If the Th.o.r.n.ycrofts had expected to find a couple of turtle-doves cooing in a cage, they were certainly disappointed. Mr. and Mrs. Locke Harper had apparently settled down into an ordinary husband and wife, resuming serenely their place in society, and behaving towards each other, and the world in general, just like sensible old married people. Their friends, taking the hint, treated them in like manner; and thus, now and for ever, vanished Agatha's honeymoon.

After dinner, Emma, anxious about Agatha's proceedings, and still more anxious to have a hand in the same, for she was never happy unless busy about her own or other people's affairs, made inquiries as to the future plans of the young couple.

Agatha could give no answer, for, to her great thankfulness, her husband had hitherto avoided the subject. She looked at him for a reply.

"I think, Mrs. Th.o.r.n.ycroft, 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. Th.o.r.n.ycroft. He turned, as indeed he always did when he heard her speaking; but he made no remark, and the "Yes" pa.s.sed as their mutual a.s.sent 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 att.i.tude. His countenance became wonderfully beautiful, altogether glowing.

"Really you seem to have comprehended the matter at once," said Mr.

Th.o.r.n.ycroft, 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 att.i.tude 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. Th.o.r.n.ycroft?"

"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. Th.o.r.n.ycroft, patiently resigning the Corn Laws to their inevitable doom--oblivion.

But Emma, plunging gladly into her native element, discussed the whole house from attic to kitchen. Mr. Harper listened with a complaisant and amused look. Beginning to discern the sterling good there was in the little woman, he pa.s.sed over her harmless small-mindedness; knowing well that in the wide-built mansion of human nature there must be always a certain order of beings honourable, useful, and excellent in themselves, to form the bas.e.m.e.nt-story.

The twilight darkened while Emma talked, the faster perhaps that her "James," whose respected presence always restrained her tongue, was discovered to be undeniably asleep. But the young couple were excellent listeners. Nathanael still sat balancing himself on the arm of his wife's chair; his hand having dropped playfully among her curls. He joined with gaiety in all the discussions. More than once, in talking of the various arrangements of their new household, his voice faltered, and the hearts of the husband and wife seemed trembling towards one another.

The conversation ended in Emma's receiving _carte-blanche_ to take the house, if practicable, that the Harpers might settle there for three months certain.

"Come, this is better than I expected," cried the worthy little woman.

"We shall be neighbours, and I can teach Agatha house-keeping. She will have a nice little _menage_, and can give a proper 'At Home' and charming wedding parties. Shall she not, Mr. Harper?"

"If she wishes."

But Agatha's whispered "No," and kind pressure of the hand, brought to him a most blissful conviction that she did _not_ wish, and that she would be, as she said, "happier living quietly at home." _Home_! what a word of promise that sounded in both their ears!

When the lights came, Mr. Th.o.r.n.ycroft woke up; with many apologies, poor man; only, as his wife said, "Everybody knew how hard James worked, and how tired he was at night." The two gentlemen fraternised once more.

They began one of those general arguments on the history of the times, which when spoken, are intensely interesting, and being written as intensely prosy. The ladies listened in a most wife-like and pleased submission.

"How well my husband talks--doesn't he?" whispered Emma, with sparkling eyes.

Agatha agreed, and indeed Mr. Th.o.r.n.ycroft's strong sense and acute judgment were patent to every one. But when Mr. Harper spoke, his clear views on every point, his trenchant but pleasant wit, by which he rounded off the angularities of argument, and above all his keen, far-seeing intellect, which dived into wondrous depths of knowledge, and invariably brought something precious to light--these things were to the young wife a positive revelation.

She sat attentive, beginning to learn, what strange to say was no pain--her own ignorance, and her husband's superior wisdom. She had never before felt at once so humble and so proud.

When the Th.o.r.n.ycrofts departed, and Mr. Harper returned up-stairs from bidding them good-bye, he found his wife in a thoughtful mood.

"Well, dear, have you had a pleasant evening? Are you content with our plans?"

"Yes--indeed, more so than I deserve. Oh, how good you are!" she whispered; and her shortcomings towards him grew into a great burden of regret.

"Hush!" he answered, smiling; "we will not begin discussing one another's goodness, or you know the subject would be interminable. And I would like us to hold a little serious consultation before to-morrow.

You are not sleepy?"

"No."

"Stretch yourself out on the sofa, and let me sit beside you. There--are you quite comfortable?"

"Ah, yes," she said, and thought for the hundredth time how sweet it was to have some one to take care of her.

"Now, my wife, listen! You seemed to long for that cottage very much, and you shall have it. Nay, you ought, because at present you are the rich lady; while I, so long as I remain in England, receive none of my salary from Montreal, and am, comparatively speaking, poor. In fact, nothing but that very secondary character, Agatha's Husband.'"

Though he laughed, there was a little jarring tone in this confession; but Agatha was too simple to notice it. He continued quickly,

"Nevertheless, this question is only temporary; I shall be quite your equal in Canada."

"In Canada!" she echoed dolefully. "Oh, surely--surely we need not go?"

"Are you in earnest, Agatha?"

"I am indeed," said she, gathering up courage to speak to him of what ever since her marriage had been growing an inexpressible dread.

"Why so?"

"I--I am afraid to tell."

"Shall I tell you? You cannot bear to leave your old friends? You fear to go into a new country, entirely among strangers, with only your husband?"

His suddenly suspicious tone stopped the frank denial that was bursting to his wife's lips. She only said a little hurt, "If that were true, I would have told you. I always speak exactly what I think."

"Is it so? is it indeed so?" he cried, with a lightening of countenance as sudden as its shade. "Oh, Agatha, forgive me," and his heart seemed melting before her. "I am not good to you--but you do not quite understand me yet."

"I feel that. Yet what can I do?"