said, in a low tone, “Anne, don't talk of this. + If I live, the wrong shall be atoned for.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha wondered for the moment what wrong there was which made her husband + look so pained and humbled. But she forbore to ask questions, and again + turned her attention to the house. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a charming nest for an old bachelor, and I would have + liked it very much myself had I been an old maid. But it would never do + for <i>us</i>, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael smiled, so loth to contradict her, or thwart her pretty ways. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see, Miss Valery;” Agatha continued, gathering apprehensions + from his silence, smiling though it was—“Don't you see how different + the cases are? This little house might do very well for Mr. Wilson, but + then if my husband takes his place as your steward, it is only for + amusement. We are rich people, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “My poor child!” began Anne Valery, looking regretfully, nay, + reproachfully at Mr. Harper. But he whispered as he passed: + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, Anne—for my father's sake—the whole family's—nay, + her own. Not just yet!” + </p> + <p> + Such was his earnestness, such his air of command, that, for the second + time, Anne, looking in his face and reading the old likeness there—obeyed + him. + </p> + <p> + Agatha, wondering, uncomfortable, recommenced what she jestingly called + “her little rebellion.” “I see, Mr. Harper, your heart is inclining to + this place, though why or wherefore I cannot tell. But do incline it back + again! We must have the other house—that delicious Honeywood.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear little wife! Nobody could live at Honeywood under a thousand a + year.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and have we not that? I am sure I thought I had more money than + ever I could do with. How much have I?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated—she fancied it was at the thoughtless “I,” and + generously changed the expression. + </p> + <p> + “How much have <i>we?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Enough—I will make it enough—to keep you from wanting + anything, and give you all the luxuries to which you were born. But not + enough to warrant us in living at Honeywood. I cannot do it—not even + for your sake, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see the matter as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “You cannot, dear! I know that. But in this one thing—when, on + various accounts, I can judge better than she can—will not my wife + trust me?” + </p> + <p> + And Anne Valery's glance seemed to echo, “Trust him.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, tried to the utmost of her small stock of patience, grew more + bitter than she could have believed it possible to be with her husband and + Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + “You expect too much,” she said, sharply. “I cannot trust, even though I + may be compelled to obey.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper turned round anxiously. “Agatha, what must—what can I do? + No,” he muttered to himself, “I can do nothing.” He walked to the window, + and stood looking out mutely on the little garden—tiny, but so + pretty, with its green verandah, its semicircle of arbutus trees serving + as a frame to the hilly landscape beyond, its one wavy acacia, + woodbine-clasped, at the foot of which a robin-redbreast was hopping and + singing over the few fallen leaves. + </p> + <p> + While they all thus stood, there came a light foot and a flutter of + draperies to the door. + </p> + <p> + “My patience! what are you all doing here? So, Agatha—Anne! How d'ye + do, my worthy brother? Why didn't you all come to our house?” + </p> + <p> + “We were coming directly,” Agatha said. “But how did you find out we were + at Kingcombe?” + </p> + <p> + “You little London-lady! As if anybody, especially the much-beloved Anne + Valery (saving her presence) and the much-wondered-at Mr. and Mrs. Locke + Harper, could drive through Kingcombe without the fact being speedily + circulated throughout the whole town? Why, my dear, if you must know, the + grocer told Mrs. Edwards' nursemaid, and Mrs. Edwards' nursemaid told it + to Mrs. Jones at the Library, and Mrs. Jones told Miss Trenchard, who was + coming to call on me; so I asked Duke to give the children their dinner, + and off I started, tracking you as cleverly as one of Nathanael's Red + Indians. And here I am.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, breathless, her flounces, veil, and shawl flying abroad in + all directions. But she looked so hearty, natural, and good-humoured, that + her entrance was quite a relief to Agatha—more especially as, for a + great wonder, she asked no questions. + </p> + <p> + “So, I hear you have been showing Honeywood to Mrs. Harper. Pretty place, + isn't it! A pity it's not on your property, Anne, or you would not let it + go to ruin unlet. And here is poor Mr. Wilson's old house, with all the + furniture just as it was. How melancholy!” + </p> + <p> + She said “How melancholy!” just in the tone that she would have said “How + entertaining!” From circumstances, or from natural peculiarity—that + light easy temper which dances like a feather over the troubled waters of + life—she had evidently never learnt the meaning of the word sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “But now,” Harriet continued, “what I come for, is to carry you all off to + lunch—the children's dinner. My dear, you must see my boys, your + nephews.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha stood aghast at the idea of having nephews! + </p> + <p> + “And such boys!” Miss Valery added, interposing. “'The Missus' has good + right to be proud of them. If there is one thing in which Harrie succeeds + better than another, it is in the management of her children.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! they manage themselves; I just leave them to nature,” cried Mrs. + Dugdale; but her eye—the mother's eye—twinkled with pleasure + all the time, which greatly improved its expression, Agatha thought. She + walked off gaily with her sister-in-law, Nathanael following. Anne stayed + behind, conversing with the old woman who showed the house. She and Mr. + Harper had pointedly avoided any private speech with one another. + </p> + <p> + “I declare there is Duke!” cried Mrs. Dugdale suddenly. “Just look at him, + meandering up and down the town.” (Agatha laughed at the word; + “meandering” seemed so perfectly expressive of Duke Dugdale.) “But my + husband always turns up everywhere, except where he's wanted. Does yours? + I beg your pardon—since you are watching him as if you thought he + were running away. Nonsense, Agatha—(I always call everybody by + their Christian names)—Nonsense! He's only shaking hands with his + brother-in-law, both looking as pleased as ever they can look.” + </p> + <p> + The next moment Harrie and Agatha came up with the two gentlemen at the + door of Mr. Dugdale's house. They were talking politically and earnestly, + as men will do—Nathanael having apparently forgotten the bitter + cloud of a few minutes since, which yet lay heavy on his wife's heart. At + least it seemed so, and his indifference made her angry. + </p> + <p> + Neither spoke to their wives—being busy laying their heads together + over a newspaper—until Harrie very unceremoniously began to pull at + her husband's coat, which he bore for a time in perfect obliviousness. At + last he turned and patted her with his great hand, just as some sage, mild + Newfoundland dog would coax into peace the attacks of a wild young kitten. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, now, Missus—don't'ee, love; I'm busy.—And you see, + Nathanael, as your brother is sure not to canvass or try for the town, and + as Mr. Trenchard is such a fine fellow, your father's friend too, don't + you think we could coax him round? By conviction, of course: Trenchard + wouldn't take any man's votes except upon conviction.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't he?” said Nathanael, smiling at the simple-minded politician, + who believed that everybody's politics were as honest as his own. At which + unpropitious moment a number of half-drunken men, with “Vote for + Trenchard!” stuck round their broken hats, came round the corner shouting: + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah for Free-trade! Duke Dugdale for ever! Bravo!—and give us a + shilling! Amen!” + </p> + <p> + “You see now what comes of your politics,” cried his wife, trying to pull + him into the hall. But the good man still stood, bareheaded, a perplexed + expression troubling his face. + </p> + <p> + “It's very odd, now: I made Trenchard promise not to give them a penny for + drink. Poor fellows! if they only knew better! But I'll tell'ee what it + is, Nathanael,” and he used the slight Dorset accent, which always + broadened when he was very earnest, “those lads drink because they are + starving—drink drowns care. If they had Free-trade they wouldn't be + starving: if they were not starving they wouldn't drink. Therefore, hurrah + for Free-trade, and, my poor fellows, here's your shilling! Only don't'ee + let it go for more drink'; and, hark'ee, remember it's no bribery money o' + Mr. Trenchard's, its <i>mine</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Thank'ee, zir, thank'ee; hurrah for Duke Dugdale and Free-trade!” shouted + the men as they staggered off. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale stood looking after them with that mild benevolent smile which + made his ugly face quite beautiful—at least Agatha thought so;—which + was very generous in her, seeing he had not taken the least notice of her + all this while; when he did, it was in the most passing way. + </p> + <p> + “Eh—what, Missus? did you say Mrs. Harper was here?” He shook hands + with her, looking in another direction;—then again turned to + Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “Utterly useless!” cried Harrie, laughing. “He's more misty than usual + to-day. Let us leave the men alone, stupid bears as they are! and come + up-stairs to the children.” + </p> + <p> + All this time no one asked or looked for Miss Valery, who had lingered + behind, bidding them go forward. It seemed the habit of the family that + she should be left to go about in her own fashion, interfered with by + nobody, and attended by nobody, save when she came among them to do them + good. It was not wonderful; since, having passed that time of youth when a + pleasant woman is everybody's petted darling, she had lived to feel + herself alone in the world—wife, sister, and child to no one. It + always takes a certain amount of moral courage to meet that destiny. + </p> + <p> + Aided by the beneficial influence of dinner, which in the Dugdales' house + seemed to have the mysterious property of extending over an indefinite + time, Agatha had succeeded in making friends with her “nephews” to say + nothing of a lovely little niece, who would persist in putting chubby arms + round “Pa's” neck, and dividing his attention sorely between Free-trade + and rice-pudding. Mr. Harper had taken another child on his knee, and was + cutting oranges and doing “Uncle Nathanael” to perfection. His wife stole + beside him with affection. Why would he not be always as now? Why was he + so good, so gentle to others, yet so hard to be understood by her? Was it + her own fault? She almost believed so. + </p> + <p> + On this group, all happy, all united together by those lovely links in the + chain of happiness—little children—Anne Valery entered. She + passed round the table, having a word, or smile, or kiss for all. Then she + went to an arm-chair, looking tired, though joining all the while in the + conversation, particularly with Mr. Dugdale, who seemed to have a great + regard for her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Miss Valery, I wish you were a man, and could vote for us!” said he, + peering from underneath the baby-hands which made a pointed Norman arch + over “Pa's” eyes. “You'd be sure to vote on the right side. Didn't we make + a convert of you, Brian and I, years before people talked of Free-trade; + long before he went out, and I got married to mamma there? Eh, Brian, my + lad”—and he patted his youngest boy, throned on Mr. Harper's knee—“if + you only grow up such a wise man as your grand-uncle!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was amused to see how the idea and recollection of Uncle Brian had + permeated through every branch of the Harper family. Almost every family + has some such personage, mythical, sublime, exciting the wonder and + hero-worship of all the young people. Little Brian opened wide his large + grey eyes at the mention of his honoured namesake. + </p> + <p> + But while he gazed, his papa's pudding-laden spoon stopped half-way on its + journey to the baby-mouth that was waiting for it—Duke Dugdale was + in a reverie. He did not even hear the little clamourer on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Really, now, that's very odd, very odd indeed.” And he felt anxiously in + his pocket. “No, I had another coat on that day—mamma, where's my + grey overcoat?” + </p> + <p> + “Duke—what on earth are you talking about? Now, Agatha, confess—isn't + my husband the very vaguest, mistiest man you ever knew? Oh, you dear old + visionary, what do you want with grey overcoats at dinner-time?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled patiently—perhaps he did not even hear—put down his + little girl, and walked out of the room, his wife anxiously jumping up and + following with some pathetic exclamation about “Duke's being so cross!” + Which seemed to Agatha the most amusing exaggeration possible. + </p> + <p> + In a minute or two this most opposite couple—opposite, but fitting + like a dovetailed joint—came in merrily together, Harrie holding a + letter. + </p> + <p> + “Would you believe, he got it last week, has been carrying it about ever + since, and never thought of it! There, Nathanael, it's yours! Devour it!” + </p> + <p> + “From Uncle Brian!” cried the young man. At which name there ran a great + sensation throughout the family, in all but Miss Valery, who still kept + her chair. + </p> + <p> + “News! news!” cried Harrie, Agatha and the boys gathering round. Mr. + Dugdale walked up and down the room—his hands behind him—smiling + in benevolent content at everybody and at nobody. Brian and his tiny + sister consoled themselves for the little attention they got by slily + climbing on the table and embedding their fingers in the rice-pudding. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael read the letter aloud, as seemed to be the family custom with + Uncle Brian's correspondence. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Boy,” I find the Western solitudes are no nearer heaven than + civilisation. My two red friends having escaped and got back, which they + did on purpose to tomahawk me—I gave the tribe the slip, and am here + in New York. There I accidentally received your letter. + </p> + <p> + “You are a foolish boy. When I was young, I think I would rather have died + than have married a rich woman, even if she loved me, which no woman ever + did. Nevertheless, I hope you will fare better than you deserve. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you ever come back to America? Not on my account, I pray, though I + miss you, and am getting old and lonely. Perhaps it is as well that you + left me, and have married and settled. That seems to me now the happier, + worthier life for a man to lead. I should like to come and see you, if I + could come not quite the beggar I am now. Therefore, I often think I shall + go to California.” + </p> + <p> + There was a light movement among the listening group, as Miss Valery was + found quietly to have joined them, and to be leaning over Nathanael's + shoulder. He pointed his finger to the letter that she might read it with + him. She moved her head in thanks, and he continued: + </p> + <p> + “If in this or any other form of the mad gold-fever I can heap up a little + of that cursed—I mean blessed dust, you may possibly see me in + England. Till then—or till death—which seems equally likely, I + remain, + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate Uncle, + </p> + <p> + “Brian Locke Harper. + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—I send this through Marmaduke Dugdale's late agent in New + York. Tell my old friend Duke that I congratulate him on having given up + merchandising, so that my brother at Kingcombe Holm can no longer reproach + him with being the only one of the Harper connection who <i>earns</i> a + livelihood.” + </p> + <p> + This letter, which was trying to read, being sharp and stinging on many + points to more than one person present, Nathanael went steadily through, + though several times his colour changed. No one made any comment except + Agatha, who observed “that Uncle Brian must be rather bitter and sarcastic + at heart.” + </p> + <p> + “No—not bitter,” Anne Valery said,—“only sorrowful. It is + often so, when after a hard life men feel themselves growing old. What + shall you do, Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + “About what? His going to California? Nay, I cannot prevent that. What use + in my writing when he gives me such lectures about my marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “He would not if he knew Agatha. Besides, in this doctrine he is a little + wrong. It is of small moment on which side lies the wealth;—love + makes all things even.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper turned away with one of those uneasy looks which Agatha had + already begun to notice and speculate over. She made up her mind that at + the first possible opportunity she would muster up courage, and claim her + right as a wife to know her husband's whole heart. + </p> + <p> + The epistle produced a considerable change on the family group. The boys + were clamorous to know all about California, and whether Uncle Brian would + not come home in a gold ship with silver sails; on which subject Nathanael + was too full of his own thoughts to give much satisfactory information. + Mr. Dugdale had walked out of the window into the garden behind, where + Miss Valery followed him, and they two were seen strolling up and down in + close conversation. As they passed the window, Agatha noticed that. Anne + Valery's cheeks were slightly flushed, and that Mr. Dugdale's “mistiness” + of manner had assumed an unusual clearness. He was shaking his companion + warmly by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Anne, what a wise woman you are! Such a plan would have been years in + coming into <i>my</i> head. And it's just the very thing. It will give him + occupation and independence without hurting his pride. Moreover”—and + a sudden thought dilated his whole countenance with pleasure—“I + shouldn't wonder if it brought him home.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, I'll remember, we must be very particular. By-the-by, Anne”—here + a bright idea seemed to strike the worthy man—“what a help he would + be to us against the Protectionists! Wouldn't <i>he</i> see the blessing + of Free-trade?” + </p> + <p> + Anne smiled, with her finger on her lip to stop the conversation; and they + stepped in at the window;—Mrs. Harper taking care to glide away, + lest they should suspect what she had so unintentionally heard. It was + doubtless one of Miss Valery's numerous anonymous charities, which fell as + abundant and unnoticed as rain. + </p> + <p> + “Now”—and Anne startled her godchild Brian by turning up his little + rosy chin and kissing him—“now, who will come back with us to that + grand family-dinner which the Squire has set his heart upon, and Aunt Mary + is so busy-about to-day at Kingcombe Holm?” + </p> + <p> + All soon started; Agatha being kidnapped, not much against her will, by + her gay sister-in-law, and driven across the moors at such a + helter-skelter pace that Nathanael, who had insisted upon following them + on horseback, received his wife at the door with an evident thanksgiving + that she had reached home alive. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery's little equipage came leisurely on behind. Nobody asked what + she and Duke Dugdale had conversed about; but Harrie shrewdly suspected he + had been talking poor dear Anne to death about the votes of her Kingcombe + tenantry, and the probable chances of Mr. Trenchard and Free-trade. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. + </h2> + <p> + To see the elder Mr. Harper sitting at the head of his own dinner-table + was a real pleasure. He never looked so well at any other time. His + grandiose air was then so mixed with genuine kindliness that it only + enriched his courtesies, like the “body” in mellow old wine. He leaned + graciously back in the arm-chair peculiarly his own, surveying the long + table shone over by soft wax-lights, and circled by smiling faces, most of + them women, as the old gentleman liked best. Even the plain Mary, taking + the foot of the table, looked well and mistress-like in her black velvet + dress: Eulalie and Mrs. Dugdale kept up the good appearance of the family; + while Miss Valery and the young Mrs. Harper took either side of the host, + and were duly honoured by him. + </p> + <p> + Agatha wore her wedding-dress, of white silk, rich and plain, She looked + very pretty, her girlish <i>abandon</i> of manner softened by a certain + wifely dignity, which grew upon her day by day. She filled her position + well, though often with secret trembling, and shy glances over to her + husband to see if he were satisfied with her—a fact which no one but + herself could doubt. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my children,” said the Squire, when the servants had withdrawn, and + dessert and wines foretold the chatty hour after dinner of which he was so + fond—“now, my children—I may call you all so?” and he smiled + at Anne Valery—“let me tell you how glad I am to see you, and + especially the youngest of you”—here he softly patted Agatha's hand, + on the table. “And since we always drink healths here—a good old + fashion that I should be loth to renounce—let me give you the first + toast—Mr. and Mrs. Nathanael Locke Harper!” + </p> + <p> + “Hear, hear!” said Mr. Dugdale vaguely from the bottom of the table, at + which indecorum—probably occasioned by a county meeting that was + running in his head—his father-in-law looked extremely severe. But + the severity was soon drowned in the nods and smiles that circled round. + After which Nathanael said briefly but with feeling: + </p> + <p> + “Father, my brother and sisters, and Anne—my wife and I thank you + all” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of this our old-fashioned custom?'” said the Squire, + turning to his daughter-in-law. “A remnant of my young days, when every + lady used to be called upon to give the health of a gentleman, and every + gentleman of a lady. It was always so at your grandfather's table, Anne, + where many a time when you were a baby in long-clothes I had the pleasure + of giving yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Anne, smiling. She was evidently a great favourite with + the old gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “You should know, my dear daughter-in-law, that my acquaintance with this + lady dates almost from her birth. And for nineteen years I held over her + the right which I understand my eldest son”—he paused a moment—“which + Major Harper had the honour to hold over you. Her grandfather left me his + executor and sole guardian of his infant heiress. I was a young man then, + but I tried to deserve his trust. Did I, Anne?” + </p> + <p> + Again she smiled—most affectionately. + </p> + <p> + “And I had the pleasure of seeing my ward at twenty-one the richest + heiress and the truest gentlewoman in the west of England. She did me + infinite credit, and I had fulfilled to my friend one of the most sacred + trusts a man can receive. Your excellent grandfather Anne—let us + drink his memory.” + </p> + <p> + Reverently and in silence the old Squire raised the glass to his lips—a + glass filled with only water—he never took wine. + </p> + <p> + “You see, my dear young lady, how this old custom brings back all lost or + absent friends. We never forget them, and like to talk of them and of old + times. Thus, always at this hour, we gather round us innumerable pleasant + recollections, and remember all who are dear to us or to our guests at + Kingcombe Holm.—Now, Mrs. Harper, we wait your toast.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha coloured, felt nervous and ashamed, glanced at her husband, but met + nothing except an encouraging smile. She thought—remembering her own + few ties—that she would gratify Nathanael by naming some one nearest + to him. So she looked up timidly, and gave “Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + Every one applauded—the Squire graciously acknowledging the + compliment to his brother. + </p> + <p> + “The youngest and only surviving brother of many, and as such, much + regarded by me,” he explained to his daughter-in-law. “In spite of the + great difference in our ages, and some trifling opposition in our + characters, I cherish the highest esteem for my brother Brian.” And + hereupon he asked for the letter received that day; which was duly read + aloud by his son—saving the wise omission of the postscript. + </p> + <p> + “Go to California?” said old Mr. Harper, knitting his brows. “I do not + like that—it is unbecoming a gentleman. Though he was wild and + daring enough, Brian never yet forgot he was a gentleman. Was it not so, + Anne?” + </p> + <p> + Anne assented. + </p> + <p> + “He was a fine generous fellow, too. Do you remember how a week before he + left us so suddenly he rode fifty miles across the country to get some ice + for you in your fever? You were very ill then, my poor girl.” It was + touching to hear him call Miss Valery a “girl”—she whom the young + Agatha regarded as quite an elderly woman. + </p> + <p> + “And though he did leave us so abruptly—wherefore, remains to this + day a mystery, unless it was a young man's whim and love of change—still + I have the greatest dependence on Brian Harper,” continued the Squire, who + seemed as a parental right to monopolise all the talk at table. + </p> + <p> + “Brian Harper!” exclaimed Mr. Dugdale, waking from a trance. “Yes—Brian + would surely be able to furnish those statistics on Canadian wheat. His + judgment was always as sound as his politics.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your remark, Marmaduke” said the old Squire, testily. + </p> + <p> + “O, nothing—nothing, father!” Harrie quickly answered, with a half + merry, half warning frown at her lord. Mr. Dugdale folded himself up again + into silence, with the quiet consciousness of one who has a pearl in his + keeping—the undoubted value of which there is no need either to put + forward or to defend. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery here came to the rescue, and turned the conversation into a + merry channel Agatha was surprised to find what a wondrous power of + unfeigned home-cheerfulness there was in this woman, who had lived to be + called even by those that loved her, “an old maid.” And when at last the + Squire gracefully allowed the departure of his women-kind, who floated + away like a flock of released birds, they all clustered around Anne, as + though she were in the constant habit of knowing everybody's business, and + of thinking and judging for everybody. + </p> + <p> + Agatha sat a little way off, watching her, and wondering what could be the + strange influence which always made her take delight in watching Anne + Valery. + </p> + <p> + There is something very peculiar in this admiration which one woman + occasionally conceives for another, generally much older than herself. It + is not exactly friendship, but partakes more of the character of love—in + its idealisation, its shyness, its enthusiastic reverence, its hopeless + doubt of requital, and, above all, its jealousies. For this reason, it + generally comes previous to, or for want of, the real love, the drawing of + the feminine soul towards its masculine half, which makes—according + to the Platonic doctrine—a perfect being. Of course, this theory + would be almost universally considered “sentimentalism”—Agatha's + little infatuation being included therein; but the frequency of such + infatuations existing in the world around us argues some truth at their + origin. + </p> + <p> + To the young girl—still so girlish, though she was married—there + was an inexplicable attraction in all Anne Valery said or did. The very + sweep of her dress across the floor—her slow soft motions, which + might have been haughty when she was young, but now were only gracious and + self-possessed; the way she had of folding her hands on one another, and + looking straight forward with a kind observant smile, free alike from + sentiment, crossness, or melancholy; her tone and manner, neither showy + nor sharp; her habit of saying the wisest things in the most simple way, + so that nobody recognised them as wisdom till afterwards—all filled + Agatha with a sense of satisfied admiration. She wished either that she + had been a man, to have adored and married Anne years ago—or that + her own marriage had been delayed for a little, until she had grown wiser + and more fit for life's destiny by learning from and loving such a woman + as Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, with the dawning jealousy that all strong likings bring, she + wished to appropriate her—and was quite annoyed that Anne sat so + long discussing winter mantles with Eulalie and Mary, afterwards diverging + to a Christmas clothing fund to be started at Kingcombe under Mrs. + Dugdale's eye; finally listening to a whispered communication on the part + of the Beauty—which had reference to a certain “Edward”—about + whose position in the family there could be no mistake. At last, to + Agatha's great satisfaction, Miss Valery rose, and proposed that they two—Mrs. + Harper and herself—should go and visit Elizabeth. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the galleries, Anne seemed tired, and walked slowly, + stopping one minute at a window to show her companion the moonlight over + the hills. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not a beautiful world? If we could but look at it always as we do + when we are young!” The half sigh, the momentary shadow sweeping over her + quiet face like a cloud over the moon—surprised and touched Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know I have stood and looked out of this same window ever since I + was the height of its first pane. No wonder I have a weakness for stopping + here and looking out for a minute at my dear old moon. But let us pass + on.” + </p> + <p> + She took up her candle again, and led Agatha by the hand, like a + pet-child, to Elizabeth's door. + </p> + <p> + Miss Harper was lying as usual, but had a writing-case before her, and it + was astonishing what neat caligraphy those weak childish-looking fingers + could execute. It resembled the writer's own mind—clear, delicate, + well-arranged, exact. + </p> + <p> + “We are not come to stay very long; but do we interrupt you, Elizabeth?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, Anne, dear! I was only writing to Frederick. He is gone abroad, + you are aware?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know why he went? Has Nathanael told either of you?” said + Elizabeth, fixing her quick eyes on both her visitors. + </p> + <p> + Both answered in the negative—Miss Valery saying, with attempted + gaiety, “You know, one might as well question a stone wall as Nathanael. + He can be both deaf and dumb.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to me. Everybody tells me everything, or I find it out. I found out + that this little lady had a chance of being my sister-in-law before ever + she herself was certain of the fact. Ah, Agatha, you should have seen + Nathanael when he came down to us that week.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do?” the young wife asked, not without some painful curiosity—for + sometimes, in the moments when she could not “make out” her husband's + rather peculiar character, a wicked demon had whispered that perhaps Mr. + Harper had never truly loved her, or that his devotion was too sudden to + be a lasting reality. + </p> + <p> + “What did he do?—Oh, nothing. He was very quiet, very + self-possessed. You could hardly tell he was in love at all. Nobody ever + guessed it but I—not even Anne. But in love or not, I saw that he + was determined to have you; and when Nathanael determines on a thing—Oh, + I knew you would be married to him! You could not help it!” + </p> + <p> + “Nor did she wish—nor need she,” said Anne, gently, as she saw + Agatha's confusion. “But we shall soon cease teasing our young couple. I + hear that at Christmas we shall have another marriage in the family. + Edward Thorpe has got the living—the richest one.” + </p> + <p> + “So, of course, Eulalie will marry him.” The deduction reached Agatha as + rather sarcastic, though perhaps more through the interpretation of her + own feeling than that of the speaker. She asked, with one of her usual + plain speeches: + </p> + <p> + “Does Eulalie love Mr. Thorpe very much?” + </p> + <p> + The remark was addressed to both; but after a pause Elizabeth said, + “Answer that question, Anne.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of an answer do you want, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “One perfectly plain. I like simplicity. Is Eulalie much attached to the + man she is to marry?” + </p> + <p> + “Women marry with many forms of love; Eulalie's will do exceedingly well + for Mr. Thorpe. He is a very worthy young clergyman, who takes a wife as a + matter of necessity. As for love—have you noticed, Agatha, how many + women one sees, wives and mothers, who live creditably through a long + life, and go down to their graves without ever having known the real + meaning of the word?” + </p> + <p> + Anne was talking more than usual to-night, and Agatha liked to listen. The + subject came home to her. “Will Eulalie be one of these?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so. She may make a very good, attentive wife, but she will never + know what is real love.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, what is that sort of love—the right love—which one + ought to bring to one's husband?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery looked surprised at the young girl's eager manner. “Are you + seriously asking that question? and of me, who never had a husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, one likes to hear various opinions. What do you call 'loving?'” + </p> + <p> + “Almost every human being loves in a different way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, your way I mean.” But noticing the momentary reticence which + Anne's manner showed, she added, “I mean the kind of love you have most + sympathy with in other people.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sympathy in all. My neighbours will tell you hereabouts that Anne + Valery is the universal confidante, and the greatest marriage-maker (not + match-maker) in all Dorset. I don't repudiate the character. It is + pleasant to see young people loving one another.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, you have not told me what <i>you</i> call loving.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really wish to hear?” said Anne, seriously. Then speaking in a low + voice, she added: “I would have every woman marry, not merely liking a man + well enough to accept him as a husband, but loving him so wholly, that, + wedded or not, she feels she is at heart his wife and none other's, to the + end of her life. So faithful, that she can see all his little faults + (though she takes care no one else shall see them), yet would as soon + think of loving him the less for these, as of ceasing to look up to heaven + because there are a few clouds in the sky. So true, and so fond, that she + needs neither to vex him with her constancy, nor burden him with her love, + since both are self-existent, and entirely independent of anything he + gives or takes away. Thus she will marry neither from liking, esteem, nor + gratitude for his love, but from the fulness of her own. If they never + marry, as sometimes happens”—and Anne's voice slightly faltered—“God + will cause them to meet in the next existence. They cannot be parted—they + belong to one another.” + </p> + <p> + All were silent—these three women—one to whom love must have + been only a name; the other who spoke of it quietly, seriously, as we talk + of things belonging to the world to come; and the third, who sat + thoughtful, wondering, doubting, afraid to believe in a truth which + brought with it her own condemnation. + </p> + <p> + “You talk, Miss Valery, as people do in books. Some would call it + romance.” + </p> + <p> + “Would they? And do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite. I used to think the same sometimes; but perfect love, like + perfect beauty, is a thing one never meets with in real life.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet one does not the less believe in it, and desire to find + approximations thereto. No, my child, I do not talk romance, I am too old + for that, and have seen too much of the world. Nevertheless, despite all I + have seen—the false, foolish, weak attachments—the unholy + marriages—the after-life of marriage made unholier still by + struggling against what was inevitable—still I believe in the one + true love which binds a woman's heart faithfully to one man in this life + and, God grant it! in the next. But you have no need to hear all this—little + wife? You do not wish to be taught how to love Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha tried to smile—to conceal the pain rising in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Come then, I will teach you how to love him—in better words than + mine, and from a woman who, though writing out of the deep truth of her + poet-heart, would scorn to write mere 'romance.'” + </p> + <p> + “Any woman would,” answered Agatha, running her eyes over a book which + Miss Valery had lifted from the silk coverlid, and which “poor Elizabeth” + looked after fondly, as sick people do after the face of a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, with your heart open. It is sure to find entrance there,” said + Anne, merrily, until, turning over the pages, she grew serious. She was + not quite too old to be insensible to the glamour of poetry. Her voice was + hardly like itself—at least, not like what Agatha had ever heard it—when + she began to read: + </p> + <p> + “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth, and + breadth, and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the + ends of Being and Ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's + Most quiet need; by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men + strive for right: I love thee purely, as they turn from praise: I love + thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's + faith: I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints; I + love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God + choose, I shall but love thee better after death.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause of full-hearted silence, and then Agatha heard a sigh + behind her. + </p> + <p> + Her husband had come to the door, and, hearing reading, had stolen in, no + one noticing him but his sister. Agatha saw nothing; her eyelids were + closely, fiercely shut, over the tears that rose at this vision of a lost + or impossible paradise. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha!” She looked up, and saw him stand, wearing his palest, coldest + aspect—that which always seemed to freeze up every young feeling + within her. The pang it gave found vent in but one expression—scarcely + meant to pass her lips—and inaudible to all save him: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why—why did I marry!” + </p> + <p> + The moment after, she felt how wrong it was, and would have atoned; but + Mr. Harper had moved quickly from her side. Elizabeth called him; he + seemed not to hear; Anne, closing her book, addressed him: + </p> + <p> + “Are you come to talk with us, or to fetch your wife away?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither,” he said, bitterly. But recovering himself—“Nay, Anne, I + came for you. My father wishes to see you. He will hear nothing I can + urge. You must come down and talk with him, or I do not know what will be + done.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha had until now forgotten that her husband had intended after dinner + to tell his father his plans concerning the stewardship. It had been + apparently a harder task than he thought, to strive with the old Squire's + prejudices. Seeing his extreme perturbation, Agatha repented herself + deeply of any unkindness towards him. + </p> + <p> + She went to his side. “What is the matter? Tell me! Let me help you.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” he echoed; then added, with an accent studiously kind, “Thank you, + Agatha. You are very good always.” + </p> + <p> + He let her take his arm and stand talking with himself and Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “I feared it would be so,” the latter said. “Your father has a strong + will; still he can be persuaded. We must try.” + </p> + <p> + “But only persuasion—no reasons. Understand me, Anne—no + reasons!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery looked at the young man very earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, if I did not know you well, and know too whose guidance formed + your character, it would be hard to trust you.” + </p> + <p> + “Anne!” Again the peculiar manner which sometimes appeared in him, making + him seem much older than his years, had its strange influence with Miss + Valery, guiding her by an under-current deeper even than her judgment. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” she said in a whisper, “I will trust you. Let us go down.” And she + turned with him to say good-bye to Miss Harper. + </p> + <p> + The excitement of talking had been too much for “poor Elizabeth.” One of + her “dark hours” was upon her. The eyes were closed, and the face + sharpened under keen physical pain. Agatha could hardly bear to see her; + but Nathanael bent over his sister with that soothing kindness which in a + man is so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we stay with you? at least, shall I?” + </p> + <p> + Elizabeth motioned a decided negative. + </p> + <p> + “I know,” Miss Valery said, apart, “she had rather be alone. No one can do + her good, and it is too much for this child, who is not used to it as we + are.” + </p> + <p> + Calling Elizabeth's maid from the inner room, Anne hurried Agatha away. + She, clinging to her husband's arm, heard him say, half to himself: + </p> + <p> + “And yet we think life hard, and murmur at that we have, and grieve for + that we have not! We are very wicked, all of us. Poor Elizabeth!” + </p> + <p> + The three went very silently down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + At the dining-room door Mrs. Harper let go her husband's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you leaving me, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I thought—I imagined, perhaps you wished”— + </p> + <p> + “I wish to have you with me always. Anne knows,” and he looked pointedly + at Miss Valery, “that I shall never respond to, and most certainly never + volunteer, any confidence to either her or my father that I do not share + with my wife. She has the first claim, and what is not hers no other + person shall obtain.” + </p> + <p> + Anne looked puzzled. At last she said, in an under tone, “I think I + understand, and you are quite right. I shall remember.” + </p> + <p> + The old Squire was sitting in his arm-chair, the dessert and wine still + before him. The cheerfulness of the dinner-circle over, he looked very + aged now—aged and lonely too, being the only occupant of that large + room. He raised his head when Miss Valery entered, but seemed annoyed at + the entrance of his daughter-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Harper! I did not mean to encroach on <i>your</i> leisure.” + </p> + <p> + “No, father; it was I who wished her to come. Forgive me, but I could not + bring Miss Valery into our family councils and exclude my own wife. She is + not a stranger now.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, Nathanael placed Agatha in a chair and stood beside her, + taking her cold hand, for with all her power she could not keep herself + from trembling. She had never known anything of those formidable affairs + which are called “family quarrels.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, father,” he continued in a straightforward but respectful manner, + “Anne will answer any question to prove what I have already told you—that + it is at my own request she takes me for her steward.” + </p> + <p> + “Her friend and adviser,” Anne interposed. + </p> + <p> + “I never doubted, Nathanael, that it was at your own request. Otherwise it + were impossible that Miss Valery would so far have insulted my family.” + </p> + <p> + At these words Anne coloured, and moved a step or two with something of + the pride of her young days. “I did not think, Mr. Harper, that it would + have been either an insult to offer, or a disgrace to accept, the position + which your son desires to hold. Far be it from me in any way to wrong any + member of your family, especially the son whom your wife left in my arms—and + Brian's—when she died.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha had never before heard Miss Valery say “Brian.” She was evidently + speaking as people do when much moved, using a form of phrase and alluding + to things not commonly referred to. + </p> + <p> + The old Squire sat silent a minute, and then stretched out his hand. “I + know your goodness, Anne! But I cannot renounce all my rights. Even a + younger son must not throw discredit on his family. Except in one brief + instance, for centuries there has never been a Harper who worked for his + living.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, father, let me be the first to commence that act of inconceivable + boldness and energy,” said Nathanael, with a good-humoured persuasive + smile. “Let me, being likewise a younger son, take a leaf out of Uncle + Brian's book, and try to labour, as he once did, in my own county, with + the honour of my own race about me.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he effect? Was he not looked down upon, humiliated, cheated? + I never ride past his old deserted clay-pits without being thankful that + he went to Canada, rather than have disgraced us by what his folly must + have come to at last. He would have lost the little he had—have been + bankrupt, perhaps dishonoured.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper!”—Anne rose from her chair—“I think you speak + rather hardly of your brother. It never could be said, or will be said, + that Brian Harper was <i>dishonoured.</i>” + </p> + <p> + At these words, spoken with unusual warmth, Nathanael gratefully clasped + her hand. The Squire observed, with added dignity, that no one could be + more sensible than himself of his brother's merit, and that he thanked + Miss Valery for extending her kind interests to every branch of the Harper + family. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” he continued, “we will cease this conversation. My son knows my + sentiments, and will doubtless act upon them. I never maintain arguments + with my children.” And the sentence implied that what “I never do,” was + consequently a thing unnecessary and impossible to be done. The old + gentleman leant on each arm of his chair, and feebly tried to rise. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” cried Nathanael, detaining him, “I would do much rather than try + you thus; but it cannot be helped. I must work.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not see the necessity.” + </p> + <p> + “But if there be a necessity; if my own feelings, my conscience—other + reasons, which here I cannot urge”—and involuntarily his eye glanced + towards his wife. + </p> + <p> + An instinct of delicacy brightened the old man's perceptions. He bowed to + Agatha. “We need not apologise for these discussions before a lady who has + done my son the honour of uniting her fortune to his ancient family.” (And + he evidently thought the honour bestowed was quite as much on the Harper + side.) “She, I am sure, will agree with me that this proceeding is not + necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha hesitated. Much as she longed to do it, a sense of right prevented + her from openly siding against her husband. She kept silence; Nathanael + answered with the tone of one who sets a strong guard upon his lips, + almost stronger than he can bear: + </p> + <p> + “I have already told my wife all the reasons I have just given you, that, + since I am resolved to be independent, there is no way but this. I have + been brought up abroad, and have learnt no profession; my health is not + robust enough for a town life, or for hard study. Many, almost all the + usual modes in which a man, born a gentleman, can earn his living are thus + shut out from me. What Anne Valery offers me I <i>can</i> do, and should + be content in doing. Father, do not stand in the way of my winning for + myself a little comfort—a little peace.” + </p> + <p> + Through his entreaty, earnest and manly as it was, there ran a sort of + melancholy which surprised and grieved Agatha. Could this be the lover on + whom, in giving him herself, she believed she had bestowed entire + felicity? Had he too, like herself, found a something wanting in marriage, + a something to fill up which he must needs resort to an active career of + worldly toil? Would she never be able to make either him or herself truly + happy? and if so, what was the cause? + </p> + <p> + The Squire keenly regarded his son, who stood before him in an attitude so + respectful yet so firm. Something seemed to strike him in the pale, + delicate, womanish features; perhaps he saw therein the wife who had died + when Nathanael was born, and whose death, people said, had chilled the + father's heart strangely against the poor babe. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” he said, “you have been away from me nearly all your life—and + where I have given little, I can require little. But I am an old man. Do + not let me feel that you too are setting yourself against my grey hairs.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows, father, I would not for worlds! But what can I do? Anne, what + can I do?” + </p> + <p> + Anne rose, and leant over Mr. Harper's chair, like a privileged eldest + daughter who secretly strengthened with her judgment the wisdom that was + growing feeble through old age; doing it reverently, as we all would wish + our children to do when our own light grows dim. For, alas! the wisest and + firmest of us may come one day to mutter in the ears of a younger + generation the senile cry, “I am old and foolish—old and foolish.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear friend—if Nathanael follows out this plan, it will be for the + comfort and not the disquiet of your grey hairs. Think how pleasant always + to have a son at hand, and a young, pretty Mrs. Harper to brighten + Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + This was a wise thrust—the old gentleman looked in his + daughter-in-law's fair face, and bowed complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Then, too, your son will live in the country, lead the life that he + loves, and that you love—the very life which all these years you + have been vainly planning for his brother.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire turned sharply round. “On that subject, if you please, we will + be silent. Anne, Anne,” he added, “do you want again to turn my plans + aside? Would you take from me my other son also?” + </p> + <p> + She drew back, much wounded. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, my dear, I did not mean that. It was not your fault—you two + were not suited for each other. Nevertheless, in spite of your wilfulness, + in nothing but the name did I lose a daughter. Forgive me, Anne!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear old friend,” she whispered, and stole her fingers into the + withered palm of the Squire. He kissed them with the grace of an old + courtier: the tenderness of a father. She, though moved at his kindness, + betrayed no stronger emotion; and Agatha, who had watched intently this + little episode, confirmatory of an old suspicion of her own, was + considerably puzzled thereby. If Anne Valery's life contained any sad + secret, it was evidently not this. She had not remained an old maid for + love of Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael,” said the old man, returning with dignity to the former + conversation, “I would not be harsh or unjust. There is but one way to + reconcile our opposing wills, since you are determined on this scheme of + independence. You have told me your plan—will you accept mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me hear it, father,” answered Nathanael respectfully. + </p> + <p> + “You have hitherto had nothing from me—your Uncle Brian insisted on + that—nor will you ever have much; I must keep my property intact for + the next heir of Kingcombe Holm. Nothing shall alienate the rights of my + eldest son, with whom rests the honour of our family and name.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha noticing the determined pride with which her father-in-law said + this, wondered that her husband listened with a lowered aspect and made no + response. She thought it unbrotherly, unkind. + </p> + <p> + “But,” continued Mr. Harper, “though the chief of all I possess must + remain secure for Frederick, I have a little besides, saved for my + daughters' portions. If, with their consent, I lend you this, and you will + embark in some profession”— + </p> + <p> + “No, father, no! I will never take one farthing from you or my sisters! I + will not again be burdened with other people's property! Oh for the days + when I earned my own solitary bread from hand to mouth, and was free and + at rest!” + </p> + <p> + He spoke excitedly, and was only conscious of the extent of what he had + said by feeling his wife's hand drop slowly from his own. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Agatha, I did not mean”—and he tried to draw it back again. + “Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we have both need to forgive one another.” + </p> + <p> + No one heard this mournful whisper between the young husband and wife; + they stood as if it had not been uttered—for both their consciences + felt duty to be a bond as strong as love. + </p> + <p> + And then, on the painful silence which sank over all four, smote ten heavy + strokes of the hall-clock, warning the swift passage of time—too + swift to be wasted in struggle, regret, and contention. Anne rose, her + pale face seeming to have that very thought written thereon. + </p> + <p> + “My dear friends, listen to me a minute. Here is one who all this time has + not spoken a word, and yet the question concerns her more than any of us. + Let Agatha decide.” + </p> + <p> + The old man hesitated. Perhaps in his heart he was desirous of a + compromise. Or else he judged from ordinary human nature, that the pride + of the young wife would ally her on his side, and so win over a will which + any father looking into Nathanael's face could see was not to be + threatened into concession. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Pas aux dames,</i>” said Mr. Harper, with a pleasantly chivalric air. + Then more seriously: “My daughter-in-law, choose. But remember that you + stand between your husband and his father.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, thrust into so new and important a position, felt a rush of + temptations to follow her own impulse. She turned appealingly to Miss + Valery, but Anne's eyes were fixed on the floor. She looked at her + husband, and met a gaze of doubt, anxiety, mingled with a certain + desperation. + </p> + <p> + “He knows my feeling about this matter; perhaps he thinks me a wilful + child, ready to take advantage of the liberty given me. He is sure of what + I shall say.” + </p> + <p> + And she had half a mind to say it, as a condemnation for his so unkindly + judging her; but the girlish pettishness and recklessness went away, and a + better spirit came. She sat, her right hand nervously pushing backward and + forward the still unfamiliar wedding-ring, until in accidentally feeling + the symbol, she suddenly remembered the reality. + </p> + <p> + “I am a wife,” she thought. “Under <i>all</i> circumstances I will do a + wife's duty.” And with that determination all the pleasant little follies + and temptations buzzing round her heart flew away, and left her—as + one always is, having resolved to consider the right and nothing else—resolute + and at ease. + </p> + <p> + She said very simply—almost childishly—taking her + father-in-law's hand the while, “If you please, and if you would not be + angry, I would rather do exactly as my husband likes. He knows best.” + </p> + <p> + In these words she had exhausted all her boldness; and for a few minutes + after had a very indistinct notion of everything, save that the Squire had + walked off, not angrily, but in perfect silence, leaning on Miss Valery's + arm, and that she was left in the dining-room alone with Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. + </h2> + <p> + “So here is the result of family dinner-parties, and family-talks kept up + till midnight!” said Mary Harper, with a little natural acerbity. “It is + provoking for the mistress of a precise household to sit waiting breakfast + for a whole hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, be charitable! We did not know you were ready, and we were so busy + in my room. No laziness, was it, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed: I think Miss Valery is the very busiest woman I ever knew. + How can she get through it all?” + </p> + <p> + “Only by first making up my mind, and then acting upon it. Your husband's + plan, too, I see. He and I shall get on as if we had worked together all + our lives. Shall we not, my 'right-hand' Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + He answered pleasantly; he looked quite a new man this morning. “Yes: I + seem to understand your ways already. My first half-hour's business in the + memorable 'Anne's room' at Kingcombe Holm has been like a return of old + times. What a woman you are! You might have been brought up as I was by + Uncle Brian. You have just his ways.” + </p> + <p> + Anne smiled: and with a jest about the treble compliment he had contrived + to pay, let the conversation slip past to other things. + </p> + <p> + Mary and Eulalie talked excessively. They were both much scandalised by + their brother's new position and intended course of life, to be put in + practice immediately. + </p> + <p> + Both the Miss Harpers were that sort of feminine minds which are like some + kinds of flower-bells—the less fair the wider they open. Agatha + wondered to see how very patient Miss Valery was over Mary's mild + platitudes and Eulalie's follies. But Anne's good heart seemed to cast a + shield of tenderness over everybody that bore the name of Harper. At + length the young wife got tired of the after-breakfast discussion, which + consisted of about a dozen different plans for the day—severally put + up and knocked down again—each contradicting the other. The mild <i>laissez-faire</i> + of country life in a large family was quite too much for her patience; she + longed to get up and shake everybody into common-sense and decision. But + her husband and Miss Valery took everything easily—they were used to + the ways at Kingcombe Holm. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if your sister Harriet would but come in, or Mr. Dugdale!” she + whispered to her husband, “surely they would settle something.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all; they would only make matters worse. And, look!—'speaking + of angels, one often sees their wings.'—Is that you, Marmaduke?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale walked in composedly through the sash-window, beaming around + him a sort of general smile. He never attempted any individual greeting, + and Agatha offering her hand, was met by his surprised but benevolent + “Eh!” However, when required, he gave her a hearty grasp. After which, + peering dreamily round the room, he pounced upon a queer-looking folio, + and buried himself therein, making occasional remarks highly interesting + of their kind, but slightly irrelevant to the conversation in general. + Agatha amused herself with peeping at the title of the book—some + abstruse work on mechanical science—and then watched the reader, + thinking what great intellectual power there was in the head, and what + acuteness in the eye. Also, he wore at times a wonderfully spiritual + expression, strangely contrasting with the materiality of his daily + existence. No one could see that look without feeling convinced that there + were beautiful depths open only to Divinest vision, in the silent and + abstracted nature of Marmaduke Dugdale. Nevertheless, he could be + eminently practical now and then, especially in mechanics. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, Nathanael! just look here. This is the very contrivance that + would have suited Brian in his old clay-pits. See!” + </p> + <p> + And he began talking in a style that was Greek itself to Agatha, but to + which Nathanael, leaning over his chair-back, listened intelligently. It + was very nice to see the liking between the two brothers-in-law—the + young man so tender over the oddities of the elder one, who seemed such a + strange mixture of the philosopher and the child. These were the sort of + traits which continually turned Agatha's heart towards her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Talking of clay-pits,” said Duke, with a gleam of recollection, “I've + something for you here!” He drew out of the voluminous mass of papers that + stuffed his pockets one more carelessly scrawled than the rest. “It's a + plan of my own, for giving a little help to our own clay-cutters and to + the stone-cutters in the Isle of Portland, who are shockingly off in the + winter sometimes. Here's Trenchard's name down for a good sum—it + will make him and Free-trade popular, you know.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Dugdale smiled with the most amiable and innocent + Machiavellianism. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael shook his head mischievously, greatly to the amusement of his + wife, who had stolen up to see what was going on, and stood hanging on his + arm and peeping over at the illegible paper. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent plan, Marmaduke—very long-headed. You give them Christmas + dinners, and they give you—votes.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, no! That would be bribery. We”—he reflected a minute—“Oh, + we will only help those who have got no votes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the voters will all be against you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale, much puzzled, pushed up his hair until it stood right aloft + on his forehead. Soon a dawn of satisfaction reappeared. “All against us? + Dear me, no! They would be pleased to see their poor neighbours helped on + in the world, as you or I would, you know. They'd side at once with + Trenchard and Free-trade. Come now, Nathanael, you'll assist? By the way, + somebody told me you were very rich—or at least that your wife was + an heiress. She looks a kind little soul She'll put her name down under + Anne Valery's here?” + </p> + <p> + And he turned to Agatha with that air of frank goodness by which Marmaduke + Dugdale could coax everybody round to his own ends. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, that we will, though I suppose I am not so rich as Miss Valery. + Still, we have enough to help poor people—have we not?” + </p> + <p> + She appealed gaily to Mr. Harper, but he replied nothing. She persisted: + </p> + <p> + “We need not give much, since Mr. Trenchard and Miss Valery are both on + the list before us. We'll give—let me see—fifty pounds. Ah, + now, just go up-stairs and fetch me down fifty pounds!” said she, hanging + caressingly on her husband's arm. + </p> + <p> + He looked down on her, and looked away. He had become very grave. “We will + talk of this some other time, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But another time will not do. I want it now. I fear,” she whispered, + blushing—“I fear, before I married, I was very thoughtless and + selfish. I would like to cure myself, and spend my money usefully, as Anne + Valery does. Charity is such a luxury.” + </p> + <p> + “Too dear a luxury for every one,” said Nathanael sighing. + </p> + <p> + She looked up, scarcely believing him to be in earnest. Her open-hearted, + open-handed nature was much hurt. She said, with a bitter meaning: + </p> + <p> + “I did not know I had such a very prudent husband.” + </p> + <p> + He took no notice, but addressed himself to Mr. Dugdale. “Nay, Duke, you + and your benevolences are too hard upon us young married people. We must + tighten our purse-strings against you this time.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's cheek flamed. “But if <i>I</i> wish it”— + </p> + <p> + “Dear, it cannot be, we cannot afford it.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha moved angrily from his side, and soon after, though not so soon as + to attract notice to him or herself, she quitted the room. Scarcely had + she reached her own when she heard a step behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you angry with me, my wife, and for such a little thing?” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael stood there, holding both her hands, and looking down upon her + with a face so kind, so regretful, so grave, that she felt ashamed of the + quick storm which had ruffled her own spirit The cause of this did seem + now a very “little thing.” She hung her head, child-like, and made no + answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why is it,” said Mr. Harper, putting his arm round her—“why is it + that we are always having these 'little things' rising up to trouble us? + Why cannot we bear with one another, and take the chance-happiness that + falls to our lot? It is not much, I fear”— + </p> + <p> + She looked uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, perhaps that is chiefly my fault. I often wish Heaven had given you + a better husband, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + And his countenance was so softened, mournful, and tender, that Agatha's + affection returned. There was something childish and foolish in these + small wranglings. They wore her patience away. For the twentieth time she + vowed not to make herself unhappy, or restless, or cross, but to take + Nathanael's goodness as she saw it, believing in it and him. Since + according to that wise speech of Harriet—which even Anne Valery + smiled at and did not deny—the best of men were very disagreeable at + times, and no man's good qualities ever came out thoroughly until he had + been married for at least a year. + </p> + <p> + With a tear in her eye and a quiver on her lip, Agatha held up her young + face to her husband. He kissed her, and there was peace. + </p> + <p> + But though he had made this concession, and made many others in the course + of the next hour, to remove from her mind every thought of pain, still he + showed not the slightest change of will regarding the cause of dispute. + And perhaps in her secret heart this only caused his wife to respect him + the more. It is usually the weak and erring who vacillate. Firmness of + purpose, mildly carried out, implies a true motive at the root. Agatha + began to think whether her husband might not have some reason for his + conduct; probably the very simple one of disliking to see his name or her + own paraded in a subscription-list, or mixed up with a political clique. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, he puzzled her. She could not think why, with all his + tenderness, he so often put his will in opposition to her own, and + prevented her pleasure; why he was so slow in giving her his confidence; + why he more than once plainly stated that there was “a reason” for various + disagreeable whims, yet had not told her what that reason was. All these + were trivial things—yet in the early sunrise of married life the + least molehill throws a long black shadow. + </p> + <p> + “I will be a wise woman. I will not disquiet myself in vain,” said the + little wife to herself, as her husband left her, in answer to repeated + calls from some feminine voice which had just entered the house, and was + immediately audible half over it. Harriet Dugdale's, of course. To her—sharp-sighted + and merry-tongued woman that she was—Agatha would not for worlds + have betrayed anything; so, dashing cold water on her forehead to hide the + very near approach to tears, she quickly descended. + </p> + <p> + Harrie was in a state of considerable indignation, mixed with laughter. “I + never knew such people as you are! and certainly never was there the like + of my Duke there. He set off to fetch you all to Corfe Castle—his + own proposition. I waited an hour and a half—then I took the pony to + see after you—and lo!—there he is, sitting quite at his ease. + Oh, Duke—Duke!” + </p> + <p> + She shook her riding-whip at him twice before she disturbed him from his + book. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, Missus—what do'ee want, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Want? Don't you see what a passion we're all in? Abuse him, Anne—Agatha—Nathanael! + Do! I've no patience with him. Didn't he say himself that he would take us + all to Corfe Castle? Oh, you—you——” And Harrie looked + unutterable things. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale gazed round placidly. “Really, now, that's a pity! Never mind, + Missus! I only forgot.” And patting her hand with ineffable gentleness and + good-humour, he opened his book again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you—you”—here she put on a melodramatic scowl—“you + inconceivably provoking, misty, oblivious, incomprehensible old darling!” + </p> + <p> + And springing upon the back of his chair, Harrie hugged him to a degree + that compelled the unfortunate philosopher to renounce his book. He took + the caresses very patiently, and smiled with superior love upon his merry + wife. + </p> + <p> + “That'll do, Missus! Eh—and before folk, too! Now don't'ee, my + child!” + </p> + <p> + And shaking himself, hair and all, into something like order, he picked up + the folio, tucked it under his arm, and wended his way through the window + slowly down the lawn. + </p> + <p> + Agatha glanced at her husband, who stood talking to Miss Valery. She + wondered what Nathanael would say if <i>she</i> were to take a leaf out of + his sister's book, and treat her own liege lord after the unceremonious + fashion of Harrie Dugdale! + </p> + <p> + “There—off he goes, quite cross, no doubt.” (He was smiling as + benevolently as if he could embrace the whole world.) “But we must catch + him at the stables. I brought White-star galloping after me, and Duke will + rouse up when he sees his beloved horse. You shall take my pony, Agatha. + Of course you can ride?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha could—in a London riding-school and London parks. She had her + doubts about the country, but felt strongly inclined to try; for Mrs. + Dugdale had entered Kingcombe Holm like a breath of keen fresh air, + putting life and spirit into everybody. Nathanael made no opposition, only + he insisted on Mary's quiet grey mare being substituted for Harrie's + skittish pony. + </p> + <p> + “I shall ride with you part way,” said he, “and then leave you in Mr. + Dugdale's charge, while I stay at Kingcombe.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” + </p> + <p> + “I have business there.” + </p> + <p> + Still the same weary “business” which he never explained or talked about, + yet which always seemed to rise up like a bugbear on their pleasures, + until Agatha was sick of the sound of the word! + </p> + <p> + She turned away, and put herself altogether under Mrs. Dugdale's care to + be equipped for the ride. + </p> + <p> + Anne Valery, coming in with her quiet common sense, succeeded in making up + the party, which, with one exception, Harrie had left to make itself up + according to its own discretion. When Mrs. Harper descended, she found all + settled for the spending of a day at Corfe Castle, in picnic style—glorious + and free—with a moonlight canter home in the evening. No one was + omitted except the Squire, who with considerable dignity declined such <i>al + fresco</i> amusements; and Anne Valery, who promised to peep in upon them + as she passed the Castle on her way to her own house, after spending a few + hours with Elizabeth. + </p> + <p> + Agatha had never been on horseback since she was married. It made her feel + like a girl again, and brought back all the wild spirits of her youth, now + repressed in propriety by her changed life—until sometimes she + hardly knew herself, or fancied she was growing into that object of her + former scorn, an ordinary young lady. She cast the subdued and meek “Mrs. + Locke Harper” to the winds, and dashed wildly back for this day at least + into “Agatha Bowen.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband, putting her on her horse, with many injunctions, was + surprised to see her give him a careless nod and dart off delightedly, as + if she and the grey mare had wings. The Dugdales followed, a wild pair, + for Marmaduke was quite another being on horseback. + </p> + <p> + “Look at him, Agatha,”—and Harrie's laugh ringing on the wind caused + the mild grey mare to seem rather restless in her mind. “Did you think my + Duke could ride as he does? He never looks so well as on horseback. He is + a perfect Thessalian!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was amused to find classic lore in Harrie Dugdale, and she gave + most cordial admiration to Duke. “He is a magnificent rider; he sits the + horse just as if he were born to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless him! so he was. He rode his father's horses at four years old, and + went hunting at fourteen. And he has such a beautiful temper, and such a + firm will besides—that he could manage the wildest brute in the + county. See there!” + </p> + <p> + White-star had become rather obstreperous, showing his spirit; his master + carelessly lent down, giving him a box on each ear, just as if the stately + blood horse had been a naughty child; then composedly rode him back to the + two ladies. + </p> + <p> + “Harrie! Missus! do'ee come on! Nathanael is behind, all right. Come + along!” + </p> + <p> + He gave his wife's pony a switch, and off they dashed, she laughing + merrily, and he galloping away with such ease and grace that Agatha could + not take her eyes off him. + </p> + <p> + She looked after them with a vague sense of envy,—this odd married + pair, in whose union so many things appeared unequal and peculiar, except + for one thing—the love which hallowed and perfected all. When her + own husband came up, she, unwilling to talk, and dreading above all that + his quick eye should detect anything amiss in her, pushed her horse + forward, and calling to Nathanael to follow, rode on after the Dugdales. + </p> + <p> + Ere they had ridden far, all her wild spirits came back again, and all her + wifely feelings too, for her husband seemed as happy as herself, and + entered into all her frolics. They swept along like two children, across + the breezy moors, purple and fragrant, down by the hilly sheep-paths, + lying bare in autumn sunshine. Nathanael proved himself almost as good a + horseman as Duke Dugdale: a great pleasure to Agatha, for of all things + women do like a man to be manly. Nay, once, in the descent of a hill so + steep, that a Cockney equestrian would have been frightened out of his + seven senses, Nathanael's prudent daring stood out in such bold relief + that Agatha was perforce reminded of the day when he snatched little + Jemmie from the bear, the first day when her liking and respect had been + awakened towards him. She hinted this, and said how pleasant it was to + feel that one's husband was, as she expressed it, “a man that could take + care of one.” + </p> + <p> + “And how very foolish and helpless townfolk—drawing-room gentlemen, + appear in the country! I wonder,” and she could not help telling him the + comical idea, though not very complimentary to her husband's brother—“I + wonder how Major Harper would look on horseback?” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say? The wind blew that sentence away.” + </p> + <p> + She hardly liked to repeat it exactly, but said something about Major + Harper and his coming down to Dorset. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael spurred his horse forward without replying. A minute afterwards + he returned to his wife's side, bringing her a great bunch of heather, + with yellow gorse mixed, and made jokes about the Dorsetshire saying, + “When gorse is out of bloom kissing's out of season.” And evermore he + looked secretly at her, to notice if she laughed and was happy, had roses + on her cheeks, and pleasure in her eyes. Seeing this, the husband appeared + contented and at ease. + </p> + <p> + They and the Dugdales rode merrily into Kingcombe, much to that good + town's astonishment. The equestrian quartette at Marmaduke's door was a + sight that the worthy inhabitants of that sleepy street would not get over + for a week. Everybody gathered at doors and windows, and a small group of + farmers at the market quadrangle stared with all their eyes. The sensation + created was enormous, and likewise the crowd,—almost as dense as a + wandering juggler gathers in a quiet suburban London street! Agatha, + passing through it, laughed till she could laugh no longer. + </p> + <p> + Her husband, pleased at her gaiety, came to lift her off her horse. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it!” Mrs. Dugdale cried. “Keep your seat, Agatha; no time to + lose; on we go in a minute, when Duke has been to get his letters. Here, + Brian, my pet.”—There had rushed out round her horse a cluster of + infantine Dugdales.—“Lift Brian up here, Uncle Nathanael, and I'll + give him a canter. Bravo! He's Pa's own boy, born for a rider! Come along, + Auntie Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha would willingly have followed down the street. She was amused by + the daring of the mother and the boy, and amused especially by her new + title of “Auntie Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “Do let me go, Mr. Harper; I don't want to dismount, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have something to say to you—just a few words. We must decide + to-day about the house, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the house; I had rather not think about it.” And the mere + shadow of past vexation still vexed her. “Ah!” she added, entreatingly, + “do be good to me—do let me enjoy myself for once!” + </p> + <p> + “I would not prevent you for the world.” He dropped her bridle with a + sigh, and turned back among his little nephews. + </p> + <p> + Fred had coaxed the horse from the groom, and Gus was bent on mounting; + there was a dreadful struggle, and angry cries for Uncle Nathanael. In the + midst of it Uncle Nathanael appeared, like an angel of peace, and setting + the boys one behind another on his horse's back, led the animal up and + down carefully. + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked after them, thinking how kind and good her husband was. She + wished she had not refused so hastily such a simple request; she began to + think herself a wretch for ever contradicting him in anything. + </p> + <p> + The little party started again, increased by the arrival of the family + carriage from Kingcombe Holm, wherein sat Mary and Eulalie. To these were + speedily added the three young Dugdales, all in high glee. And it spoke + well for the Miss Harpers, whom Agatha was disposed to like least of her + husband's relatives, that they made very lenient and kindly aunts to those + obstreperous boys. + </p> + <p> + Agatha was crossing the bridge which bounded South Street, trying to make + her horse stand still while Mr. Dugdale pointed out the identical red + cliff where the Danes drew up their ships, and laughing with Harrie at the + notion of how terribly frightened the quiet souls in Kingcombe would be at + such an incursion now, when Nathanael came on foot to his wife's side. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you start without speaking to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not help it; I thought you were gone. You will come after us + soon?” And she felt angry with herself for having momentarily forgotten + him. + </p> + <p> + “I will come when I have settled this business of the house. You + understand, Agatha, I am obliged to decide to-day? You will not blame me + afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no—no!” His extreme seriousness of manner jarred with her + youthful spirits. She did not think or care about what he did, so that for + this day only he let her be gay and happy. From some incomprehensible + cause, his very love seemed to hang over her like a cloud, and so it had + been from the beginning. She did so long to dash out into the sunshine of + her careless, girlish life, and scamper over the beautiful country with + Harrie Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she repeated only wishing to satisfy him. “Take any house you + like, and come onward soon; and oh, do let us be cheerful and merry!” + </p> + <p> + “We will!” His bright look as she patted his shoulder—a very + venturesome act—-gave her much cheer; and when, after she had + cantered a good way down the road, she turned and saw him still leaning on + the bridge looking after her, her heart throbbed with pleasure. Despite + all his reserves and peculiarities, and her own conscious failings, there + was one thing to which she clung as to a root of comfort that would never + be taken away, and would surely bear blossom and fruit afterwards—the + belief that her husband truly loved her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img src="images/p212.jpg" width="100%" alt="On Horseback P212 " /> + </div> + <p> + “If so,” she thought, “I suppose all will come right in time, and Agatha + Harper will be as happy as, or happier than, Agatha Bowen.” + </p> + <p> + So on she went, yielding to the delicious excitement of being on + horseback. She was also much interested by the country round about, which + appeared to her as old, desolate, and strange as if she had been a Thane's + daughter riding across the moors to the gates of that renowned castle + which, as Harrie declared, putting on the physiognomy of some school-child + drawling out a history-lesson, “was celebrated for being the residence of + the ancient Saxon kings.” + </p> + <p> + “And this was the place,” continued she in the same tone, pointing to an + old gate-post—“this was the place where His Majesty's most + illustrious horse did stop when His Majesty's most sainted body was + dragged along by the leg, in the stirrup, on account of the wound given + him when he was a-drinking at the castle-door, by his stepmother, Queen + Elfrida. All of which is to be seen to the present day.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha first laughed at this comical view of the subject, then she felt a + little repugnance at hearing that stern old tragedy so lightly treated. As + she walked her horse along the road which might have been, and probably + was, the very same Saxon highway as in those times, she thought of the + wounded horseman dashing out from between those green hills and of the + murdered body dropping slowly, slowly from the saddle, dragged in dust, + and beat against stones, until the woman that loved him—for even a + king might have had some woman that loved him—would not have known + the face she thought so fair. + </p> + <p> + It was an idle fancy, but beneath it her tears were rising; chiefly for + thinking, not of “The Martyr,” but of the woman—whoever she was—(Agatha + had not historical erudition enough to remember if King Edward had a wife)—to + whom that day's tragedy might have brought a lifetime's doom. She began to + shudder—to feel that she too was a wife—to understand dimly + what a wife's love might come to be—also something of a wife's + terrors. She wished—it was foolish enough, but she did wish that + Nathanael had not been riding on horseback, or else that, in picturing to + herself the dead head of the Martyr dragged along the road, she did not + always see it with long fair hair. And then she wondered if these horrible + fancies indicated the dawning of that feeling which she had deceived + herself into believing she already possessed. Was she beginning to find + out the difference between that quiet response to secured affection, that + pleasant knowledge of being loved, and the strong, engrossing, + self-existent attachment which Anne Valery described—the passion + which has but one object, one interest, one joy, in the whole wide world? + </p> + <p> + Was she beginning really <i>to love</i> her husband? + </p> + <p> + The answer to that question involved so much, both of what had been, and + what was yet to come, that Agatha dared not ponder over it. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Harper! Mrs. Harper!” She mused no longer, but hurried on after the + Dugdales. + </p> + <p> + It was not to point out the Castle that Harrie had been so vociferous, but + to show a place which she evidently deemed far more interesting. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see that white house far among the trees? That's where my Duke was + born. He lived there in peace and quietness till he got acquainted with + Uncle Brian, and came to Kingcombe Holm and fell in love with me.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he do it? I want to know what is the fashion of such things in + Dorset.” + </p> + <p> + “How did Duke fall in love with me? Really I can't tell. I was fifteen or + so—a mere baby! He first gave me a doll, and then he wanted to marry + me!” + </p> + <p> + “But how did he make love, or 'propose' as they call it?” persisted + Agatha, to whom the idea of Marmaduke Dugdale in that character was + irresistibly funny. + </p> + <p> + “Make love? Propose? Bless you, my dear, he never did either! Somehow it + all came quite naturally. We belonged to one another.” + </p> + <p> + The very phrase Anne Valery had used! It made Nathanael's wife rather + thoughtful. She wondered what was the feeling like, when people “belonged + to one another.” + </p> + <p> + But she had no time for meditation; for now the great grey ruin loomed in + sight, and everybody, including the shouting boys in the carriage behind, + was eager to point it out, especially when Agatha made the lamentable + confession that she had never seen a ruined castle in her life before. + </p> + <p> + “And you might go all over England and not find such another as this,” + said Mr. Dugdale, riding up to her with a smile of great satisfaction. + “Nobody thinks much of it in these parts, and few antiquarians ever come + and poke about it. Perhaps it's as well. They couldn't find out more than + we know already. But no!”—and his eye, taking in the noble old ruin + arched over by the broad sky, assumed its peculiar dreamy expression—“We + don't know anything. Nobody knows anything about this wonderful world!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked around. On the top of a smooth conical hill, each side of + which was guarded by other two hills equally smooth and bare, rose the + wreck of the magnificent fortress, enough of the walls remaining to show + its extent and plan. Its destroyer had been—not Father Time, who + does his work quietly and gracefully—but that worse spoiler, man. + Huge masses of masonry, hurled from the summit, lay in the moat beneath, + fixed as they had been for centuries, with vegetation growing over them. + Some of the walls, undermined and shaken from their foundations, took + strange, oblique angles, yet refused to fall. Marks of cannon-balls were + indented on the stonework of the battered gateway, which still remained a + gateway—probably the very same under which Queen Elfrida, “fair and + false,” had offered to her son the stirrup-cup. + </p> + <p> + The general impression left on the mind was not that of natural decay, + solemn and holy, but of sudden destruction, coming unawares, and struggled + against, as a man in the flower of life struggles with mortality. There + was something very melancholy about the ruined fortress left on the + hill-top in sight of the little town close below, where its desolation was + unheeded. Agatha, sensitive, enthusiastic, and easily impressed, grew + silent, and wondered that her companions could laugh so carelessly, even + when passing under the grey portal into the very precincts of the deserted + castle. + </p> + <p> + “We shall not find a soul here,” said Harrie; “scarcely anybody ever comes + at this season, except when our Kingcombe Oddfellows' Club have a picnic + on this bowling-green; or schoolboys get together and climb up the ivy to + frighten the jackdaws—my husband has done it many a time—haven't + you, Duke?” + </p> + <p> + “I see mamma,” vaguely responded Duke, who was busy lifting his boys down + from the carriage, with a paternal care and tenderness beautiful to see. + He then, with one little fellow on his shoulder, another holding his hand, + and a third clinging to his coat-tails, strode off up the green ascent, + without paying the slightest attention to Mrs. Harper. Which dereliction + from the rules of politeness it never once came into her mind to notice or + to blame. + </p> + <p> + “There they go! Nobody minds me; it's all Pa!” said Mrs. Dugdale, with an + assumption of wrath; a very miserable pretence, while her look was so + happy and fond. “You see, Agatha, what you'll come to—after ten + years' matrimony!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's heart was so full, she could not laugh but sighed, yet it was not + with unhappiness. + </p> + <p> + He and Harrie wandered over the castle together, for the two Miss Harpers + did not approve of climbing. The little boys and “Pa” reappeared now and + then at all sorts of improbable and terrifically dangerous corners, and + occasionally Mrs. Dugdale made frantic darts after them. Especially when + they were all seen standing on one of the topmost precipices, the father + giving a practical scientific lesson on the momentum of falling bodies; in + illustration of which Harrie declared he would certainly throw little + Brian out of his arms, in a fit of absence of mind, thoroughly believing + the child was a stone. + </p> + <p> + At last, when their excitement had fairly worn itself out, and even Mrs. + Dugdale's energetic liveliness had come to a dead stop in consequence of a + fit of sleepiness and crossness on the part of Brian—Agatha roamed + about the old castle by herself; creeping into all the queer nooks with a + childish pleasure, mounting impassable walls so as to find the highest + point of view. She always had a great delight in climbing, and in feeling + herself at the top of everything. + </p> + <p> + It was such a strange afternoon too, grey, soft, warm, the sun having long + gone in and left an atmosphere of pleasant cloudiness, tender and dim, the + shadowing over of a fading day, which nevertheless foretells no rain, but + often indicates a beautiful day to-morrow. Somehow or other, it made + Agatha think of Miss Valery; nor was she surprised when, as suddenly as if + she had dropped out of the sky, Anne was seen approaching. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you up these stones. How good of you to come, and how tired + you seem!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, I shall be rested in a minute. But I am not quite so young as you, + my dear.” + </p> + <p> + She came up and leaned against the ivy-wall that Agatha had climbed, which + was on the opposite side of the hill to the bowling-green, the + gathering-spot of the little party. It was a nook of thorough solitude and + desolation, nothing being visible from it but the widely extended flat of + country, looking seaward, though the sea itself was not in view. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you climb so high?” said Agatha, as, earnestly regarding her + friend, she perceived more than ever before the difference in their years, + and felt strongly tempted to wrap her strong young arms round Miss + Valery's waist, and support her with even a daughter's care. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be well presently,” Anne repeated, with cheerfulness. “I have not + climbed up to this spot for many years. I thought I would like to come + here once again.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down on a flat stone raised upon two others. + </p> + <p> + “What a comfortable seat! It might have been made on purpose for you.” + </p> + <p> + “So it was—long ago. No one has disturbed it since. Come, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + She drew Agatha beside her—there was just room for two; and they sat + in silence, looking at the view, except that Agatha sometimes cast her + eyes about rather restlessly. It was a magical answer to her thoughts when + Anne observed: + </p> + <p> + “I met your husband as I drove through Kingcombe. He desired me to tell + you he was detained a little, but would be here ere long. How very + thoughtful and good he is!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha said “Yes”—a mere “Yes,” quiet and low. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery made no further remark, but sat a long time, absently gazing + over the low-lying sweep of country which gradually melted into a greyness + that looked like sea. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the sea?” asked Mrs. Harper. + </p> + <p> + “No, it lies yonder, behind the hill opposite—where there is the + smoke of the furze burning. From that spot I should think one could trace + the line of coast almost to Weymouth. Do you remember ever seeing + Weymouth?” + </p> + <p> + “No! how could I?” returned Agatha, surprised by the suddenness of the + question, and its form. “I never was in Dorsetshire before.” + </p> + <p> + Anne said something, either in jest or earnest, about one's often fancying + one has seen places in a previous existence, and changed the theme by + pointing out the view on the other hand. “My house, Thornhurst, lies in + that direction. You must come and see me soon, and we will talk more + pleasantly than I can do to-day. It is so strange to be sitting here with + Mrs. Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so? What makes you so often call me by that name?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a whim I have. But is it not a good name—a beautiful name? Ah, + you child!—you poor little one! To think of <i>you</i> becoming Mrs. + Locke Harper!” + </p> + <p> + There was a pathos—a kind of tender retrospection in Anne Valery's + manner as she touched the brown curls and smoothed the neat dress, which—riding + hat and skirt having been laid aside or tucked up—made a pretty + mountain-maiden out of Nathanael's wife. Agatha never could understand the + peculiar fondness with which Miss Valery sometimes regarded her—to-day + especially. She seemed constantly on the point of saying something—which + she never did say. At last she rose from the stone seat. + </p> + <p> + “We will talk another day. We must go now.” Yet she lingered. “Just let us + stand here, in this exact spot; and look at the view.” She looked—her + eyes absorbing it from every point, as one drinks in, for the last time, a + long-familiar draught of landscape beauty.. “My dear!” + </p> + <p> + The whisper was strangely soft—even solemn. + </p> + <p> + “You will remember, dear, it was I that brought you here first. You'll + come here sometimes, will you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very often indeed! It is a delicious place.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so when I was your age. And you'll not forget the stone seat, + Agatha? I hope no one will disturb it. Good-bye! poor old stone.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this in a whisper, she stooped and patted it with her hand—the + thin white hand that might once have been so round, pretty, and young. The + act, natural even to childishness, might have made Agatha smile, but for a + certain something about Miss Valery that invested with dignity even her + simplicities. So, merely echoing “Goodbye, old stone!” she followed Anne + down the slope. + </p> + <p> + After a loud-lamenting adieu, especially from the Dugdale boys, Miss + Valery mounted her little carriage and drove away into the gathering + shadow—Agatha knew not where. + </p> + <p> + “What a good woman she is! I wish we were all like her!” she said, + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, nobody can be, especially with a husband and four children. It + is a blessing to society in general that Anne Valery never married.” + </p> + <p> + “But people do marry late in life sometimes. So may she. Do you think she + will?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't say! Don't know! Very mysterious!” ejaculated Harrie. “My brother + Fred once hinted—and Fred was a very fascinating young fellow when I + was a child—But all that belongs to the year One. I'll hold my + tongue.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha had too much delicacy to inquire further. Still, it seemed very odd + that there should be a general impression of Anne's early attachment to + Major Harper, in contradistinction to the old Squire's regretful hint that + she had refused his eldest son. But these scraps of romance, so far back + in the past, were useless searching. + </p> + <p> + “An excellent woman is Anne Valery,” continued Harrie—“really + excellent: but sometimes rather a bore to her friends who have families. + My Duke often forgets he has four children to provide for, when he listens + to her charitable schemes. 'Twas but the other day he and she were mad + about some starving Cornish miners that she sent poor Mr. Wilson to look + after.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I remember,” cried Agatha, now interested in things which she had + before heard indifferently. She was thirsting for some opportunity of + doing good—of redeeming the long waste of idle years and unemployed + fortune. “Do tell me about those miners.” + </p> + <p> + “Little to tell, my dear. Only philanthropic ideas about helping poor + wretches that had been thrown out of work by some cheating speculators + shutting up the mines. Anne sent Wilson to find out who the man was, and + what could be done. After that I never heard any more of it, nor did my + husband either.—Stop—don't run and question him! For goodness' + sake let the nonsense drop out of his poor dear head.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, thus rebuffed, ceased her inquiries, but she inwardly resolved to + find out all about the Cornish miners, and consult with her husband about + assisting them. He could not object to this good deed—it should be + done as privately as ever he liked—she would take care not even to + make mention of it before anybody, as in the matter of the subscription. + And surely, though he was strange and had his peculiar notions, Nathanael + was generous at heart, and would not thwart her in anything really + essential, especially when she only wished to follow in the steps of Anne + Valery, and use worthily her large fortune. + </p> + <p> + With these thoughts elevating and cheering her mind, she sat and watched + for her husband until he came. She was so glad to see him that she quite + forgot to inquire about the house. He seemed at first expectant of her + questions, and rather grave, but at last gave himself up to the general + merry mood. + </p> + <p> + Once only, when they were riding homeward side by side, the fading sunset + before them, and the low moon hiding herself behind the great black hill + of Corfe, Nathanael suddenly said: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Agatha, perhaps you would like me to tell you”— + </p> + <p> + “No,” she cried, with a quick instinct of reluctance. “Tell me nothing + to-night. Let us be happy for this one day.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband sighed, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. + </h2> + <h3> + “Agatha, will you come out and walk with me?” + </h3> + <p> + “Do you not see it is raining?” + </p> + <p> + He had not indeed, though he had stood at the window in meditation ever + since breakfast-time. As for Agatha, she had been so tired with her + excursion the previous day that she had done nothing but sleep, and had + scarcely opened her lips to her husband or to any one. Now, on this rainy + day, she felt the reaction of her high spirits—was dull, dreamy; + wished her husband would come and talk to her, and “make a baby” of her. + She could not think why he stood at that odious window, pondering, + counting rain-drops apparently, and then made the unaccountable + proposition of a walk. + </p> + <p> + “Raining, is it?” He looked up at the murky sky. “What a change from last + night.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know you were so subject to elemental influences?” + </p> + <p> + “We all are, more or less; but I was just then thinking about other things + than what I spoke of. My dear wife, I want to talk to you very much. Where + shall we go, so as not to be interrupted?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere you like,” said she, resigning herself to her fate and to a long + argument, which she supposed was about the new house. She did not remember + about it clearly, but she had a floating suspicion that Nathanael was + determined to settle the matter soon, and that she should have a hard + struggle between the pretty house she liked, and Mr. Wilson's cottage, + which her husband so unaccountably preferred. This was a matter in which + she could not yield, come what might. Therefore the “anywhere you like” + was in rather an ungracious manner. He seemed determined not to observe + this. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose we go into the conservatory;—you have never seen it. But + put on something to keep you warm.” + </p> + <p> + He wrapped Mary's crimson garden-shawl over her head—clumsily + enough, for Mr. Harper was not a “ladies' man;” his whole character and + habits of life being in curious opposition to the extreme delicacy which + Nature had externally stamped upon his appearance. Pausing, he held his + wife at arm's length, gazing at her admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Will that do? What a gipsy you look, with your red shawl and brown face!” + </p> + <p> + “Pawnee-face, you know! Do you remember how you once called me so, and how + your brother”— + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us go,” he said abruptly, and hurried her through the + drawing-rooms. Agatha was rather hurt that his aspect should change so + cloudily, and that he should thus quench her little reminiscences of + courtship-days, so dear to every happy wife, and gradually becoming dearer + even to herself. As they entered the conservatory, she shivered with an + uncomfortable sense of gloom. + </p> + <p> + “What a large, bare place! Even the vines look cheerless—and where + have they put all the flowers? What a shame to send them away, and turn it + into a billiard-room.” + </p> + <p> + “It was done years ago, to please—my brother”—(Agatha was + amazed at the hard tone of that tender fraternal word—so can the + sense of words alter in the saying)—“and my father will not have it + removed.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have been very fond of your brother,” said Agatha, as, with a + woman's natural leaning to the injured side, she thought of Major Harper—his + gaiety and his good-nature. She wondered why Nathanael was so rigid and + cold in his forced and rare mentioning of his brother's name. As she + pondered, her eyes took a serious shadow in their depths. + </p> + <p> + “What are you thinking about, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + The suddenness of the question—the consciousness that she might vex + Nathanael did she answer it—made her hesitate, blushing vividly—nay, + painfully. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't tell me. I want to hear nothing, nothing, Agatha. I have before + told you so. Do not be afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “How strange you are! What should I be afraid of?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Forget I said anything. You are my wife now—mine—mine!” + and for a moment he pressed her hand tightly. “In time”—he + relinquished his hold with a sad smile—“in time, Agatha, I hope we + shall become used to one another; perhaps even grow into a contented, + sedate married couple.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” Alas! far more than this had been her thought—the + thought which had dawned when she paused, shuddering over the tale of King + Edward the Martyr and the woman that loved him—the dim hope, daily + rising, of an Eden not altogether lost, even though she had married so + rashly and blindly—a hope that this might have been only the burying + of her foolish girlish dream of love, which must needs die in order to be + raised up again in a different form and in a new existence. + </p> + <p> + Somewhat heavy-hearted, Agatha sat down on a raised bench that looked down + on the battered and decaying billiard-table, listening to the rain that + pattered on the glass roof above the vine-leaves—wondering how old + were the ragged-looking, flowerless, fruitless orange-trees that were + ranged on either side, the only other specimens of vegetation left. + Evidently nobody at Kingcombe Holm cared much for flowers. + </p> + <p> + “I think we will quit this dull place. You do not seem to like it, + Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I like it well enough. I like the rain falling, falling, and the + vine-branches crushing themselves against the panes. They'll never ripen, + never—poor things! They are dying for sun, and it will not—will + not shine!” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't clearly know what I mean. Never mind. Talk to me about—whatever + it was that you brought me to unfold. Be quick—I have not a large + stock of patience, you know of old.” + </p> + <p> + “Do not laugh, for I am serious. I wanted to talk to you about our new + house.” + </p> + <p> + “Our new house! Where and what like is it to be, I wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not recollect?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the two we looked at would not do,” said Agatha, determinedly. She + guessed what was coming—that the discussion about Wilson's cottage, + which Nathanael seemed so to have set his heart upon, was about to be + renewed. But she would never consent to that—never! “The house I + liked you did not approve of,” she continued, observing her husband's + silence. “The other I could not think of for a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “But supposing there was no alternative, since we must settle at once?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the first time you have condescended to inform me of that + necessity.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” he went on, taking no notice of her sharp speech, but speaking with + the extreme gentleness of one who himself feels tenfold the pain he is + compelled to inflict—“if, as I told you yesterday, we ought to form + our plans immediately; and since, Kingcombe being such a small place, + there is at present no choice left us but those two houses”— + </p> + <p> + “Build one! We are rich enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite.” His eyes dropped, almost like those of guilt. After a pause, + he cried out violently: + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, a secret at one's heart is ten times worse to the keeper of it + than it can be to any one else. Have pity for me, have patience with me, + just for a little while.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking about? What have you done?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said he. “Nothing to harm your peace, my little wife. Believe + me, I have committed no greater crime, than”— + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Than having taken Wilson's cottage.” + </p> + <p> + He tried by smiling to teach her to make light of it—perhaps because + it was a thing so light to him. But Agatha was enraged beyond endurance. + </p> + <p> + “You have absolutely taken it—that mean, wretched hovel that I told + you I hated;—taken it secretly, without my knowledge or consent!” + </p> + <p> + “You mistake there. I told you we were obliged to decide yesterday; you + were unwilling to consult with me, and at last—do you remember? you + left the decision in my hands. I merely believed your own words, and + knowing the necessity of acting upon them, did so. I cannot think I was + wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Not at all!” cried Agatha, laughing wildly. “It was only like you—under-handed + in stealing my few pleasures—very frank and open when you can rule. + Never honest or candid with me, except to my punishment. A kind, generous + husband, truly!” + </p> + <p> + These and a torrent more of bitter words she poured out. She never knew + till now the passion, the galling sarcasm, there was in her nature. She + felt a longing to hate—a wish to wound. Every time she looked at her + husband, there seemed a demon rising up within her—that demon which + lurks strangely enough in the heart's closest and tenderest depths. + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you speak!” she cried, going up to him. “Anything is better than + that wicked silence. Speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + “No—I'll not hear you. See what you have done—how you have + made me disgrace myself” and she almost sobbed.—“Never in my life + was I in a passion before.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it my fault then?” said he, mournfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yours. It is you who stir up all these bad feelings in me.. I was a + good girl, a happy girl, before you married me.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it so? Then you shall be held blameless. Poor child—poor + child!” + </p> + <p> + His unutterable regret, his entire prostration, stung her to the heart, + and silenced her for the moment; but speedily she burst out again: + </p> + <p> + “You call me a child—so perhaps I am, in years; but you should have + thought of that before. You married me, and made me a woman. You took away + my gay childish heart, and yet in all humiliating things you still treat + me like a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I?” He answered mechanically, out of thoughts that lay deep down, far + below the surface of his wife's bitter words. These last awoke in him not + one ray of anger—not even when at last, in a fit of uncontrollable + petulance, she tore his hand from before his eyes, bidding him look at her—if + he dared. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I dare.” And the look she courted, arose steady, sorrowful, like + that of a man who turns his eyes upward, hopeless yet faithful, out of a + wrecked ship. “Whatever has been, or may come, God knows that, from the + first, I did love you, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + Wherefore had he used the word “did!” Why could she not smother down the + unwonted pang, the new craving? Or rather, why could she not throw herself + in his arms and cry out, “Do you love me—do you love me now?” Pride—pride + only—the restless wild nature upon which his reserve fell like water + upon fire, without the blending spirit of conscious love which often makes + two opposite temperaments result in closest union. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, she was somewhat soothed, and began to compress the mass of + imaginary wrongs into the one little wrong which had originated it all. + </p> + <p> + “What made you take a liking to that miserable house? I hate small rooms—I + cannot breathe in them—I have never been used to a little house. Why + must I now? I am not going to be extravagant—nobody could be if they + tried, in a poor place like Kingcombe. Since you <i>will</i> insist on our + living there, and <i>will</i> carry out your cruel pride of independence”— + </p> + <p> + “Cruel—oh, Agatha!” He absolutely groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Wishing no extravagance, I do wish for comfort—perhaps some little + elegance—as I have had all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall have it still, Agatha,” her husband muttered. “I will coin my + heart's blood into gold but you shall have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are talking barbarously! Or else—how very very wrong am I! + What can be the reason that we torture each other so?” + </p> + <p> + “Fate!” he cried, pacing wildly up and down. “Fate! that has netted us + both to our own misery—nay, worse—to make us the misery of one + another. Yet how could I know? You seemed a young simple girl, free to + love—I felt sure I could make you love me. Poor dupe that I was! Oh, + why did I ever see you, Agatha Bowen?” + </p> + <p> + He snatched his wife on his knee, and kissed her repeatedly—madly—just + as he had done on the morning of their wedding-day; never since! Then he + let her go—almost with coldness. + </p> + <p> + “There—I will not vex you. I must not be foolish any more.” + </p> + <p> + Foolish! He thought it foolish to show that he loved her! Without + replying, Agatha sat down on the bench where her husband placed her. He + might say what he liked: she was very patient now. + </p> + <p> + He began to explain his reasons for taking the house; that he had + naturally more acquaintance with worldly matters than she had; that + whatever their income, it was advisable for young people to begin + housekeeping prudently, since it was easy to increase small beginnings, + while of all outward domestic horrors there was nothing greater than the + horror of running into debt. When he talked thus, at once with wisdom and + gentleness, Agatha began to forgive him. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” said she, brightening, “your prudence—which I might + call by a harder word, but I'll be good now—your prudence is only + restraining me in my little pleasures, and I don't much mind. But if you + ever tried to restrain me in a matter of kindness, as you did yesterday, + only I guessed the motive”— + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “There—don't look so startled and displeased. I saw you did not like + the <i>éclat</i> of political charities. But another time, if I want to do + good—like Anne Valery, only in a very, very much smaller way—Hark! + what is that noise?” + </p> + <p> + It was a decent-looking working-man, standing out in the pouring rain, + watching them through the panes, and rattling angrily at the locked + conservatory-door. + </p> + <p> + “What a fierce eye! It looks quite wolfish. What can he want with us?” + </p> + <p> + “I will go and see. Some labourer wanting work, probably; but the fellow + has no business to come beckoning and interrupting. Stay here, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I will come with you.” And she tripped after her husband, the + momentary content of her heart creating a longing to do good—a sort + of tithe of happiness thankfully paid to Heaven. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael unfastened the glass-door, not without annoyance; for, unlike + his wife, <i>his</i> joy-tithe was not yet due. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want, my good fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Some o' th' Harpers.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! Are you after work? You don't look like one of the clay-cutters. + Where do you come from?” + </p> + <p> + “I be Darset, I be; but I comed fra Carnwall.” + </p> + <p> + “From where?” asked Agatha, puzzled by the provincialism, and attracted at + once by the man's intelligent face, and by a keen, misery-stricken, hungry + look, which she had truly called “wolfish.” + </p> + <p> + “I be comed fra the miners in Carnwall,” reiterated the man, raising his + voice threateningly. “They sent I back to Darset to see some o' th' + Harpers.” + </p> + <p> + “You must go in, Agatha; it is cold. I cannot have you standing here. Go—quick.” + And Agatha was astonished to see how pallid and eager her husband looked, + and how anxious he seemed to get her out of the way. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you. I am not cold at all. I want to hear this man. Perhaps he + is one of the poor miners Miss Valery spoke of at Wheal—what was + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I be comed fra Wheal Caroline, Missus, and I do want one o' th' Harpers. + There be the old 'un at the window! Thick's the man for we.” + </p> + <p> + And he was hurrying off to the bow-window of the Squire's room, which was + alongside of the conservatory. But Nathanael called him back imperatively. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, friend. My father has nothing to do with the mines—it is I. + I'll speak to you presently.—Some business of Anne's,” he explained + hastily to his wife. “Leave us, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you make me go in? I want to hear about the poor miners; I want to + help them, as well as Anne Valery.” + </p> + <p> + “Do'ee help we, Missus!” implored the man, softened by a woman's kind + looks. “Do'ee give we some'at to keep 'un fra starving!” + </p> + <p> + “Starving!” cried Agatha in horror. And even her husband's anxiety was for + the moment quelled in the deep pity which overspread his countenance. + </p> + <p> + “It be nigh that, I tell'ee. Us be no cheats—there be other folk as + has cheated we. Fine grand folk as knew nowt o' the mines, but shut 'un + up, and paid no money.” + </p> + <p> + “How wicked!” + </p> + <p> + “But I be come to find 'un out,” cried the man fiercely, as his eye lit on + Nathanael. “For I do know thick fine folk. And I tell'ee”— + </p> + <p> + “Silence! you forget you are speaking before a lady. Wait for me, and I + will talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will'ee, Mister? Don't'ee cheat, now!” said the miner, with a rude + attempt at a sneer. + </p> + <p> + The young man's cheek flushed, but he said very quietly— + </p> + <p> + “I promise you, I will speak with you here in half-an-hour. I am Nathanael + Harper—Mr. Harper's youngest son.” + </p> + <p> + After a minute's keen observation, the miner pulled off his cap + respectfully. “Thank'ee, sir! You bean't <i>he</i>, I see. But you be th' + old Squire's son, and—I be Darset, I be!” + </p> + <p> + Another bow—the involuntary respect to the ancient county family + from honest labour born upon its ancestral sod, and the man leaned + exhausted against the ragged stem of one of the old vines. + </p> + <p> + “Missus,” he said, looking up hungrily—at the lady this time— + “Missus, do'ee gie 'un a bit o' bread!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha, full of compassion, was eager to send the servants or take him + into the kitchen, or even fetch him his dinner with her own hands. Mr. + Harper interfered. + </p> + <p> + “I will bring him some food myself. Stay here, my man; don't stir hence. + Remember, you have nothing to do with my father.” + </p> + <p> + There was a warning severity in the tone which annoyed Agatha. Why did her + husband speak harshly to the poor miner? + </p> + <p> + Still she obeyed Mr. Harper's evident wish that she should go away; and + spent the time in Elizabeth's room, telling her of this little incident. + </p> + <p> + Miss Harper listened with all the quick intelligence of her bright eyes. + The only remark she made was: + </p> + <p> + “What could have led this miner to come back to Dorsetshire after our + family?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha had never thought of this, indeed she did not want to think. Her + heart was brimming with charity. She longed to empty it out in a torrent + of benefactions, to which even Anne Valery's constant stream of good deeds + appeared measured and slow. Elizabeth watched her with a strange piercing + expression—Elizabeth, who from her silent nest seemed to behold all + things clearer, like a spirit sitting halfway in upper air, to whose + passionless wide vision distant mazes take form and proportion. Often, + there was something almost supernatural in Elizabeth and her attentive + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she said at last, when Agatha paused for a response to her own + enthusiasm, “Man proposes—God disposes! Go and talk over these + things with your husband first.” Agatha went. + </p> + <p> + She met Nathanael on the staircase, going up to their own room. + </p> + <p> + “Ah; is it you? I am so glad. Come and tell me what has been done about + the poor miner.” + </p> + <p> + “He is gone. I have sent him back to Cornwall.” + </p> + <p> + “What, so soon? Not to starve at that Wheal—Wheal something or other—I + always forget the name?” + </p> + <p> + “Do forget it. Don't let the matter trouble my little wife. Let her run + down-stairs and think of something else.” + </p> + <p> + He patted her head with assumed carelessness, and was passing her by; but + she stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there it is—I am always to be a child! I am to run down-stairs + and think of something else, while you go and shut yourself up to ponder + over this affair. But I will not be shut out; I will go with you;—come!” + </p> + <p> + In playful force she drew him to their room, and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sit down, and tell me the whole story. Why, how grave and pale it + has made you look! But never mind; we'll find out a plan to help the poor + people.” + </p> + <p> + He gave some inarticulate assent, which checked her by its coldness, sank + on the chair she placed, and folded his fingers tightly in one another, so + that Agatha could not even strengthen herself in the bold projects she was + about to communicate, by stealing her own into her husband's hand. + However, she placed herself on the floor at his feet, in the attitude of a + Circassian beauty; or—she accidentally thought—not unlike a + Circassian slave. + </p> + <p> + “Begin, please! I must hear about these mines.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if you could understand,—at least with the few explanations + I am able to give you at present.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, I'll try. Why are the poor men starving in this way?” + </p> + <p> + “You heard but now. Because the mines were first opened on a speculation, + worked carelessly—dishonestly I fear—till the speculator's + money failed, and the vein stopped. Then the miners being thrown out of + employ were reduced to great distress, as this man tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should he have come here after your father?” + </p> + <p> + “And,” continued Nathanael, in a quick and rather inexplicable + correlative, “the mines were lately sold as waste land. Anne Valery bought + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did she do that?” + </p> + <p> + “Out of charity; that she might begin some employment—flax-growing, + I think—to find food for the poor people. There the tale's ended, my + Lady Inquisitive. Will you go down to my sisters?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. I want to talk to you a little—a very little longer. May + I?” + </p> + <p> + And she drooped her head, blushing as the young will blush over the same + charitable feeling which the old and hardened ostentatiously parade. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper gazed hopelessly around, as if longing any means of escape and + solitude. His wife saw him and was pained. + </p> + <p> + “What—are you tired of me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, dear, Only I am so busy—and have so many things to think + about just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me some of them.” + </p> + <p> + “What—tell you all my business mysteries,” he returned, playfully. + “Didn't you say to me once, before we were married, that you hated + secrets, and never could keep one in your life?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true—quite true. I do hate them,” cried Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “And for all your smiling, I know you are keeping back something from me + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Foolish little wife!” + </p> + <p> + “Foolish—but still a wife. Look at me and tell the truth. Is there + anything in your heart which I do not know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Agatha, several things.” + </p> + <p> + The sudden change from jest to deep earnest startled the wife so much that + she was struck dumb. + </p> + <p> + “Circumstances may happen,” he continued, “which a husband cannot always + tell to his wife, especially a man of my queer temper and lonely ways. I + always knew that the woman I married would have much to bear from me. Did + I not tell her so, poor little Agatha?” And he tried to take her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You are talking in this way to soothe me, but I know well what you mean. + No husband ever really thinks himself in fault, but his wife. Emma always + said so.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper dropped the unwilling hand; but the next moment, by a strong + effort, reclaimed it firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, are we beginning again to be angry with one another? Is there + never to be peace between us?” + </p> + <p> + “Peace” only? Nothing closer, dearer? Yet what was it that, as Agatha + looked at her husband, made her think even his “peace” better than any + other's love? + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she murmured, after watching him long in silence—“yes, there + shall be peace. Whatever I am, I know how good you are. And,” she added, + gaily, “now let me unfold a plan of mine for proving how good we both + are.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I want some money—a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper turned away. “Wherefore?” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot you guess? I thought you would at once—nay, that you would + be the first to propose it. I am glad I am first. Now, do guess.” + </p> + <p> + “I had rather not, if it is a serious matter. If otherwise, I am hardly + quite merry enough for jests to-day. Tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a very simple thing, though it has cost me half-an-hour's puzzling. + I never thought so much about business in all my life. Well,”—she + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “I want—it must come out—I want you to take half or all of my—<i>our</i> + money which is in the Funds (as I believe Major Harper said, though I have + not the least idea what Funds are)—and with it to buy a new mine, + and set the poor miners all working again; they'll like it a great deal + better than flax-growing. And perhaps we could afterwards build schools + and cottages, and do oceans of good. Oh! how glad I am I was born an + heiress!” + </p> + <p> + She rose, her eyes brightening; her little figure dilated; she had never + looked so lovely—so loveable. And yet the husband sat as it were + stone blind and dumb. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot have any objection to this, I know,” Agatha went on. “It is + not like giving money openly away—making a show of charity. Nobody + need know but that we do it on our own account—just to increase our + riches;” and she laughed merrily at the idea. “Think now—how much + money would it take?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell.” + </p> + <p> + “A great deal, probably, since you look so serious over it,” said the + wife, a little vexed. “Perhaps my plan is foolish in some things; but I + think it is right, and I am very firm—firmer than you imagine—when + I feel I am in the right. Surely, living so cheaply in that tiny house—and + we will live cheaper still if you choose—we shall have plenty to + spare. We must do this. Say that we shall.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband was silent. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the blush of enthusiasm deepened into that of annoyance—real + anger. “Mr. Harper, I wait until you answer me.” + </p> + <p> + As she turned away, Nathanael looked after her. Such a flood of + tenderness, reverence, sorrow, passion, rarely swept over a human face. + </p> + <p> + Then he rose, paced up the room in his usual fashion, and down again; + pausing once at the window (a strange thing for him to notice just then) + to let out a brown bee that, having come in for shelter from the rain, + wanted to go out again with the sunshine. At last he came to Agatha's + side. + </p> + <p> + “My dear wife, it grieves me to pain you by a refusal—grieves me + more than you can tell; but the plan you propose is utterly + impracticable.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” Her colour flashed, darkened of a stormy red, and paled. She was + exercising very great self-restraint. + </p> + <p> + “I will ask less,” she resumed, bitterly. “I had forgotten the extreme + prudence of your character. Give me just what <i>you</i> think is + sufficient for charity.” And her lip tried not to curl—her heart + tried not to despise her husband. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael gave no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper, three—four times lately you have denied me what I + asked. Thrice it was merely my own pleasure—which I relinquished. + This time it is a matter of principle, and I will not yield. Will you—since + I have made you master of my fortune—will you allow me enough out of + it for my own slight gratification? That at least is but justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Justice!” echoed Nathanael, his features sinking gradually into the + rigidity they sometimes wore—a warning of how much the gentleness of + his nature could bear. + </p> + <p> + “Hear me for one minute, Agatha. I know this is hard, very hard for you. I + have prevented your living in London; I have taken a smaller house than + you like; I have restricted you in acts of charity. But for all these + things I have reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me those reasons?” It was a tone, not of entreaty, but of + threatening—such as a man rarely hears from a woman without all the + pride within him recoiling into obstinacy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper grew yet paler, though still his answer was soft—“Agatha, + do not ask me. I cannot tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “You dare not! You are ashamed!” + </p> + <p> + He walked away from her. When he returned, it was less the lover that + spoke than the man. “I am not ashamed of anything I do, and I have clear + motives for all. I only desire my wife to have patience for awhile, and + trust her husband.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust my husband!” she cried, in violent passion—“When he acts + outrageously, unjustly, insultingly—binds me hand and foot like a + child, and then smiles and tells me 'to be patient!' When he has secrets + from me—when, for all I know, his whole conduct may have been one + long deceit towards me.” + </p> + <p> + “Take care, Agatha.” The words were said between his teeth, and then the + lips closed in that strong straight line which made his face look all + iron. + </p> + <p> + “I say it may have been—I have heard of such things”—and she + laughed fearfully at the horrible thought a tempting devil was putting + into her mind—“I have heard of young girls—poor desolate + creatures, cursed with riches, and having no one to guard them—of + some stranger coming and marrying them hastily, but not for love—oh, + not for love!” And her laughter grew absolutely frightful in its mockery. + “How do I know but that you thus married me?” + </p> + <p> + Her wild eyes fixed themselves on her husband. She saw his face change to + very ghastliness, and guilt itself could not have trembled more than the + shudder which ran through his frame. + </p> + <p> + “I was right,” she gasped, her passion subdued into cold horror—“you + did marry me for my money!” + </p> + <p> + No answer—not a breath—only an incredulous stare. Once more + Agatha's passion rose, a sea of wrath, misery, despair, that dashed her + blindly on, she recked not where. + </p> + <p> + “I see it all now—all your wickedness. You never loved me, you only + loved my riches. You have them now, and so you can stand there and gaze at + me, as hard, as dumb as a stone. But I will make you hear—I will + shriek it into your silence again—again—You married me for my + money!” + </p> + <p> + Still no word. The silence she spoke of was awful. Nathanael stood + upright, his hands knotted together, the lids dropping over his eyes. He + neither looked at her nor at anything. There was not the slightest + expression in his face—it might have been carved in granite. When at + last almost to see if he were living man, Agatha clutched his arm, it also + felt hard, immoveable, like a granite rock. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper!” she cried, terror mingling with the outburst of her rage. + </p> + <p> + He merely lifted his eyes and looked at the door.—Not once—oh! + never once at her! + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I will go,” she answered—“most gladly, most thankfully! I will + run anywhere to escape your presence.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed the room and tried to unfasten the door, which she had herself + bolted a little while before, out of play; but her trembling fingers were + useless. She was obliged to call her husband's help, and he came. + </p> + <p> + Perfectly silent, without a single glance towards her, he undid the + fastening, and set the door open for her to pass. A pang of fear, nay + remorse, came over Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Speak,” she cried—“if only one word, speak!” + </p> + <p> + His lips moved, as though framing an inarticulate “No,” and then closed + again in that iron line. He still stood holding the door. + </p> + <p> + Hardly knowing what she did, Agatha sprang past the threshold and tottered + a few steps on. Then turning, she saw the door shut behind her, slowly, + noiselessly, but <i>it was shut</i>. She felt as if the door of hope had + been shut upon her heart. + </p> + <p> + She turned again, and fled away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. + </h2> + <p> + It was late afternoon. The rain had ceased, and glowed into one of those + soft October days, so exquisitely sunny and fair. The light glimmered + through the closed Venetian blinds of “Anne's room,” and danced on the + carpet and about Agatha's feet as she sat, quiet at last, and tried to + remember how she had come and how long she had been there. She had seen no + one; nobody ever came into “Anne's room.” + </p> + <p> + The dressing-bell rang—the only sound she had heard in the house for + hours. + </p> + <p> + She started up, waking to the frightful certainty that all was real—that + the ways of the household were going on just as usual—that she must + rouse up, no matter staggering under what burden of misery, and go through + her daily part, as if nothing had happened, and nothing was about to + happen. + </p> + <p> + Nothing? when this day, perhaps this same hour, must decide one of two + things—whether she were a wretched wife, bound for life to a man who + married her solely for mercenary motives, or whether she were a wife—perhaps + in this even more wretched—who had so wronged and insulted her + husband that nothing ever could win his forgiveness or restore his love. + His love, which, as she now dimly began to see, and shuddered in the + seeing, was becoming to her the most precious thing in existence. + </p> + <p> + Never, until she sat there, quite alone, and feeling what it was to be + left alone, after being so watched and cherished—-never until now + had she understood what the world would be to her if doomed to question + her husband's honour or to outlive her husband's love. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been all a dream,” she said, moving her cold fingers to and + fro over her forehead. “He never could have wronged me so, or I him. He + must surely explain, and I will ask his pardon for what I said in my + passion—Unless, indeed, my accusation were true.” + </p> + <p> + But she could not think of that possibility now—it maddened her. + </p> + <p> + “I shall meet him soon. I wonder how he will meet me. That will decide + all.—Hark!” + </p> + <p> + She listened—with a vague expectation of footsteps at the door. But + no one came. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he is in his room still—our room.” And all the solemn + union of married life—the perpetual presence, the never parting + night nor day, which makes estrangement in that tie worse than in any + other human bond—rushed upon her with unutterable terror. + </p> + <p> + “If he has deceived and wronged me, how shall I endure the sight of him? + If I have outraged him, and he will not forgive me—oh, what will + become of me?” + </p> + <p> + She heard various bells ringing throughout the house, and knew that she + had no time to lose. She rose up feebly, with that aching numbed feeling + which strong agitation leaves in the whole frame, and tottered to the + mirror. + </p> + <p> + “I must look at myself, to see that there is nothing strange about me, in + case I meet any one in the passages.—Oh, what a face!” + </p> + <p> + It was sallow, blanched, with dark shadows round the eyes, and dark lines + drawn everywhere. That first storm of wild passion—that agony of + remorse following, had left indelible marks. She seemed ten years older + since she had last beheld herself, which was when she pulled out her long + curls in the morning. She pulled them out mechanically now, trying to make + of them a screen to hide the poor face that she had used to fancy they + adorned. Then she flew like a frightened creature along the passages, and + without meeting any one, reached her chamber-door. It was a little way + open; she need not knock then—knock and wait trembling for the + answer. Perhaps Mr. Harper was not there, and so for a few minutes she was + safe from the dreaded meeting. She went in. + </p> + <p> + The room was empty, but her husband's handkerchief and riding-gloves were + lying about; he had apparently just gone down-stairs. Nevertheless, though + a relief, it was rather a shock to her to find the room deserted. She felt + a weight in its silence, forewarning her of she knew not what; she looked + round inquiringly, as if the walls could tell her what had passed within + them since she left. At last she took up her husband's gloves and laid + them by with a care foreign to her general habit, and with a strange + tenderness. When Mary's maid answered her summons, she could not forbear + asking, carelessly, but with an inward heart-beat—“Where was Mr. + Harper?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Locke Harper, ma'am, is sitting reading to master in the library.” + </p> + <p> + He then could sit and read quietly to his father. With him, too, all + household ways went on unaltered—with her only was the tempest—the + despair. Her remorse ebbed down—her pride and anger rose. Light—a + fierce flashing light—came to her eyes, and crimson roses to her + cheeks. She dressed herself with care, and went down—though not + until the last minute—to the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + Mary met her at the door. “I was just coming to fetch you. Nathanael said + you had been sitting in Anne's room.” + </p> + <p> + How could he know? Had he watched her? + </p> + <p> + She answered flippantly, “'Tis very true. I have been enjoying my own + company. Very good company too. Have I detained you, though? Is everybody + here?” + </p> + <p> + Everybody was here. <i>He</i> was here. Though she never glanced that way, + she saw him, and the look he wore. To others it might seem his ordinary + look, a little paler, a little more reserved, but she knew what it meant. + She knew likewise, now that her passion had subsided, how his whole life—his + stainless life—gave the lie to the accusation she had cast upon him. + She had outraged him in the keenest point where a proud honourable man can + be outraged by his wife; her own hand had cleft a gulf between them which + might never close. + </p> + <p> + At the thought her heart seemed dropping down—down in her bosom, + like a bird whose wing is broken, it knows not how. Sick, giddy, she clung + to Mary's arm for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, look here. What is the matter with your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” Agatha cried. “I have only stupified myself with—with + thinking. I will think no more—no more.” + </p> + <p> + She tossed her head back with a fierce laugh. Her husband, who had + half-risen at Mary's call, resumed his seat, making no remark. + </p> + <p> + He had never been used to show her much fondness or attention before his + family, so it did not appear strange that in the few minutes before dinner + he should talk to his sisters, and leave his wife to the courtesies of his + father. For it was now an acknowledged fact at Kingcombe Holm that the + Squire was growing very fond of Agatha. + </p> + <p> + Dinner came, the long, dreadful dinner, with the brilliant light + glimmering in her face, and showing every expression there; with old Mr. + Harper leaning forward to address her every time she relapsed into + silence; with the consciousness upon her that there was no medium course, + that she must talk and laugh, fast and recklessly, or else fall into + tears; with the knowledge, worst of all, that there was one sitting at the + bottom of the table whom she dared not look at, but whom nevertheless she + perpetually saw. + </p> + <p> + Her husband had taken his usual place, and sustained it in his usual + manner. There was the same brotherly chat with Mary and Eulalie, the same + answers to his father, and when once, in the dinner-table courtesies, he + addressed his wife, the tone was precisely as it had ever been. + </p> + <p> + Agatha could have shrieked back her answer, betraying him to all the + household! This smooth outside of daily life—and with what below? It + was horrible. + </p> + <p> + Yet she felt herself powerless to burst through it. His perfect silence, + leaving his honour, the honour of both, in her hands, was like a chain of + iron wrapped round her; however she writhed and dashed herself against it, + there it was. + </p> + <p> + The Squire seemed to remain at table longer than ever to-day. He would not + let his woman-kind depart. He had many toasts to give, and various old + reminiscences to unfold to his daughter-in-law. She heard all in a misty + dream, and kept on vaguely smiling. At last the purgatory was ended, and + they rose. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael held the door open for his wife and sisters to retire—things + went on so formally even in the every-day life at Kingcombe Holm. In + passing, Agatha felt as if she must burst through that icy barrier he had + drawn; she <i>must</i> meet her husband's look, and compel him to meet + hers. She gave him a look, proud, threatening, yet full of hidden misery. + He would surely answer that. + </p> + <p> + No! No response—not even anger. Some sorrow perhaps, but a sorrow + that was stern, hopeless, undemonstrative, as was his own nature. If any + wreck had been, it had already sank down into those deep waters, of which + the surface appeared perpetually calm. + </p> + <p> + Agatha threw him back another look. Scorn was there and hatred—she + felt as though she did really hate him at that moment. Her heart gave a + leap, like a smitten deer, and then a “laughing devil” seemed to enter + therein, and dash her on—anywhere—to anything. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mary—come Eulalie, we must be very merry tonight, and my + husband must join, for all his solemnity. Shake it off quick, Mr. Harper, + or we'll call you a deciever—a smooth-faced, smiling cheat.” + </p> + <p> + Laughing out loud—she caught his hand, wrung it violently, and + struck it aside. + </p> + <p> + “How comical you are!” said the languid Eulalie. + </p> + <p> + “But,” whispered sensible Mary, “are you quite sure Nathanael liked the + joke.” + </p> + <p> + “Who cares?” Yet Agatha looked back. + </p> + <p> + He had merely drawn his hand in again to the other, and his colour faintly + rose. Otherwise the poor, mad, passionate girl might as well have dashed + herself against a rock. She grew still again, with a kind of fear. Her + very limbs tottered as she went towards the drawing-room, and all the time + that she lay there on the sofa, Mary bustling about her and chattering all + kinds of domestic nothings, Agatha saw, as in a vision, her husband's + face, so beautiful in its very sternness, so pure and righteous-looking, + whilst she felt herself so desperately, daringly wicked. All the “black, + ingrained spots,” which had become visible in her soul, and she knew + herself to be worse than any one knew her—appeared gathering in one + cloud, until she sickened at her own likeness. For beside it rose another + image—and such an one! Yet there was a time when she had thought it + a great sacrifice and condescension that Nathanael should be allowed to + love her. Now— + </p> + <p> + No, she dared not hear the cry of her heart. She dared not do anything but + hate him, as he must surely hate her. Had he stood before her that minute, + she would have flung away this softness, made her flashing eyes burn up + their tears, and appeared all indifference. He might if he chose be as + cold as ice, as proud as Lucifer;—she would be the same. She would + never once let him suspect that which this day's misery had shown her was + kindling in her heart. A something, before which the pleasant little + vanity of being adored, the content of an easy unexacting liking in + return, fell like straws in a flame. A something which she tried to call + wrath and hate, but which was truly the avenging angel, Love. + </p> + <p> + It seemed an age before Mr. Harper came up-stairs. When he did, his father + was leaning on his arm. The old gentleman looked tired, as if they had + been talking much, yet seemed to regard with a lingering tenderness his + son, once so little of a favourite. Why did he? Why did Nathanael soon or + late win every one's attachment? And how could he show that reverent + attention to his father, that cheerful kindness to his sisters, while <i>she</i> + sat there, jealous of every look and word? Each time he addressed any of + these three, Agatha felt as if some unseen power were lashing her into + fury. + </p> + <p> + It is a strange and terrible thing, but nevertheless true, that a good + man, a kind man, a generous man, may sometimes quite unconsciously drive a + woman nearly mad; make her feel as though a legion of fiends were + struggling for possession of her soul, goad her weakness into acts which + torture alone causes, and the after-blackness of which, presented to her + real self, creates a humiliation which only drives her madder still. Men, + that is, good men, who are stronger and better able to do and to bear—ought + to be very gentle, very wise, in the manner they deal towards women. No + short-coming or wrong, however great, from the weaker to the stronger, can + merit an equal return; and according to the law that the more delicate the + mental and physical organisation, the keener is the power of suffering; so + no man, be he ever so wise or tender-hearted, can rightly estimate the + depth of a woman's agony. + </p> + <p> + Agatha rose, and went away by herself into a smaller room that led out of + the other, not unlike her own pet sitting-room in her maiden days—the + room where she had once stood by the firelight, and Nathanael had come in + and given her the first trembling, thrilling love-kiss. She stood in the + same attitude now. Did she remember it? Was she, in that shadowy corner, + with glimpses of light and fragments of talk pouring in from the other + room, dreaming over that old time—old, though it happened scarcely + three months ago—dreaming it over, with oh! what different emotions! + </p> + <p> + And when she heard a step—her ears were very quick now. Did she + turn, and think to see her lover of old—so little loved? Alas! + without lifting her eyes, she felt the presence was no longer that of her + timid young lover, but of her husband. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper came in, and for the first time since that fearful minute when + she quitted him, the husband and wife were alone. Not quite so, for he had + left the door wide open—purposely, she thought. There was a full + vision of Mary playing chess with her father, and of Eulalie lounging on + the sofa, gazing now and then with idle curiosity into the little room. + </p> + <p> + It was insulting! Why, if he came to speak healing words, did he let his + whole family peer into the mysteries which ought to be strictly sacred + between the two whom marriage had made one? If only he had shut the door! + If only she could do it, and then turn and cling round his neck, or even + weep at his knees—for that frantic desire did strike her for a + moment—anything, to win from him pardon and peace! + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, are you quite at leisure?” + </p> + <p> + To dream of answering such a tone with a flood of tears! or of clinging + round a neck that lifted itself up in such a marble pride! It was + impossible. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite at leisure, Mr. Harper.” + </p> + <p> + At such a crisis, and between two such characters, the fate of a lifetime + may depend upon the first word. The first word had been spoken, and + answered. + </p> + <p> + Agatha turned to the fire again, and her husband to the shadow. Either it + was fancy, or the effect of natural contact, but the one face seemed to + flame, the other to darken—suddenly, hopelessly—as when the + last glimmer of light fades out upon a wall. + </p> + <p> + “Can you speak with me for a few moments?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. Shall it be here?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha sat down; smoothed her dress, and held her folded hands tight upon + her knees, lest he should see how they were trembling. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper resumed. His tone was gentle, though with a certain strangeness + in it, a want of that music which runs through all deep-toned low voices, + and which in his was very peculiar. + </p> + <p> + “It appears to me—though nothing shall be done against your decision—that, + considering all things, it would be better that our stay in my father's + house were made as short as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes.” Two long pausing words, said beneath her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Accordingly I rode to Kingcombe this afternoon, and find that we can + enter the cottage on Saturday. To-day is Thursday——” + </p> + <p> + “Is it?—Oh yes. I beg your pardon. Proceed.” + </p> + <p> + “If it would be agreeable and convenient to you, I think we had better + arrange matters so. I have already told my father it was probable we + should leave on Saturday. Are you willing?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite willing.” + </p> + <p> + “It is settled then. On Saturday evening we go home.” + </p> + <p> + Go home! To their first home! To that new bridal nest, which, be it the + poorest dwelling on earth, seems—or should seem—holy, happy, + and fair! What a coming home it was! Better, she thought, that he had cast + her adrift, or torn himself from her and placed the wide world between + them. Rather any open separation than the mockery of such a union. + </p> + <p> + “Home!” she cried. “I will not go—I cannot. Oh, not home!” + </p> + <p> + “To a house, then—call it by what name you please. To your own + house, which we will merely <i>say</i> is mine. Your comfort”—he + stopped a little—“must always be the first consideration of your + husband.” + </p> + <p> + “My husband!” she repeated, almost in a shriek—and the old fit of + fierce laughter was coming back. + </p> + <p> + At this moment Eulalie's curious eyes were seen turning towards the little + room. Nathanael moved so as to shield his wife from them. “Hush!” he said, + sorrowfully, even with a sort of pity—“hush, Agatha. We are married. + Between us two there must be, under all circumstances, honour and + silence.” + </p> + <p> + His manner was so solemn, free from bitterness or anger, that Agatha's + passion was quelled. She was awed as by the sight of some dead face, + wronged grievously in life, but which now only revenges itself by the + hopelessness of its mute perpetual smile. She remained staring blankly + into the fire, plaiting and unplaiting the sash of her dress with heedless + fingers. Eulalie might peer safely. + </p> + <p> + “There was another thing,” resumed Nathanael, “which, before telling the + rest of the household, I wished to say to you. I had business in Weymouth + to-morrow; and—if”— + </p> + <p> + “Well? I listen.” + </p> + <p> + “If—I were to ride there to-night”— + </p> + <p> + “Go.” A soft, quick word—a mere motion of the lips—and yet it + was the one word of doom. + </p> + <p> + After that, without saying more, Mr. Harper walked back slowly into the + drawing-room, and Agatha sat by the fireside alone. + </p> + <p> + She heard the rest talking—complaining—reasoning—heard + one or two persuasive calls for “Agatha”—but she never moved. Then + came the bell hastily pulled, and the old Squire's testy summons for “Mr. + Locke Harper's horse,” and “was it a fine night, and the moon risen?” Then + the drawing-room door opened and closed. No—he was not gone—not + without saying adieu. He would surely pay his wife that deference. Outside + the wall she heard his foot ascending the staircase, slowly, with heavy + pauses between each step. She crept close to the farther door—behind + the curtain, and listened. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha—where is she gone to?” said Mary, peeping carelessly into + the dark room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she has followed her husband up-stairs, of course. Think of all the + charges and farewells—the kissing and the crying. 'Tis a wonder she + did not insist on riding with him across the country, and coming back at + midnight, as I suppose Nathanael will do. La? what's to become of these + very devoted husbands and wives.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha crushed her hands against the wall She felt as if she could almost + have torn Eulalie's heart out—if she had a heart. While in her own + bosom, leaping up in all its strength, ready at once for heroism, love, + and fury—for any nobleness or any crime—was that fountain of + all her sex's actions, that mainspring of all her life—the fatal + woman-heart. + </p> + <p> + She waited until she heard Nathanael descend the stairs, and then, as he + passed into the drawing-room to his sisters, she, by the little curtained + door, passed out into the hall. There she remained until the rest came; + the sisters trooping after Nathanael, and the old Squire following + likewise, to see that his son had the best and steadiest horse for a + night-ride, which ride, he took care to observe, pointedly, was a most + uncourteous proceeding, and warranted by nothing, save the fact of its + being performed on the especial service of Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha—where is Agatha hiding herself?” said Mary. “She ought not + to keep her husband waiting a minute.'' + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no?” And the little figure, all in white, glided out from some queer + corner of the hall, and stood like a ghost in the moonlight. “Good night—good + night.” She threw out her hand with those of the others—threw it—not + gave it. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael took the hand, but did not say good night—indeed he never + spoke at all. + </p> + <p> + “Well, are you not going to embrace one another, stage-fashion? Don't let + Mary and me interrupt you, pray.” And the two Miss Harpers drew back a + little from the young couple. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper bent coldly over his wife's brow, hid under the shadow of her + heavy hair. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; not that,” Agatha whispered, recoiling from his touch. “Never + that again.” + </p> + <p> + He opened the hall-door—saying adieu to neither father nor sisters—leaped + on his horse, and was gone. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, Agatha; where are you running? He is far down the road by this + time. Come in, do! Are you so very reluctant to be left for a few hours + alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Oh, no!” And Agatha went back to the drawing-room with her + sisters-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Alone! The word she had repudiated rose up like a spirit, everywhere, all + over the house. Not a room but what seemed empty, strange. Fast and busily + the Miss Harpers talked—yet all around was, oh! such silence. The + silence that we feel in a house when some voice and step has gone out of + it, which no one misses except we, and which we miss as we should miss the + daylight or the sun. + </p> + <p> + When all grew quiet, and Agatha sat in her own room—expecting + nothing, for she knew he would not come—but still sitting, with her + hair falling damp about her, and her eyes fixed on the mirror for company, + yet half growing frightened as if it were a strange object on which she + gazed—then, indeed, there was silence—then, indeed, she was <i>alone</i>. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Harper did not ride home by midnight, as his wife was well assured he + would not do, though with some idle hope put into her mind by Eulalie, she + sat at the window until the stars whitened in the dawn. + </p> + <p> + At noon—which seemed to come slowly, every hour a day—Mr. + Dugdale appeared with a message, which by some wondrous good fortune he + remembered to deliver—that Nathanael had returned from Weymouth to + Kingcombe, and was waiting there. Agatha gathered with difficulty that her + husband wished her to return with Mr. Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + “I will not go.” + </p> + <p> + “That's right! I wouldn't do it upon any account,” said Eulalie, with not + the kindest of laughs. “I wouldn't be sent for like a school-girl. Let + Nathanael come himself and fetch you. What a rude fellow he is!” + </p> + <p> + “Eulalie!—You forget you are speaking of your brother and my + husband. I will be ready in five minutes, Mr. Dugdale.” + </p> + <p> + Duke lifted his placid but observant eyes, and smiled. “That's good. Come + along, my child.” + </p> + <p> + He had never spoken so kindly to her before. It was as if he read her + trouble. Her anger faded—she was near bursting in tears. In a little + while she had taken the good man's arm—which Eulalie pointedly + informed her was not the fashion at Kingcombe—and was walking with + him to meet her husband. + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke talked but little; marching on leisurely in a meditative mood, + and leaving his young sister-in-law to follow his example. Once or twice + she felt stealing down upon her one of his kindly, paternal glances, and + heard him saying to himself his usual winding-up of every mental + difficulty: + </p> + <p> + “Eh!—We know nothing! Nobody knows anything. But everything always + comes clear sometime.” + </p> + <p> + At the verge of the town, apparently coming to meet them, she saw + Nathanael—saw him a long way off. Her heart leaped at the first + vision of the tall slender figure and light hair; but when he approached + she was walking steadfastly along. Her eyes lowered, and her mouth firm + set. He came up, silently gave her his arm, and she took it as silently. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale and her husband immediately began to talk, so there was no + need for Agatha to do anything but walk on, trying to remember where she + was, and what course of conduct she had to pursue; trying above all to + repress these alternate storms of anger and lulls of despair, and deport + herself not like a passionate child, but a reasonable woman—a woman + who, after all, might have been heavily wronged. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she essayed to consider this—to recall, as is so difficult + always, the original cause of difference, the little cloud which had + produced this tempest—but everything was in an inextricable maze. + </p> + <p> + Ere long, Nathanael's silence warned her that they two were alone, Mr. + Dugdale having made himself absent, and being seen afar off, diving into a + knot of market-politicians. Arm-in-arm the husband and wife passed on + through the street. Agatha pulled her veil down, and caught more steadfast + hold of her husband's arm—he was her husband, and she would maintain + their honour in the world's sight. She felt how many curious eyes were + watching them from windows—how many gossiping tongues would be + passing comment on the looks and demeanour of Mr. and Mrs. Locke Harper. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we go over the house now, or would you like to call for my sister?” + </p> + <p> + “No—we will go at once,” returned Agatha. + </p> + <p> + Steadfastly—mechanically—the young husband and wife looked + over their future home, which was all but ready for habitation. It was not + a mean abode now; to Mr. Wilson's furniture had been added various + comforts and luxuries. Agatha asked no questions—scarcely noticed + anything. She merely moved about, trying to sustain her position in the + eyes of the work-people that showed her round the house; stopping a minute + to speak kindly to the servant who was already installed there, and who, + dropping a dozen respectful curtsies, explained that she was the daughter + of “Master Nathanael's” nurse. + </p> + <p> + Everything seemed arranged for Mrs. Harper's comfort, as by invisible + hands. She never inquired, or even thought, who was the origin of it all. + She could not believe she was in her own home;—her married home;—she + felt as if each minute she should wake and find herself Agatha Bowen, in + the old rooms in Bedford Square, with all things else a dream. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that it were,” she sighed within herself. “Oh that I had never”— + </p> + <p> + She paused here—she could not wish that she had never seen + Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + They quitted the cottage and went out into the street, for country and + town blended together in tiny Kingcombe. Mr. Harper closed the + wicket-gate, and looked back upon the little house. There was an unquiet + glitter in his eye, and his chest heaved violently for a few moments. + Then, with all outward observance, he linked his wife's arm in his, and + they proceeded onwards. + </p> + <p> + At the end of East Street they met Harriet Dugdale—the Dugdales + seemed always wandering about Kingcombe after one another, and turning up + at intervals at odd corners. + </p> + <p> + “Here you both are! I was looking for my husband. Has anybody seen Duke. + Oh, where on earth is Duke gone to? He said he would be back in five + minutes—which means five hours.” + </p> + <p> + “I left him at the market-place.” + </p> + <p> + “That's an hour ago. He has been home two or three times since then. Do + you think he could get on for a whole hour without wanting the Missus? Oh, + there he is. Stop, and I'll catch him.” + </p> + <p> + He was caught, and led forward prisoner by his pretty wife, who never once + let him go, lest he should slide away again, and become absorbed in the + mysterious electioneering groups that haunted the town. + </p> + <p> + “Now—Harrie—Missus, just wait—I'll be back in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a minute! Anne has sent word that she wants you directly—you + and Nathanael. You'll go, brother!” + </p> + <p> + “Whither?” + </p> + <p> + “To Thornhurst, to meet Mr. Trenchard and some other folk. You must start + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper glanced towards his wife, who had dropped his arm; not + pointedly, but as though release were welcome. + </p> + <p> + “What, couldn't it leave its pet again?” cried Harrie, laughing. “Bless + it, nobody demands that terrible sacrifice. Do you think Anne would invite + husbands without their wives? We are all to go—if you agree, + Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” It was quite indifferent to her where she went, or what she + did. + </p> + <p> + So they all four started in one of those inimitable conveyances called + dog-carts, which seem to offer every facility for “accidental death,” + either by flying over the horse's head, tumbling under the wheels, or + slipping off behind. + </p> + <p> + “Where will you sit, my dear? Beside your husband, I suppose? Mine + drives.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha answered by springing up beside Mr. Dugdale, with some vague jest + about husbands being no company at all. The dark fit had passed, and she + was now in a mood of desperation. + </p> + <p> + They dashed on quickly; Marmaduke was a daring driver. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes Agatha even thought he would overturn them in the road. Little + she cared! She was in that state of excitement when the utmost peril would + only have made her laugh. Passing under the three hills, and looking up at + the old castle, silent and grey, the daylight shining through the fissured + apertures that had been windows, she turned round and recklessly proposed + to Harrie their scrambling up the green slope and rolling down again. + </p> + <p> + “E—h, my child!” said Duke Dugdale, turning his mild benevolent + looks on the flushed face beside him. “Don't'ee try that, don't'ee, now! + When people once set themselves rolling down-hill they never stop till + they get to the bottom. It's always so in this world.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha laughed more loudly. She wished her husband to hear how merry she + was. She talked incessantly to Mr. Dugdale or Harrie, and held herself + very upright, so that Nathanael, who sat behind her, might not even feel + the touch of her shoulder. She, who had hitherto been so indifferent to + everybody, so mild in her likings and dislikes—never till now had + she felt such strange emotions. Yet each and all carried with them a + fierce charm. It was like a person learning for the first time what thirst + was, and drinking fire, because, in any case, he must drink. And with all + her wrath there seemed a spell over heart, brain, and senses, which never + for a moment allowed her to cease thinking of her husband. Every movement + he made, every word he uttered, she distinctly felt and heard. + </p> + <p> + The way grew unfamiliar; they were passing through a track of country, + wilder, and more peculiar than any Mrs. Harper had yet seen in Dorsetshire—a + road cut through furzy eminences, looking down on deep, abrupt valleys, + that might have been the bed of dried-up lakes or bays; long heathery + sweeps of undulating ground, with great stones lying here and there; + cultivation altogether ceasing—even sheep becoming rare; and ever + when they chanced to rise on higher ground, a sharp, salt, sea-wind + blowing, not a human being to be seen for miles. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the gate. I'll open it. Now we get into Anne Valery's property,” + said Harrie, as she leaped down and leaped up again, mocking Nathanael's + “brown study.” + </p> + <p> + “What a change!” Agatha cried. “I have not seen such trees in + Dorsetshire.” + </p> + <p> + “They seem indeed to have grown on purpose for Anne. Her grandfather built + Thornhurst. A queer desolate spot to choose, but it's a perfect little + nest of beauty. There!” + </p> + <p> + The road opened upon a semicircular green plane, levelled among the hills, + as it were on purpose, and planted round with a sheltering bulwark of + trees—lime, chestnut, oak—rising higher and higher, until at + the summit, where the sea-breeze caught them, grew nothing but the + perpetual Dorsetshire fir. On the edge of the semicircle stood the house, + this green plane before it, behind, a wide stretch of country, where the + tide, running for miles inland, made strange-shaped lakes and broad + rivers, spread out glistening in the afternoon sun. + </p> + <p> + “Anne, must always be near the sea. I don't think she would live even here + unless she knew that just climbing those rocks would bring her in sight of + the Channel. She has quite an ocean-mania.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll learn it from her. I want a convenient little mania. Suppose I cure + myself of my old grudge against the sea, and go from hatred into love, or + from love back again into hatred—as people do.” + </p> + <p> + “What a comical girl you are!” + </p> + <p> + “Very. Stay now. Wait till the horse is quiet, and I'll take a leap down—just + like a person leaping into”— + </p> + <p> + “Hold, Agatha”—and she felt her arm caught by her husband. It was + the first time he had touched or addressed her since they left Kingcombe. + “Don't spring down—it is not safe. Stay till I lift you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not want your help.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, you do; you are not used to this sort of carriage.' + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside—I <i>will</i> jump down,” she cried, roused by the + contest, slight as it was, but enough to show the clashing of the two + wills. “Stand aside,” she repeated, leaning forward with glittering eyes, + giddy, and in so great confusion of mind as to be in real danger—“we + will see who gives way.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you in earnest?” Nathanael whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Quite. Go!” + </p> + <p> + “I would go if it were play. But when I see my wife about to do any + frantic thing to her own injury, I shall restrain her—thus.” + </p> + <p> + Balancing himself on the carriage-step, he clasped the little figure in + his arms—tight—strangely tight and close. Before Agatha could + resist, he had lifted her safely down, and set her free. + </p> + <p> + She stood passive—astonished. What could it be in that firm will, in + that sudden clasp, which made her feel—was it anger? No not anger, + though her cheeks glowed and her breast heaved. Why was it, that as + Nathanael walked onward towards the house, his wife looked after him with + such a mingling of attraction and repulsion? What could it be, this + strange power which gave him the preeminence over her—which taught + her, without her knowing it, the mystery that causes man to rule and woman + to obey; Very thoughtful—even unmoved by Harrie's loud laughter at + the “excellent joke”—Mrs. Harper suffered herself to be led on by + her sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, child, don't look so serious. Men will have their way—especially + husbands. Mine gets obeyed as little as any one; but now and then, when it + comes to the point”—here Harrie looked astonishingly grave, for her—“I'm + obliged to give in to Pa; and somehow Pa's always right, bless him!” + </p> + <p> + How every word of one happy wife went like a dagger into the other wife's + heart! But there was no shield. Here they were in Anne Valery's house, + obliged to appear as cheerful guests, especially the newest guest, the + bride. Agatha tried, and tried successfully, to play her part:—misery + makes such capital hypocrites! + </p> + <p> + “Isn't this a large house for a single woman?” said Mrs. Dugdale, as the + two ladies passed up-stairs. “Yet Anne constantly manages to fill it, + especially in summer-time. The dozens of sick friends she has staying here + to be cured by sea-breezes! the scores of young people that come and make + love in those green alleys down the garden! But then in the lulls of + company the house is dull and silent—as now.” + </p> + <p> + It was very silent, though not with the desolation which often broods over + a large house thinly inhabited. The room—Anne's bedroom—lay + westward, and a good deal of sunshine was still glinting in. A few late + bees were buzzing about the open window, cheated perhaps by the feathery + seeds of the clematis, which had long ceased flowering. There was no other + sound. But many fine prints, a few painted portraits, and several + white-gleaming statuettes, seemed as the sunlight struck them to burst the + silence, with mute speech. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you are looking at Anne's 'odds and ends' as I call them. Rather a + contrast, her walls and ours. I don't see the use of prints and plaster + images—always in the way where there are children. But Anne is so + dreadfully fond of pretty things. She says they're company. No wonder! A + solitary old maid must find herself very dull at times.” + </p> + <p> + “Must she?—then she is the more glad to see her visitors”—a + pleasant voice, a silken-rustling step, which in Agatha's fancy seemed + always to enter like daylight into a dusky room—and Miss Valery came + to welcome her guests. + </p> + <p> + She addressed Mrs. Harper first, and then Harrie, who looked confused for + the moment. But it was not a trifle that could upset the equanimity of the + honest-speaking Harrie Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + “Bless us, Anne, how softly you walk!' Listeners,' etc.—You know the + saying! But you might listen at every door in Dorsetshire, and never hear + worse of yourself than I said just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. When I want a good character I shall be sure to come to + Harriet Dugdale.—And now, what is the news with the little wife! + whom I have yet to bid welcome to Thornhurst. Welcome Mrs. Locke Harper.” + Anne said the name, as she often did, with a peculiar under-tone of + hesitation and tenderness; then, according to her frequent habit, she put + her hand on her favourite's shoulder, and began to play with the brown + curls. “Have you been quite well and happy since I saw you?” + </p> + <p> + The question, so simple, so full of kindness, pierced Agatha's soul. Alas? + how much had happened since she sat on the stone seat at Corfe Castle, and + looked over the view with Anne Valery! How little did Anne or any one know + that she was wretched—maddened—hating herself and the whole + world—believing in nothing good, nothing holy—not even in her + who spoke. The words, the smile, appeared the mocking hypocrisy of one who + had persuaded her to marry, and must ere long know of that hasty marriage + the miserable result This thought steeled her heart even against Anne + Valery. + </p> + <p> + She burst into a sharp laugh. “Well! Happy! Cannot you see? You are the + best person to answer your own question.” And she moved away out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Anne looked after her, thoughtfully, rather sadly. Perhaps she was used to + have her pets glide from her, dancing out indifferently into the merry + world. She made no attempt to follow Agatha, but led the way down-stairs + into the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trenchard, come and let me introduce you to Mrs. Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + As Miss Valery said this, an elderly gentleman, dapper, dandy, and small, + escaped from under the hands of Duke Dugdale—those big earnest hands + that were laid upon him in all the apostleship of sincere argument—and + came, nothing loth, as his eager bow showed, to do the polite to the young + bride who had been lately brought to the county. For Mr. Trenchard, + besides the wondrously sweetening power of his candidateship, came of a + very ancient name in Dorsetshire. He was evidently a beau too—one of + those harmless general adorers whom the influence of a graceful woman + touches even unto old age. + </p> + <p> + Agatha saw in his first look that he admired her, and she was in that + proud desperate mood when a girl is ready to catch hold of the attentions + or conversation of any one—even an elderly gentleman. She was very + gracious to Mr. Trenchard—nay, altogether bewitching—though + for the first ten minutes she herself saw and heard nothing save a thing + in black with white hair, talking to her of the beauties of Dorsetshire. + More distinctly than aught he said, she heard what was passing in the + group at the other end of the room—especially her husband's voice, + so quiet and deep, always a tone deeper than any other voices, falling + through all the rest like a note of music. And she soon found out that + Anne was listening also—to Nathanael, of course. She always did. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Trenchard followed the direction of the two ladies' eyes, and + ingeniously took up the text. + </p> + <p> + “I assure you, Mrs. Harper, it is a pleasure to all the neighbourhood that + your husband has come back from America. I remember him quite a child, and + his uncle a young man. And really, how like he is, in both feature and + voice, to what his uncle used to be at that time. As he stands there + talking, I could almost fancy it was Mr. Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Locke Harper,” repeated Agatha. “Was that the name Uncle Brian went + by?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, save with those privileged people who called him Brian. But they + were few. He had not the fortune or misfortune of possessing a thousand + and one intimate friends. Yet all respected him, and remember him still. + It will be a real satisfaction to have in the country a second Mr. Locke + Harper,—Dear me, how like he is! Don't you see it, Miss Valery?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a general likeness running through all the Harper family.” + </p> + <p> + “Except the eldest son, though even to him I can trace some resemblance + here”—and he bowed to Mrs. Dugdale. “And this reminds me that I knew + beforehand I should probably have the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Harper in + Dorsetshire. Only two days ago I saw at Paris Major Frederick Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Major Harper at Paris?” eagerly cried Agatha, caught by the name, + which had so soon passed out of the daily interests of her life, that its + sound was already quite strange. It reached her now like a comforting + breath of old times—a something to catch hold of in the wide, dreary + maze around her. Her former guardian seemed to rise up before her; with + all his cheery, good-natured ways; his compassion when she had been newly + made an orphan; his kindness of manner that remained—ay, to the very + last. + </p> + <p> + In a rush of many feelings that softened her voice to positive tenderness, + she cried, “Oh do tell me all about Major Harper?” + </p> + <p> + And this time she did not notice that, in the political discussion going + forward, it was Mr. Dugdale who spoke, his brother-in-law having ceased + the argument and become silent. + </p> + <p> + “Madam,” returned the candidate, with a smile—perhaps a little too + meaning a smile—“I will, with pleasure, tell you everything. I + guessed from his anxious questions concerning you, and whether I had met + you in Dorsetshire, that before he was your brother-in-law Major Harper + had the happiness of being an intimate friend of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “He was my guardian.” + </p> + <p> + “That fact he did not inform me of. Indeed we had little time for + conversation. We merely dined together, and parted almost immediately. He + seemed in the midst of a whirl of pleasant engagements, as Major Harper + invariably is. Charming, agreeable man! An immense favourite with all + ladies.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha answered “Yes” rather coldly. Her attention was wandering; she had + missed the sound of her husband's voice altogether. But the next moment + she heard him behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Trenchard?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear sir? Are you also come to ask questions about your brother, + whom, as I have been telling Mrs. Harper, I had the pleasure to meet in + Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “So I have just heard you say. Where, and how was he living?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha thought this a strange question for Nathanael to put to a third + party concerning his own brother. She was glad to hear Miss Valery + observe, with genuine tact, that Major Harper was always careless in the + matter of giving addresses. + </p> + <p> + “He was living—let me see—at 102 Rue—, one of the + handsomest and pleasantest streets in Paris. I remember he said he was + obliged to take this <i>appartement</i> for three months, after which he + was going to act the hermit and economise. Very unlikely that, I should + think, for a man of Major Harper's social habits.” + </p> + <p> + “Very,” Agatha said, being looked to for a response. She was much + surprised to learn this of her brother-in-law; still more did she wonder + at the rigid silence with which her husband heard the same. + </p> + <p> + “I think, Mrs. Harper, we may safely say that his determination will not + last. A mere fit of misanthropy after rather too much gaiety. In such a + pleasant fellow as Frederick Harper we must excuse a few broken + resolutions.” + </p> + <p> + “We ought,” said Anne Valery, with that rare gentleness which makes men + listen to a woman even when she “preaches.” “It is a very hard trial for + any one to be thrown into the world with so many gifts as Major Harper. A + man whom all men like, and not a few women are prone to love, goes through + an ordeal so fierce, that if he withstand it he is one of the greatest + heroes on earth. If he fall”—and Anne lowered her voice so that + Agatha could scarcely hear, though she felt sure Nathanael did—“if + he fall, we ought, through all the wrong, clearly to discern the + temptation.” + </p> + <p> + It was a new doctrine, the last Agatha would have expected to hear on the + lips of such a sternly good woman as she had painted Miss Valery. She said + so, adding, with her usual plainness, “I thought, somehow, that you did + not like Major Harper?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, we were young together. But hush, my dear, your husband is + speaking.” + </p> + <p> + He was saying, with quite an altered expression, something about “my + brother Frederick.” But after that mention Major Harper's name died out of + the conversation, as out of Agatha's memory. Alas, not the unfrequent fate + of the Major Harpers of society—meteors, never thought of but while + they are shining, and forgotten as soon as they have burnt themselves out. + </p> + <p> + By this time the two or three stray visitors—gentlemen-farmers, + Anne's tenants, as Mrs. Dugdale whispered—had disappeared, and Mr. + Trenchard was the sole stranger left in the drawing-room. Miss Valery did + the honours of her house with a remarkably simple grace. + </p> + <p> + “I give no state dinner parties,” she said, smiling, to Mr. Trenchard. “It + is a whim of mine that I never could see the use of friends meeting + together merely to eat and drink, or of offering them more and richer fare + than is customary or necessary. But if you will stay and dine with me, and + with these my own people, country fashion, even though you have been a ten + years' resident in London”— + </p> + <p> + “But have never forgotten Dorset, and good Dorset ways,” said the old + gentleman, as he bowed over the hostess's hand. Then, obeying Anne's + signal, he offered his arm to Mrs. Harper to lead her in to dinner;—the + innocent daylight dinner, with real China-roses looking in at the window, + and an energetic autumn-robin singing his good-night before the sun went + down. + </p> + <p> + Agatha could have been happy, merry—she was still so young, and the + weight on her heart was the first that ever had fallen there. At intervals + she struggled to forget it—almost succeeded; and then the first + glimpse of her husband's face, the first tone of his voice, brought the + burden back again. Her spirits grew wilder than ever, lest any one should + guess she was so very, very miserable. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, dreading Anne's eyes, she rushed off into the garden with + Harrie Dugdale; tossing back her hair, and inhaling by gasps the cold + evening wind, that it might bring calm and clearness to her brain. Even + yet she felt as though she were dreaming. + </p> + <p> + Returning, she found lights in the drawing-room. Mr. Trenchard, in a + patient attitude, was listening to Marmaduke Dugdale; some distance off, + Nathanael sat talking to Miss Valery. Anne was leaning back in an + arm-chair: the lamp shining full on her face showed how very pale and worn + it was. Her voice, too, sounded feeble, as Agatha caught the words: + </p> + <p> + “In two months, you think? That is a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be sooner, Marmaduke says. I met him on board the ship at + Weymouth; when he told me of this innocent little scheme he was + transacting.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will not tell”— + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian? No, of course not. Yet I think it would do Uncle Brian good + to know how dearly Marmaduke and all his friends here care for him. Yet he + might not believe it—I think he never did.” + </p> + <p> + Anne was silent. + </p> + <p> + “He used to say,” continued Nathanael, who was sitting where he could not + see his wife, and for once heard not her soft step over the carpet—“Uncle + Brian used to say, that it was wisest neither to love nor need love. I + think different. It is a cruel, hardening, embittering thing for a man to + feel that no one loves him.” + </p> + <p> + —“Love—love! Have you two sage ones been discussing that + folly? Now, may I have the honour to hear?” + </p> + <p> + “If Anne will talk; I have done speaking,” said Mr. Harper, as he gave + Agatha his chair, and slowly moved away to the other circle. + </p> + <p> + Thus, ever thus, he went from her, escaping the chance of either being + wounded or healed. Agatha was nearly wild. With all her might she flung + herself into conversation with Mr. Trenchard, and tried to conjugate that + verb—hitherto a mystery to her innocent mind—<i>to flirt</i>. + She wished to make herself beautifully hateful—bewitchingly foul; or + rather she did not care what she made herself, if she only made <i>him</i>—who + had now in her thoughts sank to the namelessness, which proves that one + name is fast filling up the whole world—made him stir from that + mountain height of impassive calm—melted him into repentance—shook + him into frenzied jealousy. Anything—anything—so that he no + longer should stand before her like a serene Alp, which nothing human + could disturb, and which—ah, in all her madness, she saw that but + too clearly!—which had always such a heavenly light shining on its + forehead—a purity “God-given,” like his name. + </p> + <p> + His name, which she had once so disliked, but which now caught a strange + beauty. Lately, she had looked out its meaning in a list of Bible names; + and many a time, the night before, she had said it to herself, crying it + out into the dark, until its soft Hebrew vowels grew musical, and its holy + Hebrew meaning grew divine. “Nathanael—Nathanael—<i>God-given</i>.” + Might he not indeed be a husband given unto her of God—to lead her + in the right way, and make a true noble woman of her; such as a woman is + always made by the love of, and the loving of, a noble man. + </p> + <p> + But these were sacred night-time thoughts which vanished in the daylight, + or only came in snatches and rifts, careering through the blackness that + surrounded her. + </p> + <p> + And still she talked to the fortunate Mr. Trenchard; made herself more + agreeable than she had ever believed possible. The elderly beau was + fascinated, and even Mr. Dugdale turned from election-papers, to look at + his fair sister-in-law with genuine admiration—now and then nodding + to Harrie, as if to see what she thought of this new light that had shot + across their country hemisphere. At which Mrs. Dugdale once or twice + pretended to be mightily jealous, until her husband, with his + inconceivable sweet smile, his way of patting her knees with his big + gentle hand, and the utterly inexpressible tone of his “Nay, now Missus” + made matters quite straight, and plunged back into his politics. + </p> + <p> + All this while Anne Valery sat in her arm chair—speaking little, + looking from one to the other of her guests with a wandering, thoughtful + eye, that, for once, noticed little the things around her, because her + mental vision was afar off.—Whither— + </p> + <p> + And Marmaduke went on with his benevolent schemes for improving + Dorsetshire and the world; and his Harrie had her dreams too—possibly + about the advantage an M.P.'s interest might prove in future days to “the + children;” and the young couple, in all the whirl of their misery, still + clung to hope and youth and life, so little of which way they had trod, + and so much of which lay before them. No one thought of her who sat apart, + looking smilingly on them all, but to whom they and the things surrounding + them were day by day growing more dim—who was fading, fading, even + while she smiled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + When, late at night, the party reached Kingcombe, it was resolved that the + Harpers should remain there until morning. Agatha, worn out with bodily + fatigue and the great tension of her mind during so many hours, laid her + head down on her pillow, closed her aching eyes, and never opened them + till near upon broad noon. Then she found breakfast was long over in the + early house of the Dugdales, and that Nathanael had left her and gone out + some hours before. + </p> + <p> + “He would not let me come and wake you—he said you slept so heavily + and looked so tired. Certainly, he is the very kindest husband! Who ever + would have believed that stiff, cold disagreeable Nathanael, who came home + from America some months ago, puzzling us all, would have turned out so + well. It is your ladyship's doing, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + So ran on Mrs. Dugdale, nor noticed how beneath her words her + sister-in-law writhed, as though they had been sharp swords. Harrie was + not a penetrating woman; Agatha had already discerned that, and thought, + with a bitter smile, that it was well they were coming to live at + Kingcombe, and that Mrs. Dugdale would be a very safe and amusing + companion. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what is to be done to-day?” said she, as she ate the breakfast which + Harrie brought her, and looked round the strange bed-room, which made her + feel more bewildered than ever. So many phases, so many lives did she seem + to have passed through since she was married. + </p> + <p> + “The first thing to be done, my dear, is to take you back to Kingcombe + Holm, to do respectful to your papa-in-law. Very punctilious is the + Squire. If Nathanael had not ridden over there at some unearthly hour this + morning, he never would have forgiven your not returning at night—the + last night too, for I see your husband is determined to be settled at the + cottage this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is well.” Agatha breathed more freely. She was so glad to hide + herself under any roof that was her own. And perhaps a vague thought crept + up, that some time—not for days yet, but when she could bend her + pride to soften him—when they were living quite alone together—all + might be gradually explained, nay, healed, between her and her husband. + She was on the whole not sorry to go “home.” + </p> + <p> + “I see you two are quite agreed,” laughed Harrie. “Marvellous union, Mrs. + Locke Harper. You'll be really a pattern couple soon, and throw Duke and + me cruelly in the shade. Now, dress like lightning, and I'll drive you and + the children over to grandpapa's. Most likely well meet Pa and Nathanael + somewhere about the town.” + </p> + <p> + But, with the general vagueness of the Dugdale habits, that meeting did + not arrive, nor was Mr. Harper anywhere to be seen. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he is at the cottage, where I was bid not to take you upon any + account. Charming little mysteries, I suppose, attendant on bringing home + the bride. Very nice. Heigh-ho! I remember how happy I was when my poor + dear Duke brought me home for the first time!” + </p> + <p> + “Where was that?” They were dashing over the moors, Agatha sitting rather + silent, and Harrie's tongue galloping as fast as Dunce, her steed. Little + Brian was perched on his mother's knee, holding the reins—a baby + Phaeton, though with small danger of setting the world on fire—at + least just yet. + </p> + <p> + “Where was it, my dear? Why, to the same old house we live in, empty and + gloomy then, though it's full enough now. And I had been married—(hold + your tongues, Fred and Gus! you can't have the whip, simpletons!)—married + only three weeks, and it was queer coming back to my native place; and my + father was rather cross that I had married Duke at all, and—I was + foolish enough to cry.” + </p> + <p> + Here Harrie laughed, and gave Dunce a lash that quite discomposed his pony + faculties, and made Brian scream with delight. + </p> + <p> + “And what did your husband say?” + </p> + <p> + “Say? Nothing. He never speaks when he's vexed or hurt; only, a little + while afterwards he came beside me, and said something about my being such + a young girl, so gay-hearted and pretty—(bah!—though I was + pretty then)—too young, he said, to marry such an elderly man, etc. + etc. etc.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did <i>you</i> say?” + </p> + <p> + “Likewise nothing. I just jumped on his knee, and took him round the neck, + and—But that isn't of the slightest consequence to anybody. Tuts! On + with you, Dunce!” And Harrie leaned forward, her eyelashes glittering wet + in spite of her fun. + </p> + <p> + “I know I don't deserve him,” she continued. “I never did. Nobody could. + There are a lot of bad men in the world, but when a man is really good, + there's hardly a woman alive that is good enough for him. And I'm not half + good enough for Duke—but—I love him! That's all. Bless thee, + Brian! thee is Pa's own boy all over!” + </p> + <p> + And Harrie kissed the little fellow passionately, with something more even + than a mother's love.—Agatha could have lifted up her arms and + shrieked with misery. + </p> + <p> + It was a strange long day at Kingcombe Holm; many things to be arranged, + many questions to be parried, many prying eyes to be avoided. But the + general conclusion seemed to be, that this sudden movement was a + mysterious whim of Nathanael—and Nathanael was supposed by one-half + of his family to be mightily prone to mysteries and whims. + </p> + <p> + At length, when the day was nigh spent, and Agatha had dressed for the + last of those formal dinners to which she had never been able quite to + reconcile herself, she took refuge in Elizabeth's room. Thither she had of + late absented herself; there was something so formidable in the keenness + of Elizabeth's silent eyes. Hesitating before the door, she remembered + when she had last quitted it. It required all her bravery to cross the + threshold once more. + </p> + <p> + “Come in. I hear your foot, Agatha.” There was no stepping back now. + </p> + <p> + The same atmosphere of peace and sanctity pervading the pretty room; the + same lights dancing through the painted window on the silk coverlet; the + same face, which had all the colourless reality of death, without any of + its ghastliness—a smiling repose, such as is seen only at the + beginning and end of life's tumult—in the cradle and in the coffin. + Its effect upon Agatha was instantaneous. Her trembling ceased; she + stepped lightly, as one does in entering a holy place. + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth!” It seemed a beautiful name, a saint's name, and as such came + quite naturally, though she had rarely before been so familiar with any + one of her new sisters. She kneeled down and kissed Elizabeth. + </p> + <p> + “That is right. You are good to come. And where have you been, my little + sister?—I have not seen you for three days.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it so long?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—though it may seem longer to me here. You remember you came and + told me a long story about a Cornish miner. How did the tale end? What, no + answer?” + </p> + <p> + None. She tried to hide herself—crush herself into the very floor + where she sat, out of reach of Elizabeth's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well, dear! I shall not ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps my husband will tell you some day. Talk to me of something else, + Elizabeth. And oh! however I may look and speak, don't notice me. Let me + feel that I need not make pretences with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You need not. Nothing that happens here goes beyond these four walls. + Everybody tells me everything.” + </p> + <p> + Elizabeth might well say this. There was that about her which made people + fearless and free in their confidence; it did not seem like talking to a + mortal woman, mixed up continually in the affairs of life, but to one + removed to a different sphere, where there was no chance of betrayal. + </p> + <p> + Her room was a safe confessional, and she was a sort of general conscience + in the house. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody tells you everything,” repeated Agatha. “Does my husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet; at least not in words.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will not. Only let me come here, and”— + </p> + <p> + She covered her face, and for a few moments wept fully and freely, as one + weep's before one's own heart and before God. Then she dried her eyes, and + the storm was over. + </p> + <p> + Elizabeth only said, “Poor child—poor child. Wait!” But the one word + struck like a sun-ray through darkness. No one ever “waited” but had some + hopeful ending to wait for. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Agatha, overcoming her weakness—“now let us talk. What + have you been doing all day?” + </p> + <p> + “Little else than read this, and think over it. You know Frederick's hand, + I see? He does not usually write such long letters, even to me. All is not + right with him, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!”—and Agatha met unsuspiciously the keen look of Elizabeth. + “Yet he is well and in the midst of gaieties; Mr. Trenchard said so + yesterday. They met in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they?” Elizabeth lay musing for a good while; then suddenly said, + observing her young sister, “Agatha, you are listening? There's some one + at the door?” + </p> + <p> + It was Nathanael. Any one might have known that by the quick flush that + swept over his wife's features. But when this passed she was again + composed—not at all like the young creature who had wept by + Elizabeth's couch. She merely acknowledged her husband's presence, and + leaving her place vacant for him, took up a book. + </p> + <p> + He said, “I did not know my wife was here. Were you and she talking? Shall + I leave you?” + </p> + <p> + Elizabeth smiled. “Then you must take your wife also, for I will not be + the sundering of married people. But nonsense! Sit down both of you. We + were speaking about Frederick. Has he written to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “In this letter”—Nathanael's eyes fell on it and froze there—“he + gives me no address. Agatha says he is living in Paris. Do you remember + where?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.”, + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps your wife does.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha had a useful memory for such things. She repeated the address given + by Mr. Trenchard, exactly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he? He is very kind,” said Agatha, somewhat moved. She felt all + kindness deeply now. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 should bury within his + breast that foul thing—a secret jealousy of his brother. + </p> + <p> + Especially now, when it seemed as if his love itself were dying or dead—when + on quitting Elizabeth's room, he walked with her, silent, or making smooth + brief speeches, as he would to any other lady—any lady he had met + for the first time, and was handing courteously down to dinner. Her heart + boiled within her! Was she to pour it out before him in complaint—repentance? + Was she to accuse him of jealousy, and be met with a calm contemptuous + smile?—to betray the growing passion of her heart, in order to light + up the few stray embers that might yet be lingering feebly in his? Never! + She walked on haughtily, carelessly, dumb. + </p> + <p> + The evening slid on, hardly noticed by her. Night came; when, after many + ceremonious family adieux, which she responded to without ever hearing—after + one frantic rush along the dim passages to Elizabeth's door, where she + drew back and left the tearful good-bye unspoken, for <i>he</i> was + standing there—after all this the Squire put her into the family + coach, with Mrs. Dugdale at her side and Nathanael opposite. Bidding her + farewell, the old man gave, with less stateliness than tenderness, his + fatherly blessing upon her and her new home. They reached it. Again she + laid her head upon a strange pillow in a strange room, and slept, as she + always did when very wretched, the heavy, stupifying sleep which lasts + from night till morning—deadening all care, but making the waking + like that of one waking in a tomb. + </p> + <p> + Agatha woke with the sunshine full in her eyes, and the early church-bells + ringing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, where am I? What day is this? Where is my husband?” + </p> + <p> + The new maid, Nathanael's foster-sister, was standing by, smiling all + respectful civilities, informing her in broad Dorset that it was Sunday, + time for “missus” to get up, and that “master” was walking in the garden. + </p> + <p> + They “mistress” and “master,” head and guide of their own household!—they, + two young creatures, who so little time ago had been a youth and a girl, + each floating adrift on life, without duties or ties. It had seemed very + strange, very solemn, under any circumstances, but now— + </p> + <p> + “God help me, poor helpless child that I am! Oh, what shall I do?” + </p> + <p> + Such was the inward sob of Agatha's heart. She almost wished that she + could have turned her face again on the pillow, and slept there safely for + eternity. + </p> + <p> + But the matin church-bells ceased—it was nine o'clock. She must + rise, and appear below for the first time as mistress in her own house. + Also, she remembered faintly something which Mrs. Dugdale had said about + the custom at Kingcombe—an irrefragable law of country etiquette—-of + a bride's going to church for the first time, ceremoniously, in bridal + dress. And no sooner had she descended—wrapped in the first + morning-frock she could lay her hands upon, than Harrie entered. + </p> + <p> + “So—I am your first visitor you see. Many welcomes to your new home! + And may it prove as happy, as merry—and some day, as full—as + ours. Bless you, my dear little sister!” + </p> + <p> + She pressed Agatha in her arms with more feeling than Harrie usually + showed. But, for Agatha's salvation, or she would have burst into sobs, it + was only momentary. + </p> + <p> + “Come, no sentiment! Call in Nathanael, and eat your breakfast quickly, + you atrociously lazy folks! Don't you know you have only half-an-hour and + you must go to church, or all Kingcombe would be talking.” + </p> + <p> + “I meant to go—I shall be ready in two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “My patience! ready—in such a gown! Come here Nathanael. Are you + aware it's indispensable for your wife to appear at church in wedding + costume, just as she did on that blissful day, when”— + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I'll do anything you like, only hush!” whispered Agatha. Harrie + laughed, and said something about “sparing her blushes.” There were none + to spare—she was as pale as death. What, appear before her husband, + dressed as on the morning when if not altogether a happy bride, she at + least had the hope of making her bridegroom happy, and the comfort of + believing that he loved her and would love her always! The mere thought of + this sent a coldness through all her frame. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael said, “You told me this before, Harriet. It is an idle custom; + but neither my wife nor myself would wish to go against the world, or the + ways of our own people. Arrange it, as Agatha says, according as you + like.” + </p> + <p> + He had then heard her whisper—he had seen her paleness. How had he + interpreted both? + </p> + <p> + The church-bells began to ring again, and Harrie prepared to vanish, + though not until she had dressed Agatha, scanned her from top to toe, + vowed the bonnet did not become her a bit, and that she looked as white as + if she were again about to go through the formidable marriage-service. + </p> + <p> + “A sad pity!—because to-day you'll be looked at a great deal more + than the clergyman. We are a terribly inquisitive town; and weddings are + scarce at Kingcombe.—Take your wife, Nathanael. There you go—a + very handsome, interesting young couple. Nay, don't cheat the townsfolk by + taking the garden way.” + </p> + <p> + “Do, pray?” entreated Agatha of her husband. “Don't let the people see + us.” + </p> + <p> + “You foolish child!” cried Harrie, as she made herself invisible through + the front-door, throwing back her last words as an unconscious parting + sting. “Folks will think you are ashamed of your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha took no notice, nor did Nathanael. Silently they walked to church, + the garden way, which led them out opposite the eastern door. Entering + with his wife on his arm, his bare head erect, though the eyes were + lowered, his whole face still and steadfast, but looking much older since + his marriage.—Mr. Harper was a man of whom no one need be ashamed. + His wife glanced at him, and, in spite of all her sorrow, walked proudly + up the aisle—prouder far than on her wedding-day. She never thought + of herself or of the people looking at her. And—Heaven forgive her, + poor child!—for the moment she never thought of Whose temple she was + entering, until the clergyman's serious voice arose, proclaiming those + “sacrifices” which are “a broken spirit.” Then her spirit sank down broken + within her, and under her thick white veil, and upon her white velvet + bridal Prayer-book, fell tears, many and bitter. The poorest charity-girl + that stared at her from the gallery would not that day have envied the + bride. + </p> + <p> + Service over, out of the church they went as they had come, arm-in-arm; + the congregation holding back; all watching, but from some mysterious + etiquette which must be left to the Kingcombeites to elucidate, no one + venturing to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Locke Harper. The Squire's household + did not attend this church, nor the Dugdales either; so that the young + people walked home without speaking to a soul, and scarcely to each other. + They were both very grave. A word, perhaps, from either would have + unlocked a heart flood; but the word was not spoken. They met at the gate + of the cottage Mrs. Dugdale and her boys. Soon all the solemn influences + of the temple passed away. They were in the world once more—the + hard, bitter, erring world. + </p> + <p> + “We are come in to see Auntie Agatha and Uncle Nathanael,” said Harrie, as + the children stood rather awe-struck by Mrs. Harper's dazzling appearance. + “And we are going to take both back with us for dinner, as you promised. + Early country dinner, my dear, which can't by any means be eaten in those + fine clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “I will take them off.” And her foot was on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Stay; don't you see your husband looking at you. Let me look too—we + are never likely to see you dressed as a bride again.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha paused, but Mr. Harper had already turned away. His gaze—would + she had seen it! but she did not—was ended. + </p> + <p> + She ran up-stairs, she looked in the glass once more at the vision which, + from the age of childhood, almost every girl beholds herself in fancy—the + dazzling white silk, orange-flowers, and lace, trappings of a day, never + to be again worn. Then she tore them off, wildly—desperately; + wishing one minute that she could bury them in the earth out of her sight, + and again wrapping them up tenderly, as we wrap up clothes that are now + nothing but empty garments, from which the form that-filled them has + vanished evermore. + </p> + <p> + Afterwards she dressed herself in ordinary matronly garb, and came down + with matronly aspect to Harry and the little boys. + </p> + <p> + A mid-day country dinner, eaten in peace and quietness, where people keep + Sunday in Christian fashion—at least externally—where no + visitors come in, and no gay evening reunions put an unholy close to the + holy day; when the father of the family gathers his children round him in + the long, sleepy afternoons, or takes a walk with them in the + summer-twilight while all the neighbours are safe in church; after which, + as a great treat, the elder ones sit up to supper, and the little ones are + put to bed by mamma's own hands; then pleasant weariness, perhaps some + brief evening prayer, sincere without cant—the household separates—the + house darkens—and the day of rest ends. + </p> + <p> + This was the way they kept Sunday at the Dugdales'. It was something new + to Agatha, and she liked it much. She threw herself into the domestic ways + as if she had been used to them all her life, and specially made herself + popular with the father and the little ones. Marmaduke looked benevolently + upon his sister-in-law, seemed quite to forget she was “a young lady,” and + even was heard to call her “my child” four times,—at which she was + very pleased and proud. Over and over again, with youth's wild thirst to + be happy, she tried to forget the weight on her life, and plunge into a + temporary gaiety. Sometimes she even caught herself laughing outright, as + she played with the children; for no one can be miserable always, + especially at nineteen. But whenever she looked up, or was silent, or + paused to think, the image of her husband came like a cloud between her + and her mirth. No—she never could be really happy. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael was all day very quiet and abstracted. He did not romp with his + little nephews, and only smiled when Harrie teased him for this unusual + omission of avuncular privilege. Once, Agatha saw him sitting with the + youngest little girl fast asleep against his shoulder, he looking over her + baby-curls with a pensive, troubled eye, an eye which seemed gazing into + the future to find there—nothing! A strange thrill quivered through + Agatha's heart to see him so sitting with that child. + </p> + <p> + After tea Mrs. Dugdale proposed turning out of doors all the masculine + half of the family, except the infant Brian, before whom loomed the + terrific prospect of bed. So off they started. Gus being seen to snatch + frantically at Pa's hand, and Fred, sublime in his first jacket, walking + alongside with an air and grace worthy of the uncle whose name he bore. + </p> + <p> + “There they go,” cried Mrs. Dugdale, looking fondly after them. “Not + bad-looking lads either, considering that Pa isn't exactly a beauty. But + pshaw! what does that signify? I think my Duke's the very nicest face I + know. Don't you, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha warmly acquiesced. She had entirely got over the first impression + of Duke's plainness. And moreover she was learning day by day that + mysterious secret which individualises one face out of all the world, and + makes its very deficiencies more lovely than any other features' charm. + She could fully sympathise with Harrie's harmless weakness, and agreed—looking + at Brian, who in fact strongly resembled his father, angelicised into + childhood, keeping the same beautiful expression, which needed no change—that + if Mr. Dugdale's sons grew up like him in all points, the world would be + none the worse, but a great deal the better. + </p> + <p> + Thus talking—which little Brian seemed actually to understand, for + he stood at her knee gazing up with miraculously merry eyes—Agatha + watched her sister-in-law's Sunday duty, religiously performed, of putting + the younger two to bed, while the nurses went to church, or took walks + with their sweethearts. For, as Harrie sagely observed, “'the maidens' as + we call them in Dorsetshire, 'the maidens' will fall in love as well as + we.” + </p> + <p> + So chattering merrily—while she dashed water over Miss Baby's white, + round limbs, and let Brian caper wildly about the nursery, clad in all + sorts of half-costumes, or no costume at all—Mrs. Dugdale initiated + Agatha into various arcana belonging to motherhood and + mistress-of-a-family-hood. The other listened eagerly, so eagerly that she + could have laughed at herself, remembering what she was six months before. + To think that to-morrow she must begin her house-keeping—she, who + knew no more of such things than a child! She snatched at all sorts of + knowledge, talked over butchers, and bakers, and house expenses, and + Kingcombe ways of marketing, taking an interest in the most commonplace + things. For pervading everything was the consciousness, “It is <i>his</i> + home I have to make comfortable.” That thought sanctified and beautified + all. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, my dear,” said Harrie, pausing in her walk up and + down, patting and singing to Baby, who stared with open eyes over her + shoulder, and obstinately declined going to sleep. “You will turn out a + notable woman, I see. It's a curious and melancholy fact, which we don't + ever learn till we are married, that all the love in the world is thrown + away upon a man unless you make him comfortable at home. A neat house and + a creditable dinner every day go more to his heart than all the + sentimental devotion you can give. It's all very well for a man in love to + live upon roses and posies, and kisses and blisses, but after he is + married he dearly likes to be comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha was silent for a moment, hardly venturing to believe, and yet + afraid she must. “I heard Miss Valery once say that no man's love after + marriage is exactly as it was before it; that the thing attained soon + loses its preciousness, and that the wife has to assume a new character, + and win another kind of love. I wonder if this is true. I wonder”—and + suddenly she changed her seriousness for the tone of raillery she always + used with Harrie Dugdaie—“I wonder whether our husbands adore us + first, and afterwards expect us to adore them.” + </p> + <p> + “So they do; I assure you they do! And a pretty amount of adoring and + waiting upon your husband will require. I wouldn't for the whole universe + have my Duke such an awfully exacting, particular, provoking, disagreeably + good, or inexplicably naughty animal as my brother Nathanael.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Dugdaie!” Agatha hardly knew whether to laugh or to be indignant. + She only knew that she felt ready to spring up like a chained tigress when + anybody said a word against Mr. Harper. + </p> + <p> + “There now, don't waken the baby. Keep yourself quiet, do. See, there's + its husband coming down the street to comfort it. He is looking up here, + too. Run down, do'ee now; and if she'll be a good girl she shall have the + neatest household and the best husband in Kingcombe—always excepting + mine.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha did not run down; but she leant over the landing, and heard the + footsteps and voices in the hall—steps and voices which always seem + to put new life into a house where its ruler is dear to the hearts of wife + and children. Troubled as she was—laden with even a new weight since + the talk with Mrs. Dugdale—Agatha listened, and felt that in spite + of all, the house seemed brighter for the entrance of <i>her</i> husband. + She tried to catch what he was saying, but only heard the voice of Mr. + Dugdaie. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, as you say, it's necessary. But really tomorrow—so soon—and + for such a long time too! Couldn't both go together?” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael made some inaudible reply. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, you know best. But—poor young thing!—I wonder + what my Harrie would have said to me. Poor, pretty little thing!” + </p> + <p> + The words, the manner, startled Agatha; She could not make them out. She + descended, looking alarmed, uneasy—a look which did not wear off all + the rest of the evening. + </p> + <p> + In leaving she wondered why Mr. Dugdale woke from his dreaminess to bid + her good-night with a fatherly air, addressing her more than once by his + superlative of kindness, “My child.” When she took her husband's arm to go + out of the lighted hall-into the night, Agatha trembled, as if something + were going to happen—she knew not what. + </p> + <p> + The street was very dark, for Kingcombe people were economisers in gas; + and besides kept such primitive hours, that at ten o'clock you might walk + from one end of the town to the other and not see a light in any house. + There was not a soul abroad except these two, and their feet echoed loudly + along the pavement. At first Agatha, blinded by coming out of light into + darkness, saw nothing, but stumbled on, clinging tightly to her husband. + At length she perceived whereabouts they were—the black, + quaintly-gabled houses, the market-cross, and, far above the sleepy town + and its deserted streets, the bright wonderfully bright stars. + </p> + <p> + Agatha took comfort when she saw the stars. + </p> + <p> + “Have we far to go? I am rather tired,” she said to her husband, chiefly + for the sake of saying something. + </p> + <p> + “Tired, are you? Then you must have a quiet day tomorrow. It will be very + quiet, I doubt not;” and he sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Why so? What is to be done to-morrow? Shall you have to ride over to + Thornhurst?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I saw Anne Valery yesterday. I shall not see her again for a good + while.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “There is business requiring me in Cornwall. To-morrow I am going away.” + </p> + <p> + “Going away!” The words were little more than a sigh. She felt all cold + and numb for the moment. Then a sudden flood of the old impetuous pride + came over her. Going away! Leaving his young wife! Leaving her alone in + her new home—alone the second day, to be wondered at, and pointed + at, and pitied! Perhaps he did it to humble and punish her. It was cruel—cruel! + And again the demon or angel—which took such various forms that she + hardly knew the true one—rose up rampant within her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Harper, this is sudden—will look strange. You ought to have + told me before.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not know it myself until last night. That my going to Cornwall is + necessary, on business grounds, I have already made clear to Marmaduke. He + will tell his wife, and Harriet will tell all the world. I have so + arranged that you will have no difficulty of any kind. This house will go + on as usual, or you can visit at Thornhurst and at my father's. There will + be no loss to you of anything or anybody—except one, whose absence + must be welcome.” “Welcome!” she repeated in an accent of bitter scorn. + </p> + <p> + “You said so yourself. Hush! do not say it again. When we part, let it be + in peace!” + </p> + <p> + He spoke in a smothered, exhausted voice, and holding the gate open for + her to pass, leaned upon it as if he could hardly stand. But Agatha + perceived nothing—she was dizzy and blind. + </p> + <p> + “Peace?” she repeated, driven mad by the mockery of the word. She saw the + door half-open, the warm light glimmering within the hall—so soft—so + home-like. The torture was too strong—her senses began to give way. + </p> + <p> + Without knowing what she did, without any settled purpose except to escape + from the misery of that sight, Agatha pushed her husband from her, turned + and fled—fled anywhere, no matter where, so that it was into night + and darkness, away from her home and from him. + </p> + <p> + She did not know the way; she only knew that she ran up one street and + down another like the wind. Her state of mind was bordering on insanity. + At length she paused from sheer exhaustion, and leaned against a doorway—like + any poor outraged homeless wretch. + </p> + <p> + The good man of the house came softly out to look up into the quiet night + before he bolted his door. He stood musing, contemplating the stars. It + was a minute or more before he noticed the bowed human form beside him. + When he did, there was no mistaking the compassionate voice. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, poor soul! What's wrong wi'ee?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha sprang up with a cry. There were two standing by her, from whose + presence she would gladly have run to the world's end—Mr. Dugdale + and her husband. The one remained petrified with astonishment—the + other said but three words, in a dull mechanical voice, as if every + feeling had been struck out of the man by some thunderbolt of doom. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, come home.” + </p> + <p> + Again she tried to burst from him and fly, but her arm was caught, and + Marmaduke Dugdale's grave look—the look he fixed upon his own + children when they erred, constraining them always into repentance and + goodness—was reading her inmost soul. + </p> + <p> + “Go home, poor child! I'll not tell of you or him. Go home with your + husband.” + </p> + <p> + She felt her hand laid, or grasped—she knew not which—in that + of Nathanael; who held it with invincible firmness. There was no resisting + that clasp. She rose up and followed him, as if led by an invisible chain. + Her madness had passed, and left only a dull indifference to everything. + The die was cast; she had laid open the miseries of their home, had + disgraced him and herself before the world. It signified little where she + went or what she did; they were utterly separated now. + </p> + <p> + Without again speaking, or taking notice of Mr. Dugdale, she suffered + Nathanael to lead her away, passing swiftly down the silent streets. + Neither husband nor wife uttered a single word. + </p> + <p> + The moment she entered the house she walked up-stairs, slowly, that he + might not see her tottering; went into her own room, and locked her door + with a loud, fierce turning of the key, that seemed to shriek as it + turned. + </p> + <p> + There, for almost an hour, she sat motionless. The maid, half asleep, came + to the door with a light, but Agatha bade her set it down, and sat in the + dark. Dark—altogether dark, within and without; with no hope or + repentance, or even the heroism of suffering; wrathful, sullen, miserable; + wronged—yet conscious that she had sinned as much as she was sinned + against; seeing her husband and herself stand as it were on either edge of + a black gulf, hourly widening, yet neither having strength to plunge it to + the other's side. + </p> + <p> + Here she sat, upright and still, body and soul wrapped in a leaden, + shroud-like darkness, until gradually a stupor possessed her brain. + </p> + <p> + “I am so tired,” she murmured, “I must go to sleep. He will not leave till + to-morrow. But it does not signify. Nothing signifies. I must go to + sleep.” + </p> + <p> + She unlocked the door and drew in the candle, flaring in its socket. She + had to press her fingers on her eyeballs before they could bear the light, + all was so very dark. She Sotted her hair up anyhow, took off her clothes, + and crept to bed, almost as if she were creeping to her tomb. The fragment + of candle went out, sinking instantaneously, like a soul quenched out of + existence, and all was total darkness. In that darkness a heavy hand + seemed to lay itself on Agatha's brain, and press down her eyelids. + Scarcely two minutes after, she was asleep. + </p> + <p> + Hour after hour of the night went by, and there was not a sound, not a + breath in the room. The late moon rose, and gave a little glimmer of light + through the curtains. Now and then there was a faint noise of some one + moving in the house, but Agatha never stirred. She slept heavily as some + people invariably sleep under the pressure of great pain. + </p> + <p> + Towards morning, when moonlight and dawn were melted together, and the + room was growing light enough to discern faces, there was a step at the + door, and a ray flashing through the opening, for Agatha had left it ajar. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael set down the candle outside and came in softly. He was dressed + for a journey—evidently just ready to start. He looked very ill, + sleepless, and worn. + </p> + <p> + Standing a minute at the door, he listened to his wife's breathing, low + and regular as that of a child. Nature and repose had soothed her; she + slept now as quietly and healthfully as if she had never known trouble. + Her husband crept across the room very carefully, and remained watching + her. Oh! the contrast between the one who <i>watched</i> and the one who + slept! + </p> + <p> + At first he stood perfectly upright, rigid, and motionless. + </p> + <p> + Then his hands twisted themselves together, and his eyes grew hot, + bursting. His lips moved as in speaking, though with never a sound. It was + the dumbness—the choking dumbness of that emotion which made it so + terrible. Such silence could not last—he seemed to feel it could not—and + so moved backward out of hearing. There he stood for a little while, + leaning against the wall, his hand bound tightly over his forehead, and + sighing, so bitterly sighing!—that gasp which bursts from men who + have no tears. + </p> + <p> + At length he became calmer, but still stood without the door. He even + moved the candle further off, as though afraid its glare, might disturb + the sleeper—forgetful that the room was now growing all bright with + daybreak. At this moment the clock striking in the hall below made him + start. + </p> + <p> + Hastily he took out a paper that he had hid somewhere about him. It was in + his own handwriting, all sealed and endorsed. “Not to be opened except in + case of my death.” Nevertheless he tore it open—tore likewise an + under-cover addressed to his wife, and began to read: + </p> + <p> + “I know you never loved me. From something I overheard on our marriage-day—from + other words afterwards let fall in anger by my brother, I also know that + you loved”— + </p> + <p> + He crushed the paper, his eyes seeming literally to flame. Then all the + fury died out of them, and left nothing but tenderness. He listened for + the soft breathing within—soft and pure. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he murmured. “I will not leave her honour to the chance of written + words. No other human being must ever know what I knew. If I live, it is + not worse than it was before; and should any harm come to me, let her + think I died in ignorance. Better so.” + </p> + <p> + He tore the paper into small strips, and deliberately burnt them one by + one in the candle, making a little pile of the ashes, but afterwards + scattering them about the fireplace. Then putting out the light—for + the house was now filled with the soft grey dawn—Nathanael stepped + once more into his wife's room. + </p> + <p> + And still she was sleeping—sleeping at the very crisis of her fate. + Her face was composed and sweet, though her hands were still clenched, and + one of them almost buried in her loose hair. + </p> + <p> + Her husband stood and looked at her, trying long to keep himself firm and + self-restrained, as though she were aware of his presence. But at last the + holy helplessness of sleep subdued him. From standing upright he sank + gradually down—down—till he was crouching on his knees. + Shudder over shudder came over him—sigh after sigh rose up, and was + smothered again in his breast. At last even the strong man's strength gave + way, and there fell a heavy, silent, burning rain. + </p> + <p> + And all the while the wife slept, and never knew how he loved her! + </p> + <p> + After a while this ceased. Nathanael opened his eyes and tried to look + once more calmly on his wife. She stirred a little in sleep, and began to + smile—a very soft, meek, innocent smile, that softened her lips into + infantine sweetness. She was again Agatha, the merry Agatha, as she had + been when he first saw her, before he wooed her, and shook her roughly + from her girlish calm into all the struggles of life. He could have cursed + himself—and yet—yet he loved her! + </p> + <p> + Kneeling, he put his arm softly over her. Another moment and he would have + yielded to the frantic impulse, and snatched her to his heart for one—just + one embrace—heedless of her waking. But how would she wake? only to + hate and reproach him. He had better leave her thus, and carry away in his + remembrance that picture of peace, which blotted out all her bitter words, + all her cruel want of love—made him forget everything except that + she had been the wife of his bosom and his first love. + </p> + <p> + He drew back his arm, gradually and noiselessly. He did not attempt to + kiss her, not even her hand, lest he should disturb her; but kneeling, + laid his hand on the pillow by hers, and pressed his lips to her hair. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad she sleeps—yes, very glad! She is quite content now, she + will be quite happy when I am gone, God love thee and take care of thee—my + darling—my Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img src="images/frontispiece-p280.jpg" width="100%" + alt="A Husband's Farewell P280 " /> + </div> + <p> + Kissing her hair once again, he rose up and went away. + </p> + <p> + As he departed, the first sunbeam came in and danced upon the bed, showing + Agatha fast asleep, sleeping still. She never woke until it had been broad + day for a long time, and the sun creeping over her pillow struck her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then she started up with a loud cry—she had been dreaming. Tears + were wet upon her cheek. She called wildly for her husband. It was too + late. + </p> + <p> + He had been gone at least three hours. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <h3> + “Mrs. Harper—Missus—there's a carriage at the door.” + </h3> + <p> + “Say I am not at home.” + </p> + <p> + She had given the same sullen answer to every visitor for four weeks, + shutting herself up in stern seclusion, determined that, whatever cruel + comments they made, the neighbourhood should have no power of spying into + the mystery of “that poor Mrs. Locke Harper who did not live happy with + her husband.” For so she felt sure had been the result of that fatal + betrayal to her brother-in-law. Since, as Harrie had once said, “Duke + never could keep a secret in his life!” But even his own wife could not + thoroughly fathom the good heart of Marmaduke Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + “Not at home?” repeated Dorcas, who had been very faithful to her young + mistress. “Not when it's Miss Valery, who has been so ill? Oh, Missus, + do'ee see Miss Valery.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Harper hesitated, and during that time her visitor entered uninvited. + </p> + <p> + “So, Agatha, as you did not come to see me, I have come at last to see + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry”— + </p> + <p> + “What, to see me?” said Anne, smiling. But the voice was weak, and the + smile had a sickly beauty. Agatha was struck by a change, slight, yet + perceptible, which had come over Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you have been ill—will you take the arm-chair? Are you + better to day?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” returned Anne, briefly; she was never much in the habit of + talking about herself. “But you, my dear, how have you been this long + time? Come and let me look at you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not worth while. Never mind me. Talk of something else.” + </p> + <p> + “Of your husband, then. When did you hear from him?” + </p> + <p> + “Last week.” + </p> + <p> + “And is he quite well? Will you give a message to him from me when you + write again?” + </p> + <p> + “I never write.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery looked surprised, pained. Evidently to her sick-room had + reached the vaguest possible hints of what had happened. Or else Anne must + have refused to hear or credit what she was persuaded was an impossible + falsehood. In all good hearts scandal unrepeated, unbelieved, dies a + natural death. + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Harper's brief, sharp sentence there was no reply; her guest + turned to other topics. + </p> + <p> + “Harriet Dugdale comes home to-morrow. It is not often she takes it into + her head to pay a three weeks' visit from home. You must have missed her a + good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not. I have never been outside the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that quite right, my dear? And your sisters-in-law complain bitterly + that you will not go to Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + “They should have taken more trouble in coming to ask me. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, in this world we should not judge too harshly. We cannot see into + any one's motives. There may have been reasons. I know the Squire has not + been at all well; and Mary has spent her whole time in watching him, and + in coming to Thornhurst to nurse me.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been so very ill, then? I wish—I wish—” + </p> + <p> + “That you also had come to see me? Well, you will come now. Not to-day; + for I am going to use this lovely autumn morning in taking a journey.” + </p> + <p> + “Whither?” + </p> + <p> + “To Weymouth, opposite the Isle of Portland.” + </p> + <p> + After this answer both were silent. Agatha was thinking of the night when + her husband rode to Weymouth. Anne was thinking—of what? + </p> + <p> + At length she put her thoughts aside, and turned to watch the young wife, + who had fallen into a sullen, absent mood. + </p> + <p> + “Does your house please you, Agatha? It is very pretty, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very. I do not complain. Would you like to look over it? Or shall I + give you some cake and wine? That is the fashion, I believe, when a + visitor first comes to see a bride in her new home.” + </p> + <p> + The bitterness, the sarcasm of her manner were pitiful to see. Anne Valery + watched her, sadly, yet not hopelessly. There was in the calm of that pale + face a clearness of vision which pierced through many human darknesses to + the light behind. + </p> + <p> + She only said, “Thank you, I will take some wine; I like to keep up good + old customs,”—and waited while Mrs. Harper, with a quick excited + manner, and a countenance that changed momentarily, did the first honours + of her household. So sad it was to see her doing it all alone! More + widow-like than bride-like. + </p> + <p> + As she came up with the wine-glass, Miss Valery caught her hand, holding + it firmly in defiance of Agatha's slight effort to get free. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute for my good wishes to the bride. May God bless you! Not + with fortune, which is oftentimes only a curse”— + </p> + <p> + “That is true,” muttered Agatha, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Not with perfect freedom from care, for that is impossible, or, if + possible, would not be good for you. Every one of us must bear our own + burden; and we can bear it, if we love one another.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's lips were set together. + </p> + <p> + “If,” continued Anne, firmly—“If we love any one with sincerity and + faithfulness, we are sure to reap our reward some time. If any love us, + and we believe it and trust them, they are sure to come out clear from all + clouds, our own beloved, true to the end. Therefore, Agatha, above all + blessings, may God bless you with <i>love</i>! May you be happy in your + husband, and make him happy! May you live to see your home merry and full—not + silent!—may you die among your children and your own people—not + alone!” + </p> + <p> + The sudden solemnity of this blessing, enhanced by the feebleness of the + voice that uttered it, awoke strange emotions in Agatha. She threw herself + on her knees by the armchair, where Anne lay back—now faint and + pale. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you had been near me—if I had known you always, and you had + brought me up, and made a good woman of me.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I ought,” murmured Anne, thoughtfully. “But, just then, it would + have been so hard—so hard!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying? Say it again. All your words are good words. Tell + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, dear. Except”—here Miss Valery raised herself with a + sudden effort mental and bodily—“Agatha, will you go with me to + Weymouth?” + </p> + <p> + “If you like. Anywhere to be with you. I am sick of myself.” + </p> + <p> + “We all are at times, especially when we are young, and do not quite + understand ourselves or others. The feeling passes away. But as to + Weymouth—do you still dislike to go near the sea?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—no! I will try to bear it; I think I could, by your side. And + you shall not go alone on any account.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Anne, taking her hand. So they went. + </p> + <p> + An innocent line of railway darted past Kingcombe, in the vain hope of + waking that somnolent town. It was a pleasant whirl across the usual + breezy flats of moorland, by some meadows where a network of serpentine + streams flashed in the sun. Agatha felt more like her own self; with her, + the spirit of Nature was always an exorciser of internal demons; and + Anne's conversation aided the beneficent work. + </p> + <p> + At Dorchester they took a carriage, and drove across the country to + Weymouth. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not getting weary? you looked so but lately,” said Agatha to Miss + Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, I feel strong now.” Her eyes and cheeks were indeed very + bright; she leaned forward and gazed eagerly around. + </p> + <p> + “This Weymouth seems familiar to you, Miss Valery?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; we used to come here every summer—Mr. and Mrs. Harper and the + children and I, until she died. She was as good as a mother, or an elder + sister”—here Anne hesitated, but repeated the words—“like an + elder sister—to me. We were all very happy in those times. It is a + great blessing, Agatha, to have had a happy childhood. Where did you spend + yours?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked uneasy. “Chiefly in London—I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “But before then, when you were a very little girl?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know. Don't let us talk about that.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you do not wish it.” Anne's eyes, which had watched her closely, + turned away, and after a few minutes were riveted on a line of blue sea + sweeping round a distant headland, and curving off to the horizon. As she + looked she became very pale, and shivered. Agatha hardly noticed her, + being so busy examining the new regions into which they now entered—the + ordinary High Street of an ordinary country town. The sea view had + vanished. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the carriage turned a corner, and they burst upon the shore of + Weymouth Bay. A great, blue, glittering bay, with two white headlands + shutting it in; the tide running high, the waves dashing themselves + furiously against the sea-wall of the esplanade, breaking into showers of + spray, and curling back into the foaming whirl below. + </p> + <p> + Agatha started, and put her hands before her eyes. “I know that sight—I + remember that sound. Oh! where is this place? why did you bring me here?” + </p> + <p> + At this cry Miss Valery, roused from her momentary fit of abstraction, + took hold of Agatha's hand. The girl was trembling violently. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I did not expect this, or you should not have come here. This is + Weymouth. Now do you remember?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I? Was I ever here before?” She peered from under her hand at + the sparkling sea. “No, it is not like that sea; it is too bright. Yet I + hear the same roll against the same wall. It is very foolish, but I wish + we could get away.” + </p> + <p> + “Presently,” said Anne's soothing voice. “We must drive along this shore, + and then we will get out at an inn I know, and rest.” + </p> + <p> + Her manner, her expression, as she fixed her eyes full upon her, struck + Agatha with an indescribable feeling. She looked eagerly at Miss Valery, + trying to read in that worn face some likeness to the one which had + impressed her childish memory with almost angelic beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—you say you have been often here—did you ever one + stormy day follow a ship that was outward bound? You were in a little + boat, and the ship was standing out to sea, round that point—and”— + </p> + <p> + She stopped, for Anne's face was livid to the very lips. Agatha forgot her + own question and its purport. + </p> + <p> + “Stop the carriage. Let me hold you. Dear—dear Miss Valery, you are + worn out—you are fainting.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I never faint—I am only tired. Don't speak to me for a + minute or two, and I shall be well.” + </p> + <p> + With a long sigh she forcibly brought life back to her cheeks—a + feeble life at best. Agatha, watching her, was smitten by a dread which + now entered her mind for the first time, driving thence all personal + feelings, and making her gaze with sorrowful anxiety on the friend beside + her who had been all day so cheerful and kind. And she thought with a + remorse amounting to positive horror, that she herself during that day had + more than once spoken sharply even to Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + A great awe came upon her, reflecting how often we unconsciously walk + hand-in-hand, and talk of our own petty earthly trials, with those whose + souls' wings are already growing, already stirring with the air that comes + to bear them to the unseen land. + </p> + <p> + It was a relief indescribable, when leisurely strolling along the + pavement, she saw among many strange faces one that seemed familiar. The + hands knotted loosely at his back, the light hair straggling out from + under the hat, that was pushed far up from the forehead—no, she + could not be mistaken. She uttered a cry of pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “Look, look! there he is; I am certain it is he.” + </p> + <p> + Anne started violently. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Dugdale, Mr. Dugdale!” Agatha called out. + </p> + <p> + He came up to the carriage with the most lengthened “E—h!” that she + had ever heard him utter. “What brought you two here? This bleak day too. + Very wrong of Anne!” + </p> + <p> + “But she would come. She said she wanted a breath of sea-air, and I think, + besides, she has business.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” interrupted Anne, “no business, except bringing Agatha to see + Weymouth. Now shall we rest, and have some tea at the inn. You'll come + with us, Mr. Dugdale?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I want to speak to you, Anne. I've got news about—that little + affair you know of. That was why I came to Weymouth to-day. Eh, now—just + look there!” + </p> + <p> + With a countenance brimful of pleasure he came to Miss Valery's side, and + pointed to a steamer that lay in the offing. + </p> + <p> + “It's the <i>Anna Mary</i>. She made the passage from New York in no time. + I've been aboard her already. I fancied I might find him there. Now, what + do you think, Anne?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he come?” said Anne, in a steady voice. She had quite recovered + herself now. + </p> + <p> + “No—not this time. But he will sail, for certain, by the next New + York packet to Havre.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” It was a very low answer—just a sigh, and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + “And we have satisfactorily ended all that business which you first put + into my head,” continued Duke, rubbing his hands with great glee. “It was + a risk certainly, but then it was for him. My children will never be a bit + the poorer.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” murmured Anne Valery to herself. + </p> + <p> + “And think what an election we shall have! With him to make speeches for + Trenchard, and argue in this wonderful way about Free-trade, and tell the + farmers all about Canadian wheat! Glorious!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you both talking about?” cried Agatha, who had been considerably + puzzled. “Do let me hear, if it is not a secret.” + </p> + <p> + “No secret,” said Anne, turning round, speaking clearly and composedly, + and not at all like a sick person. “Mr. Brian Harper is coming home.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha clapped her hands for joy. + </p> + <p> + When they dismounted from the carriage, and had ordered tea at the inn, + Anne still seemed quite strong. She said it was the sea-breeze that + brought life to her, and stood at the open window gazing over the bay. + Agatha thought she had never seen Miss Valery's face so near looking + beautiful as now; it was the faint reflex of girlhood's brightness, like + the zodiacal light which the sun casts on the sky long after he has gone + down. + </p> + <p> + After tea,—at which meal Mr. Dugdale did not appear, a fact that + nobody wondered at, since he was left to wander about Weymouth at his own + sweet will, without Harrie to catch him and remind him that there was such + a thing as time, likewise such sublunary necessities as eating and + drinking—after tea Miss Valery and Mrs. Harper sat at the window + together. + </p> + <p> + It was only an inn-window, the panes scribbled over with many names, and + it lighted an ordinary inn-parlour, looking on the esplanade. Yet it was a + pleasant seat; quiet, too, for the town was almost deserted as winter-time + came on. The bay, smoothed by the ebbing tide, lay like crystal under a + sky where sunset and moonlight mixed. Agatha ventured to look at the sea + now. She beheld with a curious interest a sight till now so unfamiliar, + taking a childish pleasure in watching the great white arm of moon-rays + stretch further and further across the water, changing the ripples into + molten silver, and making ethereal and ghostlike every little boat that + glided through them. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by came a group of wandering musicians, playing very respectably, + as German street-musicians always do. They converted the dark esplanade + and the shabby inn-parlour into a fairy picture of visible and audible + romance. + </p> + <p> + “It is quite like a scene in a play,” said Agatha, laughing and trying to + make Miss Valery laugh. She could not see her clearly in the moonlight, + but she did not like her sitting so quiet and silent. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, very like a play, with '<i>Herz, mein Herz,</i>' for a serenade. + What a sweet old tune it is!” + </p> + <p> + “I used to sing it once.” And Agatha began following the instruments with + her voice. “No, I can't sing. I could sooner cry.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Are you sorrowful?” + </p> + <p> + “No—happy. Yet all feels strange, very strange.” She crept to Miss + Valery, wrapped her arms round her waist, and laid her head timidly on her + shoulder. Anne drew her nearer, with a more caressing manner than she ever + used to any one. Agatha Harper seemed that night of all nights to lie very + near her heart. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Herz, mein Herz,</i>” died faintly away down the esplanade; there was + nothing but the glitter of the bay, and the moon climbing higher and + higher above the Isle of Portland. + </p> + <p> + Anne spoke at last, amidst the half-playful, half-tender caresses that + were so dear to Agatha, who had never known what it was to be calmly and + safely in a mother's arms. Lying thus seemed most like it. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I care for you, Agatha, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot tell. Perhaps not, for I am not good enough to deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what first made me care for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No—unless it was for the sake of my husband.” + </p> + <p> + Anne gave no reply, and her husband's name plunged Agatha into such a maze + of painful thought, that she was for a long time altogether silent. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you a story, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Anything—anything, to keep me from thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “If I do, it is one you must not tell again, unless to Nathanael, for I + would put no secrets between husband and wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is right—that is kind. Would that <i>he</i> had thought + the same!” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing! Nothing of any consequence. Don't mind me. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a history which I think it right and best to tell you. You will + both need to keep it sacred for a little while—not for very long.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke, a shudder passed through Anne's frame. Was it the + involuntary shrinking of mortality in sight of immortality? + </p> + <p> + Shortly afterwards she began to talk in her usual sweet tone—perhaps + a shade more serious. + </p> + <p> + “'There were once two <i>friends</i>—three I should say, but the + third far less intimate than the other two. Something happened—it is + now too long ago to signify what—which made the elder of the first + two angry with his dearest friend and the other. He went away suddenly, + writing word to his friend—his own—that he should sail next + day, leaving England for ever.” + </p> + <p> + “That was wrong!” cried Agatha. “People ought never to be passionate and + unjust in friendship. It was very wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! you do not know all the circumstances; you cannot judge,” Anne + answered hastily. “His friend, who greatly honoured him, and knew what + pain his loss would bring to many, wished to prevent his going. She”— + </p> + <p> + “It was a woman, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And were they <i>only</i> friends?” + </p> + <p> + “They were friends,” repeated Miss Valery, in a tone which, doubtful as + the answer was, made Agatha feel she had no right to inquire further. + </p> + <p> + “She never knew how much he cared for her until that last letter he wrote, + just after he had gone away. On receiving it, she followed him—which + she had a right to do—to the place he mentioned, a seaport from + which he was to sail. When she reached it, the vessel had already heaved + anchor and was standing out to sea. She saw it—the very ship he was + on board—in the middle of the bay.” + </p> + <p> + “The bay! Was it then”— + </p> + <p> + “Hush, dear, just for a little,—I cannot speak long. It was a stormy + day, and few boats would go out. However, there was on the beach a woman + who was also very eager to catch the vessel. Together they managed to get + a boat, and embarked—this lady I speak of—the woman and a + little girl.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha listened with painful avidity. + </p> + <p> + “It was not the woman's own child, or she could not have been so careless + of it It was tossed into the bottom of the boat, and lay there crying. The + lady felt sorry for it, and took it in her arms. They had gone but a + little way from the shore when it was playing about her, quite happy + again. While playing—she looking at the ship, and not watching the + little thing as she ought to have done—the child fell overboard.” + </p> + <p> + A loud sob burst from Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, still hush, my darling! The child was saved. The ship sailed away, + but the child—you <i>know</i> that she was saved. I am thankful to + God it was so!” + </p> + <p> + Anne wrapped her arms tightly round the sobbing girl, and after a few + moments she also wept. + </p> + <p> + “I remember it all now,” cried Agatha, as soon as she found words—“the + shore, the headlands, the bay. I was that little child, and it was you who + saved me!” + </p> + <p> + Anne made no answer but by pressing her closer. + </p> + <p> + “I felt it the first moment I ever saw you. I never forgot you—never! + But how did you know me?” + </p> + <p> + “Was I likely ever to lose sight of that little child? And also, years + before, I had once or twice met your father—though this would have + been nothing. But from that day I felt that you belonged to me. And now, + since you are become a Harper, you do.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha embraced her, and then suddenly looked mournful.—“But + yourself? Tell me, did you ever again meet your—your friend?” + </p> + <p> + No answer. A slight movement of the lips sufficed to explain the whole. + </p> + <p> + “And it was all through me,” cried Agatha, to whom that soft smile was + agony. “And what have I done in requital? I have lived a useless, erring + life; I have suffered—oh, how I have suffered! Far better I had been + left lying at the bottom of that quiet bay. Why did God let you save me?” + </p> + <p> + “That you might grow up a good and noble woman, fulfilling worthily the + life He spared, and giving it back into His hands, in His time, as a true + and faithful servant. Dare not to murmur at His will—dare not to ask + why He saved you, Agatha Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, as sternly as Anne Valery could speak—she tried to put + Agatha from her breast, but the girl held her too fast. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do not cast me away. I have nobody in the world but you. Forgive me! + Guide my life which I owe you, and make it worth your saving. Love me—teach + my husband to love me. If you knew how miserable I am, and may be always.” + </p> + <p> + “No one is miserable always,” returned Anne faintly, as she leaned back, + her hands dropping down cold and listless. “We grow content in time. We + shall all be—very happy—some day.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke with hesitation and difficulty. The next minute, in spite of her + declaration that she never fainted, Miss Valery had become insensible. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. + </h2> + <p> + “What, up and dressed already, without sending for me? Did you not promise + last night that I should do everything for you just as if I were your + child? How very naughty you are, Miss Valery.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha spoke rather crossly; it was a relief to speak so. Anne turned + round—she was sitting at the window of the inn bed-chamber looking + on Weymouth Bay. + </p> + <p> + “Am I naughty? And you have assumed the right to scold me? That is quite a + pleasure. I have had no one to scold me for a great many years.” + </p> + <p> + There was a certain pathos running through her cheerfulness which made + Agatha's heart burst. She had lain awake half the night thinking of Anne + Valery, and had guessed, or put together many things, which made her come + with uncontrollable emotion into the presence of her whose fate had been + so knotted up with her own. For that this circumstance had in some way or + other brought about Anne's fate—the one fate of a woman's life—Agatha + could not doubt. Neither could she doubt who was this “friend.” But she + said nothing—she felt she had no right. + </p> + <p> + “Don't look at the sea, please. Look at me. Tell me how you feel this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—quite well. We will go home to-day. What did you tell Mr. + Dugdale last night?” + </p> + <p> + “Only what you desired me—that, being wearied, you felt inclined to + stay the night at Weymouth.” + </p> + <p> + “That was right.—Look, Agatha, how beautiful the sea is. I must + teach you not to be afraid of it any more. Next year”— + </p> + <p> + She paused, hesitated, put her hand to her heart, as she often did, and + ceased to speak; but Agatha eagerly continued the sentence: + </p> + <p> + “Next year we will come and stay here, you and I; or perhaps, as a very + great favour, we'll admit one or two more. Next year, when you are quite + strong, remember. We will be very happy, next year.” + </p> + <p> + She repeated the words strongly, resolutely, dinning them into Miss + Valery's ear, but she only won for answer that silent smile which went to + her heart like an arrow. She rushed for safety to the commonplaces of + life, to the quick, hasty speeches which relieved her. She began to be + very cross about some delay in breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind me, dear,” said Anne's quieting tones. “I am quite well, and + want nothing. Only let us sit still, and look at the sea.” And she drew + her from her eager bustling about the inn-parlour to the place where they + had both sat the previous night. Agatha balanced herself on the arm of the + chair, determined she would not be serious for an instant, and would not + let Anne talk. Yet both resolutions were broken ere long. Perhaps it was + the bright stillness of the sea view, sliding away round the headland into + infinity, which impressed her in spite of herself. Still she struggled + against her feelings. + </p> + <p> + “I will not have you so grave, Miss Valery. Mind, I will not.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I grave? Nay, only quiet; and so happy! Do you know what it is to be + quite content with everything in one's life—past, present, and to + come, knowing that all is overruled for good, forgiving everybody and + loving everybody?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha linked her arms tighter round Miss Valery's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk in that way, or look in that way—don't. Be wicked! Speak + cross! I will not have you an angel. I will not feel your wings growing. + I'll tear them out. There.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed—laughed with brimming eyes—until she sobbed again. + Her feelings had been on the stretch for hours, and now gave way. Anne + bent down from her serenity to notice and soothe the wayward child. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little thing, she wants taking care of as much as anybody. When will + her husband come home?” + </p> + <p> + “Never—never!” cried Agatha, hardly knowing what she said. “I shall + lose him—you—all.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery smiled—the composed smile of one who ascending a + mountain, sees the lowland mazes around laid out distinct and clear, and + looks over them to their ending. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my child, he will come back. Absence breaks slender ties, but it + rivets strong ones. Have faith in him. People like him, if they once love, + love always. He will come back.” + </p> + <p> + There was a great light in Miss Valery's countenance, which irresistibly + attracted Agatha. She dried her eyes, forgot her own personal cares, and + listened to the comforter. + </p> + <p> + “Think how much we love those that are away. Once perhaps we used to vex + and slight them and be cross with them, but now we carry them in our + hearts always. We forget everything bitter, and remember only the sweet; + how good they were, and how dearly we loved them. Our thoughts and prayers + follow them continually, flying over and about them like wandering angels, + that must be laden with good. And all this loving—all this waiting—all + this praying, year after year—I mean day after day”—she + suddenly turned to Agatha. “Be content, my child. He will come back.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha made no reply. She was not thinking of herself just then. She was + thinking of the life, compared to which her own nineteen commonplace years + sank into nothingness; of the love beside which that feeling she had so + called, looked mean and poor; of the patient endurance—what was her + patience? And yet she had fancied that never was woman so tried as Agatha + Harper. + </p> + <p> + With a resolve as sudden as brave, and in her present state of mind to be + brave at all it must needs be sudden, Agatha determined to put herself and + her troubles altogether aside, and think only of those whom she loved. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, and rose up strong in the courage of self-denial. “We + will indulge in no more dreariness; it is not good for you, and I won't + allow it, my patient. You shall be patient, in every sense, for a little + while longer, and then we'll all be very happy—<i>all</i>, I say, + next year.” + </p> + <p> + With this declaration she made ready to carry her friend off to Kingcombe—to + her own little house—where she was bent on detaining Anne prisoner. + Miss Valery declared herself quite willing to be thus bound for a day or + two, until she was strong enough to go to Kingcombe Holm. + </p> + <p> + “But I'll not let you go—I'll be jealous. Why must you be wandering + off to that dreary place?” + </p> + <p> + “Its not dreary to me; I always loved Kingcombe Holm; and I must pay it + one last visit before—before winter.” + </p> + <p> + “But there is plenty of time,” returned Agatha, hastily. “Why go just + now?” + </p> + <p> + “Because”—Miss Valery spoke after a moment's pause, very steadfastly—“Because + I have reasons for so doing. My old friend, Mr. Harper, has a few strong + prejudices, some of them to the hurt of his brother, and I wish to talk to + him myself before Mr. Brian Harper comes home.” + </p> + <p> + While Miss Valery said this name, Agatha had carefully bent her eyes + seaward. In answering, her colour rose—her manner was more troubled + and hesitating by far than that of her companion. + </p> + <p> + “Go, then. I will not hinder you. Nobody can feel more interest than I do + in Uncle Brian. When do you think he will be here?” + </p> + <p> + “In three weeks, most likely.” + </p> + <p> + Anne made no other remark, nor did Agatha. In a short time they were + driving homeward along the margin of the bay. That well-remembered bay, + the sight of which even now made Agatha feel as if she were dreaming over + again the one awful event of her childhood. And Anne—what felt she? + No wonder that she did not talk. + </p> + <p> + They came to a spot where the formal esplanade merged into a lonely + sea-side walk, leading towards the widening mouth of the bay, and + commanding the farthest view of the Channel as it curved down westward + into the horizon. Agatha turned pale. + </p> + <p> + “I remember it—that line of coast with the grey clouds over it. I + lay on these sands, and afterwards when you fell, I sat and cried over + you. This was the place, and it was over that point that the ship + disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + Anne was speechless. + </p> + <p> + Agatha clasped her hand:—they understood one another. The next + minute the carriage turned. Miss Valery breathed a quick sigh, and bent + hurriedly forward; but the glitter of the ocean had vanished—she had + seen the last of Weymouth Bay. + </p> + <p> + It was a weary journey, for Anne seemed very feeble. Her young nurse was + thankful when the flashing network of streams told how near they were + whirling towards Kingcombe. As the train stopped, Mrs. Dugdale was visible + on the platform; Duke also, not at the station—that being a degree + of punctuality quite impossible—but a little way down the road. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Anne Valery and Mrs. Locke Harper! To be gallivanting about in + this way! I declare it's quite disgraceful. What have you to say for + yourselves? Here have I been running up to every train to meet you, and + tell you”— + </p> + <p> + “What?” Agatha's cheek flushed with expectation. Anne grew very white. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Harper, you need not be so hasty—'tisn't your husband. A + great blessing if it were. All the town is crying shame on him for staying + away so long.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha threw a furious look at her sister, and dragged Miss Valery along, + nor stopped till she saw the latter could hardly breathe or stand. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, my child. Harriet, you should not say such things. Nathanael is + only absent on business—my business; he will come home soon.” + </p> + <p> + These words, uttered with difficulty, calmed the rising storm. Harrie + laughingly begged pardon, and was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the sooner Nathanael comes, the better. There was a gentleman last + night wanting him.” + </p> + <p> + “What gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't tell. He left no name. A little wiry shrimp of a fellow who seemed + to know all about our family, Fred included; so Duke, in his ultra + hospitality, took the creature in for the night, and this morning drove + him over to Kingcombe Holm. There, don't let us bother ourselves about + him. How do you feel now, Anne? Quite well, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite well,” Anne echoed in her cheerful voice that never had a tone of + pain or complaining. But it seemed to strike Mr. Dugdale, who had lounged + up to her side. His peculiarly gentle and observant look rested on her for + a moment, and then he offered her his arm, an act of courtesy very rare in + the absent Duke Dugdale. Agatha walked on her other hand; Harrie + fluttering about them, and talking very fast, chiefly about the wonderful + news of yesterday, which her husband had just communicated. + </p> + <p> + “And a great shame not to tell me long before. As if I did not care for + Uncle Brian as much as anybody does. What a Christmas we shall have—Uncle + Brian, Nathanael, and Fred.” + </p> + <p> + “Is Major Harper coming?” The question was from Anne. + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth hopes so. He surely will not disappoint Elizabeth. And he must + come to see Uncle Brian; they were such friends, you know. All the + middle-aged oddities in Kingcombe are on the <i>qui vive</i> to see Uncle + Brian and Fred. They two were the finest young fellows in the + neighbourhood, people say, and to think they should both come back + miserable old bachelors! Nobody married but my poor Duke! Hurra!” + </p> + <p> + So she rattled on until they reached Agatha's door. One of the Kingcombe + Holm servants stood there with the carriage. Mrs. Locke Harper was wanted + immediately, to dine at her father-in-law's. + </p> + <p> + “I will not go. I will not leave Miss Valery. They don't often ask me—indeed, + I have never been since—No, I will not go,” she added obstinately. + </p> + <p> + “Do!” entreated Anne, who had sat down, faint with a walk so short that no + one thought of its fatiguing her—not even Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “T' Squire do want'ee very bad, Missus. Here!” And the old coachman, + almost as old as his master, gave to Mrs. Harper a note, which was only + the second she had ever received from her husband's father. It was a + crabbed, ancient hand, blotted and blurred, then steadied resolutely into + the preciseness of a school-boy—one of those pathetic fragments of + writing that irresistibly remind one of the trembling failing hand—the + hand that once wrote brave love-letters. + </p> + <p> + “You are highly favoured; my father rarely writes to any one. What does he + say?” cried Harrie, rather jealous. + </p> + <p> + Agatha read aloud: + </p> + <blockquote> + <p> + “My dear Daughter-in-law, “Will you honour me by dining here to-day, + without fail? “I remain, always your affectionate Father, “Nathanael + Harper.” + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + “'Your affectionate Father,'” repeated Mrs. Dugdale. “He hardly ever + signed that to me in his life, though I am his very own daughter, and his + eldest too. He never signed so to anybody but Fred. Bah! what a big blot + He is almost past writing, poor dear man! Come, Agatha, you cannot refuse; + you must go.” + </p> + <p> + “She must indeed,” echoed Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Even though the Squire has been so rude as never to ask me or Duke, + though Duke saw him this very morning, when he rode over to Kingcombe Holm + to tell the news about Uncle Brian.—Bless us, Anne, don't look so. + Is there anything astonishing in my father's letter? How very queer + everybody seems to-day!” + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt Miss Valery draw her aside. + </p> + <p> + “You will surely go, my dear, since he wishes it.” + </p> + <p> + “But if I don't wish it—if I had far rather stay with you! Why are + you so anxious for my leaving you?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you angry with me again, my child?”—Agatha clung to her fondly. + “Then go. Behave specially well to your husband's father. And stay—say + I am coming to see him to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But you cannot—you are not strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, very strong,” Anne returned hastily. “Only go. I will stay + contentedly with Dorcas.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha went, very much against her will She had shut herself up entirely + for so long. It was a torment to see any one, above all her husband's + family, who of course were constantly talking and inquiring about him. The + stateliness of Kingcombe Holm chafed her beyond endurance; Mary's + good-natured regrets, and Eulalie's malicious prying condolings; worst of + all the penetration of Elizabeth. She fancied that they and all Kingcombe + were pointing the finger at “poor Mrs. Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Pondering over all these things during the solitary drive, her good + resolutions faded out from her, and her heart began to burn anew. It was + so hard! + </p> + <p> + She crossed the hall—the same hall where she had alighted when + Nathanael first brought her home. It looked dusky and dim, as then. She + almost expected to see him appear from some corner, with his light, quick + step and his long fair hair. + </p> + <p> + It was hard indeed—too hard! She hurried through, and never looked + behind. + </p> + <p> + Eulalie and Mary were sitting solemnly in the drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + “So you are come, Mrs. Harper. We never thought you would come again. We + thought you would sit for ever pining in your cage till your mate came + back again. What a naughty wandering bird he is!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Eulalie. No teasing. I am sure we were all very sorry for your + loneliness, dear Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for giving yourselves that trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no trouble at all,” said the well-meaning and simple Mary. “And we + would have come to see you or fetched you here, but I had to go so much to + Thornhurst while Anne was ill, and Eulalie—somehow—I don't + know—but Eulalie is always busy.” + </p> + <p> + Eulalie, whose hardest toil was looking in the glass, and patting her + dog's ears, assented apologetically. Perhaps she read something in her + sister-in-law's face which showed her that Agatha was not to be trifled + with. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go up and see Elizabeth? She has often asked for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she? I will go after dinner,” briefly answered Agatha She would not + be got rid of in that way. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we sit and talk then, till my father comes in with that queer + little man who has been with him all day? about whom Mary and I have been + vainly puzzling our brains. Such an ugly little fellow, and, between you + and me, not <i>quite</i> a gentleman. I wonder at papa's asking him to + stay and dine. I shan't do the civil to him; you may.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks for the permission.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps that is the very reason Papa sent for you,” continued Eulalie, + stretching herself out on the sofa. “The person said he knew you, and + asked Mary where you were living, and whether you were very happy + together, you and your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha rose abruptly, dashing down a heavy volume that lay on her knee—she + certainly had not a mild temper. While she wavered between reining in her + anger as she had last night vowed, and pouring upon Eulalie all the storm + of her roused passions—the door opened, and Mr. Harper entered with + his much-depreciated guest. + </p> + <p> + The old gentleman was dressed with unusual care, and walked with even more + of slow stateliness than ordinary. He met Agatha with his customary + kindness. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome. You have been somewhat of a stranger lately. It must not happen + again, my dear.” And drawing her arm through his, he faced the “little + ugly fellow” of Eulalie's dislike. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimes, let me present you to my son's wife, Mrs. Locke Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, sir,” interrupted Grimes, importantly; “I have long ago had + that honour, through Major”— + </p> + <p> + The old Squire started, put his hand to his forehead—“Yes, yes, I + did forget. My memory, sir—my memory is as good as ever it was.” + </p> + <p> + The sharp contradictory ending of his speech, the colour rising to the old + man's cheek and forehead, whence it did not sink, but lay steadily, a + heavy, purple blotch, attracted Agatha's notice—certainly more than + Mr. Grimes did. + </p> + <p> + “I had the honour, Mrs. Harper,” said the latter, bowing, “to be present + when your marriage settlement was signed. I had likewise the honour of + preparing the deed, by the wish and according to the express orders of + Major Har”— + </p> + <p> + “That is sufficient,” interrupted the Squire. “Sir, I never burden ladies + with the wearisomeness of legal discussion.—Did you drive or ride + here, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “If you remember, you sent the carriage for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—of course,” returned the old man. “It was a pleasant + drive, was it? Your husband enjoyed it too?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband is in Cornwall” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. I understand.” + </p> + <p> + Which was more than Agatha did. She could not make him out at all. The + wandering eye, dulled with more than mere age—for it had been his + pride that the Harper eye always sparkled to the last; the accidental + twitches about the mouth, which hung loosely, and seemed unable to control + its muscles; above all, the extraordinary and sudden lapse of a memory + which had hitherto been wonderful for his years. There was something not + right, some hidden wheel broken or locked in the mysterious mechanism that + we call human life. + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt uneasy. She wished Nathanael had been at home: and began to + consider whether some one—not herself—ought not to write and + hint that his father did not seem quite well. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, she closely watched the old man, who seemed this day to show + her more kindness and attention than ever,—there was no mistaking + that. He kept her constantly at his side, talking to her with marked + courtesy. Once she saw his eyes—those poor, dull, restless eyes, + fixed on her with an expression that was quite unaccountable. Going in to + dinner, his step, which began measured and stately, suddenly tottered. + Agatha caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + “You are not well—I am sure of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Mr. Grimes, who was following close behind, with the very + reluctant Miss Mary towering over his petty head. “No wonder that Mr. + Harper is not quite well to-day.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire swerved aside, like an old steed goaded by the whip, then rose + to his full height, which was taller than either of his sons—the + Harpers of ancient time were a lofty generation. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimes, I assure you I am quite well. Will you do me the honour to + cease your anxiety about me, and lead in my daughter to her seat?” + </p> + <p> + Grimes passed on—quenched. There was something in “the grand old + name of gentleman” that threw around its owner an atmosphere in which + plebeian intruders could not breathe. + </p> + <p> + “A person, Agatha,” whispered the Squire, as his eyes, bright with + something of their old glow, followed the evidently objectionable guest—“A + person to whom I show civility for the sake of—of my family.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha assented, though not quite certain to what. Scanning Mr. Grimes + more narrowly, she faintly remembered him, and the unpleasant, nasal-toned + voice which had gabbled through her marriage settlement. She wondered what + he had come to Nathanael for?—why Nathanael's father paid him such + attention? + </p> + <p> + On her part, the sensation of dislike, unaccountable yet instinctive + dislike, was so strong, that it would have been a real satisfaction to her + mind if the footmen, instead of respectfully handing Mr. Grimes his soup, + had handed himself out at the dining-room window. + </p> + <p> + The dinner passed in grave formality. Even Mr. Grimes seemed out of his + element, being evidently, as Eulalie had said, “not <i>quite</i> a + gentleman,” either by birth or breeding, and lacking that something which + makes the grandest gentlemen of all—Nature's. He tried now and then + to open a conversation with the Miss Harpers, but Eulalie sneered at him + aside, and Mary was politely dignified. Agatha took very little notice of + him—her attention was absorbed by her father-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper looked old—very old. His hands, blanched to a yellowish + whiteness, moved about loosely and uncertainly. Once the large diamond + mourning ring which the widower always wore, “In memory of Catherine + Harper,” dropped off on the table-cloth. He did not perceive the loss + until Agatha restored it, and then his fingers seemed unable to slip it on + again, until his daughter-in-law aided him. In so doing, the clammy, + nerveless feel of the old man's hand made her start. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mrs. Harper,” he said, acknowledging her assistance with his + most solemn bend. “And Catherine—Agatha, I mean, if you would be so + kind—that is”— + </p> + <p> + “Yes? observed Agatha, inquiringly, as he made a long pause. + </p> + <p> + “To—remind me after dinner, my dear. I have duties now—important + duties.—My friends!” Here he raised himself in his chair, looked + round the dessert-laden table with one of his old smiles, half + condescending, half good-humoured, then vainly put his hand on the large + claret jug, which Agatha had to lift and guide to her glass—“My + friends, I am delighted to see you all. And on this happy occasion let me + have the honour of giving the first toast. The Reverend Frederick Harper + and Mistress Mary Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Mary and Eulalie drew back. “That is grandfather and grandmother—dead + fifty years ago. What does papa mean?” + </p> + <p> + But the whisper did not reach the old man, who drank the toast with all + solemnity. Mr. Grimes did the same, repeating it loudly, with the addition + of “long life, health, and happiness.” The daughters each cast down + strange, shocked looks upon her untouched glass. No one spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Do you make a long stay in Dorsetshire?” observed the Squire, addressing + himself courteously to his guest. + </p> + <p> + “That depends,” Grimes answered, with a meaning twinkle of the eye—an + eye already growing moistened with too good wine. + </p> + <p> + “Did you not say,” Mary Harper continued, fancying her father looked at + her to sustain the conversation—“did you not say you were intending + to visit Cornwall?” + </p> + <p> + “No ma'am. Would rather be excused. As Mr. Harper knows, the place would + be too hot to hold <i>me</i> after certain circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” The old man tried hard to gather himself up into stern dignity, and + collect the ideas that where fast floating from him. “Sir,” he repeated, + first haughtily, and then with a violence so rare to his rigidly + gentlemanly demeanour that his daughters looked alarmed—“Sir—at + my table—before my family—I beg—I”—Here he + suddenly recovered himself, changed his tone, and bowed—“I—beg + your pardon.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no offence, Squire; none meant, none taken. I came with the best of + all intentions towards you and yours. And if things have turned out badly”— + </p> + <p> + “Did you not say you were acquainted with Cornwall?” abruptly asked + Agatha, to prevent his again irritating her father-in-law, who had leaned + back, sleepily. He would not close his eyes, but they looked misty and + heavy, and his fingers played lazily with one another on the arm of his + chair; Agatha laid her own upon them—she could not help it. She lost + her fear of the repellent Mr. Harper in the old man, so helpless and + feeble. She wished she had come oftener to Kingcombe Holm, and been more + attentive and daughter-like to Nathanael's father. + </p> + <p> + “As to Cornwall,” said Grimes, in a confidential whisper, “between you and + me, Mrs. Harper, mum's the word.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha drew herself up haughtily; but looked at the old Squire and grew + patient. She even tried to eke out the flagging conversation, and luckily + remembered the news which Duke Dugdale had that morning ridden over to + communicate. She could not help thinking it very odd that no one in the + house had hitherto mentioned Mr. Brian Harper's expected return. + </p> + <p> + “Shall you not be very glad, Mary, to see Uncle Brian. You have heard, of + course, how soon he will be here?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian here!—And nobody told us. Only think, papa”— + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mary!” There was a gentleness in the Squire's voice more + startling even than his violence. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know, papa, that Uncle Brian is coming home?” + </p> + <p> + “I think—I—Yes”—with a struggle at recollection—“my + son-in-law told me that some commercial business which Brian is + transacting for him will bring my brother home. I shall be very happy to + see him. You, too, will all be delighted to see your Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + “An uncle? The usual rich uncle from abroad, eh?” whispered Mr. Grimes to + Agatha. “I ask merely for your own sake, ma'am, and that of my friend + Nathanael.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha curled her lip. That the fellow should dare to speak of “my friend + Nathanael!” She glanced at Mary that they might leave the drawing-room, + when seeing her father-in-law was about to speak she paused. + </p> + <p> + The old Squire rose in his customary manner of giving healths. His voice + was quavering but loud, as if he could scarcely hear it himself, and tried + to make it rise above a whirl of sounds that filled his brain. “My friends + and children—my”—here he looked uncertainly at Agatha—“Yes, + I remember, my daughter-in-law—allow me to give one toast more—Health, + long life, and every blessing to my son—my youngest, worthiest, <i>only</i> + remaining son and heir, Nathanael.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Only</i> son!”—Every one recoiled. The worn-out brain had + certainly given way. Mary and Eulalie exchanged frightened glances. Agatha + alone, touched by the unexpected tribute to her husband, did not notice + the one momentous word. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Squire, that's hardly fair,” cried Mr. Grimes, bursting into a + hoarse vinous laugh. “A man may go wrong sometimes, but to be thrown + overboard for it, and by one's father, too—think better of it, old + fellow. And ladies by way of an antidote, allow me to give a toast—Success + to my worthy and honourable—<i>exceedingly</i> honourable client, + Major Frederick Harper.” + </p> + <p> + The old Squire leaped up in his chair, with eyes starting from their + sockets. His lips gurgled out some inarticulate sound scarcely human; his + right arm shook and quivered with his vain efforts to raise it; still it + hung nerveless by his side. Consciousness and will yet lingered in his + brain, but physical life and speech had gone for ever. He fell down struck + by that living death—that worse than death, of old age—paralysis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. + </h2> + <p> + The whole household was in terror and disorder. Eulalie had rushed + screaming from the room—Mary went about, trembling like a leaf, + trying to get restoratives—Agatha knelt on the floor, supporting the + old man's head in her lap, speaking to him sometimes, as by the motion and + apparent intelligence of his eyes she fancied he might possibly understand + her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is dead, he is dead!” cried Mary, as she took up the senseless + hand, and let it fall again with a burst of tears. + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not dead—he hears you;—take care,” said Agatha, + putting the frightened daughter aside with a firmness which rose in her, + as in similar characters it does rise, equal to the necessity. She looked + on the trembling Mary—on the servants gathering round with silent + horror, and saw there were none who, so to speak, “had their wits about + them,” except herself. Scarcely knowing how she did it, she instinctively + assumed the rule. She, the young girl of nineteen, who had never till then + been placed in any position of trial. + </p> + <p> + “Send all these people away. Quick Mary! Bring some one who can carry him + to his room. And—stay, Eulalie, sit down there and be quiet. Don't + let any one go and alarm Elizabeth.” + </p> + <p> + She gave these orders and everybody listened and obeyed; people are so + ready to obey any guiding spirit at such a crisis. Then she bent down + again over the poor corpselike figure that rested against her knee, kissed + the old man's forehead, and tried to comfort him. She had heard of cases, + when though deprived of speech and motion, the sufferer was still + conscious of all passing around him. Therefore she wished as soon as + possible to remove her father-in-law out of the way of the terrified + household. + </p> + <p> + He was carried to his room through the hall where he had lately trod so + stately,—the poor old man now helpless as the dead. Leaving the + dining-room, Agatha thought she saw his eyes turn back, as if he knew that + he was crossing the doorway he would never cross more, and wanted to take + a last look at the familiar things. Otherwise he seemed continually + watching herself. She walked beside him till he was laid upon his bed, and + then tried again to speak to him. She did it caressingly, as though the + old dying man had been a sick child. + </p> + <p> + “Be content, now—quite content. I will take care of you, and see + that all is done right. I shall, not be away two minutes; I am only going + to send for help—your own doctor from Kingcombe. We must try to get + you well. Lie here quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Quiet! It was like enjoining stillness to a corpse! Agatha shuddered when + she had used the word. For a moment the dread of her position rose upon + her. In that lonely house, at night too, with no help nearer than + Kingcombe: and even then no husband, no friend—for she dared not + send to poor, sick Anne Valery! And she so young, so inexperienced.—But + no matter! She would try to meet everything—do everything. She felt + already calm and brave. + </p> + <p> + The first thing necessary was to send for medical aid. This she did; + having the forethought to write a few clear lines, lest the messenger + should fail. She despatched word likewise to the Dugdales. She felt quite + composed; everything right to be remembered came clearly into her head. It + was the grand touch-stone of her character; the crisis of danger which + shows whether a woman has that presence of mind which exalts her into a + domestic heroine, an angel of comfort; or the weakness which sinks her + into a helpless selfish fool. + </p> + <p> + The latter was hardly likely to become a true picture of Agatha Harper. + </p> + <p> + She went about with Mary, giving some orders to the servants, for sickness + always comes startingly upon an unprepared and unaccustomed house; and + tried to find a few soothing words for the terrified Eulalie, who clung + crying about them both, forgetting all her affectations. If the Beauty had + any love left in her, it was for her father. Lastly, Agatha took a light, + and went swiftly along the passages to the distant wing of the house which + Elizabeth occupied. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Harper,” her maid said, “had gone quietly to rest, and was then fast + sleeping.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Elizabeth! this seemed the hardest point of all. + </p> + <p> + “When did she see her father?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning. The master always comes up every morning after breakfast to + see Miss Harper.” + </p> + <p> + And they would never see one another again, this helpless father and + daughter—never, till they met bodiless, in the next world! + </p> + <p> + For the moment Agatha felt her courage fail She glided quickly from the + door, but came back again. Elizabeth had waked, and called her. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter? I know something is the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Do tell her,” whispered the maid, “She'll find it out anyhow—she + finds out everything. And she has been so ill all day.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha entered. There was no deceiving those eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth—your father—it is very hard, but—your + father”—She hesitated; it was so difficult to convey, even in + gentlest words, the cruel truth. Miss Harper regarded her keenly. The + bearer of ill-tidings is always soon betrayed, and Agatha's was not a face + to disguise anything. Elizabeth's head dropped back on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “I perceive. He is an old man. He has gone home before me. My dear + father!” + </p> + <p> + The perfect composure with which she said this astonished Agatha. She did + not understand how near Elizabeth always lived to the unknown world, and + how welcome and beautiful it was in her familiar sight. + </p> + <p> + “No; he is alive still. But, if he should not come in to see you + to-morrow-morning”— + </p> + <p> + “I shall go unto him; he shall not return unto me,” murmured Elizabeth, as + her eyelids fell, and a few tears dropped through the lashes. “Tell me the + rest, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been seized with paralysis, I think; he cannot speak or move, but + seems still conscious. I do not know how it will end.” + </p> + <p> + “One way—only one way; I feared this long. My grandfather died so. + Agatha”—calling after her, for she was stealing away, she could not + bear it—“Agatha, you will take care of him?” + </p> + <p> + “I will as his own daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “And, if possible”—here Elizabeth's voice faltered a little—“give + my love to my dear father.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha fled away. She hid herself in the recess close by “Anne's window,” + as it was called, and for a minute or two cried violently. It did her + good. With those tears all the selfishness, anger, and pain flowed out of + her heart, leaving it purer and more peaceful than it had been for a long + time. It was not a foolish, miserable girl, but a brave, tenderhearted, + sensible woman, who entered the door of the sick-chamber where the poor + old man lay. + </p> + <p> + No one was there but the coachman who had carried his master up-stairs. + Many servants hovered about the door, but none dared enter. Either they + were afraid of the Squire—afraid even now, or else the motionless + figure that lay within the bed-curtains was too like death. Old John sat + beside it, with tears running down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mrs. Harper, look at th' Master. He be all alive in's mind. He do + want bad to speak to we. Look at 'un, Missus!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me your place, John. I will try to understand him. Father!”—She + faltered a little over the word, but felt it was the right word, now. The + old man moved his head towards her with a feeble smile. The expression of + his face was clearer and more natural, only for that terribly painful + inarticulate murmur, which no one could comprehend. + </p> + <p> + “I have done all I could think of,” Agatha continued, speaking softly and + cheerfully. “The doctor will be here soon; Mary and Eulalie are + down-stairs. I have myself told Elizabeth that you are ill;—she is + composed, and sends her love to her dear father. Was all this right?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper appeared to assent. + </p> + <p> + “I will sit beside you till the doctor comes, and then I will write to my + husband. You would like him to come home?” + </p> + <p> + He seemed slow of comprehension, troubled, or excited. Agatha vainly tried + to analyse the dumb expression of the features. With all her quickness she + could not make out what he wanted. At last, a thought struck her. His + eldest son, his favourite— + </p> + <p> + “Would you like me to send for Major Harper?” + </p> + <p> + No words could tell the change which convulsed the old man. Abhorrence—anger—fear—all + were written in his countenance. He rolled his head on the pillow, he + struggled to gasp out something—what, his daughter-in-law could not + guess. She was inexpressibly shocked. One thing only seemed clear, that + for some cause or other the mere mention of Frederick's name worked up the + father into frenzy. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! do not try to speak. I will send for no one but Nathanael. Will + that content you?” + </p> + <p> + He made a motion of satisfaction, and became quiet. His features gradually + composed themselves, and, he sank into torpor. + </p> + <p> + Agatha still sat by the bed, holding his wrist, for she knew not moment by + moment how soon the pulse might stop. The old man's own daughters were too + terrified to approach him. They came on tiptoe to the door, looked in, + shuddered, and went back. No one stayed in the room but the old coachman, + who had been Mr. Harper's servant since they were both boys; and he sat in + a corner crying like a child, though silently. Agatha might as well have + sat there quite alone, the atmosphere around her was so still and solemn. + </p> + <p> + She had never before been in her father-in-law's room—-the state + bedroom, in which for centuries the Harper family had been born and died. + The great mahogany bed itself was almost like a bier, with its dark velvet + hangings, and dusty plumes. Everything around was dusty, gloomy, and worn + out; the Squire would have nothing changed from the time when the last + Mrs. Harper died there. In a little curtained alcove the lace hung yellow + and dusty over her toilet-table, just as she had left it when she laid + herself down to the pains of motherhood and death. Her portraits—one + girlish, another matronly, but still merry and fair—hung opposite + the bed. Between them was a longitudinal family-group, in the very lowest + style of art—a string of children, from the big boy to the tottering + baby, in all varieties of impossible attitudes. Their names were written + under (not unnecessarily)—Frederick, Emily, Harriet, Mary, Eulalie. + The only names missed were Nathanael and “poor Elizabeth.” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically Agatha observed all these things during the first half-hour + of her vigil; involuntarily her mind floated away to musings concerning + them, until she forcibly impelled it back to consider the present. It was + in vain. Innumerable conjectures flitted through her brain, but not one + which she could catch hold of as a truth. Of one thing only she felt sure, + that something very serious must have happened—some great mental + shock, too powerful for the Squire's feeble old age. And this shock was + certainly in some way or other connected with Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, when she was beginning to count every beat of the old man's + pulse, and look forward with dread to a midnight vigil beside that + breathing corpse, the doctor came. + </p> + <p> + Agatha waited for his dictum—it needed very little skill to decide + that. A few questions—a shake of the head—a solemn condolatory + sigh; and all knew that the old Squire's days were numbered. + </p> + <p> + “How long?” whispered Mrs. Harper, half closing the door as they came out. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot say. Some hours—days—possibly a week. We never know + in these cases. But, I fear, certainly within a week.” + </p> + <p> + <i>What</i> would be “within a week?” Why is it that every one dreads to + say the simple word “<i>die</i>?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha paused. She had never yet stood face to face in a house with death. + The sensation was very awful. She glanced within at the heavy-curtained + bed, and then at the fair, girlish portrait which peered through the folds + at its foot—the painted eyes, eternally young, seeming to keep watch + smilingly. The old man and his long-parted wife, to be together again—“within + a week.” It was strange—strange. + </p> + <p> + “His sons should be sent for,” hinted the doctor. “Mr. Locke Harper is in + Cornwall, I believe; but the other—Major Harper——” + </p> + <p> + “Frederick—Yes, we must send for Frederick,” sobbed Mary. “My father + cares more for him than for any of us. Oh, poor Frederick!” + </p> + <p> + “But,” Eulalie said—they were all whispering together at the door—“I + don't think any one of us, not even Elizabeth, knows Frederick's address + just now. A week ago he was passing through London, but he does make such + a mystery of his comings and goings. Oh, if he were only here!” + </p> + <p> + “Ask my father,” cried Mary—“ask him if he would like to see + Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + As she said this rather too loudly, there was a strange smothered sound + from the bed. Agatha ran. The old Squire was gasping, choking, with the + frightful effort to speak. His face was purple—his eyes wild—yet + the poor bound tongue refused to obey his will. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! be composed,” said his daughter-in-law, soothingly. “You shall see + no one. No one shall be sent for. Will that do?” + </p> + <p> + He grew calmer, but restless still. + </p> + <p> + “Shall my husband come? He will do you good—he does everybody good. + Would you like to see Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + A faint assent—scarcely intelligible—and then the Squire + dropped off again into sleep. Agatha left him and went to his daughters, + who lingered outside. + </p> + <p> + “I think Major Harper has somehow vexed him. He will only see my husband. + A messenger must be sent to Cornwall. Who will write?” + </p> + <p> + “Who but yourself,” said Eulalie, hardly able even then to repress a look, + beneath which Agatha's cheek glowed fiery red; “who so fit as yourself to + tell this to your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “You are right;” and she smothered down her swelling heart into a grave + dignity. “Get the messenger ready—I will write here—in this + room.” + </p> + <p> + She turned-within—closed the door—looked once more at the old + man, trying by that mournful sight to still the earthly anger that was + again rising in her heart,—and sat down to write. + </p> + <p> + It was a hard task. She scribbled the date, and paused. This, strangely + enough, was the first letter she had ever written to him. She did not know + how to begin it. Her heart beat—her fingers trembled. To tell such + news to the dearest friend and husband that ever woman had, would be a + difficult and painful thing, and for her to tell it to him, as they were + now! For the first letter he ever had from her to be this! And how could + she write it?—she who till to-day would almost have cut off her + right hand rather than have humbled herself to write to him at all. Yet + now all the wrath was melting out of her, and tenderness swelling up + afresh. We always feel so tender over those that are in trouble. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will do it,” muttered Agatha. And she wrote firmly the words—“<i>My + dear husband</i>” They seemed at the same time to imprint themselves on + her heart as a truth—invisible sometimes, yet when brought near to + the fire of strong emotion or suffering, found ineffaceably written there. + </p> + <p> + The letter was a mere brief explanation and summons; but it bore the + words, duty-words certainly—yet which no duty would have forced + Agatha to write had they been untrue—“<i>My dear husband</i>”—“<i>Your + affectionate wife.</i>” + </p> + <p> + She despatched it, and re-entered the sick-room. All was quiet there—the + very hopelessness of the case produced quiet. There was nothing to be + done, watched, or waited for. Doctor Mason sat by his patient, as he had + declared his intention of doing through the night. He sat mournfully, for + he was a kind, good man—the family doctor for thirty years. + </p> + <p> + “Let all go to bed,” he said to Agatha, seeming to understand at once that + she was the moving spirit in the family. “Make the house perfectly quiet, + and then”— + </p> + <p> + “I will come and sit up with you.” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Mason looked compassionately at the slight girlish figure, and the + face already wan with the re-action after excitement. “My dear Mrs. + Harper, would not a servant do as well?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I am his son's wife. What should I say to my husband if—if + anything happened, and he not there, nor I?” + </p> + <p> + “Good. Then stay,” said the doctor, kindly grasping her hand. He was a man + of few words. + </p> + <p> + It took some time and patience to quiet the house, and persuade Mary and + Eulalie to retire. When all was done, and Agatha passed swiftly, lamp in + hand, through the dark, solitary rooms, she felt frightened. The house + seemed so silent—already so full of death. + </p> + <p> + There was one thing more to be done—to write a line ready for Anne + Valery's waking, otherwise she would expect her home, as she had promised, + in the early morning. How would she tell all these horrors, even in the + gentlest way, to the feeble Anne, for whom, however unknown to others, and + disguised by the invalid herself, Agatha felt an ever-present dread that + she in vain tried to believe was only born of strong attachment. We never + deeply love anything for which we do not likewise continually fear. Agatha + almost recoiled from the idea of mentioning danger or death to Anne + Valery. + </p> + <p> + She went into the dining-room to write. Everything there appeared just as + when this great shock struck the household into confusion; the dessert was + not removed—the wine in which he had drunk Nathanael's health, + remained yet in Mr. Harper's glass. Agatha shrank back. She half expected + to see some shadowy form—not himself but Death, rise and sit in the + arm-chair whence the old man had fallen. + </p> + <p> + Brave she was, but she was still a girl, and a girl of strong imagination. + Her heart beat audibly; she put the lamp down in the middle of the room, + where it might cast more light, and render less ghastly the last flicker + of one wax-candle, the fellows of which had been left to burn out in their + sockets. Then she sat down, covered her eyes, and tried to think + connectedly of all that had happened this night. + </p> + <p> + Something touched her. She leaped up—would have screamed, but that + she remembered the room overhead—the room. She crouched down—again + covering her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Another touch, and a stirring in the window-curtain near which she sat. + There was something—every one knows that horrible sensation—<i>something</i> + else in the room besides herself. + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” she said, still not looking up, frightened at her own voice. + </p> + <p> + “It's me, ma'am—only me.” + </p> + <p> + Everybody in the house had forgotten Mr. Grimes. + </p> + <p> + Half-intoxicated at the time of Mr. Harper's seizure, he had stayed behind + in the dining-room, drunk himself stupid, and slept himself sober—or + partly so. They say drink is a great unfolder of truth; if so, the old + lawyer's sharp face betrayed that, in spite of all his past civility, he + had not the kindest feeling in the world towards the Harper family. + </p> + <p> + “So, young lady, I frightened you? You did not expect to find me here.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not, indeed; I had quite forgotten your very existence,” said Mrs. + Harper, point-blank. She had conceived a great dislike to Mr. Grimes, and + Agatha was a girl who never took much trouble to disguise her aversions. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am. You are polite, like the rest of the Harpers. But + words, fair or foul, won't pay anything. Where's the Squire? He and I have + not yet settled the little business I came about.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimes, perhaps you are not aware that my father-in-law is + dangerously ill—can enter upon no business, and see no person.” + </p> + <p> + “In-deed?” His thorough insolence of manner brought Agatha's dignity back. + She remembered that she was a lady belonging to the house, and that this + fellow, whose behaviour made his grey hairs so little worthy of respect, + was her father-in-law's invited guest. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” she said, drawing up her little figure, and trying to look as much + Mrs. Locke Harper as possible, “you must be aware that in the present + state of the house a stranger's presence is undesirable. It is not too + late to order the carriage. Will you favour me by going to sleep at + Kingcombe?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grimes looked disposed to object; but she had her hand on the bell, + and her manner, though perfectly civil, was resolute—so resolute, + that he became humble. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mrs. Harper, I'm willing to oblige a former client, but I should + like to put to you a few questions before leaving.” + </p> + <p> + “Put them.” + </p> + <p> + “First—what's wrong with the old gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “He has had a paralytic stroke—probably caused, the doctor says, by + some great shock, which was too much for him, being an old man.” + </p> + <p> + The other old man looked uneasy, as though some touch of nature smote him + for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think”—here he crept backward, shambling and cowardly—“you + don't think I had any hand in causing this—this very melancholy + occurrence.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” There was undisguised scorn in Agatha's lip. As if any Mr. Grimes + could do harm to a Harper! “Nothing of the kind—pray do not disquiet + your conscience unnecessarily.” + </p> + <p> + “But I did bring him unpleasant news, for which I'm rather sorry now. I + had much better have told his son. When shall I be likely to see my friend + Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + His friend Nathanael! Agatha could have crushed him and stamped upon him, + had he been worth it. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Locke Harper,” she said, trying hard to keep her temper—“Mr. + Locke Harper will be at home to-morrow night. You can then make to him any + communications you please. At the present, the greatest benefit you can + confer on this sad house is to absent yourself from it.” + </p> + <p> + “'Pon my life, Mrs. Harper, you might waste a little more breath on me, + lest I might think it worth while to spend a little too much breath on you + and yours. Do you know what claim I have upon your family?” + </p> + <p> + “That of being Major Harper's lawyer, I believe, and possibly mine before + my marriage. It is not likely that my husband has continued to use your + services afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha said this sharply, for she was annoyed to feel herself in such + total darkness regarding her husband's affairs. For a moment she felt half + alarmed at the expression, “My friend Nathanael.” Could they be allied, he + and this disagreeable man? Could Grimes have acquired any power over him, + that he was smiling in such a sinister, mysterious way? + </p> + <p> + “My services? Really, Mrs. Harper, this is very amusing. You surely must + be aware that your husband has not the slightest occasion for anybody's + services in the management of his affairs. One can't make something out of + nothing, and when there is not a halfpenny left”— + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady, is it possible you don't know the unfortunate + circumstance, at least one of the unfortunate circumstances which brought + me here? Why, Mr. Locke Harper knew it months ago. He and I had several + conferences together on the subject. But we husbands are obliged to be + uncommunicative, as my wife would tell you, if you had the pleasure of + knowing Mrs. Grimes”— + </p> + <p> + “Will you keep to the point, sir?” said Agatha, sternly. She felt very + stern—very bitter. The old wound was reopening sorer than ever. + Nathanael had “held conferences” with this fellow—confided to him + secrets which he had not told to her—his own wife! Here was a new + pang—a new indignity. In its sharpness she forgot everything else; + even the silent room overhead. She had just self-possession and pride + enough not to question; she would have been more than human had she not + paused to hear. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Grimes!” she said, confronting him, her hand still on the door, + where she had placed it as a mute signal which he refused to understand. + </p> + <p> + “I own, Mrs. Harper, it is a hard case. At the time I really felt as sorry + for you as if you had been my own daughter. All to happen so soon after + your marriage, too! Some persons might blame me for consenting to keep + back the facts, but I assure you Major Harper compelled me to draw up the + settlement exactly according to his orders.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir—will you hasten—my time is occupied.” + </p> + <p> + “So is mine, madam; fully occupied. I shall waste no more of it in giving + advice to young women who are as proud as peacocks, and as poor as + church-mice. If it wasn't for that highly respectable young man, your + husband, I should say it served you right.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” said Agatha, beneath her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Locke Harper found out, a month after his marriage, that somebody had + made ducks and drakes of all his wife's property. So, as I hear, the poor + young man has had to turn land-steward just to keep his kitchen fire + burning. That's all. Very odd you don't know it.” + </p> + <p> + “I do now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you take it quietly enough. You seem quite satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “I am so.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grimes regarded her in perfect bewilderment. She showed no token of + dismay or grief, but stood calmly by the open door. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not satisfied though,” cried he, at last growing heated—“I'm + not going to have shareholders coming down upon me, and be hunted from + London and from my profession, just because Major Harper”— + </p> + <p> + “I would rather not hear of Major Harper, or any one else, to-night. Once + more—will you oblige me by leaving?” + </p> + <p> + Her thorough self-possession, her air of command—controlled the man + in spite of himself. He moved away, bidding her a civil good-night. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night, Mr. Grimes; I will light you to the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Ugh!” He gave a grunt—seemed inclined to hesitate—looked up + at Mrs. Harper, and—obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Agatha came slowly back through the hall, feeling all stunned and + stupified. She sat down, smoothed her hair back with her hands, heaved one + or two weary sighs, and tried to think what had happened to her. + </p> + <p> + “So, I am no heiress. I have lost all my money, and am quite poor. He + knows it—knew it a long time ago, and did not tell me. Why did he + not tell me, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + Here was a pause. For a moment she felt inclined to doubt the fact itself; + truthful people have little suspicion of chicanery or falsehood, and when + she came to think, innumerable circumstances confirmed Grime's statement. + Yes, it must be true. This, then, was Nathanael's secret. Why had he kept + it from her. + </p> + <p> + “As if he thought I cared for money! As if”—and a choking filled her + throat—“as if I would have minded being ever so poor did he only + love me!” + </p> + <p> + The thought burst out naturally, like water forcing its way through muddy + reeds—showing how, deep down, there lay the living spring. + </p> + <p> + “Now, let me consider. He must have had some strong reason for keeping + this secret. It cost him much; he said so. But I never heeded that. How I + wearied him about not taking the house; how angry I was at his acceptance + of the stewardship. And it was for me he wished to toil—for me, and + for our daily bread! Yet he would not tell me. And all the while he must + have had numberless cares and anxieties without, and his own wife blindly + tormenting him at home. Last of all I called him <i>mercenary</i>. And + what did he answer? Nothing! Not one reproach—not one word of anger. + Yet still—he kept his secret Why?” + </p> + <p> + Here she paused again. All was mystery. + </p> + <p> + “It might have been through tenderness—to save me pain. Yet no—for + he could not but see how his silence stung me. Then since he kept not this + secret for love of me—and I am hardly worth such loving—it + must have been from some motive, perhaps higher than love—some bond + of honour which he could not break. Did he not say something to that + effect once? Let me think.” + </p> + <p> + Again she sat down, and so far as her excited feelings would allow, tried + to recall the story of their acquaintance, courtship, marriage—a + six-month's tale—how brief, yet how full. Amidst its confusion, + amidst all the variations of her own feelings, stood out one steadfast + image—her husband. + </p> + <p> + His character was peculiar—very peculiar. Its strength, reticence, + power of silentness and self-control were beyond her comprehension; but + its uprightness, truth, and rigid immaculate honour—she could + understand those. It must have been his sense of honour and moral right + that in some way impelled this concealment, even at the hazard of wounding + the wife he loved—if he ever had loved her. + </p> + <p> + For a minute or so Agatha's mind almost lost its balance, rocking on this + one point of torture—then it settled. “<i>God knows I did love you, + Agatha</i>.” He had said so—he who never uttered a falsehood. It was + enough. + </p> + <p> + “Yet he '<i>did</i>' love me; that means he does not now. I have wearied + him out with my folly, my coldness, and at length with that one last + insulting wrong. I—to tell him he 'married me for my money'—when + all the while I was a beggar on his hands! Yet he never betrayed a word. + Oh, no wonder he despises me. No wonder he has ceased loving me. He never + can love me any more.” + </p> + <p> + She burst into a passion of tears, and so remained for long. At last a + sudden thought seemed to dart through her sorrow. She leaped upright, + clasping her hands above her head in the rapturous attitude of a child. + </p> + <p> + “There is a better thing than love—goodness. And whether he loves me + or not, he is all good in himself. I know that now. It is I only that have + been wicked, and have lost him. No matter. Anne was right. My noble + husband! I would not give my faith in him even for his love for me!” + </p> + <p> + She said this in a delirium of joy—a woman's pure joy, when she can + set aside the selfish craving for love, and live only in the worthiness of + the object beloved. It was beautiful to see Agatha as she stood, her + features and form all radiant. One person, creeping in, did see her. + </p> + <p> + Old John the coachman, stood in the doorway with his mournful face. + </p> + <p> + Agatha awoke to realities. Death all but present in the house—misfortune + following—and she had given way to that burst of joy! + </p> + <p> + She drew her hand across her forehead—sat down at the table—wrote + the three lines she had intended to Anne Valery, and then went her way, to + watch all night long beside her husband's father. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. + </h2> + <p> + A night and a day had passed, and the household had grown somewhat + accustomed to the cloud that hung over it. It was but natural. How soon do + most families settle themselves after a great shock!—how easily-does + any grief become familiar and bearable! Likewise, saddest thought of all—how + seldom is any one really missed from among us, painfully missed, for + longer than a few days—a few hours! + </p> + <p> + By evening, when all Kingcombe was yet talking over the “shocking event” + at Kingcombe Holm, the “afflicted family” had subsided into its usual ways—a + little more grave perhaps, but still composed. Some voluble fresh grief + arose when Anne Valery came—Anne, ever foremost in entering the + house of mourning—and took her place among the daughters of the + family, ready to give sympathy, counsel, and comfort. It was all she was + strong enough to do now. The chief position in the household was still + left to Agatha. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Mason gave his directions and went away. There was nothing more to be + done or hoped for. The form which lay in the Squire's bedroom might lie + there for days, weeks, months—without change. The old coachman and + his wife watched their master alternately; but he took little notice of + them. In every conscious moment his whole attention was fixed upon Agatha. + His eyes followed her about the room; when she talked to him he feebly + smiled. She could not imagine why this should be, but she felt glad. It + was so sweet to know herself in any way a comfort to the father of + Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + She sat for hours by the old man's bedside, trying to think of nothing but + him. What were all these worldly things, loss of fortune or youth, or even + love itself, to the spirit that lay on the verge of a closed life—passing + swiftly into eternity? + </p> + <p> + So she sat and strove to forget all that had happened, or was happening to + herself; ay, though every now and then she would start, fancying there was + a voice in the hall, or a step at the door. And she would hesitate whether + to run away and hide herself from her husband's presence or wait and let + him find her in her right place—beside his dying father. + </p> + <p> + And then—how would he meet her? how look—how speak? Yet these + conjectures were selfish. Most likely he would scarcely notice her—his + heart would be so full of other thoughts. What right had she, his erring + wife, to obtrude herself upon his feelings at such a time? She could only + look at him, and watch him, and silently help him in everything. Alas, she + might not even dare to comfort him! + </p> + <p> + Towards evening the suspense of expectation grew less, from the mere fact + of its having lasted so many hours. Agatha went down in the course of + dinner. The dining-table looked as usual, only fuller, from the presence + of the Dugdales and Miss Valery. Mary had of necessity taken her father's + place, but not his chair—it was put aside against the wall, and + nobody looked that way. + </p> + <p> + Agatha seated herself next to Miss Valery, quietly—they were all so + very quiet. Anne whispered, “How is he?” and the rest listened for the + answer—the usual answer, which all foreboded. Then Harriet made an + attempt to speak of other things—of how the rain pattered against + the window-panes, and what an ill night it was for Nathanael's journey. + She even began to doubt whether he would come. + </p> + <p> + “He is sure to come,” said Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + And while she was yet speaking there swept round the house a wild burst of + storm, in the midst of which were faintly discerned the sound of a horse's + feet. They all cried out—“He is here!” + </p> + <p> + A minute more and he was in the room—drenched through—flushed + with riding against wind and rain. But it was himself, his own self, and + his wife saw him. + </p> + <p> + When those who are much thought of return from absence, for the first + minute they almost always seem unlike the image in our hearts.—It + was not thus that Agatha had remembered her husband. Not thus—abrupt, + agitated: anything but the calm and grave Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + He looked eagerly round the room—all rose: but Miss Valery was the + first to take his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, Anne, I knew you would be with them. Is he”— + </p> + <p> + “Just the same—no change.” + </p> + <p> + The young man breathed hard. “Are you all here?” He took his three sisters + and kissed them one after the other, silently, brotherly—Anne + likewise. There was one left out—his wife, who had hidden behind the + rest. But soon she heard her name. + </p> + <p> + “Is Agatha with you?” + </p> + <p> + She approached. Her husband took her hand—paused a moment—and + then touched her cheek with his lips, as he had done to his sisters. He + did not look at her or speak—it seemed as if he were not able. + </p> + <p> + They drew round Nathanael, nearly all weeping. There was, as is natural at + such times, an unusual outburst of family tenderness. And, as was natural + also, no one seemed to think of the young wife—the stranger in the + circle. Agatha slid away from the group and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Shortly after, she had taken her usual place in the sickroom. It had + struck her that the old man ought to be prepared for his son's coming, so + she had at once proceeded to his bedside. But it was useless—he was + sleeping. She sat down noiselessly in her old seat, and watched, as she + had done for many an hour in this long day, the smiling portrait at the + foot of the bed—her husband's mother, whom he never saw. + </p> + <p> + While she sat, footsteps entered the room. Agatha turned quickly round to + motion the intruder to silence, and perceived that it was Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + She fancied—nay, was sure—that he started when he saw her. + Still, he came forward. She rose, and would have given him her seat, but + he put his hand on her shoulder, and gently pressed her down again. The + old servant who watched near her went respectfully to the further end of + the room. + </p> + <p> + It was a solemn scene; the dim light—the total silence, broken only + by the feeble breathing of the old man, who lay passive as death, without + death's sanctity of calm. Over all, that gay youthful portrait which the + lamp-light, excluded from the bed, kindled into wonderfully vivid life—far + more like life than the sleeper below. + </p> + <p> + The young man stood mournfully watching his father, until startled by a + flash of fire-light on the canvas, his eyes wandered to the painted smile + of his unknown mother, and then turned back again to the pillows—the + same pillows where she died.. His fingers began to twitch nervously, + though his features remained still. Slowly, Agatha saw large tears rise + and roll down his cheeks. Her heart yearned over her husband, but she + dared not speak. She could but weep—not outwardly, but inwardly, + with exceeding bitter pangs. + </p> + <p> + At length the old man stirred. Agatha remembered her duty as nurse, and + hastily whispered her husband: + </p> + <p> + “I think you should move aside for a minute. Don't let him see you + suddenly—it will startle him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is thoughtful of you. But who will tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “I will—he is used to me. Are you awake, father?” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael caught the word, and looked surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Dear father,” she continued, soothingly, “will you not try to wake now? + Here is some one come to see you—some one you will be glad to see.” + </p> + <p> + The Squire's eyes grew wild; he uttered a thick, painful murmur. + </p> + <p> + “Some one who was sure to come when he knew you were ill—your son.” + She paused, shocked at the frenzied expression of the old man's face. “Nay—your + younger son—Nathanael—may he come?” + </p> + <p> + She perceived some faint assent, beckoned to her husband, saw him take her + place at the bedside, and then stole away, leaving the son alone with his + father. + </p> + <p> + Agatha rejoined the rest of the family. They were all sitting talking + together as Nathanael had left them. After her leaving, they said, he had + hardly spoken at all, but had gone up directly after her. + </p> + <p> + In about half-an-hour he re-appeared—greatly agitated. His sisters + all turned to him as he entered, but he avoided their eyes. Agatha never + lifted hers; she sat in a dim corner behind Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of him, Nathanael?” asked Mary, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot yet tell; I want to hear how he was seized. Which of you saw + most of him yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “No one, unless it was Agatha. He was shut up in his study until she + came.” + </p> + <p> + “And who has been most with him since?” + </p> + <p> + “Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + A soft expression dawned in the young man's eyes as they sought the dim + corner. + </p> + <p> + “Will Agatha tell me what <i>she</i> thinks of my father's state?” + </p> + <p> + This appeal, so direct—so unexpected—could not be gainsaid. + </p> + <p> + Yet, when Nathanael addressed her, Agatha's agitation was so visible that + it attracted observation—especially Mrs. Dugdale's. + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” said Harrie, compassionately, “how pale she looks!” + </p> + <p> + “No wonder,” Mary added. “She is more worn out than any of us. She sat up + all last night.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael's eyes were on his wife again, full of ineffable gentleness. + “Agatha, come over and rest in this armchair. I want to talk to you about + my father.” + </p> + <p> + She obeyed. He spoke in a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “I feel deeply your having been so kind to him.” + </p> + <p> + “It was right. I was glad to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think caused his illness?” + </p> + <p> + “Doctor Mason said it was probably some severe mental shock.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael looked alarmed. “Indeed! and did the rest of the family know + anything?—guess anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband fixed on her a penetrating gaze; she returned it steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha,” he hurriedly said, “you are a sensible girl—more so than + any of my sisters. I want to consult with you alone. Come and walk up and + down the room with me where they cannot overhear us.” + </p> + <p> + She did so. How strange it was! + </p> + <p> + “Do you think my father had any sudden ill news? Did he see any person + yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “A stranger came to him. Your brother's lawyer, Mr. Grimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Grimes? Oh, my poor father!” + </p> + <p> + He sat down abruptly. Agatha wondered at his mingling the two names. What + should Grimes have to do with his father? + </p> + <p> + “Did any one else see Grimes?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he say to you? Was it”—he dropped his head, and spoke half + inaudibly—“Was it anything about my brother?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha marvelled, even with a sort of pain. Father, brother, every one + before her! “He never named Major Harper, that I can remember. But he + said”— + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha drew back. How could she speak of such petty things as money and + fortune then! She answered softly, and with a full heart: + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. It was a mere trifle, not worth telling, or even thinking of + now. Another time.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael regarded his wife doubtfully, but she bore the look. She was + speaking the simple truth. Loss of fortune did seem “a mere trifle” now, + when he was safe back again, and she sat in his presence, he talking to + her as gently as in the olden time. Her simplicity in worldly things was + so extreme that even Nathanael passed it over as impossible. He only said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, all must come out ere long. We cannot think of it now. Tell me more + about my poor father.” + </p> + <p> + “There is little more to tell. His manner was rather strange, I thought, + all dinner-time. He drank healths as usual—especially yours. His + mind was wandering then, for he called you his <i>only</i> son. Then Mr. + Grimes gave another toast—Major Harper. At that moment your father + fell from his chair.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael started up—“I knew it would be so. He could not bear such + shame—my poor old father!” + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael,” cried Harrie, from the fireside group, “come and give us your + opinion. I say that he ought to be sent for at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “Frederick” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael cried out violently, as if self-control were no longer possible. + </p> + <p> + “Never! Here have I used every effort, smothered every feeling, made every + sacrifice, to save my poor father from knowing all this—and in vain! + You may talk as you like, but I say Frederick shall never enter these + doors. He is as good as his father's murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” cried Anne Valery, going to him while the others stood aghast. She + only knew what fearful storms can be roused in these quiet natures. + </p> + <p> + “I will not hush. I have been silent too long over his wrong-doing.” + </p> + <p> + “But some”—breathed Anne scarce audibly—“some whom he wronged + have been silent for a lifetime.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael paused; Anne's reasoning was from facts unknown to him; but he + saw the agony in her face. She continued in a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Be slow to judge him, if only for his sisters' sakes—his dead + mother's—the honour of the family.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought only too much of all these things.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, for his father's sake—his father, who is going away to the + other world leaving a son unforgiven. Beware how you not only take your + brother's birthright, but seal your brother's curse.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid. Oh, Anne—Anne!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed his hand over his eyes, and leaned back a moment—leaning, + though he did not know it, against his wife, who had stolen behind his + chair. No one else came near; they all shrank from their brother as if he + were suddenly gone mad. Looking up, he saw only Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Anne; I cannot control myself as I used to do: I have been + very ill lately, but don't tell my wife.” + </p> + <p> + Anne took no notice; perhaps she wished the wife should learn the + husband's real heart as she—his old friend—knew it. + </p> + <p> + “Don't think I would harm Frederick. Not for worlds. Do you know,” and his + voice lowered, “I dare not trust myself even to be just over his misdeeds, + lest I should be slaying my enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Your enemy? It is too hard a word.” + </p> + <p> + “No! it is true.” He glanced round, perceiving no one near but Miss + Valery. “Anne,” he whispered, “do you remember the parable of Nathan? Why + did he do it—the cruel rich man who had enjoyed so much all his + life? Why did he steal my one little ewe-lamb?” + </p> + <p> + “Stay!” cried Anne, with a sudden suspicion waking in her. “I don't + clearly understand. Tell me again.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said recovering himself. “I have nothing to tell—But we + are wasting time. Anne, it shall be as you say.” And he drew a long hard + breath. “Which of us had best write to my brother?” + </p> + <p> + Rising, he found out who had been behind him. He looked horrified. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha!—did you overhear me?” + </p> + <p> + The suspicion wounded her to the core. Her pride and sense of justice were + alike roused. + </p> + <p> + “Have no fear, Mr. Harper,” said she; “I shall not betray your secrets. I + do not even comprehend them; except that I think it very wicked for + brothers to be such enemies.” + </p> + <p> + He made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “And,” continued Agatha, growing bolder, as she was prone to do on the + side of the mysteriously wronged, “I would have sent for Major Harper + myself, had not your father seemed unwilling. But the eldest son ought to + be here.” + </p> + <p> + “He shall be—your husband will write,” interposed Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + The husband moved away. He had thoroughly frozen up again into the + Nathanael of old, whose coldness jarred against every ardent impulse of + Agatha's temperament—rousing, irritating her into opposition. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need for him to trouble himself. What was right to be done + has luckily not waited for <i>his</i> doing it. Elizabeth herself informed + her brother.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon. I sent the letter myself to Mr. Trenchard's, where I + found out he had been staying.” + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Harper said this, her husband's eyes literally glared. + </p> + <p> + “You knew where he was staying?—Agatha—Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + But Agatha's look was fixed on the door, to which her sisters-in-law had + gathered hastily. There was a talking outside—a welcome as it + seemed. She forgot everything except her sense of right and justice to one + unwarrantably and unaccountably blamed. + </p> + <p> + “It is surely he,” she cried, and ran eagerly forward. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael!” + </p> + <p> + “Frederick!” + </p> + <p> + The two brothers, elder and younger, stood confronting each other. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV. + </h2> + <p> + “Elizabeth sent for me—Elizabeth only showed me that kindness. Oh, + it was very cruel of you all—you should have told me my father was + dying.” + </p> + <p> + It must have been a hard heart that could have closed itself altogether + against Frederick Harper now. + </p> + <p> + He leant against the doorway, the miserable ghost of his gay self. Born + only for summer weather, on him any real blast of remorse or misfortune + fell suddenly, entirely, overthrowing the whole man. + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth says it happened yesterday; and must have been because—because + Grimes—Oh, God forgive me! it is I that have killed my father!” + </p> + <p> + Every one shrank back. None of his sisters understood what he meant; but + the mere expression seemed to draw a line of demarcation between them and + the self-convicted man. Agatha only approached him—she felt so very + sorry for her old friend. + </p> + <p> + “You must not talk in this way, Major Harper. If you did vex him in any + way, it is very sad; but he will forgive you now. You cannot have done any + real harm to your father.” + </p> + <p> + Her kind voice, her perfectly guileless manner, struck each of the + brothers with various emotion. The eyes of both met on her face: Frederick + dropped his, and groaned; Nathanael's brightened. For the first time he + addressed his brother: + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, she is right; you must not talk thus. Compose yourself.” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain; his easy temperament was plunged into depths of childish + weakness. “Oh, what have I done? You said truly, it would kill him to hear + <i>that</i>. And my heedlessness drove Grimes to go and tell him. Yes, + your prophecy was true: I have been the disgrace of our house—the + destruction of my father. What shall I do, Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + And he held out his hands to his younger brother in the helplessness of + despair. + </p> + <p> + “The first thing, Frederick, is for you to be silent Anne, take my sisters + away; my brother and I have something to say to one another. What? no one + will go? Then, brother, come with me.” + </p> + <p> + The other rose mechanically; Agatha likewise. She began to put + circumstances together, and guess darkly at what was amiss. Probably she + herself had to do with it. She remembered in what strict honour the old + Squire held the duty of a guardian, as he had shown in what he said about + his own relation to Anne Valery. Perhaps some carelessness of his son's + had caused her own loss of fortune. Yet that was not a thing to break his + father's heart, or harden his brother's against him. Mere chance it must + have been; ill-luck, or at the worst carelessness. There could not be any + real dishonour in Major Harper. And after all what was money, when they + could be so much happier without it? She determined to go to her husband + and openly say so, telling all that had come to her knowledge of their + secrets. They should no longer be angry with one another—if it were + on her account. + </p> + <p> + So she followed after them, with her soft, noiseless step; and when the + two brothers stood together in their father's deserted study, there she + was between them. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha!” They both uttered her name—the elder in much confusion. He + had seemed all along as though he could scarcely bear the sight of her + innocent face. + </p> + <p> + “Don't send me away,” she said, laying a hand on either. “I know I am a + young ignorant thing, and you are wise men; but perhaps a straightforward + girl may be as wise as you. Why are you angry with one another?” + </p> + <p> + Both looked uncomfortable. Major Harper tried to throw the question off. + </p> + <p> + “Are we angry with one another? Nay, I am sure”— + </p> + <p> + “Don't deceive me—this is no time for making pretences of any kind. + What is this quarrel between you two?” And she turned from one to the + other her fearless eyes. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper could not meet them; Nathanael did, calmly, but sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, I cannot tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can tell <i>you</i>; and I will, for it is right. Major Harper, do + not be unhappy. Believe me, I care not one jot for all the money I ever + had. If you have lost it, I am sure it was accidentally. You would not + wilfully wrong me of a straw.” + </p> + <p> + Again Major Harper groaned. Nathanael stood speechless with amazement. At + length he said, very gently: + </p> + <p> + “How did you find this out, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimes told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that all he told?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper looked relieved. Nathanael watched him sternly. After a while + he said: + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, this is the right time to explain all. Do not start; you need + not fear <i>me</i>; in any case I shall hold to my promise. But if you + would explain—for my sake, for others' sake”— + </p> + <p> + The other shrank away. “No, not now,” he whispered; “oh! brother, not now. + Give me a little time. Don't disgrace me before her—before them + all.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael's stature rose. Without again speaking, he shook his brother's + hand from off his shoulder with a gesture, slight yet full of meaning, and + turned towards Agatha. He seemed to yearn over her, though he checked + every expression of feeling except the softness of his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you have found out we are poor—that in some things my + wife may see I have not been so cruel to her as she thought.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha's cheeks crimsoned with emotion. Why—why were they not alone + that she need not have smothered it down, and stood so quiet that he + believed she did not feel? He went on, rather more sadly: + </p> + <p> + “But this is not a time to talk of our own affairs; you shall know all ere + long. Will you be content until then?” And he held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + She took it, looking eagerly into his face. There was something there so + intrinsically noble and true! Though his conduct yet seemed strange—unreasonable + towards her, harsh towards his brother, still, in defiance of all, there + was that in his countenance which compelled faith. And there was that in + her own heart, a something neither reason nor conviction, but transcending + both, which leaped to him as through intervening darkness light leaps to + light. She felt that she must believe in her husband. + </p> + <p> + He seemed partly to understand this, and smiled—a pale, faint smile, + that quickly vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Agatha,” he said, opening the door for her, “go and see how my + father is, and then you must go to bed. I will sit up with him to-night. I + cannot have my poor wife killing herself with watching.” + </p> + <p> + His voice sunk tenderly; he even put out his hand, as if to stroke her + hair after his old habit, but drew it back—Major Harper was looking + on. Again the dark fire, lit so fatally on his marriage-day, and since + then sometimes fiercely raging, sometimes smothered down to a mere spark, + yet never wholly extinguished, rose up in the young man's strong, + self-contained, strangely silent heart. Would his pride never let it burst + forth, that, mingling with the common air, it might burn itself to + nothingness! But how many a whole life has been tortured and consumed by + just such a little flame, a mere spark, let fall by some evil tongue which + is set on fire of hell. + </p> + <p> + While they paused—the wife waiting, she knew not for what, except + that it seemed so easy to follow and so hard to quit her husband—there + was a cry heard on the staircase at the foot of which they stood. Mrs. + Dugdale came running down in terror. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael—Agatha—I have told my father that Fred is here. Oh, + come to him, do come!” + </p> + <p> + No time for pitiful earthly passions, jealousies, and regrets. Nathanael + ran quick as lightning, his wife following. But at the door of the + sick-room even she recoiled. + </p> + <p> + The old man sat up in bed, raised on pillows; either the paralysis had not + been so entire as was at first supposed, or he had slightly recovered from + it. His right arm moved feebly; his tongue was loosed, though only in a + half-intelligible jabber. But his countenance showed that, however lay the + miserable body, the poor old man was in his right mind. Alas! that mind + was not at peace, not lighted with the holy glow cast on the dying by the + world to come, It was filled with rage and torment. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael ran to him, “Father, father, you will destroy yourself. What is + it you want?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was unintelligible to his son, but Agatha gathered from it that + the chamber-door was to be shut and bolted. She did so; yet even then the + sick man's fury scarce abated. Broken words—curses that the helpless + lips refused to ratify; terrible outbursts of wrath, mingled with the + piteous moan of senility. Last of all came the name, once given proudly by + the young father to his first-born, and now gasped out with maledictions + from the same father's dying lips—“Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael and Agatha looked at one another with horror. They both knew + that the old Squire was bent on driving from his death-bed his own, his + first-born son. + </p> + <p> + Agatha instinctively held down the palsied hands, which were trying to + lift themselves towards heaven—not in prayers! + </p> + <p> + “Father, don't say—don't even think such terrible things. Whatever + he has done, forgive him!—for the love of God, forgive him!” + </p> + <p> + The old man regarded her, and his excitement seemed redoubled. Agatha + fancied it was the father's pride, dreading lest she, a stranger, knew the + cause of his anger. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she cried, “I scarcely understand anything; my husband would not + tell me. Whatever has happened can all be hushed up. We would forgive + anything to a brother—oh, would we not?” And she appealed to + Nathanael, who stood motionless, great drops lying on his forehead, though + his features were so still. + </p> + <p> + “It is true, father,” he whispered. “No one knows anything but me, and I + have kept your honour safe that he might redeem it some time. Perhaps he + may. And remember, he is your son—the first-born of his mother. + Hush, Agatha!” Nathanael continued, as he saw a sudden change come over + the old man's face. “Don't say any more now. Leave me to talk with my + father.” + </p> + <p> + With the grave tenderness that he always showed her, he took his wife by + the hand, led her to the door, and closed it. Greatly moved, yet feeling + satisfied he would do what was right, Agatha obeyed and went down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + The sisters and brother were assembled in the study. Marmaduke was there + too, but took little part in the family lamentation, except in keeping a + perpetual tender watch over the grief of his own Harrie. Anne Valery was + absent. + </p> + <p> + Frederick Harper sat apart. A sullen gloom had succeeded to his misery—with + him no feeling ever lasted long, at least in the same form. Harriet and + Eulalie were inspecting with great curiosity their elder brother, whose + presence among his long-estranged household seemed accompanied with such a + mysterious discomfort. They eyed him doubtfully, as if he had done + something very wrong that nobody knew of. Mary only, who was next eldest + to himself, ventured to address some kind words, and bestir herself about + his comfort. + </p> + <p> + Thus the family sat, Agatha among them, for more than an hour. No one + thought of going to bed. All remained together, in a strangely quiet, + subdued state, Major Harper being with them all the time, though he hardly + spoke, or they to him. He seemed a stranger in his father's house. + </p> + <p> + Once when he had gone for a few minutes to Elizabeth's room—he had + been with Elizabeth long before his coming was known to any of the rest, + it was believed—Mary began in her lengthy wandering way to tell + anecdotes of his boyish doings; how handsome he was, and how naughty too; + and how, when he got into disgrace, she, by the scheming of Elizabeth, + used secretly to carry bread-and-honey and apples to his bedroom. And she + wiped her eyes, the good, plain-looking sister Mary, saying over and over + again, + </p> + <p> + “Poor Fred!” She never thought of him, like the world, as “Major Frederick + Harper,” but only as “Poor Fred!” + </p> + <p> + Several times Agatha stole up-stairs to the door of the room which + enclosed the sorrow-mystery of the house. It was always shut, but she + could hear Nathanael's voice within—his soft, kind voice, talking + quietly by the bedside. + </p> + <p> + “I never see anything like 'un,” said the coachman's wife, who sat without + the door. “He do manage th' Squire just as the poor dear Missus did. He do + talk just like his mother.” And that was evidently the perfection of + everything in the old woman's eyes. + </p> + <p> + Agatha sat down beside her on the staircase, listening to the wind + without, that swept fiercely over the hollow in which Kingcombe Holm lay, + as if ready to bear away on its pinions a departing soul. It was an awful + night to die in. Agatha listened, sensitive to every one of its terrors. + But above them all—above the shadow of coming death, fear of the + future, anxiety in the present—rose one thought—the thought of + her husband. + </p> + <p> + It gave her no pain—it gave her no joy—yet there it was, a + visible image sitting strong and calm in the half-lighted chamber of her + heart, every feeling of which crept to its feet and lay there, like + priestesses in the twilight before a veiled god. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael at last opened the door. He looked like one who has struggled + and conquered not only with things without, but things within. His face + had all the pallor, but likewise all the peace of victory. Agatha rose to + meet him. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been waiting for me this long while? Good child!” And he smiled, + but solemnly, as with an inward sense of the Presence which makes all + things equal—softens all asperities and calms all passions. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where my brother is?” asked Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “Down-stairs, with the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you go and fetch him?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha looked up at her husband half incredulously. “Have you then + succeeded? Is all made right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how good—how good you are!” She grasped his hands and kissed + them, her eyes floating in tears; then, lest he should be displeased, ran + quickly away. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery met her at the stairhead, coming from the gallery where were + Elizabeth's rooms. They exchanged the usual question, “How is he now?” and + then Agatha said: + </p> + <p> + “Be glad with me! I am sent to fetch Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Anne pressed her hand. “Go and tell him. He is with Elizabeth.” + </p> + <p> + And there Agatha found him overcome with grief—the gay, handsome + Major Harper! steadfast neither in good nor evil. He sat, his head bent, + his hair falling disordered, its greyness showing, oh! so plain. Plainer + still were the wrinkles which a life of smiles had carved only the deeper + round the mouth—token of how near upon him was creeping a desolate + unhonoured age. By his side, talking softly, with his hand in hers, lay + the crippled sister, perhaps the only living creature who really loved + him. + </p> + <p> + “Major Harper,” Agatha spoke softly, laying her hand upon his shoulder. + The poor broken-down man, dropping into old age! there was no fear of his + thinking she was in love with him now. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want?” + </p> + <p> + “I am sent to fetch you to your father.” + </p> + <p> + He looked incredulous;—Agatha repeated her message. + </p> + <p> + “My husband sent me. Your father wishes very much to see you. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “Elizabeth!” He turned to her as if she could make him understand this + incomprehensible news. + </p> + <p> + Elizabeth clasped his hand and loosed it. She said nothing, but Agatha saw + she was weeping for joy. Her brother rose and went through the long + gallery they passed, his sister-in-law carrying the light, and leading + him. He had quite forgotten his courteous manners now. Agatha thought of + the days in London—when he had escorted her to operas, and murmured + over her in drawing-rooms, making her so happy and honoured in his notice. + Poor Major Harper! How vain were all the shows of his brilliant life, the + men who had courted him, the women who had flattered and admired him! + Agatha forgave him all his follies—ay even all the hearts he had + broken. There was not one of those poor hearts, not one, on which he could + rest his tired head now! + </p> + <p> + At the door of their father's room Nathanael met him, a new and more + righteous Jacob dealing with a more desolate Esau. And like Esau's was the + cry that broke from Frederick Harper as he went in and flung himself on + his knees by the bed. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Bless me—even me also—O' my father.</i>” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The words of forgiveness were denied his hearing. The + old Squire could but look at his son, and move his lips in an articulate + murmur. + </p> + <p> + Agatha ran to Major Harper's side. It was pitiful to see the shock he had + received, and the frenzied way in which he called upon his father to speak—if + only one word. + </p> + <p> + “He cannot speak, you know, but he does indeed forgive you. Be sure that + he forgives you!” + </p> + <p> + Her husband drew her away to the little curtained alcove which had been + Mrs. Harper's dressing-room. There they stood, close together—for + Nathanael did not let her go, and she clung to him in tears—while + the father and son had their reconciliation. + </p> + <p> + It was silent throughout, for after the first burst, Major Harper was not + heard to speak. Now and then came a sound like the smothered sob of a boy. + No one saw the faces of father and son; they were bent together, just as + when, years upon years ago, the proud father had sometimes condescended to + let his baby son, his first-born and heir, go to sleep upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Thus, after many minutes, Nathanael found them lying. + </p> + <p> + He held the curtain aside to see his father's countenance; it was very + peaceful now, though with a dimness gathering in the open eyes. Agatha had + never before seen that look—the unmistakable shadow of death. She + shrank back, trembling violently. Her husband put his arm round her. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be afraid, my child,” he whispered, using the old word and tone. + She rested on him, and was quieted. + </p> + <p> + “I think we had better call them all in now.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I fetch them?” said his wife, and went out, flitting once more + through the still, ghostly house. But she thought of her husband, of his + last word and look, and had no fear. + </p> + <p> + They came in, all that were now living of the old man's children—save + one—the poor Elizabeth. They stood round the bed, a full circle, his + two sons, his three daughters, his son-in-law and daughter-in-law, and + lastly Anne Valery. She was the palest and most serene of all. + </p> + <p> + Thus for an hour or more they waited—so slow was the last closing of + the long-drawn-out life. There was no pain or struggle; merely the ebbing + away of breath. The palsied hands, white and beautiful to the last, lay + smooth on the counterpane; and when occasionally one or other of his + daughters knelt down and kissed him, the old man feebly smiled. But + whenever he opened his eyes, they travelled no farther than to the face of + his eldest son—rested there, brightened and closed. + </p> + <p> + And thus, lying quietly in the midst of his children, at daybreak the old + Squire died. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI. + </h2> + <h3> + The old man was gathered to his fathers. + </h3> + <p> + It was the day after that on which he had been borne to the place + appointed for all living. A new coffin rested beside that of Catherine + Harper in the family vault; the portrait still smiled, but on an empty + bed. There was no separation now. + </p> + <p> + At Kingcombe Holm the house had awakened from its sleep of mourning; the + shutters were opened, and the sunshine came in familiarly on the familiar + rooms—where was missed the presence of him who had abided there for + threescore years and ten. But what were they? Counted only as “labour and + sorrow”—they had all passed away, and he was gone. + </p> + <p> + The family met—a large table circle. They looked melancholy, all in + their weeds, but otherwise were as usual. A certain gravity and under-tone + in speaking alone remained. Mary had again begun to busy herself over her + housekeeping; and Eulalie, looking prettier than ever in her black dress, + was listening with satisfaction to the Reverend Mr. Thorpe, a worthy, + simple young man, who had come at once to pay the family of his affianced + the respect of attending the funeral, and to plan another ceremony, when + the decent term of mourning should be expired. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper, now recovering something of his old elasticity of manner, + took the place at the foot of the breakfast-table, whence Mary, presiding + as usual, cast over to him glances sometimes of pride, sometimes of + doubtful curiosity, as if speculating on what sort of a ruler the future + head of the house would be. + </p> + <p> + A very courteous and graceful one, most surely!—to judge by the way + in which he was doing the agreeable to his sister-in-law. Quite + harmlessly, only it seemed as necessary for Major Harper to warm himself + in the fair looks of some woman or other, as for a drenched butterfly to + dry its wings in the sunshine. He was indeed a poor helpless human + butterfly, not made for cloudy weather, storm, or night! + </p> + <p> + But he fluttered in vain; Agatha took no notice of him whatsoever. Her + whole nature had deepened down to other things—things far beneath + the shallow ken of Major Harper. + </p> + <p> + During this week, when the numerous duties of the brothers of the family + left its womenkind nearly alone, shut up in the house of mourning, with + nothing outwardly to do or to think of beyond the fold of crape or a gown, + or the make of a bonnet—Agatha had learnt strange secrets. They were + not of Death, but of Love. + </p> + <p> + She had seen very little of her husband. Either by necessity or design, he + had been almost constantly away; at Thornhurst, arranging business for + Miss Valery, who had gone home; sometimes at Kingcombe, in his own house—his + lonely house; and for two days and nights, to the astonishment and slight + scandal of his sisters, he had been absent in Cornwall. But wherever he + was, or whatever he had to do, he either saw or wrote to his wife every + day; kind, grave words, or kinder letters; brother-like in their wisdom + and tenderness—just the sort of tenderness that he seemed to believe + she would wish for from him. + </p> + <p> + Agatha accepted all—these brief meetings—these constant + letters; saw the wounding curiosity of his sisters relax, and even Harriet + Dugdale acknowledged how mistaken had been her former notions, and on what + excellent terms her brother and his wife now evidently were; she really + never thought Nathanael would have made such an attentive, affectionate + husband! And Agatha smiled outwardly a proud satisfied smile; while + inwardly—-oh, what a crushed, remorseful, passionate heart was + there! + </p> + <p> + A heart which now began to know itself—at once its fulness and its + cravings. A heart thirsting for that love, wanting which, marriage is but + a dead corrupting body without the soul—love, the true life-union, + consisting of oneness of spirit, sympathy, thought, and will—love + which would have been the same had they lived twenty thousand miles apart, + ay, had they never married at all, but waited until eternity united those + whom no earthly destinies could altogether put asunder. Now out of her own + soul she learnt—what not one human being in a million learns, and + yet the truth remains the same—the unity, the immortality, the + divineness of Love, to which the One Immortal and Divine gave His own + name. + </p> + <p> + She sat in her usual quiet mood, she did everything in such a quiet, + self-contained fashion now—sat, idly talked to by Major Harper, whom + she did not hear at all. She only heard, at the further end of the table, + Nathanael talking to Mary. Sometimes she stole a glance, and thought how + cordial his manner to his sister was, and how tender his eyes could look + at times. And she sighed. At her sigh, her husband would turn, see her + listening to Frederick with that absent downcast look—and become + silent. + </p> + <p> + Not an angry jealous silence now—his whole manner showed how much he + honoured and trusted his wife—but the hush of a deep, abiding pain, + a sense of loss which nothing could ever reveal or remove. + </p> + <p> + But men must keep up worldly duties; it is only women, and not all of + these, who can afford the luxury of a broken heart. Mr. Harper rose, + nerved for the day's task—a painful one, as all the family knew. The + elder brother had shrunk from it, and it had been left to Nathanael, who + in all things was now the thinker and the doer. The impression of this had + fixed itself outwardly, effacing the last remnant of his boyish looks. As + he stood leaning over Mary, Agatha thought he had already the aspect of + middle age. + </p> + <p> + “It will not take me long, Mary, since you say my father kept his papers + in such order. Probably I shall have done by the time the Dugdales come. + You are quite sure there was a will?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure; you will probably find it in the cabinet. I saw him looking + there the very afternoon of the day he died. I was calling him to dinner, + but his back was turned, and I could not make him understand—poor + father!” + </p> + <p> + Mary's eyes filled, but the younger brother said a few kind words, and her + grief ceased The rest were silent and serious, until Nathanael, going + away, addressed Frederick rather formally. All speech between them, though + smooth, was invariably formal and rare. + </p> + <p> + “You are satisfied to leave this duty in my hands?—you do not wish + to share it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no!” hurriedly answered the other, walking away in the sunny + window-seat, and breathing its freshness eagerly, as if to drive away the + bare thought of death and the grave. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael went out—but ere he had closed the door a little hand + touched him. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to go with you, if you would allow—that is, if you + would not forbid me.” + </p> + <p> + “Forbid you? Nay! But”— + </p> + <p> + “I want—not to interrupt you, or share any family secrets—but + just to sit near you in the room. This is such a strange, dreary house + now!” And she shivered. + </p> + <p> + Her husband sighed. “Poor child—such a child to be in the midst of + us and our trouble! Come with me if you will.” And he took her into the + study. + </p> + <p> + No one had been there since the father died; directly afterwards some + careful hand had locked the door, and brought the key to Nathanael; and it + was the only room in the house whose window, undarkened, had met during + all that week the eye of day. It felt close with sunshine and want of air. + Mr. Harper opened the casement, and placed an arm-chair beside it, where + Agatha might look out on the chrysanthemum bed, and the tall evergreen, + where a robin sat singing. He pointed out both to her, as if wishing to + fortify her with a sense of life and cheerfulness, and then sat down to + the gloomy task of looking over his father's papers. + </p> + <p> + They were very few—at least those left open in the desk; merely + accounts of the estate, kept with brevity and with much apparent labour; + sixty years ago literature, nay, education, were at a low ebb among + English country gentlemen. But all the papers were so carefully arranged, + that Nathanael had nothing to do but to glance over them and tie them up—simple + yearly records of the just life and honest dealings of a good man, who + transferred unencumbered to his children the trust left by his ancestors. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Nathanael—breaking the dreary silence—“I think + there never was one of the Harper line who lived a long life so + stainlessly, so honourably, as my father.” + </p> + <p> + And somehow, as he tied up the packets, his finger slightly trembled. + Agatha came and stood by him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you; I have ready hands.” + </p> + <p> + “But why should I make use of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you not a right?” she said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, I never claim as a right anything which is not freely given.” + </p> + <p> + “But I give it. It pleases me to help you,” said Agatha, in a low tone, + afraid of her own voice. She took the papers from him, and tried to make + herself busy, in her innocent way. It cheered her. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael watched her for a minute. “You are very neat-handed, Agatha, and + it is kind of you to help me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I would help any one.” Foolish, thoughtless words! He said no more, + but went and looked over the cabinet. + </p> + <p> + This was a sadder duty. There were letters extending over more than a half + century. The Squire received so few that he seemed never to have burnt + one. The oldest—fifty years old—were love-letters, of the time + when people wrote love-letters beginning “Honoured Miss,” and “Dear and + respected Sir,” overlaying the plain heart-truth with no sentimentalisms + of the pen. The signatures, “Catherine Grey,” and “Nathanael Harper,” in + round, formal, girl and boy hand, told how young they were when this + correspondence began;—young still, when its sudden ceasing showed + that courtship had become marriage. From that time, for nearly twenty + years, there was scarcely a letter signed Catharine Harper. + </p> + <p> + “This looks,” said Agatha, who unconsciously to both had come to stand by + her husband and share in his task—“this looks as if they were so + rarely parted that they had no need for letter-writing.” + </p> + <p> + “It was so: I believe my father and mother lived very happily together.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to read these letters all through, if I might? They are the + only love-letters I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + “Are they, indeed?” + </p> + <p> + The sharp questioning look startled Agatha. She remembered that first + letter of Nathanael's—perhaps he was vexed that she had apparently + forgotten it—the letter which had been such a solemn epoch in her + young life. She coloured vividly and painfully. + </p> + <p> + “I mean—that is”— + </p> + <p> + Her husband looked another way. “You shall have these letters if you so + much desire it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I would like to keep something of your mother's. And she was + indeed so happy in her marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “Very happy, Anne Valery says. My father's was not a perfect temper, but + she understood him thoroughly, and he trusted her. He had need; he knew—what + is a rare thing in marriage now-a-days—that he had been his wife's + first love.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha made no reply, and the conversation dropped. + </p> + <p> + Next to Mrs. Harper's letters, and preserved with almost equal care, was + another packet. It began with a child's scrawl—double-lined, upright + and stiff: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Father, + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian has ruled me this paper, and ruled Anne another. We are all + very merry at Weymouth. We don't want to come home, except to see”—(here + a word, apparently “<i>ponies</i>” had been carefully altered, by a more + delicate hand, into something like “<i>Papa</i>”)—“Anne's love, and + everybody's, from your dutiful son, + </p> + <p> + “Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + “'<i>Frederick?</i>'—I thought the letter was yours.” + </p> + <p> + “No, if he had kept any it was sure to be my brothers. Frederick must have + them back.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tie them up,” said Agatha stretching out her hand. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—are they so very precious? Why do you want to touch + them?” said he, sharply, drawing them out of her reach. + </p> + <p> + “Only that I might help you.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Harper regarded her a moment, and then put back the letters into her + lap. “Forgive me, I did not mean to be cross with you. But this task + confuses me.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned his elbow on the cabinet, covering his eyes, and stood thus for + two or three minutes. Agatha remained silent—who could have intruded + on the emotion of a son at such a time? None but a wife who could have + stolen into his heart with a closer, dearer claim, and she, alas! <i>she</i> + dared not. Weeks ago—when she believed herself wronged—it + would have been far easier. The higher he rose, the lower she sank, + weighed down by the bitter humility that always comes with fervent love. + She watched him—her heart throbbing, bursting, yearning to cast + itself at his feet—yet she dared not. + </p> + <p> + “Now let us look over some other letters. I wonder whether Mary was right, + and it is here we shall find the will!” + </p> + <p> + He, then, was only thinking of letters and wills! Agatha turned away, and + went to sit by the window and watch the chrysanthemums. + </p> + <p> + At last she was attracted back by her husband's voice. + </p> + <p> + “This is the will, I see, by the endorsement. Take it, Agatha; we will not + touch it till the Dugdales come. And here are more letters to my father. + Do you think I ought to burn them or look them over first?” + </p> + <p> + The confidential tone in which he spoke soothed Agatha. It was a sort of + tacit acknowledgment of her wifely rights to his trust. + </p> + <p> + “I think, suppose you look them over”— + </p> + <p> + “I cannot,” said he, wearily. “Will you?” And he gave her a handful in her + lap. Agatha felt pleased; she thanked him, and turned them over one by + one. + </p> + <p> + “Here is a hand which looks like Miss Valery's.” + </p> + <p> + “It is hers. Set them by.” + </p> + <p> + She opened another, in a careless and very illegible hand, which she could + not recognise at all: + </p> + <p> + “My dear Brother, + </p> + <p> + “The approaching marriage in your family, of which you inform me, + unfortunately cannot alter my plans. I must recover my lost fortunes + abroad. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick told me yesterday his certainty of being accepted by Miss + Valery. He might have told me sooner, but perhaps thought me too much of a + crusty old bachelor to sympathise with his felicity. Possibly I am. + </p> + <p> + “You ask if Anne has communicated to me the coming change in her life? No. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell, brother, and God bless you and yours. + </p> + <p> + “B. L. H.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, this is Uncle Brian!” cried Agatha, giving the letter to her + husband. He read it, laid it aside without comment, and sat thinking. She + did the same. Turning, their eyes met; and they understood each other's + thoughts, but apparently neither liked to speak. At last Nathanael said: + </p> + <p> + “It must have been so, though I never guessed it before.” + </p> + <p> + “But I did, though she never openly told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is a strange world!” mused the young man. “Poor Uncle Brian!” + </p> + <p> + “When do you expect him home?” + </p> + <p> + “Any day, every day. Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you not think she seemed a little better yesterday,” said Agatha + hesitatingly. “Just a very little, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “A little better; is she ill? What, very ill?”—Agatha's mute answer + was enough. “Oh, poor, poor Anne! And he is coming home!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said Agatha, shocked to see her husband's emotion—“perhaps + if we take great care, and she is very happy,—people must live when + they are happy”— + </p> + <p> + “Few would live at all then,” was the answer, unwontedly bitter. “Better + not—better not; poor Anne! It is a hard, cruel, miserable world.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say that, Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + He started, and Agatha too, for opening the door, with a bright, clear + look, was she of whom they were just talking—Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + “I knew I might come in. I heard what you were doing here,” and a slight + sadness crossed her face. “Is it all done, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly,” and Mrs. Harper hurriedly folded the letter, which lay still on + her lap. Miss Valery's eye caught the writing; Nathanael gave it to her. + </p> + <p> + Anne read it; at first with a natural womanly feeling—nay, even + agitation. Soon this ceased, absorbed in the infinite peace and content of + her whole mien. “I knew all this long ago,” she said calmly. “It was a—a + <i>mistake</i> of Frederick's.”—Then, still calmly; “What do you + think I have just heard from Marmaduke!—He”—there could be but + one she meant—“he has safely landed at Havre.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian!” the young people both cried, and then instinctively + repressed the joy. It seemed too sacred to be expressed in ordinary + fashion. And passing naturally from one thought to another, Nathanael + glanced round the room; the unused desk, the scattered papers left to be + examined by the unfamiliar hands of a younger generation. Had the absent + one come but a little sooner! “Alas!” he said, “it seems as if the world's + universal sorrow lay in those words, '<i>Too late.'</i>” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery sank on a chair, her temporary strength departing. Her hands + dropped into that fold that was peculiar and habitual to them—a + simple attitude, not unlike Chantrey's “Resignation.” + </p> + <p> + “You speak truly, Nathanael. But 'our times are in <i>His</i> hand.'” + </p> + <p> + She said no more, and shortly Mr. Harper, taking with him the sealed + packet that was endorsed “<i>My Will</i>” led the way to where the family + were assembled. In doing so there grew over him the hard silence always + visible when he was much affected. But Agatha was not surprised or hurt: + she began to understand him better now. + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room were only the immediate family. Every one knew the + probable purport of the will, and how simple a document it was likely to + be; for the patriarchal old Squire hated the very mention of law, and it + had been his pride that, though not entailed, the inheritance of Kingcombe + Holm had descended for centuries unbroken by a single legal squabble. + Therefore they all waited indifferently, merely to go through a necessary + form; Harriet Dugdale and her husband, Eulalie and her <i>fiancé</i>, and + the solitary Mary. Major Harper alone was rather restless, especially when + the three others came in from the study. It was noticeable that, with all + his smooth manner, Frederick never seemed quite at ease in the presence of + Miss Valery. Nevertheless he tried, and successfully, to assume his + position as elder brother and present head of the family. He gave Anne a + gracious welcome. + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely expected you would have honoured us so far. This is entirely a + family meeting.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I leave?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” cried everybody at once, “Anne is so thoroughly one of the + family.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” responded Major Harper, bowing though his brows were knit. He + waited till Anne took her seat, and then sat down, silent. Many changes, + vivid, and various, passed over his flexible mouth. At last, leaning + forward, he hid it with his hand. There was a brief hush in the men, of + solemnity—in the women, of mourning. More than one tear splashed on + the black dress of the tender-hearted Mary. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael stood—the will in his hand—hesitating. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, that as this is a family meeting, we might—not + necessarily, but still out of kindness and respect—postpone it for a + few days, that the only remaining member of the family may be present.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” said the elder brother. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + One or two voices, especially the Dugdales, seconded this, and eagerly + proposed to wait for Uncle Brian. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” Major Harper said, hastily. “I have engagements. I cannot + wait for any one.” + </p> + <p> + “But”— + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael—don't argue. Remember, I am the elder brother. Give me my + father's will.” Nathanael paused a moment, and gave it. “The seal has been + broken and re-fastened,” Frederick added, breaking it with rather nervous + hands. He tried to glance over it, but his eyes wandered unsteadily. + “There, take it and read. I hate business.” + </p> + <p> + And he threw himself back in his seat, which happened to be the old + Squire's especial chair. Agatha thought it was thoughtless of him to use + it. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael read the will aloud. It was dated ten years back, and was in the + Squire's own hand, drawn up simply, but with perfect clearness. The + division of fortune was as they all expected: a moderate funded sum to + each of the daughters and to Nathanael; the estate, with all real and + personal property, to go to the eldest son. There were a few small + bequests to servants, and one gift of the late Mrs. Harper's jewels. + </p> + <p> + “I meant them,” the old man wrote, “for my eldest son's wife. Disappointed + in this, I leave them to Anne Valery.” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper moved restlessly in his chair. Anne sat quiet. The young + Agatha looked at them, and wondered if people grew callous as they grew + old. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all read?” said Frederick. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Stay, here are a few lines; a codicil, I fancy, affixed with seals + to the body of the will I can hardly make it out.” + </p> + <p> + And as Mr. Harper perused it, his wife observed his countenance change. He + let the paper drop, and sat silent. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? Read,”, cried Harrie Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot—Anne, will you? God knows, brothers and sisters”—and + he looked all round the circle with an eagerly appealing gaze—“God + knows I never knew or dreamed of this. Anne, read.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I read, Major Harper?” + </p> + <p> + He was gazing out of the window with an absent air. At the sound of her + voice he started, and gave some mechanical assent. + </p> + <p> + Anne read the date—of only twelve days back. + </p> + <p> + “That was the very day that he was taken ill, you know,” whispered Mary. + </p> + <p> + The codicil began: + </p> + <p> + “I, Nathanael Harper, being in sound mind and body, do hereby make my last + will and testament, utterly revoking all others, in so far as relates to + my two sons. I leave to my younger son, Nathanael Locke Harper, all my + landed, real, and personal estate, praying that he may long live and + maintain our name in honour at Kingcombe Holm. To my eldest son—having + no desire to expose to ruin the family estate, or link the family name + with more dishonour than it already bears—to my eldest son, + Frederick Harper, I leave the sum of One Shilling.” + </p> + <p> + Anne's reading ceased. Dead silence, utter, frightened silence, followed. + Then arose a chorus of women's voices—“Oh, Frederick!—oh, + Frederick!” + </p> + <p> + Frederick rose, feebly smiling. “It is a mistake—all a mistake. My + father was not in his right mind.” + </p> + <p> + The sisterly tide turned. “Oh, hush, Frederick! How wicked of you to say + so!” + </p> + <p> + “Well read it over again,” said Marmaduke Dugdale, waking up into the + interests of the world around him. Anne gave him the paper, and he read it + with his ponderous, manly voice, rounding out every bitter word which Anne + had softened down. All was undoubtedly legal, signed in his own hand, and + witnessed by two of his servants. There could be no doubt it was done + immediately before the paralytic attack, when he was perfectly in his + senses; indeed, he could not be said ever to have lost them. + </p> + <p> + The family sat, awed by their father's deed; to question which never + struck them for a moment—legal chicanery was not rife at Kingcombe + Holm. They looked at the disinherited brother with a sort of shrinking + wonder, as if he had done some great unknown wickedness. He might have sat + there ever so long, conscience-stricken and stupified, but this family + gaze stung him into violence. + </p> + <p> + “I say it is a cheat—how or by whom contrived I know not—but + it is a cheat. My father loved me—the only one of you who ever did. + If there was a coolness between us, he forgave me when he died. You all + saw that.” + </p> + <p> + There was no denying it. Every one remembered how the father's last dying + look of love had been on his eldest son. Again the tide of family feeling + changed. They threw doubtful glances towards Nathanael, except his wife. + But she drew closer to him, and trembled and doubted no more. + </p> + <p> + He stood, meeting the eyes of all his family. In his aspect was great + distress, but entire composure—not a shadow of hesitation or + confusion. Nor, on the other hand, was there any triumph. When he spoke—they + seemed expecting him to speak—his voice was low and steady: + </p> + <p> + “You know, brother, and all the rest of you know, that I have had no hand + in this matter.” + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing of the sort,” cried Frederick. “I only know that I have + been defrauded—disgraced.—Not by any act of my father's, or he + would not lie quiet in his grave. My father always loved me.” And the + quick feeling natural to Major Harper made him hesitate—unable to + proceed. But soon he continued, vehemently: + </p> + <p> + “I will find out this. Evil speakers, malicious, underhand hypocrites, + have turned my father against me. I declare to Heaven that I never wronged + any”— + </p> + <p> + Frederick stopped—interrupted not by words, for there was perfect + silence—but by a certain quiet look of Anne Valery's, which fastened + on his face. He turned crimson—he had so much of the woman in him, + though of womanhood in its weakest form. He glanced from Miss Valery to + Agatha, and then back again. + </p> + <p> + “Anne—Anne Valery, tell me do you know anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything.” + </p> + <p> + “You—even you!” For the moment, he cowered in such emotion as was + pitiful to see; but it passed and he grew desperate. + </p> + <p> + “I say, I will contest this will. It shall be proved invalid. My lawyer + Grimes”— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimes has been here, and is now gone to America,” Anne whispered. “I + urged and assisted him to go, that he should not throw disgrace on the + family.” + </p> + <p> + Again Frederick cowered down, then rose, goaded to the last degree. + “Nevertheless, this will shall not stand. I will throw it into Chancery. I + will leave for London this very day.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay,” said Nathanael, starting from deep thought, and intercepting him + as he was quitting the room. “One word, Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + “Not one! You are all against me, but I will brave you all. I will have my + rights—ay, even if I plead my father's insanity.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, horrible!” cried his sisters. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, you know that to be impossible,” said Nathanael, sternly. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will plead what may prove a deeper disgrace to the family than + madness, or even—what I am supposed to have done,” catching his + brother's arm, and hissing out the words in his face—“I will plead + that the will is <i>a forgery</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael wrenched away his hold, thereby throwing Frederick back almost + to the floor. The two stood for a moment glaring at one another, in that + deadly animosity, most deadly when it arises between brothers,—and + then the younger recovered himself. It might be because, instantaneously + as the struggle had begun and ended, he had heard a woman's cry of terror, + and the name uttered was not “Frederick,” but “Nathanael.” Also, as he + stood, he felt two little hands steal from behind and tighten over his + own. He grew very calm then. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, you must unsay that word. There are some things which a man + cannot bear even from his brother. No doubt can exist that this is my + father's own writing, and no forgery. You know that as well as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “As well as you do! Exactly what I meant to observe,” said Major Harper, + with his keenest and politest sneer. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael moved back. A man's roused passions are always terrible; but + there is something ten times more awful in fury that is altogether calm—molten + down as it were to a white heat. Never but once—that uneffaceable <i>once</i>—had + Agatha seen her husband look as he looked now. + </p> + <p> + “Pause one minute, Frederick. If you had waited and heard me speak——” + </p> + <p> + “I dare you to speak!” + </p> + <p> + “It would be better not to dare me. I am at my last ebb of patience. I + have kept faithfully my promise to you. None of our family know—not + even my own wife—all that is known by you and me, and our father + whom we buried yesterday. I would have saved him from the knowledge if I + could, but it was not to be. Now, take care. If you drive me to it”— + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. Agatha felt his hand—the thin boyish hand—grow + cold as ice and rigid as iron. She uttered a faint cry. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, my wife,” with the old sweetness in the whisper, “go and sit + down. Leave me to reason with my brother.” + </p> + <p> + “No, let <i>me</i> do that,” said one coming between. It was Anne Valery. + </p> + <p> + She had risen from the chair where, during almost all this time, she had + sat like a statue, only none watched her, not even Agatha. When she rose, + it was with a motion so slow and gliding, her soft black dress scarcely + rustling as she moved, that Frederick Harper might well start, thinking a + supernatural touch was on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Anne, is it you? I had forgotten you. No”—he muttered, half to + himself, turning from the contest with his brother to gaze on her—“no, + I never did—never do forget you.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe that. Come and speak to me here.” + </p> + <p> + Unresisted, she put her arm in his, and led him away to the deep + bay-window, circled with a low-cushioned sill, such as delights children. + Anne sat down. + </p> + <p> + “Are you determined on this cruel course?” + </p> + <p> + “I must recover my rights,” was the sullen answer. “Any man would.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you have done this—supposing it practicable—what + further do you purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “What further?” He looked puzzled, but at last perceived her meaning. With + an impulse eagerly caught, as Major Harper caught all impulses, good and + ill, he cried—“Yes, I understand you. My first act, on coming to my + property shall be to right poor Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” said Anne, kindly. “But you will not be able. There are + others whose claims will be upon you the instant you have money to satisfy + them—the shareholders. They know nothing of Agatha Bowen. Remember + you expended her fortune as you worked the mine—<i>in your own name.</i>” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper looked confounded with shame. “And you knew all this, Anne—you! + For how long?” + </p> + <p> + “For some months—ever since I bought Wheal Caroline.” + </p> + <p> + “And you never betrayed me!” + </p> + <p> + “We were playfellows, Frederick.” She spoke softly, and turned her face to + the other side of the bay-window. + </p> + <p> + He forgot she was old now—he remembered only the familiar voice and + attitude, the same as when in her girlish days she used to sit on the + cushioned window-sill and talk with him for hours. + </p> + <p> + “Playfellows! Was that all, Anne? Only playfellows?” + </p> + <p> + “Only playfellows,” she repeated firmly. “Never anything more. You knew + that always.” And, perhaps unconsciously, Anne looked down on a ring—plain, + not unlike a childish keepsake—which she always wore on the + wedding-finger of her left hand. + </p> + <p> + Major Harper sighed, not one of his sentimental sighs, but one from the + deeps of his heart. A smile, hollow and sad, followed it. “I suppose it is + idle talking now, but—but—you were my first-love, Anne! If + things had gone differently, I might have been a different man.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so. God ordained your fate, not I. No man need be ruined for life + because a woman cannot love him. Human beings hang not on one another in + that blind way. We have each an individual soul; on another soul may rest + all its hopes and joys, but on God only rests its worth, its duties, and + its nobility. We may live to do His work, and rejoice therein, long after + we have forgotten the very sound of that idle word—happiness.” + </p> + <p> + She paused. + </p> + <p> + “Go on; you talk as you always used to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite,” said Anne, with a faint smile; “I am hardly strong enough. + Frederick,” and her eyes had their former lovely, earnest look—earnest + almost to tears, save that girl-tears had from them long been dried,—“Frederick, + for the sake of our olden days—of your mother whom we both loved—of + your father who has gone to her—listen to me for a little. Trust to + your brother—he will not act unjustly. Do not create dissensions in + your family; do not let people say that the moment Mr. Harper's head was + laid in the grave his children quarrelled over his property.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not quarrel—I but take my right,” cried Major Harper, becoming + again the “man of the world,” as he saw, the curious glances that from + time to time reached the bay-window. “Thank you for this good advice; for + which my brother owes you even more than I. But I am not a child now, nor + a boy in love, to be talked over by a woman.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery rose, rather proudly. “Nor am I that woman, Major Harper. But + I have been so long united in affection with your family; I could not bear + to think it would be brought to dishonour. Surely—surely <i>you</i> + will not be the one to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Again as he turned to go, she drew him back by those earnest eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, it would grieve me so, ay, break my heart, to see them brought + into open shame, the old familiar home, and the name—the dear, dear + name.” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper's bitter tongue burst its control and stung. “I now see your + motive. Everybody knows how very dearly Anne Valery has all her life loved + the Harper name.” + </p> + <p> + Anne rose to her full height, and a blush, vivid as a girl's, dyed her + cheek. “I have,” she said—“I have loved it, and I am not ashamed.” + </p> + <p> + The blush paled—she sank back on the window-sill. Major Harper was + alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Anne—how ill you look! What have I done to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” she answered; and, catching his arm, drew herself upright once + more. + </p> + <p> + “Frederick, we were children together, and you loved me; some day you will + remember that. Afterwards we grew up young people, and, still thinking you + loved me—but it was only vanity then—you did me a great wrong; + I will not say how, or when, or why, and no one knows the fact save me—but + you did it. You did the same wrong to another lately.” + </p> + <p> + “How—how?” + </p> + <p> + “You said to Mrs. Thornycroft—you see I have learnt all, for I wrote + and asked her—you said that you 'feared' poor little Agatha loved + you, and”— + </p> + <p> + “I know—I know.” + </p> + <p> + “You know, too, that vanity misled you; that it was not true. But it was a + wicked thing to say; trifling with a woman's honour—torturing those + who loved her—bringing on her worlds of suffering. Still, she is + young, and her suffering may end in joy;—mine”— + </p> + <p> + Anne paused; the human nature struggled hard within her breast—she + was not quite old yet. At length it calmed down—that last anguished + cry of the soul against its appointed destiny. + </p> + <p> + She took her old playmate by the hand, saying gently, + </p> + <p> + “I am going away soon—going <i>home</i>. Before I go, I would like + to say, as I used to do when you were unkind to me as a child, + 'Good-night, and I forgive Fred everything.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Anne—Anne.” He kissed her hand in strong emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I cannot talk more,” she went on quickly. “You will do as I ask? + You will wait until—until”— + </p> + <p> + She stopped speaking, and put her handkerchief to her lips. Slowly, + slowly, red drops shone through its folds. Major Harper called wildly for + his sisters. + </p> + <p> + “I knew how it would be,” cried Mary Harper. “It has happened twice + before, and Doctor Mason said if it happened again”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God forgive me!” groaned Frederick, as his brother carried Anne + Valery away. “She will die—and I shall have killed her!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII. + </h2> + <p> + Anne Valery did not die. Agatha had said she would not; and the young + heart's creed was true. It had its foundation in a higher law than that of + physical suffering. + </p> + <p> + After a few days she was able to be moved to her own house, according to + her earnest desire; after a few more, the energy of her mind seemed to put + miraculous strength into her feeble body. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you would get well,” said Agatha joyfully, as she watched her + patient returning to ordinary household ways; only lying down a little + more than Anne was used to do, and speaking seldom and low always, for + fear of the bleeding at the lungs. “I knew you must get well, but I never + saw anybody get well so fast as you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had need,” Anne answered. “I have so much to do.” + </p> + <p> + “That you always have. What a busy rich life—rich in the best sense—yours + has been! How unlike mine!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so—in many things,” said Anne, to herself. “But I must not + speak much. I talked my last talk with poor Frederick in the bay-window. + Where is Frederick?” + </p> + <p> + “He has been riding up and down the country day after day—he seems + to find no rest.” + </p> + <p> + Anne looked sorry. “And we are so quiet here!” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed very quiet, that sombre house at Thorn-hurst, through whose + wintry rooms no one wandered but Agatha, excepting the old, attached + servants. Yet this was of her own will. She had been jealous that any one + should attempt to nurse Anne but herself. She left even her own home to do + it. Yet—the bitter thought followed her ever—this last was + small renunciation. No one would miss her there! + </p> + <p> + During the days when Miss Valery lay ill, the world without had been shut + from Agatha's view. Woman-like, she lived within the four walls and beside + the sick couch, and had only seen her husband for a few minutes each day, + when, though he talked to her only of Anne, his manner had a soft, + reverent tenderness, and a troubled humility, as if he began to see a + different image in his young wife. She was different, and he too. Neither + knew how or when the change came—but it was there. + </p> + <p> + She did so miss him, when, having taken them safe to Thornhurst, and told + her “that she might stay there as long as Anne needed her, but no longer”—ah, + that happy “but!”—he went away to his own little house at Kingcombe, + and busied himself there for three days. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think Nathanael will come and see us this morning?” said Anne, + looking up from the papers with which she was occupied, towards Agatha, + who stood at the window watching down the road. + </p> + <p> + “Did you want my husband!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I can do my business myself now. But I think he will come.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?—Child, come here.” And as Agatha knelt by the sofa, Miss + Valery leaned over her, twisting her curls and stroking down the lids over + her brown eyes in the babyish, fondling ways which all good people can + condescend to at times, especially when recovering from sickness. + </p> + <p> + “She is a foolish child! Did she fancy nobody loved her? Did she think + everybody believed she was wicked (and so she was, now and then, very + wicked). Does she suppose nobody sees her poor little goodnesses? Oh, but + they do! They will find all out without my telling. It is best to leave + things alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You must not speak; it will do you harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Not thus whispering. Nay, lay the head down again. Imagine it only a + little bird in the air talking to my child. Some kind of characters—I + once knew the like well!”—and Anne's whisper came through a half + sigh—“are very proud and jealous over the thing they love. They + cannot bear a breath to rest on it, or to go from it to any other than + themselves. They are very silent, too; would die rather than complain. + They are strong-willed and secret—and as for persuading them to + anything against their will, you might as well attempt to cleave with your + little hand to the heart of a great oak. You must shine over it, and rain + softly on it, and cling close round it, and it will take you into its + arms, and support you safe, and hang you all round with beautiful leaves. + But you must always remember that it is a noble forest-oak, and that you + are only its dews, or its sunshine, or its ivy garland. You must never + attempt to come between it and the skies.” + </p> + <p> + Anne ceased. Agatha looked up with moistened eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “I understand; I will try—if you will stay with me. I cannot do + anything right without you.” + </p> + <p> + Anne smiled. “Poor little Agatha! Not even with the help of her husband?” + </p> + <p> + “My husband! Oh, teach me to be a good wife, such a wife as you would have + been—as you may be”— + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt a soft finger closing her lips, and knew that on <i>that</i> + subject there must still be, as ever, total silence. She hid her face, and + obeyed. + </p> + <p> + At length Miss Valery started. “There is a horse coming down the road, I + think. Go, look. It may be your husband.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha rose, and ran to the window. + </p> + <p> + Anne half rose too. “I fancy I hear two horses. Is anybody with + Nathanael?” + </p> + <p> + “Only Mr. Dugdale.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! well!” There was the slightest possible compression of eyelids and + mouth, and Anne resumed her place again. “It is very kind of Marmaduke.” + </p> + <p> + The visitors came in softly. Duke Dugdale was the kindest, gentlest soul + to any one that was ill—wise as a doctor, merry as a child. But now—though + he strove to hide it—his countenance was overcast. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, Anne,” he said, after a brief greeting, during which he felt + her pulse in quite a professional way, and pronounced it “stronger—much + stronger—and too quick almost.” + </p> + <p> + “What is of no use?” + </p> + <p> + “Brian Harper won't come home! All his abominable, con—yes, I'll out + with it—his confounded pride.” And Duke tried to look very savage, + but couldn't manage it. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere near Havre; we can't make out where. He will not write. Ask + Nathanael.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid it is too true,” said Nathanael, leaving his wife, to whom he + had been talking by the window. “I shall have to hunt him out, and use all + my persuasions before he will come home; because he is too proud to return + poor as he went out. What shall I say to him, Anne? I shall start + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha turned quickly round. Her husband did not see her anxious look—he + was watching Miss Valery. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him, Nathanael, that his brother is dead, and his presence needed in + the family. Once make him understand that it is right to come, and he will + come. No one was ever more able to do or to suffer <i>for the right</i>, + than Brian Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke shook her hand heartily. “Anne, you are as wise as a man, and as + faithful as a woman. If poor Brian were going to be hanged for murder, I + do believe-his old friend would find a good word to say for him!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Nathanael, after a silence, “I shall go to Havre to-morrow. + You can spare me, Anne? And for my wife”— + </p> + <p> + Agatha hung her head. A vague dread smote her. She would have given worlds + to have courage enough to beg him not to go. + </p> + <p> + “Havre is across the sea,” she murmured. “Surely Uncle Brian would come + home in time, if you waited.” + </p> + <p> + Waited! she caught a sight of Anne's bent profile, marble-like, with the + shut eyes. Waited! + </p> + <p> + Agatha crept to her husband's side. “No—no waiting,” she whispered. + “Go. I would not keep you back an hour. Bring him. Quick—quick.” + </p> + <p> + Could Anne have heard, that she wakened up into such a life-like smile? + “No, dear, you must not send your husband away so hastily. Let him sail + from Southampton to-morrow; that will do. He wants to talk to you to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael looked surprised. “It is true, I did; and I told my brother to + meet me here this afternoon. Did you know that too?” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed it. You are doing right, quite right. I knew you would. I knew + <i>you</i>, Nathanael.” + </p> + <p> + She held out her hand to him, warmly. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Anne! But you forget—it is not I only who have to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a word! Go and tell her all. Let her be the first to hear it. Away + with you! the sun is coming out. Run and talk in the garden-alleys, + children!” + </p> + <p> + Her manner, so playful, yet full of keen penetration, drove them away like + a battery of sunbeams. + </p> + <p> + “What does she mean?” said Agatha, looking up puzzled, as they stood in + the hall. + </p> + <p> + “She reads people's minds wonderfully clear; she always did, but clearer + than ever now. It is strange. Agatha, do you think”— + </p> + <p> + “I think all sorts of things about her—different and contrary every + hour. But the chief thought of all is, that you must go to Havre at once. + I long for Uncle Brian's coming. How soon can you return?” + </p> + <p> + “As soon as practicable, you may be sure of that. But you must relax your + interest even in Uncle Brian just now; I want to talk to you. Shall we go, + as Anne said, into the garden-alleys?” + </p> + <p> + “Anywhere that is sunny and warm,” said Agatha, with a light shiver. Her + husband regarded her with that serious pathetic smile which was one of his + frequent moods. + </p> + <p> + “Must you always have sunshine, Agatha? Could you not walk a little while + in the shade? Not if I were with you?” + </p> + <p> + She cast her eyes down, trembling with a vague apprehension of ill; then + gazed in the kind face that grew kinder and dearer every day. She put her + hand in her husband's without speaking a word. He folded it up close, the + soft little hand, and looked pleased. + </p> + <p> + “Come now, let us go into the garden.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha wrapped a shawl about her, gipsy-fashion, and met him there. It was + one of those mild days that sometimes come near upon Christmas, as if the + year had repented itself, and just before dying, was dreaming of its lost + springtide. The arbutus-trees were glistening with sunshine, and under the + high wall a row of camellias, grown in great bushes in the open air, the + pride of Anne's gardener and of the whole county of Dorset, were beginning + to show buds, red, white, and variegated, as beautiful as summer roses. + </p> + <p> + “I used to be so fond of this walk when I was a little lad,” said + Nathanael, “I remember, after I had the scarlet-fever, being nursed well + here; and how every day when my brother came, he used to carry me up and + down this sunny walk on his back. Poor Fred! he was the kindest fellow to + children.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness seems his nature. I think that if your brother did any harm it + would never be through malice or intention, but only weakness of + character.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive,” Mr. Harper said, abruptly—“you have no bitter feeling + against my brother Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I? He never did me wrong. Except, perhaps, it was his + carelessness that made me poor.” Here Agatha hesitated, for she was + touching upon a dangerous subject—one so fraught with present + emotion and with references to past suffering, that hitherto both husband + and wife had by tacit consent abstained from it. There had been no + confidential talk of any kind between them. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” her husband said; “we must speak of these things some time; why + not now?” + </p> + <p> + “Though he made me poor,” she continued, “it was probably through + accident. And I have no fear of poverty”—how simply and ignorantly + she pronounced that terrible word!—“I do not mind it in the least, + if you do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there any need for that <i>if</i>, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, and was silent. Shame and remorse gathered over her + like a cloud. She thought of those wicked words she had spoken—words + which to this day he had neither answered nor revenged. He had even + suffered the smooth surface of daily kindnesses to grow over that gaping + wound of division. Was it there still? Did he remember it? Could she dare + to allude to it, if only to implore him to forgive her? She would in a + little time—perhaps when they were by themselves in their own house, + when she would throw herself at his knees and weep out a confession that + was beyond all words—words could but insult him the more. There are + some wounds that can only be healed by love and silence. + </p> + <p> + “I think it is time,” said the husband—“full time that you heard + all, or nearly all, connected with this painful matter. It is mere + business, which I will try to make intelligible if possible. You ought not + to be quite so ignorant of worldly matters as you are, since, if anything + happened to me—But I have provided against almost everything.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you talking of?” said Agatha, holding him tight, with a faint + intuition of his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Of nothing painful. Do not be afraid. Only that I think it right to + explain to you what has occurred to us since our marriage—in worldly + things I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + “Before we married,” he continued, distinctly, and rather proudly, “I knew + nothing whatever of your fortune—not even its amount. I made no + inquiries, interfered in no way, except reading the settlement I signed. + The settlement stated that your property was safe in the Funds. This was + a”—his brow darkened—“it was—<i>not true</i>. The whole + had been taken out, contrary to your father's expressed will, and embarked + in a mining speculation in Cornwall.” + </p> + <p> + “Those miners whom Miss Valery aided? Was it my money that was wasted at + Wheal Caroline? Was it me from whom the poor miner came to seek redress?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the transaction was more blameable even than that. It was all carried + on in my brother's name. He was made what they call 'managing director' of + the company: Grimes being solicitor. There were a few shareholders—his + clients—widows and unmarried women who had put by their savings, and + such like poor people who wanted large interest, and some richer ones, + important enough to make public their ruin—for everybody lost all.” + </p> + <p> + “But the poorer shareholders—the widows—the old maids?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, there's the pity—there's the wickedness,” said Nathanael, + beneath his breath. “People tell me such things are common in England, but + I would have starved rather than have been mixed up in such a transaction, + even in the smallest way, and with property that was bona fide my own.” + </p> + <p> + “And,” said Agatha, slowly understanding, “this property was not Major + Harper's own. Also, his doing the thing secretly afterwards, and leading + you to believe what was—not quite true. I must say it, I think it + was very wrong of your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let us talk of him more than we can help. Remember—a brother, + Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + More light dawning on his strange conduct, his self-command, his secrecy + even with her. His wife clung to his arm, her heart brimming with emotion + that she dared not pour out. For he seemed inclined to be reserved even + now. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he added, as they walked along, “I have had some few things to + try me.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha pressed his arm. Oh that she could break through that awe of him + and his goodness, that shame of her own foolish erring self! + </p> + <p> + “Agatha,” he said, stopping suddenly, “the thing that hurt me was my + father. If only he had died a month ago, and never heard of this!” + </p> + <p> + If only now Agatha could speak! But she felt choking. They walked past the + windows and looked in. “There is Anne sitting by herself as she used to + sit, watching Fred and me in the garden. He was such a handsome, gay young + man. I felt so proud of being his little brother. And my poor father—he + had not a hope in the world that did not rest on Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + He walked on rapidly back into the shadiest and darkest walk. There he + stopped. “Agatha,” taking both her hands, and reading her features closely—“Agatha, + would you be very unhappy if we went back and lived, poor, in the little + cottage?” + </p> + <p> + “Unhappy? I?” + </p> + <p> + “I would try that you should not be. I can earn quite enough to give you + many comforts. We should not be any more content if we claimed our rights + and lived in prosperity at Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Besides, I am not sure that these are our rights, morally speaking. I + think, if my father had lived long enough, he would have undone what he + did in a moment of passion, and let the first will stand. This is what I + have said to myself, when considering that I have duties towards my wife + as well as towards others, and that this would restore what was taken from + her. 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.' But, Agatha, we would not + urge that law?” + </p> + <p> + “Never! God forbid! And Major Harper was so kind to me when I was an + orphan.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Only</i> kind? Did he never—No, I am getting foolish. Say on, + Agatha. Come, sit here; we can talk, and nobody can see or hear us.” And + he led his wife to a sheltered arbutus-bower. “Well, was my brother so + kind to you?” + </p> + <p> + “He was, indeed. For the sake of that time I would forgive him anything; I + have already forgiven him a good deal.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? Tell me or not, as you choose; I urge no right to pry into your + secrets.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't look, don't speak in that way! Why should I not tell you? I + would have told you before, had you asked. It was nothing—indeed + nothing. But I was a proud girl, and he made me angry with him.” + </p> + <p> + “For what cause?” + </p> + <p> + She grew confused—hesitated; the shamefacedness of girlhood came + over her. “I will tell you,” she said at last boldly. “It is surely no + harm to tell anything to my husband:—Major Harper once said to Emma + Thornycroft, that he thought I was 'in love' with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” + </p> + <p> + “It was cruel, it was wicked, it insulted my pride. And more than that—it + wounded me to the heart that <i>he</i> should say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it—don't speak if you don't like—was it <i>true</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried Agatha, the blood rushing in a torrent over her face. “No, it + was not true. I liked, I admired him, in a free girlish way; but I never, + never loved him.” + </p> + <p> + There was a minute's hush in the arbutus-bower, and then Nathanael sank + down to his wife's side—down, lower yet, to her very feet. He + wrapped his arms round her waist, laying his head in her lap. His whole + frame shook convulsively. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Heaven! You surely did not think <i>that?</i>” cried Agatha, appalled. + </p> + <p> + “I did, ever since the day we were married. I heard him say so in the + church.—He repeated it to me afterwards.—And it was a lie! + Curse”— + </p> + <p> + “No, no, forgive him!” And Agatha sobbed on her husband's neck, clasped by + him as she never thought he would clasp her in this world. + </p> + <p> + At last he rose, pale and sad. “There is other forgiveness needed. I have + been very cruel to you, Agatha. I had made him a promise, and to it I + sacrificed myself and you too, without remorse. But now you see how it + was. I could have judged my brother that I loved; I dared not <i>slay my + enemy.</i>” + </p> + <p> + The only answer was a soft hand-pressure. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know what I am about, Agatha,—not even whether or no my + wife loves me; she did not when we were first married, I fear?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha drooped her head. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, she shall love me yet; I am quite fearless now.” He stood up, + holding her tight in his arms, as if daring the whole world to wrest her + from him. His whole aspect was changed. It was like the breaking up of an + Arctic winter, when the trees bud, and the rivers pour sounding down, and + the sun bursts out, reigning gloriously. For a long time they remained + thus, clasped together, so motionless that the little robin of the + arbutus-trees hopped on to a bough near them and began a song. + </p> + <p> + “We must go in now,” said Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “Ay; we must not forget Anne, or anybody. One can do so much good when one + is happy!” + </p> + <p> + “I feel so.” She rose, hanging on his arm, but trembling still, almost + frightened by the insanity of his joy, whirled dizzily in the torrent of + his overwhelming love. + </p> + <p> + “You understand now what I had to say to you! You can guess how I mean to + act as regards my brother?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I can.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will give your consent? Without it I would have done nothing. I + would not have taken from my wife these worldly goods, and left her only + me and my love, unless she willed it so.” + </p> + <p> + “I do will it.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless her.” He lifted Agatha from her feet, rocking her in his arms + like a baby. “I always said God bless her! even when I was most wretched—most + mad. I knew she was one of His angels—a woman worthy of all love, + though she had none for me. I was not very cruel to her, was I?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no.” + </p> + <p> + “I will never be cruel to her any more. I will smother down all my pride, + my reserve, the horrible suspiciousness which is rooted in my nature. I + will never doubt or wound her—only love her—only love her.” + </p> + <p> + Breathless, Agatha trembled to her feet again. Her husband stood by her + side—calmer now, and radiant in the beauty of his youth. Manly as he + was, there was something about him which could only be expressed by the + word “beautiful”—a something that, be he ever so old, would keep up + his boyish likeness—his look of “the angel Gabriel.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go into the house now.” + </p> + <p> + They went—those two young hearts thrilling and bounding with life + and joy—into the darkening house, the hushed presence of Anne + Valery. + </p> + <p> + She was lying on her sofa, very still and death-like. The white cap tied + under her chin, the hands folded—the perfect silence in and about + the room—it was like as if she had lain down to rest, calmly and + alone, in her solitary house, and in her sleep the spirit had flown away;—away + into the glorious company of angels and archangels, never to be alone any + more. + </p> + <p> + But it was not so. Hearing footsteps, Anne opened her eyes, and roused + herself quickly. She looked from one to the other of the young people—at + the first glance she seemed to understand all A great joy flashed across + her; but she said nothing. She as well as they were long used to that + peculiarity of nature—which especially belonged to the Harper family—a + conviction of the uselessness of talk and the sacredness of silence. + </p> + <p> + “Has my brother arrived?” said Nathanael. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Marmaduke is gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he wanted to get up a Free-trade dinner for the welcoming”—here + she smiled—“of one whom he says all Dorset will be delighted to + welcome—your Uncle Brian. Worthy Duke! It is his hobby, and one + likes to indulge him in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly. And where is the dinner—Uncle Brian's grand dinner—to + take place?” + </p> + <p> + “I persuaded him to change it into a public meeting, and give the + clay-cutters—many of them Mr. Locke Harper's former people, and some + now old and poor—a New Year's feast instead. You will see to that, + Nathanael?” And she laid her hand on his arm with rather more earnestness + than the simple request warranted. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael assented hastily, and spoke of something else. + </p> + <p> + “I am rather sorry I asked my brother to meet me here; I forgot he has not + been to Thornhurst for so many years.” + </p> + <p> + “It is time then that he came,” said Anne, gently. “I shall be very glad + to see him.” + </p> + <p> + While she was speaking, her old servant entered, with the announcement of + “Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + Just the Major Harper of old—well-dressed, courtly, with his + singularly handsome face, and his short dark moustache, sufficient to mark + the military gentleman without degrading him into the puppy; Major Harper + with his habitual good-natured smile and faultless bearing, so gracefully + welcomed, so gaily familiar in London drawing-rooms.—But here?— + </p> + <p> + He paused at the door, glanced hastily round the old familiar room, with + the known pictures hanging on the walls, and the windows opening on the + straight alley of arbutus-trees. His smile grew rather meaningless—he + hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Will you come to this chair near me? I am very glad to see you, Major + Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Miss Valery.” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room to her sofa, Nathanael making way for him. He just + acknowledged his brother's presence and Agatha's, then took Miss Valery's + extended hand, bowing over it with an attempt at his former grace. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I find your health quite re-established? This change to your own + pleasant house—pleasant as ever, I see”—he once more glanced + round it—paused—then altogether broke down. “It seems but a + day since we were children, Anne,” he said, in a faltering voice. + </p> + <p> + Agatha and her husband moved away. They respected the one real feeling + which had outlasted all his sentimentalism. For several minutes they stood + at the far window apart. When Anne called them back, Major Harper had + recovered himself, and was sitting by her. + </p> + <p> + “Nathanael, our old friend here says you wished to speak with me?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Make haste, then, for I am going to London to-night I have made up my + mind. I cannot settle here in Dorsetshire.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if it were your father's wish—his last longing desire?” + </p> + <p> + “Anne, for God's sake don't speak of my father.” He leant his elbow on the + table and covered his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael and Agatha exchanged looks, then both smiled—the happy + smile of a clear conscience and a heart at rest. “Tell him now,” whispered + the wife to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Brother!” + </p> + <p> + Major Harper lifted up his head. + </p> + <p> + “My elder brother!” And Nathanael offered the hand of peace, which, in + spite of all outward and necessary association, neither had offered or + grasped since Frederick's return to Dorset. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean that you are my elder brother—my father's favourite always. + If he had lingered but another day he would doubtless have proved that, + and have done—what I intend to do, just as if he had himself + accomplished it. Do you understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” And Major Harper looked thoroughly amazed. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see this? which you, either from forgetfulness, or trust in me—I + had rather believe the latter—left in my hands on that day.” And he + drew from his pocket the will which had been read. “You spoke of throwing + it into Chancery, and there would be scope for a century of Chancery + business here. But I choose rather to respect the honour and unity of the + family. Therefore, with my wife's entire consent in her presence, Anne's + and yours, I here do what my father, had he lived, would certainly have + done.” + </p> + <p> + He took up the codicil, separated it from the will to which it was + fastened by seals, and quietly, as if it had been a fragment of worthless + paper, put it into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Frederick, the original will stands.” + </p> + <p> + Frederick sat motionless. He seemed hardly to believe the evidence of his + own eyes. He watched the curling, crackling paper with a sort of childish + curiosity. When at last it was completely destroyed, he shut his eyes with + a great sigh of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Miss Valery softly touched him. “Major Harper, every brother would not + have acted thus.” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed. Just Heavens, no!” he cried, as the whole fact burst on him, + touching his impressible nature to the quick. “My dear Nathanael! My dear + Agatha! God bless you both.” + </p> + <p> + He wrung their hands fervently, and walked to the window, strongly + affected. The husband and wife remained silent. Anne Valery lay on her + sofa, and smoothed her thin fingers one over the other with a soft, inward + smile. + </p> + <p> + “How nobly you both act towards me! and I—how have I acted towards + you?” said the elder brother, in deep and real compunction. “I would give + half I possess to undo what has been done, and all through my cursed folly + and weakness. Do you know that I have lost every penny of your fortune, + Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grimes told me so lately.” + </p> + <p> + “What, only lately? Did you not know before? Did not your husband”— + </p> + <p> + “No,” she cried, eagerly. “My husband never betrayed you, even by a single + word. I am glad he did not. I had far rather he had broken my heart than + his own honour.” + </p> + <p> + Anne turned to look at the young face, flushed with feeling; and her own, + caught something of the glow, though still she spoke not. + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Major Harper, eagerly, addressing his sister-in-law—for + Nathanael sat in one of those passive moods which those who knew him well + alone could interpret—“but my honour must not be broken either. I + must redeem all I lost; and I will, to the very last farthing. Only wait a + little, and you shall have no cause to blame me, my poor Agatha!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, <i>rich</i> Agatha,” was the murmur that Nathanael heard, as two + little hands came from behind and alit on his shoulders, like two soft + white doves. He caught them, and rose contented, cheerful and brave. + </p> + <p> + “No, Frederick, you must dismiss that idea. It is untenable, at least for + a long time. My wife and I are going to play at poverty.” He smiled, and + drew her nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” said Miss Valery, putting in her quiet voice, to which every + one always listened now, “I think there are perhaps stronger claims than + Agatha's on Major Harper.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed? Anne, tell me what I can do. Anything,” he added, much moved, “so + that my old friends may think well of me. Speak!” + </p> + <p> + She did so, raising herself, though with some exertion, and re-assuming + the sensible, straightforward, business-like ways which through her long + life of solitary independence had caused Anne Valery to be often called, + as Duke Dugdale called her, “such a wise woman!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like very much to see all things settled in the Harper family. + Your sisters are provided for; Eulalie will be married next year; and you + will keep Mary and Elizabeth always with you at Kingcombe Holm. Promise + that, Frederick.” + </p> + <p> + He assented most energetically. + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to fear for these,” looking affectionately at Nathanael + and his wife. “Work is good for young people; and I—or others—will + always see that they have work enough supplied to bring in wherewithal to + keep the wolf from their door. For the present, they are a great deal + better poor than rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, prudent Miss Valery,” said Nathanael laughing. + </p> + <p> + She responded cheerfully, and then turning to Major Harper, went on with + seriousness: + </p> + <p> + “In other instances, much suffering has been caused by your means; and I + would not have it said that any suffered through the Harper family. I have + done what I could to prevent this. Matters are mending at Wheal Caroline. + Nathanael tells me I shall have—that is, there will be—a fine + flax-harvest there next year.” + </p> + <p> + Speaking of “next year,” Anne's voice faltered, but the momentary + feebleness passed. + </p> + <p> + “Still, there is one thing, Frederick, which nobody can do but you; and it + is necessary not only to save yourself but to redeem the honour of your + house. It will not cost you much—only a few years' retrenchment, + living with your sisters at Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + Again Major Harper protested there was nothing in the world he would not + do for the sake of virtue, and Anne Valery. She drew her desk to her, and + gave him paper and pen. + </p> + <p> + “Write here, that you will pay gradually to certain shareholders I know + of, the money they lost through trust in your name, and in that of the + family. It is hardly a legal claim, or if it be, they are too poor to urge + it—but I hold it as a bond of honour. Will you do this, Frederick? + Then I shall be happy, knowing there is not a single stain on the Harper + name.” + </p> + <p> + In speaking, she had risen and come beside him, looking faded, wan, and + old, now that she stood upright, in her black dress, and close cap. Her + beauty was altogether of the past, but the moral influence remained. + </p> + <p> + Frederick Harper took the pen, hesitated, and laid it down. “I do not know + what to write.” + </p> + <p> + Anne wrote for him a few plain words, such as a man of honour must + inevitably hold as binding. He watched idly the movement of the hand that + wrote, and the written lines. + </p> + <p> + “You have the same slender fingers, Anne, and your writing looks just as + it used to do,” he said, in a subdued voice. + </p> + <p> + “There, now—sign.” + </p> + <p> + “Sign!—It is like witnessing a will,” said Major Harper, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you to consider it so,” returned Anne, in a low voice. “Consider + it my last will—my last desire, which you promise to fulfil for me?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her, took the pen, and signed, his hand trembling; then + kissed hers. + </p> + <p> + “Anne, you know, you were my first love.” + </p> + <p> + The words—said half jesting, yet with a certain mourn-fulness—were + scarcely out of his lips, than he had quitted the room. They soon heard + the clatter of his horse along the avenue. Major Harper was gone out into + the busy world again. He never set foot in quiet Thornhurst more. + </p> + <p> + The three that were left behind breathed freer—perhaps they would + hardly have acknowledged it, but it was so. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now it is all done,” said Nathanael, as he drew closer to the sofa + where Anne lay—with Agatha performing all sorts of little unnoticed + cares about her. “And now I must think about going.” + </p> + <p> + No one asked him where, but Agatha glancing out of the window, thought, + with a shiver, of the dreadful sea curving over into boundlessness from + behind those hills. + </p> + <p> + “I find I must start at once,” he continued, “if I would catch the next + boat to Havre. It sails from Southampton to-morrow morning. I have just + time to ride back to Kingcombe and catch the mail train. No, I'll not let + you come home with me,” he added, answering a timid look of Agatha's, + which seemed to ask, should she come and help him? “No, dear, I can help + myself—such a useful-handed fellow doesn't want a wife even to pack + up for him. And, possibly, if you were with me, I should only find it the + harder to go. It is rather hard.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is right” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said Anne—they had not known she was listening—“I + think it is right, or I would not let Nathanael go. And Heaven will take + care of him, and bring him safe home to you, Agatha. Be content.” + </p> + <p> + “I was content,” she said, somewhat lightly. It was a strange thing, but + yet human nature, that her husband's fits of passionate tenderness only + seemed to make her own feelings grow calm. Whether it was the shyness of + her girlhood, or the variableness of a love not spontaneous but slowly + responsive, or whether—a feeling wrong, yet alas! wondrously natural—it + was the mere wilfulness of a woman who knows herself to be infinitely + beloved, certain it was that Agatha appeared not quite the same as a few + hours before. Affectionate still, and happy, happier than it is the nature + of deep love to be; yet there was a something wanting—some strong + stroke to cleave her heart, and show beyond all doubt what lay at its + core. The heart often needs such teaching; and if so, surely—most + surely it will come. + </p> + <p> + Agatha followed her husband to the hall. He was grave with his + leave-taking of Anne Valery, who had looked less cheerful, and had + breathed rather than spoken the last “God bless you!—Come back + soon.” The young man did not again say, even to himself, anything about + his journey being “hard.” + </p> + <p> + But as he stood in the hall with his wife, he lingered. Youth is youth, + and love is love, and each seems so real—life's only reality while + it lasts. No human being, while drinking the magic cup, ever looks or + listens to those who have drank, and set it down empty. Be the history + ever so sad, each one thinks, smiling, “Oh, but I shall be happier than + these.” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael took his wife in his arms to bid her good-bye. She stood, + looking down; bashful, reserved, but so fair! And so good likewise—all + her girlish whims could not hide her heart-goodness. In her whole + demeanour was the germ of that noble womanhood which every good man wishes + his wife to possess, that she may become his heart of hearts, the desired + and honoured of his soul, and remain such, long after all passion dies. + There was one thing only wanting in her—the light which played + waveringly in and out—sometimes flashing so true and warm and + bright, and then disappearing into clouds and mist. The husband could not + catch it—not though his eyes were thirsting for the blessed ray. + </p> + <p> + “These few days will seem a long time, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “Will they?” + </p> + <p> + Nathanael took the smiling face between his hands, and looked down, far + down, into the brown depths of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Do you”—He hesitated. “I never asked the question before, knowing + it vain; but now, when I am going away—when”— + </p> + <p> + He paused, the deep passion quivering through his voice.—“Do you + love me, Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled—some insane, wicked influence must have been upon her—but + she smiled, hung her head in childish fashion, and whispered, “I don't + quite know.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—well!” He sighed, and after a brief silence bade her good-bye, + kissed her once, and went towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—don't go yet. I was very foolish. I never, never can be half so + wise as you. Forgive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive you, my child? Ay, anything.” And he received her as she ran into + his arms, kissing her again tenderly, with a sad earnestness that almost + increased his love. + </p> + <p> + “Now I must go, my darling wife. Take care of yourself, and good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + So they parted. Agatha went in dry-eyed; then locked herself in the + library, and cried violently and long. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII. + </h2> + <p> + “They are sure to be home to-morrow; nothing can prevent their being home + to-morrow,” said Agatha, as she read over neither for the first time, nor + the second, nor the third, her husband's letter, received from Havre. + </p> + <p> + It was night now, and they were sitting by the fire in Miss Valery's + dressing-room. It had been one of Anne's best days; a wonderfully good + day; she had walked about the house, and given several orders to her + delighted servants, who, old as they were, would have obeyed the most + onerous commands for the pleasure of seeing their mistress strong enough + to give them. Some, however, wondered why she should be so particular + about the order of a house that never was in disorder, and especially why + various furniture arrangements which had gradually in the course of time + been altered, should be pertinaciously restored, so that all things might + look just as they did years and years ago. Also, though it was a few days + in advance of the orthodox day, she would have the house adorned with + “Christmas,” until it looked a perfect bower. + </p> + <p> + “It do seem, Mrs. Harper,” said the old housekeeper, confidentially—“it + do seem just as on the last merry Christmas, afore the family was broke + up, and Mr. Frederick turned soldier, and Mr. Locke Harper—that's + his uncle—went away with little Master Nathanael, Mr. Locke Harper + as is now.” + </p> + <p> + And Agatha had laughed very heartily at the idea of her husband being + “little Master Nathanael;” but she had not told this conversation to Anne + Valery. + </p> + <p> + All afternoon the house had been oppressively lively, thanks to a visit + from the Dugdale children; which little elves were sent out of the way + while their mother performed the not unnecessary duty of putting her + establishment in order. For Harrie was determined that her house, and none + other, should have the honour of receiving Uncle Brian. As Nathanael had + taken for granted the same thing, and as Mary Harper had likewise + communicated her opinion, that it was against all etiquette for her poor + father's only brother to be welcomed anywhere but at Kingcombe Holm, there + seemed likely to be a tolerable family fight over the possession of the + said Uncle Brian. + </p> + <p> + The little Dugdales had talked of him incessantly all day, communicating + their expectations concerning him in such a funny fashion that Agatha was + ready to die with laughing, and even Anne, who had insisted on having the + children about her, was heard to laugh sometimes. She let little Brian + climb about her sofa, and answered all sorts of eccentric questions from + the others, never seeming weary. At last, when the sound of merry, young + voices had died out of the house, and its large, lofty rooms grew solemn + with the wailing of the wind, Anne had retreated to her dressing-room, + where she sat watching the fire-light, or answering in fragments to + Agatha's conversation. + </p> + <p> + This conversation was wandering enough; catching up various topics, and + then letting them drop like broken threads, but all winding themselves + into one and the same subject “They will be home to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, nay, I am sure of it, God willing!” said Anne, softly. “He often + puts hindrances in our way, but in the end He always works things round, + and we see them clearly afterwards. Still we ought hardly to say even of + the strongest love or dearest wish we have, 'It <i>must</i> be!' without + also saying 'God willing.'” + </p> + <p> + Agatha replied not. This was a new doctrine for her. How rarely in her + young, passionless, sorrowless life, she had thought of the few words, oft + used in cant, and Agatha hated all cant—“the will of God.” She + pondered over them much. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a night is it” said Anne, at length. + </p> + <p> + “Very dreary and rainy, and the wind is high.” + </p> + <p> + “No matter, it will not reach them. The <i>Ardente</i> will be safe in + Southampton-water by this time.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha recurred to the perpetual letter; “Yes, so my husband tells me + here.” + </p> + <p> + “And therefore,” Miss Valery continued, laying her hand over the paper, + “his good little wife shall fold up this, and not weary herself any more + with anxiety about him. Those who love ought above all others to trust in + the love of God.” + </p> + <p> + After this they sat patient and content—nay, oftentimes quite merry, + for Agatha strove hard to amuse her companion. And the wind sang its song + without—not threateningly, but rather in mirth; and the fire burnt + brightly, within. And no one thought of them but as friends and servants—the + terrible Wind, the devouring Fire. + </p> + <p> + It was growing late, and Agatha began to use the petty tyranny with which + Miss Valery had invested her, insisting on her friend's going to bed. + </p> + <p> + “I will presently; only give me time—a little time. I am not so + young as you, my child, and have not so many hours to waste in sleeping. + There now, I'll be good. Wait—you see I am already pulling down my + hair.” + </p> + <p> + She did so, rather feebly. It fell on her shoulders longer and thicker + than any one would have believed—it was really beautiful, except for + those broad white streaks. + </p> + <p> + “What soft fine hair,” cried Agatha, admiringly. “Ah, you shall go without + caps in the spring—I declare you shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at my age.” + </p> + <p> + “That cannot be so very ancient. I shouldn't mind asking you the direct + question, for I am sure you are not one of those foolish women who are + ashamed to tell their age, as if any number of years matters while we keep + a young warm heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I am thirty-nine or forty, I forget which,” said Anne, as she drew her + fingers through the long locks, gazing down on them with some pensiveness. + “I myself never liked hair of this colour, neither brown nor black; but + mine was always soft and smooth, and some people used to think it <i>pretty</i> + once.” + </p> + <p> + “It is pretty now. You will always be beautiful, dear, dear Anne! I will + call you Anne, for you are scarcely older than I, except in a few + contemptible years not worth mentioning,” continued the girl, sturdily. + “And I will have you as happy, too, as I.” + </p> + <p> + Anne sat silent a minute or two, the hair dropping over her face. Then she + raised it and looked into the fire with a calm sweet look that Agatha + thought perfectly divine. + </p> + <p> + “I have been happy,” she said. “That is I have not been unhappy—God + knows I have not. I have had a great deal to do always, and in all my + labour was there profit. It comforted me, and helped to comfort others; it + made me feel that my life was not wholly thrown away, as many an unmarried + woman's is, but as no one's ever need be.” + </p> + <p> + “But some are. Think of Jane Ianson, of whom Emma wrote me word yesterday. + If ever any woman spent a mournful, useless life, and died of a broken + heart, it was poor Jane Ianson.” + </p> + <p> + “Her story was pitiful, but she somewhat erred,” Anne answered, + thoughtfully. “No human being <i>ought</i> to die of a 'broken heart' (as + the phrase is) while God is in His heaven, and has work to be done upon + His earth. There are but two things that can really throw a lasting shadow + over woman's existence—an unworthy love, and a lost love. The first + ought to be rooted out at all risks; for the other—let it stay! + There are more things in life than mere marrying and being happy. And for + love—a high, pure, holy love, held ever faithful to one object,”—and + as she spoke, Anne's whole face lightened and grew young—“no fortune + or misfortune—no time or distance—no power either in earth or + heaven can alter <i>that</i>.” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause, during which the two women sat silent and grave. And + the wind howled round the house, and the fire crackled harmlessly in the + chimney, but they noticed neither—the fierce Wind—the awful + Fire. + </p> + <p> + “It is a wild night,” said Agatha at last. “But they are landed at + Southampton long ago. Last night was lovely—such a moon! and they + were sure to sail, because the <i>Ardente</i> only plies once a week, and + there is no other boat this winter-time. Oh, yes! they are quite safe in + Southampton. I shouldn't wonder if they were both here to breakfast + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + And Agatha, with her little heart beating quick, merrily, and fast, never + thought to look at her companion. Anne's eyes were dilated, her lips + quivering—all her serenity was gone. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow—to-morrow,” she murmured, and as with a sudden pain, put + her hand to her chest, breathing hard and rapidly. “Agatha, hold me fast—don't + let me go—just for a little while.—I <i>cannot</i> go!” + </p> + <p> + She clung to the young girl with a pallid, frightened aspect, like one who + looks down into a place of darkness, and shudders on its verge. Never + before had that expression been seen in Anne Valery. Slowly it passed + away, leaving the calmness that was habitual to her. Agatha hung round her + neck, and kissed her into smiles. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she said, rising, “let us both go to bed. You look tired, my child, + and we must have your very best looks when you make breakfast for <i>them</i> + in the morning. That is, if they both come here.” + </p> + <p> + “They will come—my husband says so. He knows, and is determined that + Uncle Brian shall know—everything.” + </p> + <p> + Anne sat still—so still, that her young companion was afraid she had + vexed her. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear—not vexed. But no human being can know everything! It lies + between him and me—and God.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she rose, fastened up the long hair in which the last lingering + beauty of her youth lay—put on her little close cap, and was again + the composed gentle lady of middle age. + </p> + <p> + She rung for the housekeeper, and gave various orders for the morning, + desiring a few trivial additions to the breakfast, which would have made + Agatha smile, but that she noted a slight hesitation in the voice that + ordered them. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything your husband would like especially? I don't quite + understand his ways.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha blushed as she answered—“Nor I.” + </p> + <p> + “You will not answer so in a few months hence,” said Anne, when they were + alone. “It is a very unromantic doctrine, but few young wives know how + much the happiness of a home depends on little things—that is, if + anything can be little which is done for <i>his</i> comfort, and is + pleasant to <i>him</i>. There's a lecture for you, Mistress Agatha. Now go + to bed, and rise in the morning to begin a new era, as the happiest and + best wife in all England.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” cried Agatha, laughing, though with a tear or two in her eyes. + To think how much Anne had guessed of the wretched past, yet, with true + delicacy, how entirely she had concealed that knowledge! + </p> + <p> + They embraced silently, and then Miss Valery went into her own room, + where, year after year, when all the duties and cheerfulness of the day + were done, the solitary woman had shut herself in—alone with her own + heart and with God. The young wife stood and looked with thoughtful + reverence at the closed door of that room. + </p> + <p> + It was eleven o'clock, yet somehow Mrs. Harper did not feel inclined to go + to bed. She had too many things to think of, too many plans to make and + resolutions to form. Her life must settle itself calmly now. Its trouble, + tumult, and uncertainty were over. She felt quite sure of her husband's + goodness—of his deep and tender love for herself—nay, also of + her own for him—only that was a different sort of feeling. She + thought less on this than on the other side of the subject—how sweet + it was to be so dear to him. She would try and deserve him more—be + to him a faithful wife and a good house-wife, and make herself happy in + his devotion. + </p> + <p> + She smiled as she passed through the hall where he had stood and said, “Do + you love me?” She wished she had frankly answered “Yes,” as was indeed the + truth; only his strong love had lately made her own seem so poor and weak. + </p> + <p> + Lingering on the spot which his feet had last pressed, she tried to fancy + him beside her, and acted the scene over again, “making believe,” childish + fashion, that she stood on tiptoe attempting to reach up to his mouth—a + very long way!—and there breathing out the “Yes” in a perfectly + justifiable and unquestionable fashion. And then she laughed at her own + conceit—the foolish little wife!—and tripped off into the + drawing-room, lest the old butler, who always went round the house at + midnight to see that all was safe, might catch her at her antics. Still, + were they not quite natural? Was she not a very happy and + fondly-worshipped wife? and was not her husband coming home the next + morning? + </p> + <p> + Entering the drawing-room, her high spirits were somewhat sobered down; + its atmosphere felt so gloomy and cold. The fire had nearly died out—the + ill-natured fire, that did not know there was a cheerful little woman + coming to sit beside it and dream of all sorts of pleasant things. + </p> + <p> + “I wish fires would never go out,” said Agatha, rather crossly; and she + stirred it, and blew it, and cherished it, as if it were the only pleasant + companion in this dreary room. + </p> + <p> + “How I do love fire,” she said at last, as she sat down on the hearth-rug + and warmed her little feet and hands by the blaze, and would not look in + the dark corners of the room, but kept her face turned from them, as + during her life she had kept it turned away from all gloomy subjects. + Passionate anguish of her own making, she had known; but that stern, + irremediable sorrow which comes direct from the unseen Mover of all things + and lays its heavy hand on the sufferer's head, saying, “Be still, and + know that I am God”—this teaching, which must come to every human + soul that is worth its destiny, had never yet come to Agatha Harper. + </p> + <p> + Was it this unknown something even now tracking her, that made her long + for the familiar daylight, and feel afraid of night, with its silence, its + solitude, and its dark? + </p> + <p> + “I will go to bed and try to sleep,” she said. “It is but a few hours. My + husband is certain to be here in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + She rose, laughed at herself for starting on some slight noise in the + quiet house—old Andrews locking up the front door, probably—snuffed + her candle to make it as bright as possible, and prepared to go up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + A light knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, Andrews. The fire is all safe, and I shall vanish now.” + </p> + <p> + She said this without looking round. When she did look she was somewhat + surprised to see, not the butler, but Marmaduke Dugdale. It was odd, + certainly, but then Duke had such very odd ways, and was always turning up + at impossible hours and in eccentric fashion. He looked eccentric enough + now, being thoroughly drenched with rain, with a queer, scared expression + on his face. + </p> + <p> + Agatha was amused by it. “Why, what a late visitor! The children are gone + home hours ago, though they waited ever so long for 'Pa.' Have you been + all this while at Mr. Trenchard's?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't been there at all.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Don't'ee laugh—now don't'ee, Mrs. Harper.” And Duke sat down, + pushing the dripping hair from his forehead, pulling his face into all + sorts of contortions, until at last it sunk between his hands, and those + clear, honest, always beautiful eyes, alone confronted her. There was that + in their expression which startled Agatha. + </p> + <p> + “What did you come for so late, Mr. Dugdale?” + </p> + <p> + “What did I come for?” he vaguely repeated. “Now don't'ee tremble so. We + must hope for the best, my child.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha felt a sudden stoppage at the heart which took away her. breath. + “Tell me—quick; I shall not be frightened;—he is coming home + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” muttered Duke again, as he held out his hands to her, and + she saw that tears were dropping over his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Agatha clutched at the hands threateningly—she felt herself going + wild. “Tell me, I say. If you don't—I'll——”— + </p> + <p> + “Hush—I'll tell you—only hush!—think of poor Anne! And + there's hope yet. Only they have not come into Southampton-roads—and + last night there was a fire seen far out at sea—and it might have + been a ship, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Thus disconnectedly Marmaduke broke his terrible news. Agatha received + them with a wild stare. + </p> + <p> + “It's impossible—totally impossible,” she cried, uttering sounds + that were half shrieking, half laughter. “Absolutely, ridiculously + impossible. I'll not believe it—not a word. It's impossible— + <i>impossible!</i>” + </p> + <p> + And gasping out that one word, over and over again, fiercely and fast, she + walked up and down the room like one distraught. She was indeed quite mad. + She had not any sense of anything. She never once thought of weeping, or + fainting, or doing anything but shriek out to earth and Heaven that one + denunciation—that such a thing was and must be—“<i>impossible!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke caught her—she flung him aside. + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me—don't speak to me! I say it's <i>impossible!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Child!” And his look became more grave and commanding than any one would + have believed of the Dugdale. “Dare not to say impossible! It is sinning + against God.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha stopped in her frenzied walk. Of a sudden came the horrible thought + that <i>it might be</i>—that the hand might have been lifted—have + fallen, striking the whole world from her at one blow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh God!—oh merciful God!” + </p> + <p> + In that cry, scarcely louder than a moan, yet strong and wild enough to + pierce the heavens, Agatha knew how she loved her husband. Not calmly, not + meekly, but with that terrible love which is to the heart as life itself. + </p> + <p> + Of the next few minutes that passed over her no one could write—no + one would dare. It was utter insanity, yet with a perfect knowledge of its + state. Madness, stone-blind, stone-deaf—that uttered no cry, and + poured out no tears. She walked swiftly up and down the room, her hands + clenched, her features rigid as iron. Mr. Dugdale and old Andrews could + only watch pitifully, saying at times—which may all good Christians + say likewise!—“God have mercy upon her.” + </p> + <p> + No one else came near—the servants were all asleep, and Miss + Valery's room was in another part of the house. Possibly she slept too—poor + Anne! + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Agatha, in a cold, hard voice, clutching Marmaduke's arm, “I + want to know all about it. I don't believe it, mind you!—not one + word—but I would like to hear. Just tell me. How did you get the + news?” + </p> + <p> + “From Southampton, to-night. It happened last night A steamer saw the + burning ship, and went, but the fire had already reached to the water's + edge. There was not a soul in or near the wreck when it went down.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha shuddered, and then said, in the same hard voice: “It was some + other ship—not the <i>Ardente</i>.” + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke shook his head, drearily. “They found a spar with 'Ardente' upon + it. But they saw no boats, and some people think, as there were but few + passengers, they all got safe off, and may reach the shore.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course they will!—I was sure of that;” returned Agatha, in the + same wild, determined tone. “Let me see! it was a quiet night. I stood a + long time looking at the moon—Ah!” + </p> + <p> + The ghastly thought of her standing there looking up at the moon, and the + pitiless moon looking down on the sea and on him! Agatha's senses reeled—she + burst into the most awful laughter. + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke held her fast—the whimsical absent Marmaduke—now + roused into his true character, kind, as any woman, and wiser than most + men. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, you must be quiet. It is wicked ever to despair. There is a + chance—more than a chance, that your husband has been saved. He has + infinite presence of mind, and he is a young, strong, likely lad. But + Brian—poor Brian! my dear old friend!” + </p> + <p> + Duke Dugdale's bravery gave way—he was of such a gentle, tender + heart. The sight of his emotion stilled Agatha's frenzy, and made it more + like a natural grief, though it was hard yet—hard as stone. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said, taking his hand, and smiling piteously—“come—don't + cry. I can't!—not for the world. Let us talk. What are you going to + do?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going right off to Southampton—whence they have sent steamers + out in all directions to pick up the boats, if they are drifting anywhere + about the Channel. Fancy—to be out in the open sea, this + winter-time, with possibly no clothes or food!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!”—shuddered Agatha's low voice—“hush! or I shall go + quite mad, and I would rather not just yet—<i>afterwards</i>, I + shall not mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor child!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't now,” and she shrank from him. “Never think of me—<i>that</i> + does not signify. Only something must be done. No weeping—no talking—<i>do</i> + something!” + </p> + <p> + “I told you I should. I am going”— + </p> + <p> + “Go then!” Her quick speech—the wild stamp of her foot—poor + child, how mad she was still! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale took no notice except by a compassionate look—perhaps + he, too, felt there was no time to lose. He went towards the door—she + following. + </p> + <p> + “I am off now—I shall catch the train in two hours,” said he, + springing on his horse in the dark wet night. “Harrie will be with you + directly—only she thought I had better come first. Go in—go in—my + poor child.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha obeyed mechanically, for the moment She walked about the house, in + at one room and out at another, meeting no person—for Andrews had + gone to call up some of the servants. The heavy quiet around stifled her. + Faster and faster she walked—clutching her hands on her throat for + breath—sometimes uttering, with a sort of laughing shriek, the one + word in which seemed her only salvation—“Impossible!—utterly + and entirely impossible!” + </p> + <p> + She sat down for a moment, trying to think over more clearly the chances + of the case—but to keep still was beyond her power. She resumed that + rapid walk as if she were flying through an atmosphere of invisible + fiends. It felt like it. + </p> + <p> + Once, by a superhuman effort, she drove her mind to contemplate the <i>possible</i>—the + winds, the flames, the waves, and him struggling among them. She saw the + face which she had last seen so life-like—as a <i>dead face</i>, + with its pale, pure features and fair hair. And even that face never to be + again seen by her through any possible chance! For him to be blotted out + altogether from the world, and she left therein! “Oh, God—oh, God!” + The despairing, accusing shriek that she sent up to His mercy!—May + His mercy have received and forgiven it! + </p> + <p> + She began to count up the hours that must pass before she could receive + any tidings, good or ill. To stay quietly in the house and wait for them!—you + might as well have told a poor wretch to sit still and wait for the + bursting of a mine. No rest—no rest. The very walls of the house + seemed to press upon her and hem her in. She saw a bonnet and shawl + hanging up in the hall, caught both, and ran out at the front door. + </p> + <p> + Out—out under the stars. She walked with her face lifted right up to + them, her eyes flashing out an insane defiance to their merciless calm. + The rain fell down thick, and it was very cold, but she never thought of + putting on the bonnet or the shawl; or, if she thought at all, it was with + a sort of longing that the rain might come and cool her through and + through, or the sharp wind pierce to her breast and kill her. Once she had + a thought of running a mile or two across the hills, and leaping from some + cliffs into the sea; so that, whichever way this suspense ended, she might + be safely dead beforehand—dead, too, in the same ocean, washed by + the same wave. All the foolish Romeo-and-Juliet-like traditions of people + killing themselves on some beloved's tomb, seemed to her now perfectly + real, possible, and natural. Nothing was unnatural or impossible—save + living. + </p> + <p> + How to live, even for a day, an hour, in this horrible, deathly + stagnation, she did not know. At last, walking on blindly through the + night, she came to the termination of the Thornhurst estate. Was she to go + back and lull herself into the stupor of patience?—to be kissed and + wept over, and preached resignation to?—left to sit mutely in that + quiet house, while he was dashed about, fighting with the sea for life?—or + watching the clock's travelling round hour after hour, not knowing but + that every peaceful minute might be the terrible one in which he died? + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said to herself, while the awful but delirious joy which has + struck many in a similar position, struck her suddenly, “he is not dead. + If he had died, he would have told me—me whom he so loved He could + not die anywhere, or at any time, but in some way or other I should + certainly have known it.” + </p> + <p> + And as she stood in the dark road—quite alone with the hills and + stars, calmed down into a supernatural awe, Agatha almost expected to see + her husband stand before her in the old familiar likeness. She would not + have been afraid. + </p> + <p> + But no apparition came. All nature, visible and invisible, was silent to + her misery. If she went back to the house, all there would be silent too. + </p> + <p> + She took her resolution—though it could hardly be called a + resolution, being merely the blind impulse of despair. She climbed over + the gate—she had not wit enough to unfasten it—and ran, swift + and silent as some wild animal, along the road to Kingcombe. + </p> + <p> + The rain ceased, and her dripping clothes dried of themselves, so as not + to encumber her movements. By some happy chance her feet were well shod, + and now, gathering her wits as she went, she put on the shawl—not + the bonnet, her head burned so, and felt so wild Just then, far into the + darkness, she heard wheels rolling and rolling. It was Mrs. Dugdale + driving along rapidly towards Thornhurst—but without one slash of + the whip or one word of conversation with Dunce. When she stopped to open + a gate the glare of the chaise-lamps showed the little black figure by the + roadside. Harrie screamed—she thought it was a ghost. + </p> + <p> + “Any news? any news?” + </p> + <p> + “Gracious! is it you, child? No news—none! Get up, quick, and come + home.” + </p> + <p> + But Agatha fled on and on, noticing nothing, except once, when with a + start she saw the great black outline of Corfe Castle looming against the + night-sky. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> + <img src="images/p394.jpg" width="100%" alt="Along the Road Page 394 " /> + </div> + <p> + When she reached Kingcombe, it was still dark. She could not even have + found her way, save for the faint sky brightness lent by the overcast + moon; and the distance she had traversed was all but miraculous. It seemed + as if she had not walked by natural feet, but some unseen influence had + drawn and lifted her the whole way. When she stood in Kingcombe streets + she hardly believed her senses—save that nothing was hard of belief + just then, except the one horror—incredible, unutterable. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale was walking up and down Kingcombe railway station, waiting for + the early train. One or two sleepy porters were eyeing him with a sort of + pitying curiosity, for ill news spreads fast in a country neighbourhood. + There was no one else about. Nobody perceived a little figure creeping up + the road and coming on the platform. Even Marmaduke did not lift his eyes + or relax his melancholy walk until something touched him on the arm. He + stood astonished. + </p> + <p> + “It is I, you see. You are not gone yet.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you come—you poor child?” + </p> + <p> + “From Thornhurst—I walked. But how soon shall you start?” + </p> + <p> + “Walked from Thornhurst!—at this time of night!” said one of the + railway-men, who knew the family—as indeed did every one in the + neighbourhood. “Lord help us—it's that poor Mrs. Harper!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale tried to remove Agatha from the platform, but she resisted. + </p> + <p> + “I am come to go with you to Southampton.” + </p> + <p> + “What need of that? Go back to my house, poor child. If anything is to be + done I can do it. If nothing—why”— + </p> + <p> + “I <i>will</i> go.” + </p> + <p> + The determination was so calm, the grasp of the little hand so strong, + that her brother-in-law urged no more. He went in his quiet way to take + her ticket, the railway folk moving respectfully aside, and whispering + among themselves something about “poor Mrs. Harper, that was going to + Southampton to see after her husband.” + </p> + <p> + Coming back, Duke attempted not to talk to her, but stood by her side—she + would stand—sometimes feeling at her damp shawl, or wrapping her up + in the tender careful fashion that he used to his own little ones. At last + the great fiery eye, accompanied by the iron beast's snorting gasps, + appeared far in the dark. Agatha drew a long breath, like a sob. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale lifted her in the carriage, almost without a word. One of the + railway-men brought from somewhere—nobody ever learned where—a + rug for her feet, and a pillow for her head to lean on. A minute more, and + they were whirled away. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX. + </h2> + <p> + Every one knows that story, perhaps the most terrible of its kind for many + years—and Heaven grant! for many more to come—when a noble + ship, with her full complement of human beings, fought at once with winds, + and waves, and fire, until came down upon it, and upon all the homes which + that one hour desolated, the certain doom. One shudders even at writing of + such things, save that they must of necessity happen, and not rarely. But + for one such tale as that of the <i>Amazon</i>, which convulses a whole + kingdom with horror, there must be many unknown chronicles of equal dread, + save that the little vessel sinks unnoticed into its sea grave, and the + destruction carried with it passes not beyond its own immediate sphere. + Such was the case with the Ardente. + </p> + <p> + When the train neared Southampton it was already bright morning. Everybody + was moving about on the solid, safe, sunshiny earth—nobody thought + of shipwrecks and disasters at sea. Many a one looked lazily at the + glittering Southampton-water; no one dreamed how, far beyond the curving + line of horizon, human beings—husbands and brothers—might be + floating about without food or water, frozen, thirsting, dying or dead, + under the same sunny sky. + </p> + <p> + Passing the spot where the wide reach of bay opens, Marmaduke quickly drew + down the carriage-blind. He would not for worlds that the poor Agatha + should look at that merry-glancing, cruel sea. She seemed to notice the + movement, and stirred from the corner where she had sat during all the + journey, motionless, save for her perpetually open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “How light it is! quite morning!” + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke turned, felt her pulse, and began softly chafing her cold hand. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, now,” she said piteously. “Don't be kind to me—please don't! + Talk a little. Tell me what you think it best to do first.” + </p> + <p> + The sharp-lined, worn face, not pallid, or without consciousness—some + people, to their misery, never can lose consciousness—mournfully did + worthy Duke regard it! But he did not say a word of sympathy; he knew she + could not bear it. Her physical powers were so tightly strung that the + least soft touch would make them give way altogether. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale stated briefly, and as if it had been the most matter-of-fact + thing in the world, how he meant to go to the owners of the <i>Ardente</i> + and get the first tidings of her there; how, if neither that nor any + rumours he could catch in and about the docks, were satisfactory, he + should hire a small steamer and beat up and down Channel, calling in at + all the ports where it was likely boats might have been picked up. + </p> + <p> + “They would be, probably, in twenty-four hours or so. If we don't hear in + three days—three days at this time of year”—he stopped with a + perceptible shudder—“then, Agatha,” and Duke's gentle voice grew + gentler, and solemn like a psalm, “then, my child, we'll go home.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha bowed her head. Bodily exhaustion calmed her mind, and soothed her + into a feeling which made even the last dread alternative less fearful. + She felt a conviction that such “going home” would only be a prelude to + the last going home of all, when she should never part from her husband + more. She did not much mind now, even if all were to end so. Perhaps it + would be best. + </p> + <p> + They got out of the carriage. All her limbs were cramped—she could + hardly stand. Mr. Dugdale took her unresisting, to a quiet inn he knew, + and there made her lie down and take food. Somehow, even in the last + extremity, Duke Dugdale could win people over to do his pleasure, which + was always for their own good.. He sat by her and talked, but only for a + few minutes—he had no thought of wasting even in kindness the time + on which might hang life or death. + </p> + <p> + “I am going now, and you must stay here till my return, which is sure not + to be for at least two hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Two hours!—Oh, take me with you!” + </p> + <p> + Duke shook his head. “You would only hinder me, I fear. See there, now!” + </p> + <p> + Trying to rise and cross the parlour, she had nearly fallen. A drowsy + weakness stole over her—she let her good brother have his own way + entirely. Very soon she found herself alone in the parlour, lying in the + dusky light of closed blinds, with the dull murmur creeping up from the + street—lying quietly in a state of passive patience. + </p> + <p> + No human brain can endure a great strain of mental anguish long. A + merciful numbness usually seizes it, in which everything grows hazy and + unreal, and consequently painless. Agatha felt convinced she was + half-asleep, and that she should wake up in her own room at Thorn-hurst or + at Kingcombe, and find out everything to be a dream. Or even granting its + reality, she seemed to view the whole story like some unconcerned person, + or some being from whom this troubled world had passed away, and grown + less than nothing and vanity. She gazed down upon herself as it were from + a great height, thinking how sad a story it was, and how it would have + grieved herself to hear it of any one else. But all her thoughts were + disconnected and unnatural. The only tangible feeling was a sort of + comfort in remembering the last day they had spent together—in + thinking how he loved her, and that, living or dying, he would know how + she loved him now. + </p> + <p> + In this state she lay for an indefinite time—a period that had no + human measurement. It seemed at once a day and a moment. No counted time + could ever appear so like eternity. + </p> + <p> + At last there was a hand upon the door. Mr. Dugdale had come back. Agatha + started up, and sat frozen. For her life she could not have uttered a + sound. He took her hand, saying, gently: + </p> + <p> + “My dear child!” + </p> + <p> + Surely he could not have spoken so, if—No, in that case his lips + would have been paralysed, like her own. + </p> + <p> + “We must bear up yet, little sister. There is a chance.” + </p> + <p> + The flood broke forth. Agatha flung herself on the sofa-cushions, sobbing, + weeping, and laughing at once. Duke patted her on the shoulder, walked + round her, stood eyeing her with his mild, investigating look, as if he + were pondering some great new problem in human nature. Finally, he sat + down beside her, and cried likewise. + </p> + <p> + Agatha for the first time spoke naturally. “Thank you, brother—you + are a very good brother to me. Now, tell me everything.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything is but little. It's like hanging on a thread—but we'll + hold on.” + </p> + <p> + “We will,” said Agatha, setting her lips together, and sitting down firmly + to listen. She was in her right senses now. She had undergone the shock, + and risen from it another woman. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would make haste and tell me. You don't know how quiet I am + now, nor how much I can bear—only tell me.” + </p> + <p> + Marmaduke began, speaking in fragments hurriedly put together, looking + steadily down on his hands, using a brief business tone—just as if + every syllable had not been planned by him on his way back, so that the + tidings might fall most gradually on the poor wife's ear. + </p> + <p> + “It was indeed the Ardente. Four sailors were picked up yesterday, in one + of her boats. They say it's likely that others may have got off in the + same way.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” That wild sob of thanksgiving! Marmaduke seemed to dread it more + than despair. He hastily added: + </p> + <p> + “But they had many things against them. The fire happened at midnight. + When it broke out there was no one on deck but one passenger, walking up + and down. He was a young man, the sailors say, tall, with long light + hair.” + </p> + <p> + The speaker's voice faltered; he could not bear to see the misery he + inflicted. At last Agatha motioned to hear more. + </p> + <p> + “One sailor remembers him particularly, because during all the tumult he + was almost the only person who seemed to have his wits about him. He was + seen everywhere—getting out the boats, quieting the passengers—doing + it all, the man says, as steadily as if he had been in his own house on + shore, instead of in a burning ship. If there was any one likely to have + saved his own life and the lives of others, the sailors think it must be + that young man.” + </p> + <p> + “When did they see him last?” + </p> + <p> + “Not five minutes before the ship went down. He was in a boat with several + more. They think it was he because of his light hair. He was leaning over + towards a floating spar, helping in a woman and child.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then it was he! It was my husband!” cried Agatha, clasping her hands, + while her countenance glowed like that of some Roman wife, who, dearer + even than his life, esteemed her husband's honour. + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” she said, as that rapture faded, and the natural pang + returned—“I firmly believe that he has been saved. God would not let + him perish. He must have got safe off from the wreck in that boat. Don't + you think he has?” + </p> + <p> + Duke could not meet those eager eyes; he fidgeted in his seat, looked down + on his hands, and told them over, finger by finger. At last he said, with + that peculiar upward look which, amidst all his eccentricities, showed the + beautiful serenity of a righteous man—a man who “walked with God:” + </p> + <p> + “Child, we can none of us be certain either way. We can only do all that + lies in human power, and leave the event in the hand of One who is wiser + and more loving than us all.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha bowed her head, and her heart with it, almost to the dust. She + remembered Anne Valery's saying—how much those who loved have need + to trust in God. Poor Anne! Never until this minute had any one thought of + Anne at home at Thornhurst. Shocked at the selfishness that often comes + with great misery, Agatha cried eagerly: + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear anything about Uncle Brian?” + </p> + <p> + “No—nothing.” The quick, husky tone, as Marmaduke turned and walked + away, betrayed how keenly the good man suffered, though he never spoke of + any sufferings but Agatha's. She was deeply touched. + </p> + <p> + “Take hope,” she said earnestly. “He will be saved. My husband would never + forsake Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that; but then Nathanael is young, and has something to live for, + while Brian is getting on in years—older than I am.—I should + like to have seen him again, and have shown him little Brian; but—well + it's a strange world! Heaven's mercy is sure to give us a life to come, + perhaps many lives—if only to make clear the hard mysteries of this. + I should like to have talked that matter over once again with poor Brian.” + </p> + <p> + And Duke seemed wandering into his mild, dreamy philosophies, till Agatha + recalled him. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what is to be done? You said, if we heard nothing, the boats must be + drifting about somewhere in the Channel”—she shivered—“and + then we would take a little steamer, and go and look for them?” + </p> + <p> + “I know. She's getting ready.” + </p> + <p> + “That is right. Then we will go on board at once,” said Agatha, with + decision. She, who a week ago would have been terrified at the bare + thought of setting her foot on the deck of any vessel! + </p> + <p> + “Poor little delicate thing,” muttered Duke, watching her. “It will be a + rough sea to-night, and we may be a day or two in getting round the coast. + You had better go home, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody once told me you had never been at sea in your life; and in + winter-time this Dorset coast is rough always, sometimes dangerous.” + </p> + <p> + “Dangerous! and he is there!” She began tying on her bonnet, hastily, but + steadily, as steadily as if preparing for an every-day walk. “Now, I am + quite ready. Let us start.” + </p> + <p> + Her brother made no more objections, but took her through the busy + Southampton streets. Once, on the quay, two lounging sailors touched their + hats to Mr. Dugdale, and Agatha heard a whisper of “Belongs to some o' the + poor fellows as went down in the <i>Ardente</i>.” She shuddered, as if + there were already upon her the awful sign of widowhood. + </p> + <p> + —The wide Southampton harbour, with the crafts of all nations + gliding to and fro upon it—the bustle of the landing and embarking + place—the hurrying crowd, eager after their own business, none + thinking of the one little vessel suddenly whelmed in that wondrous + sea-highway, ever thronged, yet ever lonely, or of the wrecked crew + drifting hither and thither, no one knew where. The tale had been a day's + talk, a day's pity—then forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Agatha stood in the midst of all, but saw nothing. Nothing but the grey, + bleak, merciless sea, howling and dancing to her feet like a victorious + enemy, or sweeping off into the silence of the wintry horizon, there + grimly folding up its mystery, as if to say, “Of me thou shalt know + nothing.” But Agatha felt as if, to win that secret, she was ready to + pierce into nethermost hell. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, let us go,” she said, and almost bounded into the little vessel. + She stood on the deck, trembling with excitement, watched the paddles + crash into obedience the cruel waves, ride over them, on—on—to + the mouth of the bay. And now for the first time she was out on the open + sea. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those gloomy winter days when the whole ocean looks sullen—heavy + with brooding storms. No blue foamy sweeps, no lovely sea-green calms; + nothing but leaden-coloured hills of water, swelling and sinking, with + black valleys between. Agatha remembered a story she had read or heard in + her childish days, of some wrecked sailor lad, doomed to death by his + mates because the boat was too full for safety, who asked leave to sit on + the gunwale until after the curl of the wave, and then quietly dropped off + into the smooth hollow below. + </p> + <p> + It was horrible! She could not look at the sea—it made her mad. She + could only look skywards, and try to find a break in the dun clouds; or + else over to the horizon, to see something—ever so faint and small a + something—breaking the line of water and sky. + </p> + <p> + The men on board apparently knew Mr. Dugdale, and he them. They worked + with a respectful solemnity, as if aware of their sad errand. The boat was + a little steam-tug, and she cut her way over the heavy seas like a bird. + Two men, and Marmaduke, kept watch constantly with the glass, shorewards + and seawards. Sometimes they went so far out that the hazy coast-line + almost vanished, and then again they ran in-shore under the gigantic + cliffs that lock the south of England coast. + </p> + <p> + Hour after hour, the poor wife remained on deck, sometimes walking about + restlessly, sometimes lying wrapped in sails and rugs, her face turned + seaward in a dumb hopelessness that was more piteous than any moans. The + seamen, if they happened to come near, looked at her with a sort of awe, + mingled with that compassionate gentleness which sailors almost always + show towards women. More than once, great rough hands brought her food, or + put to use half-a-dozen clever nautical contrivances for the sheltering of + “the poor lady.” + </p> + <p> + Late at night she went down below; by daybreak she was on deck again. She + found Mr. Dugdale in his old place by the compass and the telescope. He + had slept by snatches where he sat, never giving up his watch for a single + hour. + </p> + <p> + “E—h!” he said, when she came and touched him. “I was dreaming of + the Missus and the little ones at home!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to go home?” + </p> + <p> + “No—no!—not while there's a hope. Keep heart, my child!” + </p> + <p> + But they looked at each other's faces in the dawn, and saw how pale and + disconsolate both were. And still the little lonely boat kept rocking over + the sea—the pitiless sea, that returned neither answer nor sign. + </p> + <p> + Another day—another night: just the same. Once or twice they came on + the track of some vessel; a ship outward or homeward bound, and told their + story; shouting it out, in brief business-like words—how horrible + they sounded! And the ship's people would be seen to come to her side, + stand a while looking at the melancholy little steamer on its hopeless + search—then pass on. All the world seemed passing on slowly, slowly—leaving + them to that blank sea and sky, and to their own despair. + </p> + <p> + On the evening of the third day, Marmaduke, who had kept aloof for several + hours, came and stood by his sister-in-law. She was leaning at the stern, + looking shorewards at two columns of rock, which the watery wear of ages + had parted from the cliffs, leaving them set upright in the sea, a little + distance from one another, with the breakers boiling between. + </p> + <p> + “There's 'Old Harry and his wife,' as the Dorset people call them. We are + near home now, Agatha.” + </p> + <p> + “Home!” She gasped the word in an agony, and turned her face again + seawards—towards the grey desolate line where the Channel melted + away. + </p> + <p> + “The steamer can't run on much longer without putting in-shore,” said + Duke, after an interval. + </p> + <p> + Agatha almost shrieked; “You are not going to land? We have been out such + a little—little while! And you said yourself the boats would live a + long time in the open Channel.” + </p> + <p> + “But that was three days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Three days—oh, Heaven!—three days.” + </p> + <p> + And the black, black cloud fell over her; the near vision of an existence + wherein <i>he</i> was not—the going home a widow—or worse, + because she could never have the certainty of widowhood. To be incessantly + watching by day, and starting up at night, with the thought that he was + come! Never to know when, where, or in what manner he died; to have no + last blessing—no last kiss! At the moment, Agatha would have given + her whole future life—nay, her immortal soul—to cling for one + minute round her husband's neck and tell him how she loved him—with + the one perfect love which nothing now could ever alter, weaken, or + estrange. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dugdale moved aside. He knew that for this burst of anguish there was + no consolation. After a time, he came and said those few soothing words + which are all that people can say, without being those “miserable + comforters” who only torture the more. + </p> + <p> + Even then, in that last moment of anguish, there was power in the good and + soothing influence so peculiar to Marmaduke Dugdale. Agatha grew calmer—at + least more passive. Soon, she saw that the little steamer's head was + turned to the shore. A convulsion passed over her, but she did not rebel. + </p> + <p> + “There is a faint hope even yet,” said Duke, with a melancholy voice that + almost gave the lie to his words. “They may have drifted safe ashore + somewhere—though it would be almost a miracle. Or they may have been + carried far out to sea, and been picked up by some outward-bound ship. + It's just a chance—but”— + </p> + <p> + Agatha understood that “but” Nothing but strong conviction would have + forced it from her brother-in-law's lips. Her last hope died. + </p> + <p> + An hour or two more they spent in gliding up the narrow channel of that + salt-water swamp, which at high tide appeared so glittering from the + Thornhurst road. When approached, it was a muddy chaos, desolate as an + uninhabited world. + </p> + <p> + They went as far up-stream as the little steamer could run, and then + landed on the bank which abutted on some rushy meadows. It was a dark + winter's night—there was not a soul abroad, though some faint light + showed they were near the town. The bells of Kingcombe Church were ringing + merrily through the mist. + </p> + <p> + “I had quite forgotten,” muttered Duke to himself. “This must be + Christmas-eve.” + </p> + <p> + What a Christmas-eve! + </p> + <p> + He half led, half lifted Agatha through the wet fields and along the road. + </p> + <p> + “You will go to my house, and let the Missus and me take care of you, my + child?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no; I will go home!” + </p> + <p> + So, without any further argument, he took her to her own gate. There it + was, the familiar gate, with its shiny evergreens glittering in the + lamp-light; beyond it, the dusky line of Kingcombe Street.. The cottage + within was all dark, except for the faintest ray creeping under the + hall-door. Marmaduke opened it, and called Dorcas. She came, and when she + saw them, rushed forward sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, missus, missus—is it my missus?” + </p> + <p> + It was indeed the sorrowful mistress, who stood like a spectre in her + desolate home. But Dorcas dragged her in, and opened the parlour-door. + </p> + <p> + There was an odour of warmth—bright light, which so dazzled Agatha + that at first she saw nothing. Then she saw some one lying on the sofa. + And lo! there—half-buried in pillows, haggard and death-like, yet + alive—was a face she knew—a calm, sleeping face—falling + round it the long light hair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX. + </h2> + <p> + It was Christmas morning. All the good people of Kingcombe were going to + church. One only household did not go to church—there was hardly + need, when all their life henceforward would be one long grateful psalm. + </p> + <p> + Agatha came down much as she had done on her first Sunday morning in the + same house, and made breakfast in the little parlour. There was a strange + hush about her—a joy too solemn for outward expression. When she had + finished all her preparations, she stood by the window, looking on the + sunny little garden, and listening to the Christ-mas-bells. The tears + sprang faster—faster—her lips moved. What she was uttering no + ear heard—save One. Whatever the good Kingcombe people thought, He + to whom the whole earth is a temple, and all time a long Sabbath of praise—would + forgive her that she did not go to church that day. + </p> + <p> + She heard a foot on the stairs, and ran thither like lightning. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael appeared. He was extremely feeble—every motion seemed to + give him pain;—and his whole appearance was that of one rescued from + the very jaws of the grave. But he looked so happy—so infinitely + happy! + </p> + <p> + Agatha half-scolded him. “Why did you not call me? Why not let me help you + to walk? I can do it, I know.” And creeping under his arm, she tried to + convert her little self into a marvellously strong support. + </p> + <p> + Her husband only smiled, allowing himself to be led to the sofa, laid + down, and made comfortable with countless pillows. Then she stood and + looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you content?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite content,” he murmured. “So content, that I want nothing in this + wide world.” + </p> + <p> + And by his look his wife knew that this was true. + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, darling, you have been crying? Come and sit here.” + </p> + <p> + She came—making a minute's pretence of smiles, and then fell on his + neck, weeping, + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I don't deserve to be so happy—so very happy!” + </p> + <p> + “Child,” he answered, with a grave tenderness, “if we went by desert, who + among us would deserve anything? Should I, who was so hard and cold + towards my poor little wife, when, if I had said one word out of my real + heart, and not kept it down so proudly—Ah! I was very wicked. I, + too, did not deserve that God should save me from death, and bring me home + to my dear wife's love. Darling! don't let us talk of deservings; only let + us try to be good, and always, always love one another.” + </p> + <p> + Oh, the heavenly silence of that embrace, the life of life, that was in + it! Now for the first time the bond of full and perfect love was drawn + round the husband and wife, sacredly shutting them in from the world + without, which could never more come between them, or intermeddle with + their sorrows or their joys. + </p> + <p> + At length Agatha freed herself gently from his clasp, saying, after her + old habit of hiding emotion under a jest, something about the + impossibility that the mistress of a household could idle away her time in + this way. She made her husband's breakfast, and insisted on watching him + finish it. + </p> + <p> + Drinking, he said with a shudder, “Oh, Agatha, you don't know what it is + to be thirsty! The hunger was nothing to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't talk of that, don't,” murmured she, turning pale. + </p> + <p> + “I will not, dear. But was it not strange that we should have drifted + ashore at Weymouth?” + </p> + <p> + “Very strange.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you sent over the way this morning, to see after Uncle Brian?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet; but Harrie will take care of him. He is not near so much hurt as + you, and I must look after my own husband first.” And once again wistfully + gazing at him, she threw her arms round his neck, murmuring, “My own—my + own!” + </p> + <p> + The church-bells ceased, the breakfast was removed, and the husband and + wife sat together. + </p> + <p> + “Somebody,” said Nathanael, suddenly—“somebody ought to go and see + Anne Valery this Christmas-day. + </p> + <p> + “Does she know?” + </p> + <p> + “She knew last night. Marmaduke said he should ride over and tell her.” + </p> + <p> + “What news for her to hear—dear, dear Anne!” + </p> + <p> + And they fell into a silence. + </p> + <p> + Agatha said at last, “When am I to see Uncle Brian?” + </p> + <p> + “Very soon, dear. Yet—stay—is not that some one at the door?” + </p> + <p> + It certainly was. People walked into one another's houses so very + unceremoniously at Kingcombe. This visitor, however, paused in the hall, + and then opened the parlour-door. + </p> + <p> + He was a remarkably tall man, with grey hair, and features not unlike + Nathanael's, being regular and delicate. But their expression was much + harsher, and indicative of a strong will and a settled bitterness, which + only passed over when he smiled. This smile was very beautiful, and seemed + to steal from his worn and hard-lined aspect at least ten years. Agatha + knew who he was immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian!” Nathanael sprang up, despite his weakness, and they grasped + one another's hands as heartily as if they had not met for years. + </p> + <p> + “Is this your wife?” + </p> + <p> + “It is indeed; my own dear wife.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless her.” Mr. Locke Harper took Agatha by the hand, and looked at + her keenly. The peculiar expression either of bitterness or melancholy + came over his face, but as he watched her it gradually faded off. There + seemed an enchantment in the young wife's sweet looks. + </p> + <p> + “You two are very happy?” + </p> + <p> + They exchanged a glance, which needed no words of confirmation; but Agatha + said, with a shy blush, and a womanly grace that made her sweeter-looking + than ever. + </p> + <p> + “We are all the happier now Uncle Brian has come home.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear. Thank your husband too, for me. I would have been + lying 'full fathom five' in the Channel now, if it were not for that boy.” + </p> + <p> + “That boy” sounded oddly enough, save for the world of tenderness in the + phrase, and the look which accompanied it. Any one could see at once the + strong attachment subsisting between the uncle and nephew. No more was + betrayed, however, and they soon began a conversation as natural and + unconcerned as if they had gone through no peril, and suffered no emotion. + Certainly, however strong their feelings, the Harpers were not a + “sentimental” family. + </p> + <p> + Agatha thought, as like a dutiful wife she sat still and listened, that + she had never seen any man—saving her husband of course—whose + mien was so simple, yet so truly noble, as Brian Locke Harper's. She + watched him with a pathetic curiosity, thinking what he must have been as + a young man, with many other thoughts besides, which came from the very + depths of her woman's heart. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Brian talked, though in a rather fragmentary and brief fashion, of + Kingcombe and of the changes he found. He never by any chance mentioned + any other place than Kingcombe, until Nathanael happened to ask him where + Duke was this morning? + </p> + <p> + “He has ridden out.” + </p> + <p> + “But I wanted to see him, and thank him for being so kind to my poor + little wife. Where has he gone?” + </p> + <p> + “To Thornhurst.” The word came out sharp, low, yet with a certain tone + that made it unlike other words. After saying it, Uncle Brian sat moodily + looking at the fire from under his eyebrows, until Agatha, with womanly + wisdom, broke the silence, by speaking to her husband. + </p> + <p> + “I think some time this afternoon I ought to go and see Anne Valery.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall go, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Uncle Brian observed, never moving his eyes from the fire, “Harriet said + that she—Miss Valery—was not quite strong this winter. Was + that true?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha answered, “That it was only too true.” + </p> + <p> + Something in her manner seemed to startle Mr. Locke Harper; he threw + towards her one of his flashing, penetrating looks. + </p> + <p> + “We have indeed been very anxious about poor Anne,” she answered. “But + winter is a trying season, and we hope, in the spring”— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in the spring,” repeated Uncle Brian, hastily. “What a gay garden + you have for Christmas.” He opened the glass door, and immediately went + out. They saw him walking about, backwards and forwards, among + chrysanthemum beds and arbutus-trees, passing hurriedly, and with a + bent-down, abstracted gaze, which beheld nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Does he know about her?” said Agatha to her husband. “You said you would + tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “I could not, his mood was too bitter. And there are some things in which + not even I dare break upon the reserve of Uncle Brian. He is as secret and + as proud—as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but”— + </p> + <p> + “I understand that 'but' my child. I know how much both he and I have + often erred.” + </p> + <p> + His wife pressed his hand fondly, to indicate how love had sealed its kiss + of forgiveness upon all things. Nathanael smiled, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “I found Uncle Brian in such a strange mood at Havre. I dared not speak of + anything just then, but thought the fit time would be when we came near + the Dorset coast, and his heart was softened at the sight of home. I was + walking on deck, pondering how to tell him, when the fire began.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don't.” And Agatha forgot everything—it was natural she should—in + rejoicing once more over the beloved saved. Suddenly, there was heard a + fluttering, and a chattering with Dorcas in the hall, marking an + unmistakable approach—Mrs. Dugdale with her young flock. + </p> + <p> + Harrie was in the best of spirits and heartiest of moods, though that may + be an unnecessary superlative regarding a lady who had never been seen + either moody or out of spirits since her cradle. She embraced Agatha + warmly, and even went through the same ceremony with her brother + Nathanael, which he bore with exemplary fortitude, but shook his hair + after it, like a boy who has been petted against his will. However, he + kissed his little nephews good-humouredly, let Brian sit astride on his + sofa-pillows, benignly assured Fred's inquiring mind that Uncle Nathanael + had not been to the bottom of the sea and up again—and answered Gus + with a more serious voice, that it was not exactly “funny” to be drowned. + </p> + <p> + “Funny? No, indeed,” exclaimed the mother. “I am sure the shock was + dreadful to us all. I don't know when <i>I</i> shall get over it And that + reminds me that Duke thinks it had been too much for poor Anne. She is + worse,—keeping her bed. I don't understand sick people much, but if + Agatha could go—Oh, there you are, Uncle Brian! Duke sent a message + to you. He says, he is afraid it will be some days before you can see your + old friend Anne: she is very ill indeed.” + </p> + <p> + Brian stood silent, resting his hand on the glass-door. The colourless + face, void of any expression, excepting the eyes, and they—never, + while she lived, did Agatha forget the look of those eyes! She whispered, + passing him by, + </p> + <p> + “I am going to her now—I shall send word soon;” and left the room. + </p> + <p> + There was a slight difficulty about her being driven to Thornhurst, as she + insisted on her husband's keeping quiet at home. Harrie made a dozen plans + and counter-plans, until they were all frustrated by Brian Harper's rising + from the corner, where he had sat motionless. + </p> + <p> + “If you will allow me, I will drive you there.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you.” There was no more said about it; they started. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Locke Harper scarcely spoke to his niece all the way, until just as + they were passing the gate where, on that awful walk, Agatha had startled + Mrs. Dugdale. + </p> + <p> + “I hear you came all these miles on foot, in the middle of the night. It + was a very brave thing for a woman to do. I did not think any woman could + have love enough in her to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “I know several who would do much more.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are they?” + </p> + <p> + “Harrie Dugdale, probably; and for certain, Anne Valery.” + </p> + <p> + Brian said no more until they reached the gates of Thornhurst. There he + helped her to descend, reins in hand, and waited. Just as Agatha was going + he touched her arm: + </p> + <p> + “Ask how she is, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Agatha sent the message up-stairs, and remained with him for a minute or + two. He stood motionless by the horse, his hat pulled down over his brows—nothing + visible but the sharp profile of his mouth. Old Andrews called him “that + gentleman”—eyed him with some curiosity, then bowed, and wished him + a “merry Christmas, sir,” country fashion. + </p> + <p> + The answer about the mistress of Thornhurst was brief; she was “much the + same;” the servants did not seem to apprehend any danger. + </p> + <p> + Brian shook his niece's hand. “I shall go back across the moors to + Kingcombe. Tell her, if, at any time, she would like to see an old friend”— + </p> + <p> + He stopped, threw down Dunce's reins, and started off towards the high + ground, striding over heather and furze, with his free backwoodsman's + step. + </p> + <p> + Andrews looked after him. “If that be any man alive it be Mr. Locke + Harper! O Lord! and I didn't know 'un—my dear old master! Mr. + Harper! Sir! Mr. Locke Harper.” He ran a little way in vain pursuit of the + retreating figure; then Agatha saw him sit down on a stone, hide his face + in his shaking old hands, and cry for joy. + </p> + <p> + While, far over the hill-side, in very sight of the closed blinds of + Anne's room, the returned wanderer strode away, and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + It was some time before Agatha could summon courage to walk up-stairs. All + things seemed so strange. She could hardly realise the fact that she had + been driven from Kingcombe by Uncle Brian's own self, and that she was now + going to tell Anne Valery that he was here. + </p> + <p> + At last, calmed by faith in heaven, and in that next holiest faith, love, + she opened the door of Anne's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + It was silent, solemn, and peaceful. There was a prayer-book by the + bedside, open at one of the Christmas-day psalms. No one lingered in the + room, or about the couch, with sisterly or friendly care; all was serene + but lonely, as Anne's whole life had been. At the opening of the door, a + faint voice asked, “Who is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Only I! Oh, Anne, dearest Anne!” + </p> + <p> + There was a pause of weeping silence, though one only wept. Miss Valery + soothed the girl in all sorts of tender ways. + </p> + <p> + “You have suffered much, my poor child, but it is over now. Forget it. You + will be very happy now.” + </p> + <p> + “And you too—you too, Anne! But why do you lie here so drearily, + with no one near you?” + </p> + <p> + “I like it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will rise soon? You must get well now they are come home. You + little think how anxious all are about you.” + </p> + <p> + “That is kind. Everybody was always very kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + After a few moments, during which Anne lay with her eyes shut, and Agatha + watched, with an unaccountable dread, the wonderful, spiritual calm of her + features, she suddenly said: + </p> + <p> + “You have seen him, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Brian? Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he look? Was he harmed by that—that awful three days at + sea? + </p> + <p> + “No; he seems quite well. He drove me to Thornhurst.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he is here?” And there came a slight trembling over the placid face. + </p> + <p> + “He had to go back to Kingcombe, I believe,” said Agatha, hesitating. “But + he told me to say, if you liked to see an old friend—He does not + know how ill you have been,” she added, with irrepressible vexation, “or + else I should have felt very, very angry, even with Uncle Brian.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! You do not understand him yet,” said Anne, gently, as she once more + closed her eyes. Many thoughts seemed to sweep over her, but none left a + trace of bitterness behind. She was past all restlessness or suffering + now. + </p> + <p> + “How are you all going to keep Christmas, Agatha? You ought to be very + happy. After such a week as this has been, everything seems happiness + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Not everything—when you are not with us, Anne—I mean, not + with us to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “But I shall be with you, to-day and every day. I believe I shall never be + far away from Thornhurst and Kingcombe, and Kingcombe Holm.” + </p> + <p> + She said this more to herself than to Agatha, who listened, her throat + choking; then answered abruptly, “You are talking too much—you must + be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + Anne smiled—one of her old smiles, so full of cheerfulness. “I think + I am quiet enough already, but I will obey.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face to the pillow, and lay for a long time without moving. + At length she said: + </p> + <p> + “Agatha, I want you to do something for me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I would like to see your husband, and my old friend, Mr. Brian Harper. + Will you go and fetch them?” + </p> + <p> + “I will to-morrow, but”— + </p> + <p> + “No—dear, not to-morrow; I must see them to-day—this very + Christmas-day. Go—you will not be away long. And we will send the + carriage, so that the journey can do Nathanael no harm.” + </p> + <p> + “You are always thinking of every one,” said Agatha, as she turned to + obey. She felt it was a solemn mission. All her bright plans about + Thornhurst grew dim; she could not look forward. Yet, warm in the strength + of youth and love, she cherished a faint hope still. + </p> + <p> + When she reached Kingcombe, Brian had not come home. They sent messengers + for him in all directions, but in vain. At last they were forced to drive + back without him—hopelessly peering through the dusk to see if they + could discern his tall figure across the moors. When they were dashing at + full speed through Thornhurst-gate, some one rose up from the hedge beside + it, and stopped the horses. + </p> + <p> + “Is anything the matter at the house? Speak, can't you, fellow?” + </p> + <p> + The voice hoarse and commanding—the tall, spare figure, the grey + hair—it could be none other than Brian Harper. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael called to him. “Uncle Brian, we have been looking for you + everywhere. Anne wants to see you. Come.” + </p> + <p> + “I will.” He walked away and was lost in the furze-bushes; but when the + carriage drove up to the door they found him already standing there. They + all entered the house together. + </p> + <p> + Anne's maid met them with a delighted countenance. Her mistress was so + well—thank God! She was up, and sitting in the drawing-room! + </p> + <p> + There in truth she was, in her usual seat, wearing her ordinary dress. She + had taken off the invalid-cap, and her soft hair was arranged as carefully + as if no white lines marred its brownness. She looked less old than usual—nay, + almost beautiful—so exquisitely peaceful was the expression of her + countenance. + </p> + <p> + Nathanael and his wife hung back, letting Mr. Harper meet her first. + </p> + <p> + She rose and held out both hands to him. “Welcome home again—welcome + home!” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing, but grasped the hands, and retained them fast. There was + a long, long look, eye to eye, face to face,—a look, in which were + gathered and summed up all the years since they were young, together,—and + then the two old friends sat down side by side. Agatha thought it strange + that they should meet in such a calm, commonplace way—but then she + was young. She did not know how quietly flows the outward surface of a + tide that has flowed on, deep, solemn, and changeless, for five-and-twenty + years. + </p> + <p> + In a little while they were all sitting round the fire—the merry + Christmas fire with its blazing pine-log—talking just as naturally + and familiarly as though no emotion had stirred them. Anne Valery, resting + in her arm-chair, looked on and smiled. She talked little, but listened to + the rest, and by an inexplicable sweet calmness, made them all so much at + ease, that it seemed to Agatha as if they four had known one another for a + whole lifetime, and been always as happy as now. + </p> + <p> + As the evening advanced, the Christmas dinner was announced. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry I cannot sit at the head of my own table to-day, but”—and + Miss Valery gently laid her hand on Brian's arm—“you will take my + place, old friend?” + </p> + <p> + He made some unintelligible answer, and they all left the drawing-room. It + was a rather silent dinner; yet, somehow, no one looked sad. No one could, + with Anne's cheerful influence pervading the whole house. + </p> + <p> + Agatha soon rose and rejoined her. She was sitting just as they had left + her—but whether it was through the light being dimmer, or through a + certain thoughtfulness in her face, Agatha thought she did not look quite + the same. + </p> + <p> + “Are you well?” Are you sure you are not tired? And”—here Agatha + ventured to wrap her arms round her and gaze up in her eyes with a fulness + of meaning—are you happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, happy! perfectly happy!” The look and tone were such as Agatha never + forgot. They expressed a bliss that of its intensity could not necessarily + endure for more than the briefest time in this changing world. It belonged + to the world everlasting. + </p> + <p> + “Will you go back, dear, and ask Brian to come to me? I would like to talk + a little, alone, with my old friend.” + </p> + <p> + Agatha obeyed. When she had delivered her message, Mr. Locke Harper rose + without speaking. She saw him go into the drawing-room and close the door; + then she came back to her husband. + </p> + <p> + For more than two hours Agatha and Nathanael sat, not liking to go in + without being summoned. At last they ventured to pass the door. The + silence within was so death-like that it half frightened them. + </p> + <p> + “I wish she would call,” Agatha whispered. “She looked so strangely white + when she spoke to me. Hush! is not that some one stirring? I must knock.” + </p> + <p> + She did so, but there was no answer. At last, trembling all over, she + caught hold of her husband's hand and made him enter. + </p> + <p> + The room was quite still—dimly-lighted—for the fire had been + suffered to burn itself almost out. Anne sat in her arm-chair, with Brian + kneeling beside her, his arms clasping her waist, and hers linked behind + his neck. Neither moved, or seemed to notice anything; and the two young + people, greatly moved by the scene, were gliding away, when a last glimmer + of the fire showed them Anne Valery's face. They saw it—grasped one + another's hands with an awe-struck meaning—and stayed. + </p> + <p> + In a minute or two Anne faintly spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I think there is some one near? Is it Agatha?” + </p> + <p> + The young girl flung herself on Anne's hand.—“It is I—and my + husband. May we stay? We, too, loved you, dear, dear Anne?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that! One minute, just one minute, Brian.” + </p> + <p> + She loosed her clasp of him a little; the other two came near, she kissed + them both, and bade “God bless them.” Then raising herself up and speaking + with all her strength, she said, + </p> + <p> + “You will bear witness, and say to them all, that if I had married, none + but Brian Locke Harper would ever have been my husband: and therefore I + have left to him Thornhurst, and all I have in the world, in token of my + love and reverence—just as if—I had been—his wife.” + </p> + <p> + With the last words, uttered very feebly, Anne sank back into her old + attitude. She lay there many minutes, her face beautiful in its perfect + rest. The other face—his face—was altogether hidden. But they + saw that, as his arms grasped her round, every muscle was quivering. The + convulsion grew so strong that even Anne felt it. She opened her eyes, and + tried to speak again. + </p> + <p> + “Brian, poor Brian? Be content! it is not for long—not for very + long.” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers began to flutter feebly on his neck. She fringed the grey + locks round them in a childish, absent way, muttering to herself. + </p> + <p> + “How very soft it feels still! He used to have such beautiful hair!” + </p> + <p> + Then, as if she felt her mind wandering, and strove to recall it, that to + the very last moment it might rest on him, she again forcibly opened her + eyes and fixed them on Brian's face. They never left it afterwards. The + whole world seemed to have faded from her except that face. For a minute + or two longer she lay looking at him, her countenance all radiant, until, + gradually and softly, her eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” whispered Nathanael, as he drew his weeping wife closer to his + bosom, and pointed out the beatitude of that dying smile. “Hush—she + is quite happy. 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