The next moment Harrie and Agatha came up with the two gentlemen at the door of Mr. Dugdale's house. They were talking politically and earnestly, as men will do--Nathanael having apparently forgotten the bitter cloud of a few minutes since, which yet lay heavy on his wife's heart. At least it seemed so, and his indifference made her angry.

Neither spoke to their wives--being busy laying their heads together over a newspaper--until Harrie very unceremoniously began to pull at her husband's coat, which he bore for a time in perfect obliviousness. At last he turned and patted her with his great hand, just as some sage, mild Newfoundland dog would coax into peace the attacks of a wild young kitten.

"Nay, now, Missus--don't'ee, love; I'm busy.--And you see, Nathanael, as your brother is sure not to canva.s.s or try for the town, and as Mr.

Trenchard is such a fine fellow, your father's friend too, don't you think we could coax him round? By conviction, of course: Trenchard wouldn't take any man's votes except upon conviction."

"Wouldn't he?" said Nathanael, smiling at the simple-minded politician, who believed that everybody's politics were as honest as his own. At which unpropitious moment a number of half-drunken men, with "Vote for Trenchard!" stuck round their broken hats, came round the corner shouting:

"Hurrah for Free-trade! Duke Dugdale for ever! Bravo!--and give us a shilling! Amen!"

"You see now what comes of your politics," cried his wife, trying to pull him into the hall. But the good man still stood, bareheaded, a perplexed expression troubling his face.

"It's very odd, now: I made Trenchard promise not to give them a penny for drink. Poor fellows! if they only knew better! But I'll tell'ee what it is, Nathanael," and he used the slight Dorset accent, which always broadened when he was very earnest, "those lads drink because they are starving--drink drowns care. If they had Free-trade they wouldn't be starving: if they were not starving they wouldn't drink. Therefore, hurrah for Free-trade, and, my poor fellows, here's your shilling!

Only don't'ee let it go for more drink'; and, hark'ee, remember it's no bribery money o' Mr. Trenchard's, its _mine_.

"Thank'ee, zir, thank'ee; hurrah for Duke Dugdale and Free-trade!"

shouted the men as they staggered off.

Mr. Dugdale stood looking after them with that mild benevolent smile which made his ugly face quite beautiful--at least Agatha thought so;--which was very generous in her, seeing he had not taken the least notice of her all this while; when he did, it was in the most pa.s.sing way.

"Eh--what, Missus? did you say Mrs. Harper was here?" He shook hands with her, looking in another direction;--then again turned to Nathanael.

"Utterly useless!" cried Harrie, laughing. "He's more misty than usual to-day. Let us leave the men alone, stupid bears as they are! and come up-stairs to the children."

All this time no one asked or looked for Miss Valery, who had lingered behind, bidding them go forward. It seemed the habit of the family that she should be left to go about in her own fashion, interfered with by n.o.body, and attended by n.o.body, save when she came among them to do them good. It was not wonderful; since, having pa.s.sed that time of youth when a pleasant woman is everybody's petted darling, she had lived to feel herself alone in the world--wife, sister, and child to no one. It always takes a certain amount of moral courage to meet that destiny.

Aided by the beneficial influence of dinner, which in the Dugdales'

house seemed to have the mysterious property of extending over an indefinite time, Agatha had succeeded in making friends with her "nephews" to say nothing of a lovely little niece, who would persist in putting chubby arms round "Pa's" neck, and dividing his attention sorely between Free-trade and rice-pudding. Mr. Harper had taken another child on his knee, and was cutting oranges and doing "Uncle Nathanael" to perfection. His wife stole beside him with affection. Why would he not be always as now? Why was he so good, so gentle to others, yet so hard to be understood by her? Was it her own fault? She almost believed so.

On this group, all happy, all united together by those lovely links in the chain of happiness--little children--Anne Valery entered. She pa.s.sed round the table, having a word, or smile, or kiss for all. Then she went to an arm-chair, looking tired, though joining all the while in the conversation, particularly with Mr. Dugdale, who seemed to have a great regard for her.

"Ah, Miss Valery, I wish you were a man, and could vote for us!" said he, peering from underneath the baby-hands which made a pointed Norman arch over "Pa's" eyes. "You'd be sure to vote on the right side. Didn't we make a convert of you, Brian and I, years before people talked of Free-trade; long before he went out, and I got married to mamma there?

Eh, Brian, my lad"--and he patted his youngest boy, throned on Mr. Harper's knee--"if you only grow up such a wise man as your grand-uncle!"

Agatha was amused to see how the idea and recollection of Uncle Brian had permeated through every branch of the Harper family. Almost every family has some such personage, mythical, sublime, exciting the wonder and hero-worship of all the young people. Little Brian opened wide his large grey eyes at the mention of his honoured namesake.

But while he gazed, his papa's pudding-laden spoon stopped half-way on its journey to the baby-mouth that was waiting for it--Duke Dugdale was in a reverie. He did not even hear the little clamourer on his knee.

"Really, now, that's very odd, very odd indeed." And he felt anxiously in his pocket. "No, I had another coat on that day--mamma, where's my grey overcoat?"

"Duke--what on earth are you talking about? Now, Agatha, confess--isn't my husband the very vaguest, mistiest man you ever knew? Oh, you dear old visionary, what do you want with grey overcoats at dinner-time?"

He smiled patiently--perhaps he did not even hear--put down his little girl, and walked out of the room, his wife anxiously jumping up and following with some pathetic exclamation about "Duke's being so cross!"

Which seemed to Agatha the most amusing exaggeration possible.

In a minute or two this most opposite couple--opposite, but fitting like a dovetailed joint--came in merrily together, Harrie holding a letter.

"Would you believe, he got it last week, has been carrying it about ever since, and never thought of it! There, Nathanael, it's yours! Devour it!"

"From Uncle Brian!" cried the young man. At which name there ran a great sensation throughout the family, in all but Miss Valery, who still kept her chair.

"News! news!" cried Harrie, Agatha and the boys gathering round. Mr.

Dugdale walked up and down the room--his hands behind him--smiling in benevolent content at everybody and at n.o.body. Brian and his tiny sister consoled themselves for the little attention they got by slily climbing on the table and embedding their fingers in the rice-pudding.

Nathanael read the letter aloud, as seemed to be the family custom with Uncle Brian's correspondence.

"My dear Boy," I find the Western solitudes are no nearer heaven than civilisation. My two red friends having escaped and got back, which they did on purpose to tomahawk me--I gave the tribe the slip, and am here in New York. There I accidentally received your letter.

"You are a foolish boy. When I was young, I think I would rather have died than have married a rich woman, even if she loved me, which no woman ever did. Nevertheless, I hope you will fare better than you deserve.

"Shall you ever come back to America? Not on my account, I pray, though I miss you, and am getting old and lonely. Perhaps it is as well that you left me, and have married and settled. That seems to me now the happier, worthier life for a man to lead. I should like to come and see you, if I could come not quite the beggar I am now. Therefore, I often think I shall go to California."

There was a light movement among the listening group, as Miss Valery was found quietly to have joined them, and to be leaning over Nathanael's shoulder. He pointed his finger to the letter that she might read it with him. She moved her head in thanks, and he continued:

"If in this or any other form of the mad gold-fever I can heap up a little of that cursed--I mean blessed dust, you may possibly see me in England. Till then--or till death--which seems equally likely, I remain,

"Your affectionate Uncle,

"Brian Locke Harper.

"P.S.--I send this through Marmaduke Dugdale's late agent in New York.

Tell my old friend Duke that I congratulate him on having given up merchandising, so that my brother at Kingcombe Holm can no longer reproach him with being the only one of the Harper connection who _earns_ a livelihood."

This letter, which was trying to read, being sharp and stinging on many points to more than one person present, Nathanael went steadily through, though several times his colour changed. No one made any comment except Agatha, who observed "that Uncle Brian must be rather bitter and sarcastic at heart."

"No--not bitter," Anne Valery said,--"only sorrowful. It is often so, when after a hard life men feel themselves growing old. What shall you do, Nathanael?"

"About what? His going to California? Nay, I cannot prevent that. What use in my writing when he gives me such lectures about my marriage?"

"He would not if he knew Agatha. Besides, in this doctrine he is a little wrong. It is of small moment on which side lies the wealth;--love makes all things even."

Mr. Harper turned away with one of those uneasy looks which Agatha had already begun to notice and speculate over. She made up her mind that at the first possible opportunity she would muster up courage, and claim her right as a wife to know her husband's whole heart.

The epistle produced a considerable change on the family group. The boys were clamorous to know all about California, and whether Uncle Brian would not come home in a gold ship with silver sails; on which subject Nathanael was too full of his own thoughts to give much satisfactory information. Mr. Dugdale had walked out of the window into the garden behind, where Miss Valery followed him, and they two were seen strolling up and down in close conversation. As they pa.s.sed the window, Agatha noticed that. Anne Valery's cheeks were slightly flushed, and that Mr.

Dugdale's "mistiness" of manner had a.s.sumed an unusual clearness. He was shaking his companion warmly by the hand.

"Anne, what a wise woman you are! Such a plan would have been years in coming into _my_ head. And it's just the very thing. It will give him occupation and independence without hurting his pride. Moreover"--and a sudden thought dilated his whole countenance with pleasure--"I shouldn't wonder if it brought him home."

"Hush!"

"Oh yes, I'll remember, we must be very particular. By-the-by, Anne"--here a bright idea seemed to strike the worthy man--"what a help he would be to us against the Protectionists! Wouldn't _he_ see the blessing of Free-trade?"

Anne smiled, with her finger on her lip to stop the conversation; and they stepped in at the window;--Mrs. Harper taking care to glide away, lest they should suspect what she had so unintentionally heard. It was doubtless one of Miss Valery's numerous anonymous charities, which fell as abundant and unnoticed as rain.

"Now"--and Anne startled her G.o.dchild Brian by turning up his little rosy chin and kissing him--"now, who will come back with us to that grand family-dinner which the Squire has set his heart upon, and Aunt Mary is so busy-about to-day at Kingcombe Holm?"

All soon started; Agatha being kidnapped, not much against her will, by her gay sister-in-law, and driven across the moors at such a helter-skelter pace that Nathanael, who had insisted upon following them on horseback, received his wife at the door with an evident thanksgiving that she had reached home alive.