“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.” “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.” “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?” 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. He said, “I did not know my wife was here. Were you and she talking? Shall I leave you?” 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?” “No.” “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?” “I do not.”, “Perhaps your wife does.” Agatha had a useful memory for such things. She repeated the address given by Mr. Trenchard, exactly. “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.” “Does he? He is very kind,” said Agatha, somewhat moved. She felt all kindness deeply now. “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. “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. “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.” 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. 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.”