“I think, Mrs. Thornycroft, it will probably be three months before I”--he smilingly corrected himself, and said “_we_ return to Canada.” “Then what do you intend to do meanwhile? Of course, Agatha dear, you will remain in London?” “Oh yes,” she replied, accustomed to decide for herself, and forgetting at the moment that there was now another to whose decision she was bound to defer. Blushing, she looked towards her husband, who was talking to Mr. Thornycroft. He turned, as indeed he always did when he heard her speaking; but he made no remark, and the “Yes” passed as their mutual assent to Emma's question. “I know a place that would just suit you,” pursued the latter; “that is, if you take a furnished house.” “I should like it much.” “It is but a cottage--rather small, considering your means; by-the-by, Agatha, how close our friend the Major kept all your affairs. No one imagined you were so rich.” “Neither did I, most certainly. But--the cottage.” “The prettiest little place imaginable. Such a love of a drawing-room! I went there to call on young Northen's sister when she married, last year. Poor thing--sad affair that, my dear.” “Indeed,” said Agatha, who now felt an interest in all stories of marriages. “It happened a fortnight ago, soon after your wedding. They quarrelled--she got through a window, and ran away home to her father. It seems she had never cared a straw for her husband, but had married him out of spite, liking some one else better all the time. His own brother, too, they say.” “What a wicked--wicked thing!” cried Agatha warmly. So warmly, that she did not see, close by her chair, her husband--watching her intently, nay wildly. As she ceased, he rose from his stooping attitude. His countenance became wonderfully beautiful, altogether glowing. “Really you seem to have comprehended the matter at once,” said Mr. Thornycroft, startled in the winding-up of a long harangue about the Corn Laws by the exceedingly bright look which his hearer turned towards him. “Yes, I think I shall soon comprehend everything,” was the answer, as Mr. Harper placed himself on the arm of his wife's chair in the gay attitude of a very boy. She, moving a little, made room for him and smiled. Nay, she even leant silently against his arm, which he had thrown round the back of her chair. “Come, Agatha, I want to hear about that wonderful house which your friend is persuading you to take. You know, I happen to have a little concern in the matter likewise. Have I not, Mr. Thornycroft?” “Certainly; since you have turned out to be that no less wonderful personage which my wife has been perpetually boring me about for the last two years--Agatha's Husband,” said Mr. Thornycroft, patiently resigning the Corn Laws to their inevitable doom--oblivion.