“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.” 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. “Shall I ride with you, father?” said Nathanael, following him to the hall-door, with a concerned air. “Not to-day--I thank you! Not to-day.” 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.” Agatha inquired wherefore. “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.” “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!” “'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.” 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. “It is Anne Valery!” was the general cry, as all ran to meet her at the door--Agatha being the first. “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?” 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!” 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. “I am come to stay the whole day with you, by your father's desire--and my own. May I, Mary?” “Oh, yes! We shall be so glad, especially Elizabeth, who was wondering and longing after you.”