“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.” Reverently and in silence the old Squire raised the glass to his lips--a glass filled with only water--he never took wine. “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.” 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.” Every one applauded--the Squire graciously acknowledging the compliment to his brother. “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. “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?” Anne assented. “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. “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. “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.” “What was your remark, Marmaduke” said the old Squire, testily. “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.