After this burst, Major Harper sank into one of his cloudy moods. At last he said, in a confidential and rather sentimental tone, “Miss Valery is an excellent lady--an old friend of our family; but she and I have not met for many years. Circumstances necessitated our parting.” “Circumstances?” Agatha guessed the truth--or fancied she did; and her wrathful pride was up again. More trophies of the illustrious Frederick's unwilling slaughters--more heart's blood dyeing the wheels of this unconscious Juggernaut of female devotees! Yet there he sat, looking so pathetically regretful, as if he felt himself the blameless, helpless instrument of fate to work the sentimental woe of all womankind! Agatha was absolutely dumb with indignation. She was a little unjust, even were he erring. It is often a great misfortune, but it is no blame to a good man that good women--more than one--have loved him; if, as all noble men do, he hides the humiliation or sorrow of their love sacredly in his own heart, and makes no boast of it. Of this nobility of character--rare indeed, yet not unknown or impossible--Frederick Harper just fell short. Kind, clever, and amusing, he might be, but he was a man not sufficiently great to be humble. No more was said on the mysterious topic of Miss Anne Valery. Agatha was too angry; and the subject seemed painful to Major Harper. Though he did what was not his habit--especially with female friends--he endeavoured, instead of encouraging, to throw off his momentary sentimentality, and become his usual witty, cheerful, agreeable self. Miss Bowen, even in her tenderest inclinings towards her guardian, had at times thought him a little too talkative--a little too much of the brilliant man of the world. Now, in her bitterness against him, his gaiety was positively offensive to her. She rose, and proposed that they should quit her own private room for the general drawing-room of the family. The Iansons were all there, even the Doctor being prone to linger in his dull home for the pleasure of Major Harper's delightful company. There was another, too, the unexpected sight of whom made both Agatha and her companion start. As she and the Major entered, there arose, almost like an apparition from his seat in the window-recess, the tall, slight figure of Nathanael. “N. L.! Where on earth have you dropped from? What a _very_ extraordinary fellow you are!” cried the elder brother. “Perhaps unwelcome also,” said the quiet voice. “Unwelcome--never, my dear boy! Only next time, do be a little more confidential. Here have I been telling a whole string of apparent fibs about your movements--have I not Miss Bowen? Do you not consider this brother of mine the most eccentric creature in the world?”