“I should like to go with you, if you would allow--that is, if you would not forbid me.” “Forbid you? Nay! But”-- “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. 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. 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. 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. “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.” And somehow, as he tied up the packets, his finger slightly trembled. Agatha came and stood by him. “Let me help you; I have ready hands.” “But why should I make use of them?” “Have you not a right?” she said, smiling. “Nay, I never claim as a right anything which is not freely given.” “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. Nathanael watched her for a minute. “You are very neat-handed, Agatha, and it is kind of you to help me.” “Oh, I would help any one.” Foolish, thoughtless words! He said no more, but went and looked over the cabinet.