d yet sad look.

"Dear, I will give you all I can; be quite sure of that. But"--

"Nay, no buts; I must have this house. Besides, Miss Valery says it is
the only house to let in Kingcombe."

"Except the one I showed you as we passed."

"Oh, that mean little cottage--impossible. We could never think of
living there."

"Nevertheless, let us look at it. You know we are but just beginning the
world, and 'small beginnings make great endings' as Uncle Brian would
sagely observe. Come along, my little wife."

She tried to slip from his hand and appeal to Miss Valery, but Anne
had moved forward, and left them alone. There was no resource; and even
while Agatha's spirit was rather restive under the coercion, she could
not but acknowledge the pleasantness with which it was enforced.

"Well, I'll go with you, but I hereby declare rebellion. I will not have
that miserable nutshell of a house," said she, laughing.

Yet it was a pretty nutshell--quite after the "love in a cottage"
fashion--though adorned and perfected by the late Mr. Wilson, an old
bachelor.

"Did he die here?" asked Agatha.

"No; in Cornwall," Anne answered. "He had gone over to look at some
property I have lately bought there. The people on it, miners thrown
out of work, gave him more anxiety than he could bear, for he was not
strong. He said their misery broke his heart."

Miss Valery spoke softly, but the words caught Nathanael's ear. He
looked greatly shocked--and said, in a low tone, "Anne, don't talk of
this. If I live, the wrong shall be atoned for."

Agatha wondered for the moment what wrong there was which made her
husband look so pained and humbled. But she forbore to ask questions,
and again turned her attention to the house.

"It must have been a charming nest for an old bachelor, and I would have
liked it very much myself had I been an old maid. But it would never do
for _us_, you know."

Nathanael smiled, so loth to contradict her, or thwart her pretty ways.

"Don't you see, Miss Valery;" Agatha continued, gathering apprehensions
from his silence, smiling though it was--"Don't you see how different
the cases are? This little house might do very well for Mr. Wilson,
but then if my husband takes his place as your steward, it is only for
amusement. We are rich people, you know."

"My poor child!" began Anne Valery, looking regretfully, nay,
reproachfully at Mr. Harper. But he whispered as he passed:

"Not yet, Anne--for my father's sa