with you here in half-an-hour. I am
Nathanael Harper--Mr. Harper's youngest son."

After a minute's keen observation, the miner pulled off his cap
respectfully. "Thank'ee, sir! You bean't _he_, I see. But you be th' old
Squire's son, and--I be Darset, I be!"

Another bow--the involuntary respect to the ancient county family from
honest labour born upon its ancestral sod, and the man leaned exhausted
against the ragged stem of one of the old vines.

"Missus," he said, looking up hungrily--at the lady this time--
"Missus, do'ee gie 'un a bit o' bread!"

Agatha, full of compassion, was eager to send the servants or take him
into the kitchen, or even fetch him his dinner with her own hands. Mr.
Harper interfered.

"I will bring him some food myself. Stay here, my man; don't stir hence.
Remember, you have nothing to do with my father."

There was a warning severity in the tone which annoyed Agatha. Why did
her husband speak harshly to the poor miner?

Still she obeyed Mr. Harper's evident wish that she should go away; and
spent the time in Elizabeth's room, telling her of this little incident.

Miss Harper listened with all the quick intelligence of her bright eyes.
The only remark she made was:

"What could have led this miner to come back to Dorsetshire after our
family?"

Agatha had never thought of this, indeed she did not want to think. Her
heart was brimming with charity. She longed to empty it out in a torrent
of benefactions, to which even Anne Valery's constant stream of good
deeds appeared measured and slow. Elizabeth watched her with a strange
piercing expression--Elizabeth, who from her silent nest seemed to
behold all things clearer, like a spirit sitting halfway in upper air,
to whose passionless wide vision distant mazes take form and proportion.
Often, there was something almost supernatural in Elizabeth and her
attentive eyes.

"My dear," she said at last, when Agatha paused for a response to her
own enthusiasm, "Man proposes--God disposes! Go and talk over these
things with your husband first." Agatha went.

She met Nathanael on the staircase, going up to their own room.

"Ah; is it you? I am so glad. Come and tell me what has been done about
the poor miner."

"He is gone. I have sent him back to Cornwall."

"What, so soon? Not to starve at that Wheal--Wheal something or other--I
always forget the name?"

"Do forget it. Don't let the matter trouble my little wife. Let her run
down-stair