particularly remarkable, for on glancing around
he recognized by its position, that her nurse's house must be in that
neighborhood. But that very morning he had seen the governess passing
toward Mrs. Harrington's room, and her appearance in both these places
so nearly at the same time, aroused his curiosity, not to say suspicion.

The object that struck him most forcibly was the female with whom she
seemed to be conversing. The stately person, the picturesque costume,
composed entirely of rich warm colors, the eager expression of features
that must once have been eminently handsome--above all, the air of
almost ferocious authority, with which she was speaking, struck him as
strangely out of place in that solitary spot. Beyond this, he felt a
vague impression, impalpable and formless, of some connection between
that woman and former events of his own life. It might have been her
dress so foreign to the place, or her humble mode of life. The Madras
kerchief, folded in a turban over the black hair falling down each side
of her face in the heaviest waves of rippling jet, and the massive
earrings that gleamed beneath, were in themselves calculated to awake
remembrances of an early youth spent in the South, where this
picturesque costume was common among the slaves; but the woman's face
fascinated his gaze more than her general appearance. Some recollection
too vague for embodiment, arose on his brain so powerfully, that he was
unconscious of the time thus spent in gazing upon her.

At last the woman gave a quick glance toward him, and darting forward,
snatched at the book in her companion's hand, talking rapidly.

There was some resistance--an attempt to ward her off--but the book was
at last yielded to her impetuosity. He saw it, gathered up under the
woman's arm, concealed by the folds of an orange-colored scarf, overrun
with a pattern of many gorgeous colors, which she wore, and carried into
the house.

Then the person whose back had been toward him, turned and looked that
way. It was Agnes Barker. She saw him, evidently without much surprise,
and turning, rather leisurely walked that way, as if it had been the
most natural thing in the world to meet him there.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," she said, coming close to his horse, picking the
burs from her dress as she moved along, "can it be possible that you
have only reached this point now? I left home half an hour after you
rode away--on foot, too, and am here before you."