While the two gentlemen still talked, Miss Bowen stood secretly listening, but apparently watching the rich twilight that coloured the long sweep of the Regent's Park trees--a pretty sight, even though in the land of Cockayne. “There's a carriage at our door!” screamed Missy from the balcony, receiving a hurried maternal reproof for ill-behaviour. Mrs. Thornycroft wondered who the inopportune visitor could be. It was a lady, who gave no name, but wished to know if Mr. Locke Harper were there, and if so, would he come to the carriage and speak to her a moment? Nathanael did so, looking not less surprised than the rest of the party. After five minutes had elapsed, he was still absent from the room. “Very odd!” observed Emma, half in jest, half earnest; “I should inquire into the matter if I were you. Let me see--I fancy the carriage is still at the door. It would be rude to peep, you know, but we can inquire of the maid.” “No,” said Agatha, gently removing Mrs. Thornycrofts hand from the bell; “Mr. Harper will doubtless tell me all that is necessary. He is perfectly able to conduct his own affairs.” It was speech implying more indifference than she really felt, for this mysterious interview did not quite please her. She tried vainly to go on talking with Mrs. Thornycroft, and actually started when she heard the carriage drive off, and Nathanael come up-stairs. His countenance was a good deal troubled, but he did not give the slightest explanation--not even when Mrs. Thornycroft joked him about his supposed “business.” “With a lady, too! Not, I hope, a young lady?” “What did you say?” he asked, absently, his eyes fixed afar off on Agatha. “I hope your visitor in the carriage was not a young lady?” “No.” The answer was in a tone that put an end to any more jesting. Nathanael sat down, and tried to take up the thread of politics just dropped with Mr. Thornycroft, but only for a few minutes. Then, stealing round by Miss Bowen's side, he whispered: “I want to speak to you: would you mind coming home soon?” “At once, if you wish it,” she answered, perceiving that something was wrong, and feeling towards him too much of kindness and too little of jealous love, to be in any way displeased at his strange behaviour. “Will you do it, then, dear Agatha? Do it for me.” Agatha was ill at contrivance, but she managed somehow to get away; and before it was dark she and her betrothed were out in the broad terrace. “Now,” said she, taking his arm kindly, “if anything is amiss, you can tell me all as we walk home. Better walk than ride.” “No, we must ride; I would not lose a minute,” Nathanael answered, as he hurried her into a conveyance, and gave the order to drive to Bedford Square.