However, that night a chance word of Mrs. Ianson's did more for the suit of the unloved, or only half-loved lover, than he himself ever dreamed of.

"Well," said that lady, with sly, matronly smile, as, showing more attention than usual, she lighted Agatha's candle for bed--"Well, my dear Miss Bowen, is the wedding to be at my house?"

"What wedding?"

"Oh, you know; you know! I have guessed it a long while, but to-night--surely, I may congratulate you? Never was there a more charming man than Major Harper."

Agatha looked furious. "Has he then"--"told you the lie he told to Emma"--she was about to say, but luckily checked herself. "Has he then been so premature as to give you this information?"

"No! oh, of course not. But the thing is as plain as light."

"You are mistaken, Mrs. Ianson. He is one of my very kindest friends; but I have never had the slightest intention of marrying Major Harper."

With that she took her candle, and walked slowly to her own room. There, with her door locked, though that was needless, since there was no welcome or unwelcome friendship likely to intrude on her utter solitude,--she gave way to a woman's wounded pride. Added to this, was the terror that seizes a helpless young creature, who, all supports taken away, is at last set face to face with the cruel world, without even the steadfastness given by a strong sorrow. If she had really loved Frederick Harper, perhaps her condition would have been more endurable than now.

At length, above the storm of pa.s.sion there seemed floating an audible voice, just as if the mind of him who she knew was always thinking of her, then spoke to her mind, with the wondrous communication that has often happened in dreams, or waking, between two who deeply loved. A communication which appears both possible and credible to those who have felt any strong human attachment, especially that one which for the sake of its object seems able to cross the bounds of distance, time, life, or eternity.

It was a thing that neither then or afterwards could she ever account for, and years elapsed before she mentioned the circ.u.mstance to any one. But while she lay weeping across her bed, Agatha seemed to hear distinctly, just as if it had been a voice gliding past the window, half-mixing with the wind that was then rising, the words:

"_I love you! No man will ever love you like me._"

That night, before she slept, her determination was taken.

CHAPTER V.

Next morning Miss Bowen astonished every one, and excited once more Mrs.

Ianson's incredulous smile, by openly desiring the servant who waited to take a message for her to Major Harper's. It was to the effect that she wished immediately to see that gentleman, could he make it convenient to visit her.

The message was given by her very distinctly, and with most creditable calmness, considering that the destinies of her whole life hung on the sentence.

Major Harper appeared, and was shown into Miss Bowen's drawing-room. She was not there, and the Major waited rather uneasily for several minutes, unaware that half of that time she had been standing without, her hand on the lock of the door. But her tremulousness was that of natural emotion, not of fluctuating purpose. No physiognomist studying Agatha's mouth and chin would doubt the fact, that though rather slow to will--when she had once willed, scarcely anything had power to shake her resolution.

She went in at last, and bade Major Harper good morning. "I have sent for you," she said, "to talk over a little business."

"Business!"--And the hesitation and discomfort which seemed to arise in him at the mere mention of the word again were visible in Major Harper.

"Not trust business--something quite different," said Agatha, scarcely able to help smiling at the alarm of her guardian.

"Then anything you like, my dear Miss Bowen! I have nothing in the world to do to-day. That stupid brother of mine is worse company than none at all. He said he had letters to write to Kingcombe, and vanished up-stairs! The rude fellow! But he is an excellent fellow too."

"So you have always said. He appears to love his home, and be much beloved there. Is it so?"

"Most certainly. Already they know him better than they do me, and care for him more; though he has been away for fifteen years. But then he has kept up a constant correspondence with them; while I, tossing about in the world--ah! I have had a hard life, Miss Bowen!"

He looked so sad, that Agatha felt sorry for him. But his melancholy moods had less power to touch her than of old. His gaiety so quickly and invariably returned, that her belief in the reality of his grief was somewhat shaken.

She paused a little, and then recurred again, indifferently as it were, to Nathanael--the one person in his family of whom Major Harper always spoke gladly and warmly.

"You seem to have a great love for your younger brother. Is he then so n.o.ble a character?"

"What do you call a n.o.ble character, my dear young lady?"

The half-jesting, half-patronising manner irritated Agatha; but she answered boldly:

"A man honest in his principles, faithful to his word; just, generous, and honourable."

"What a category of qualities! How interested young ladies are in a pale, thin boy! Well then"--seeing that Agatha looked serious--"well then, I declare to Heaven that, even according to your high-flown definitions, he is as n.o.ble a lad as ever breathed. I can find no fault in him, except that, as I said, he is such a mere boy. Are you satisfied? Did you want to try if I were indeed a heartless, unbrotherly, good-for-nothing fellow, as you appear to think me sometimes?"

"No," said Agatha briefly, noticing with something like scorn the Major's instinctive a.s.sumption that her questions must have some near or remote reference to himself, while he never once guessed their real motive. That answered, she changed the conversation.

After half-an-hour's chat, Major Harper delicately alluded to the supposed business on which she had wished to see him, though in a tone that showed him to be rather doubtful whether it existed at all.

Agatha coloured, and her heart quailed a little, as any girl's would, in having to speak so openly of things which usually reach young maidens softly murmured amidst the confessions of first love, or revealed by tender parents with blessings and tears. Life's earliest and best romance came to her with all its bloom worn away--all its sacredness and mystery set aside. For a moment she felt this hard.

"I wished to inform you of something nearly concerning me, which, as the guardian appointed by my father, it is right you should know. I have had"--here she tried to make her lips say the words without faltering--"I have had an offer of marriage."

"G.o.d bless my soul!" stammered out Major Harper, completely thrown off his guard by surprise. A very awkward pause ensued, until, his natural good feeling conquering any other, he said, not without emotion, "The fact of your consulting me shows that this offer is--is not without interest to you. May I ask--is it likely--that I shall have to congratulate you?"

"Yes."

He rose up slowly, and walked to the window. Whether his sensations were merely those of wounded vanity, or whether he had liked her better than he himself acknowledged, certain it was that Major Frederick Harper was a good deal moved--so much so, that he succeeded in concealing it. He came back, very kind, subdued, and tender, sat down by her side and took her hand.

"You will not wonder that I am somewhat surprised--nay, affected--by these sudden tidings, viewing you as I have always done in the light of a--younger sister--or--or a daughter. Your happiness must naturally be very dear to me."

"Thank you," murmured Agatha; and the tears came into her eyes. She felt that she had been somewhat harsh to him; but she felt, too, with great thankfulness, that, despite this softening compunction, her heart was free and firm. She had great liking, but not a particle of love, for Major Harper.

"I trust the--the gentleman you allude to is of a character likely to make you happy?"

"Yes," returned Agatha, for she could only speak in monosyllables.

"Is he--as your friend and guardian I may ask that question--is he of good standing in the world, and in a position to maintain you comfortably?"

"I do not know--I have never thought about that," she cried, restlessly.

"All I know is that he--loves me--that I honour him--that he would take me"--"out of this misery," she was about to say, but stopped, feeling that both the thought and the expression were unworthy Nathanael's future wife, and unfit to be heard by Nathanael's brother.

"That he would take me," repeated she firmly, "into a contented and happy home, where I should be made a better woman than I am, and live a life more worthy of myself and of him."

"You must then esteem him very highly?"

"I do--more than any man I ever knew."

The Major winced slightly, but quickly recovered himself. "That is, I believe, the feeling with which every woman ought to marry. He who wins and deserves such an attachment is"--and he sighed--"is a happy man!--Happier, perhaps, than those who have remained single."

Again there ensued a pause, until Major Harper broke it by saying:

"There is one more question--the last of all--which, after the confidence you have shown me, I may venture to ask: do I know this gentleman?"