She dried the tears that were scorching her eyes, and mechanically took up her letter; until, remembering how long she had been upstairs, and how all that time Emma's transparent disposition and love of talk might have laid her and her whole affairs open before the Iansons, she quickly put the epistle in her pocket unread, and went down into the dining-room. It was not till night, when she sat idly brushing out her long curls, and looking at her Pawnee face in the mirror--alas! the poor face now seemed browner and uglier than ever!--that Agatha recollected this same letter. “It may give me something to think about, which will be well,” sighed she; and carelessly pushing her hair behind her ears, she drew the candle nearer, and began leisurely to read. [Illustration: She began leisurely to read p036] The commencement was slightly abrupt: “A month ago--had any one told me I should write this letter, I could not have believed it possible. But strange things happen in our lives--things over which we seem to have no control; we are swept on by an impulse and a power which most often guide us for our good. I hope it may be so now. “I came to England with no intention save that of seeing my family, and no affection in my heart stronger than for them. Living the solitary life that Uncle Brian leads, I have met with few women, and have never loved any woman--until now. “You may think me a 'boy;' indeed, I overheard you say so once; but I am a man--with a heart full of all a man's emotions, passionate and strong. Into that heart I took _you_, from the first moment I ever saw your face. This is just three weeks ago, but it might have been three years--I know you so well. I have watched you continually; every trait of your character--every thought of your mind. From other people I have found out every portion of your history--every daily action of your life. I know you wholly and completely, faults and all, and--I love you. No man will ever love you more than I. “That you should have the least interest in me now, is, I am aware, unlikely; indeed, almost impossible; therefore I shall not expect or desire any answer to this letter, sent just before I leave for Dorsetshire. “On my return, a week hence, I shall come and see you, should you not forbid it. I shall come merely as a _friend_, so that you need have no scruple in my visiting you, once at least. If afterwards, when you know me better, you should suffer me to ask for another title, giving to you the dearest and closest that man can give to woman--then--oh! little you think how I would love you, Agatha! “Nathanael Locke Harper.”