But though every one tried to maintain the conversation on indifferent topics, the feelings of at least two out of the three necessarily drew it back to one channel. There they sat, running over the slight nothings, probable and improbable, which in hard suspense people count up; though still the worst Nathanael seemed to fear was the temporary hardship to which his uncle would be exposed. “And he is not so young as he used to be. How often have I urged him to be content with his poverty and come home. He _shall_ come home now. If once I get him out of these red fellows' hands, he shall turn his face from their wild settlements for ever. He can easily do it, even if I must stay in Canada.” The young man looked at his newly-betrothed wife, and looked away again. It was more than he could bear. “Agatha,” said Miss Valery, after a pause, during which she had closely observed both the young people--“I may call you _Agatha_, for the sake of my friend here, may I not?” “Yes,” was the low answer. “Well then, Agatha, shall you and I have a little talk? We need not mind that foolish boy; he was a boy, just so high, when I first knew him. Let him walk up and down the room a little, it will do him good.” She moved to the sofa, and took Agatha by her side. “My dear”--(there was a rare sweetness in the way Miss Valery said the usually unsweet words _my dear_)--“I need not say, what, of course, we two both think, that she will be a happy woman who marries Nathanael Harper.” Agatha, with her eyes cast down, looked everything a young girl could be expected to look under the circumstances. “Your happiness, as well as your history, is to me not like that of an entire stranger. I once knew your father.” “Ah, that accounts for all!” cried Agatha, delighted to gain this confirmation of her strange impression in favour of Miss Valery. “When was this, and where was I?” “Neither born nor thought of.” Agatha's countenance fell. “Then of course it was impossible--yet I felt certain--I could even believe so now--that I have seen you before.” While the girl looked, a quick shadow passed over Anne Valery's still features, for the moment entirely changing their expression. But soon returned their ordinary settled calm. “We often fancy that strangers' faces are familiar. It is usually held to be an omen of future affection. Let me hope that it will prove so now. I have long wished, and am truly glad, heart-glad to see you, my dear child.” She bent Agatha's forehead towards her, and kissed it. Gradually her lips recovered their colour, and she began to talk again, showing herself surprisingly familiar with the monotonous past life of the young girl, and likewise with her present circumstances. “How kind of you to take such an interest in me!” cried Agatha, her wonder absorbed in pleasure.