es flashing so true and warm and
bright, and then disappearing into clouds and mist. The husband could
not catch it--not though his eyes were thirsting for the blessed ray.

"These few days will seem a long time, Agatha."

"Will they?"

Nathanael took the smiling face between his hands, and looked down, far
down, into the brown depths of her eyes.

"Do you"--He hesitated. "I never asked the question before, knowing it
vain; but now, when I am going away--when"--

He paused, the deep passion quivering through his voice.--"Do you love
me, Agatha?"

She smiled--some insane, wicked influence must have been upon her--but
she smiled, hung her head in childish fashion, and whispered, "I don't
quite know."

"Well--well!" He sighed, and after a brief silence bade her good-bye,
kissed her once, and went towards the door.

"Ah--don't go yet. I was very foolish. I never, never can be half so
wise as you. Forgive me."

"Forgive you, my child? Ay, anything." And he received her as she ran
into his arms, kissing her again tenderly, with a sad earnestness that
almost increased his love.

"Now I must go, my darling wife. Take care of yourself, and good-bye."

So they parted. Agatha went in dry-eyed; then locked herself in the
library, and cried violently and long.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

"They are sure to be home to-morrow; nothing can prevent their being
home to-morrow," said Agatha, as she read over neither for the first
time, nor the second, nor the third, her husband's letter, received from
Havre.

It was night now, and they were sitting by the fire in Miss Valery's
dressing-room. It had been one of Anne's best days; a wonderfully good
day; she had walked about the house, and given several orders to her
delighted servants, who, old as they were, would have obeyed the most
onerous commands for the pleasure of seeing their mistress strong enough
to give them. Some, however, wondered why she should be so particular
about the order of a house that never was in disorder, and especially
why various furniture arrangements which had gradually in the course of
time been altered, should be pertinaciously restored, so that all things
might look just as they did years and years ago. Also, though it was
a few days in advance of the orthodox day, she would have the house
adorned with "Christmas," until it looked a perfect bower.

"It do seem, Mrs. Harper," said the old housekeeper, confidentially--"it
do seem just as on the la