m quite well. Will you do me the honour to
cease your anxiety about me, and lead in my daughter to her seat?"

Grimes passed on--quenched. There was something in "the grand old
name of gentleman" that threw around its owner an atmosphere in which
plebeian intruders could not breathe.

"A person, Agatha," whispered the Squire, as his eyes, bright with
something of their old glow, followed the evidently objectionable
guest--"A person to whom I show civility for the sake of--of my
family."

Agatha assented, though not quite certain to what. Scanning Mr.
Grimes more narrowly, she faintly remembered him, and the unpleasant,
nasal-toned voice which had gabbled through her marriage settlement. She
wondered what he had come to Nathanael for?--why Nathanael's father paid
him such attention?

On her part, the sensation of dislike, unaccountable yet instinctive
dislike, was so strong, that it would have been a real satisfaction to
her mind if the footmen, instead of respectfully handing Mr. Grimes his
soup, had handed himself out at the dining-room window.

The dinner passed in grave formality. Even Mr. Grimes seemed out of
his element, being evidently, as Eulalie had said, "not _quite_ a
gentleman," either by birth or breeding, and lacking that something
which makes the grandest gentlemen of all--Nature's. He tried now and
then to open a conversation with the Miss Harpers, but Eulalie sneered
at him aside, and Mary was politely dignified. Agatha took very little
notice of him--her attention was absorbed by her father-in-law.

Mr. Harper looked old--very old. His hands, blanched to a yellowish
whiteness, moved about loosely and uncertainly. Once the large diamond
mourning ring which the widower always wore, "In memory of Catherine
Harper," dropped off on the table-cloth. He did not perceive the loss
until Agatha restored it, and then his fingers seemed unable to slip it
on again, until his daughter-in-law aided him. In so doing, the clammy,
nerveless feel of the old man's hand made her start.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harper," he said, acknowledging her assistance with
his most solemn bend. "And Catherine--Agatha, I mean, if you would be so
kind--that is"--

"Yes? observed Agatha, inquiringly, as he made a long pause.

"To--remind me after dinner, my dear. I have duties now--important
duties.--My friends!" Here he raised himself in his chair, looked round
the dessert-laden table with one of his old smiles, half condescending,
h