“I will go,” he muttered. “Better tell it to you than to my brother.” And he followed her up-stairs. The cool shadow of the room seemed to quiet his excitement; he drank a glass of water that stood by, and became more like himself. “Well, my dear young lady,” he said, with some return of the paternal manner of old times, “when did you come back to London?” “Two days since, as I told you. And, as you will soon hear, your brother's plans are all changed--we are going to live in London.” “To live in London?” “He has given up his appointment at Montreal. We have taken a house, or shall take it to-day, and settle here. He intends entering at the bar, or something of the sort; but you must persuade him not. What is the use of his toiling, when I--that is we--are so rich?” While Agatha thus talked, chiefly to amuse her brother-in-law and make him feel that she was really his sister, one and the same in family interests--while she talked, she was astonished to see Major Harper's face overspread with blank dismay. “And--Nathanael has really given up his appointment?” “He has, and for my sake. Was it not good of him?” “It was madness! Nay--it is I that have been the madman--it is I that have done it all Agatha, forgive me! But no--you never can!” As they stood together by the fireplace he snatched her hand, gazing down upon her with unutterable remorse. “Poor Bowen's daughter that he trusted to me! Such a mere child too! Oh, forgive me, Agatha!” She thought some extraordinary delusion had come upon him--perhaps the forerunner of some dreadful illness. She tried to take her hand away, though kindly, for she firmly believed him to be delirious. Nothing could really have happened to herself that Mr. Harper did not know. With him to take care of her, she was quite safe. And in that moment--for all passed in a moment--Nathanael's wife first felt how implicitly she was beginning to put her trust in him. While she remained thus--her hand still closed tightly in her brother-in-law's grasp, half terrified, yet trying not to show her terror--the door opened, and her husband entered. At first Mr. Harper seemed petrified with amazement; then he turned deadly white. Crossing the room, he laid a heavy hand on his brother's shoulder: “Frederick, you forget yourself; this is my wife,--Agatha!” The searching agony of that one word, as he turned and looked her full in the face, was unutterable. She scarcely perceived it. “Oh, I am so glad you are come,” was all she said. He drew her to his side--indeed, she had sprung there of her own accord--and wrapped his arms tightly round her, as if to show that she was his possession, his own property. “Now, brother, whatever you wished to say to my wife, say it to us both.” Major Harper could not speak. “He was waiting to see you; he is ill--very ill, I think,” whispered Agatha to her husband. “Shall I leave you together?”