“What did you want?” he said abruptly, thinking it was the servant who entered. She could not imagine what made him start so, nor what made the two brothers look at her so guiltily. The fact left a very uncomfortable impression on her mind. “I only came”--she began. “No matter, dear.” Her husband walked up to her, speaking in a low voice, studiously made kind, she thought “Go away now--we are engaged, you see.” “But dinner,” she added. “Will not your brother stay and dine with us?” Major Harper turned with an imploring look to his brother's wife. “No,” said Mr. Harper emphatically; held the door open for Agatha to retire, and closed it after her. Never in all her life had she been treated so unceremoniously. The newly-married wife returned to her room, her cheeks burning with no trifling displeasure. She began to feel the tightening pressure of that chain with which her life was now eternally bound. But, after five minutes of silent reflection, she was too sensible to nourish serious indignation at being sent out of the room like a mere child. There must have been some good reason, which Mr. Harper would surely explain when his brother left. The whole conversation was probably some personal affair of the Major's, with which she had nothing to do. Yet why did her brother-in-law regard her so imploringly? It was, after all, rather extraordinary. So, genuine female curiosity getting the better of her, never did Blue Beard's Fatima watch with greater anxiety for “anybody coming” than did Agatha Harper watch at her window for somebody going--viz., Major Harper. She was too proud to listen, or to keep any other watch, and sat with her chamber-door resolutely closed. At length her vigil came to an end. She saw her late guardian passing down the street--not hastily or in humiliation, but with his usual measured step and satisfied air. Nay, he even crossed over the way to speak to an acquaintance, and stood smiling, talking, and swinging his cane. There could not be anything very wrong, then. Agatha thought, having been once sent out of the room, she would not re-enter it until her husband fetched her--a harmless ebullition of annoyance. So she stood idly before the mirror, ostensibly arranging her curls, though in reality seeing nothing, but listening with all her ears for the one footstep--which did not come. Not, alas! for many, many minutes. She was still standing motionless, though her brows were knitted in deep thought, and her mouth had assumed the rather cross expression which such rich, rare lips always can, and which only makes their smiling the more lovely--when she saw in the mirror another reflection beside her own. Her husband had come softly behind her, and put his arms round her waist. “Did you think I was a long time away from you? I could not help it, dear. Let us go down-stairs now.”