ill 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?"

But Agatha's look was fixed on the door, to which her sisters-in-law had
gathered hastily. There was a talking outside--a welcome as it seemed.
She forgot everything except her sense of right and justice to one
unwarrantably and unaccountably blamed.

"It is surely he," she cried, and ran eagerly forward.

"Nathanael!"

"Frederick!"

The two brothers, elder and younger, stood confronting each other.

CHAPTER XXV.

"Elizabeth sent for me--Elizabeth only showed me that kindness. Oh, it
was very cruel of you all--you should have told me my father was dying."

It must have been a hard heart that could have closed itself altogether
against Frederick Harper now.

He leant against the doorway, the miserable ghost of his gay self. Born
only for summer weather, on him any real blast of remorse or misfortune
fell suddenly, entirely, overthrowing the whole man.

"Elizabeth says it happened yesterday; and must have been
because--because Grimes--Oh, God forgive me! it is I that have killed my
father!"

Every one shrank back. None of his sisters understood what he meant; but
the mere expression seemed to draw a line of demarcation between them
and the self-convicted man. Agatha only approached him--she felt so very
sorry for her old friend.

"You must not talk in this way, Major Harper. If you did vex him in any
way, it is very sad; but he will forgive you now. You cannot have done
any real harm to your father."

Her kind voice, her perfectly guileless manner, struck each of the
brothers with various emotion. The eyes of both met on her face:
Frederick dropped his, and groaned; Nathanael's brightened. For the
first time he addressed his brother:

"Frederick, she is right; you must not talk thus. Compose yourself."

It was in vain; his easy temperament was plunged into depths of childish
w