"A stranger came to him. Your brother's lawyer, Mr. Grimes."

"Grimes? Oh, my poor father!"

He sat down abruptly. Agatha wondered at his mingling the two names.

What should Grimes have to do with his father?

"Did any one else see Grimes?"

"I did."

"What did he say to you? Was it"--he dropped his head, and spoke half inaudibly--"Was it anything about my brother?"

Agatha marvelled, even with a sort of pain. Father, brother, every one before her! "He never named Major Harper, that I can remember. But he said"--

"What?"

Agatha drew back. How could she speak of such petty things as money and fortune then! She answered softly, and with a full heart:

"Never mind. It was a mere trifle, not worth telling, or even thinking of now. Another time."

Nathanael regarded his wife doubtfully, but she bore the look. She was speaking the simple truth. Loss of fortune did seem "a mere trifle" now, when he was safe back again, and she sat in his presence, he talking to her as gently as in the olden time. Her simplicity in worldly things was so extreme that even Nathanael pa.s.sed it over as impossible. He only said:

"Well, all must come out ere long. We cannot think of it now. Tell me more about my poor father."

"There is little more to tell. His manner was rather strange, I thought, all dinner-time. He drank healths as usual--especially yours. His mind was wandering then, for he called you his _only_ son. Then Mr. Grimes gave another toast--Major Harper. At that moment your father fell from his chair."

Nathanael started up--"I knew it would be so. He could not bear such shame--my poor old father!"

"Nathanael," cried Harrie, from the fireside group, "come and give us your opinion. I say that he ought to be sent for at once."

"Who?"

"Frederick"

Nathanael cried out violently, as if self-control were no longer possible.

"Never! Here have I used every effort, smothered every feeling, made every sacrifice, to save my poor father from knowing all this--and in vain! You may talk as you like, but I say Frederick shall never enter these doors. He is as good as his father's murderer."

"Hush!" cried Anne Valery, going to him while the others stood aghast.

She only knew what fearful storms can be roused in these quiet natures.

"I will not hush. I have been silent too long over his wrong-doing."

"But some"--breathed Anne scarce audibly--"some whom he wronged have been silent for a lifetime."

Nathanael paused; Anne's reasoning was from facts unknown to him; but he saw the agony in her face. She continued in a whisper:

"Be slow to judge him, if only for his sisters' sakes--his dead mother's--the honour of the family."

"I have thought only too much of all these things."

"Then, for his father's sake--his father, who is going away to the other world leaving a son unforgiven. Beware how you not only take your brother's birthright, but seal your brother's curse."

"G.o.d forbid. Oh, Anne--Anne!"

He pressed his hand over his eyes, and leaned back a moment--leaning, though he did not know it, against his wife, who had stolen behind his chair. No one else came near; they all shrank from their brother as if he were suddenly gone mad. Looking up, he saw only Miss Valery.

"Forgive me, Anne; I cannot control myself as I used to do: I have been very ill lately, but don't tell my wife."

Anne took no notice; perhaps she wished the wife should learn the husband's real heart as she--his old friend--knew it.

"Don't think I would harm Frederick. Not for worlds. Do you know," and his voice lowered, "I dare not trust myself even to be just over his misdeeds, lest I should be slaying my enemy."

"Your enemy? It is too hard a word."

"No! it is true." He glanced round, perceiving no one near but Miss Valery. "Anne," he whispered, "do you remember the parable of Nathan?

Why did he do it--the cruel rich man who had enjoyed so much all his life? Why did he steal my one little ewe-lamb?"

"Stay!" cried Anne, with a sudden suspicion waking in her. "I don't clearly understand. Tell me again."

"No, no," he said recovering himself. "I have nothing to tell--But we are wasting time. Anne, it shall be as you say." And he drew a long hard breath. "Which of us had best write to my brother?"

Rising, he found out who had been behind him. He looked horrified.

"Agatha!--did you overhear me?"

The suspicion wounded her to the core. Her pride and sense of justice were alike roused.

"Have no fear, Mr. Harper," said she; "I shall not betray your secrets.

I do not even comprehend them; except that I think it very wicked for brothers to be such enemies."

He made no answer.

"And," continued Agatha, growing bolder, as she was p.r.o.ne to do on the side of the mysteriously wronged, "I would have sent for Major Harper myself, had not your father seemed unwilling. But the eldest son ought to be here."

"He shall be--your husband will write," interposed Miss Valery.

The husband moved away. He had thoroughly frozen up again into the Nathanael of old, whose coldness jarred against every ardent impulse of Agatha's temperament--rousing, irritating her into opposition.

"There is no need for him to trouble himself. What was right to be done has luckily not waited for _his_ doing it. Elizabeth herself informed her brother."

"When?"

"This afternoon. I sent the letter myself to Mr. Trenchard's, where I found out he had been staying."

As Mrs. Harper said this, her husband's eyes literally glared.

"You knew where he was staying?--Agatha--Agatha?"