ress her or attract her attention
during all that strange, long evening, which comprised in itself so many
slight circumstances, so many conflicting states of feeling. Almost the
only word this very eccentric lover said to her was in a whisper, just
as his hand touched hers in bidding good-bye.

"As I am leaving England so soon, may I come here again to-morrow?"

"No, not to-morrow;" and then, her kind heart repenting of the evident
pain she gave, she added, "Well, the day after to-morrow, if you like.
But"----

Whatever that forbidding "but" was meant to hint, Nathanael did not stay
to hear. He was gone in a moment.

However, that night a chance word of Mrs. Ianson's did more for the suit
of the unloved, or only half-loved lover, than he himself ever dreamed
of.

"Well," said that lady, with sly, matronly smile, as, showing more
attention than usual, she lighted Agatha's candle for bed--"Well, my
dear Miss Bowen, is the wedding to be at my house?"

"What wedding?"

"Oh, you know; you know! I have guessed it a long while, but
to-night--surely, I may congratulate you? Never was there a more
charming man than Major Harper."

Agatha looked furious. "Has he then"--"told you the lie he told to
Emma"--she was about to say, but luckily checked herself. "Has he then
been so premature as to give you this information?"

"No! oh, of course not. But the thing is as plain as light."

"You are mistaken, Mrs. Ianson. He is one of my very kindest friends;
but I have never had the slightest intention of marrying Major Harper."

With that she took her candle, and walked slowly to her own room. There,
with her door locked, though that was needless, since there was
no welcome or unwelcome friendship likely to intrude on her utter
solitude,--she gave way to a woman's wounded pride. Added to this, was
the terror that seizes a helpless young creature, who, all supports
taken away, is at last set face to face with the cruel world, without
even the steadfastness given by a strong sorrow. If she had really loved
Frederick Harper, perhaps her condition would have been more endurable
than now.

At length, above the storm of passion there seemed floating an audible
voice, just as if the mind of him who she knew was always thinking of
her, then spoke to her mind, with the wondrous communication that has
often happened in dreams, or waking, between two who deeply loved. A
communication which appears both possible and credible to those