“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.” “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”-- “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. “As to Cornwall,” said Grimes, in a confidential whisper, “between you and me, Mrs. Harper, mum's the word.” 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. “Shall you not be very glad, Mary, to see Uncle Brian. You have heard, of course, how soon he will be here?” “Uncle Brian here!--And nobody told us. Only think, papa”-- “My dear Mary!” There was a gentleness in the Squire's voice more startling even than his violence. “Did you know, papa, that Uncle Brian is coming home?” “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.” “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.” 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. 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, _only_ remaining son and heir, Nathanael.”