ptly--"you have no bitter feeling
against my brother Frederick."

"How could I? He never did me wrong. Except, perhaps, it was his
carelessness that made me poor." Here Agatha hesitated, for she was
touching upon a dangerous subject--one so fraught with present emotion
and with references to past suffering, that hitherto both husband
and wife had by tacit consent abstained from it. There had been no
confidential talk of any kind between them.

"Go on," her husband said; "we must speak of these things some time; why
not now?"

"Though he made me poor," she continued, "it was probably through
accident. And I have no fear of poverty"--how simply and ignorantly she
pronounced that terrible word!--"I do not mind it in the least, if you
do not."

"Was there any need for that _if_, Agatha?"

"No," she replied, and was silent. Shame and remorse gathered over her
like a cloud. She thought of those wicked words she had spoken--words
which to this day he had neither answered nor revenged. He had even
suffered the smooth surface of daily kindnesses to grow over that gaping
wound of division. Was it there still? Did he remember it? Could she
dare to allude to it, if only to implore him to forgive her? She would
in a little time--perhaps when they were by themselves in their
own house, when she would throw herself at his knees and weep out a
confession that was beyond all words--words could but insult him the
more. There are some wounds that can only be healed by love and silence.

"I think it is time," said the husband--"full time that you heard all,
or nearly all, connected with this painful matter. It is mere business,
which I will try to make intelligible if possible. You ought not to
be quite so ignorant of worldly matters as you are, since, if anything
happened to me--But I have provided against almost everything."

"What are you talking of?" said Agatha, holding him tight, with a faint
intuition of his meaning.

"Of nothing painful. Do not be afraid. Only that I think it right to
explain to you what has occurred to us since our marriage--in worldly
things I mean."

"Yes. I am listening."

"Before we married," he continued, distinctly, and rather proudly, "I
knew nothing whatever of your fortune--not even its amount. I made no
inquiries, interfered in no way, except reading the settlement I signed.
The settlement stated that your property was safe in the Funds. This
was a"--his brow darkened--"it was--_not true_. T