At last, feeling rather humiliated at being thus obliged to flutter up and down the stairs of her own abode, and crave admittance into her own drawing-room, Mrs. Harper ventured to knock softly, and enter.
Frederick Harper was sitting on the sofa, his head crushed down upon his hands. Nathanael stood at a little distance, by the fireplace. The attitude of the elder brother indicated deep humiliation, that of the younger was freezing in its sternness. Agatha had never seen such an expression on Nathanael face before.
“What did you want?” he said abruptly, thinking it was the servant who entered.
She could not imagine what made him start so, nor what made the two brothers look at her so guiltily. The fact left a very uncomfortable impression on her mind.
“I only came”—she began.
“No matter, dear.” Her husband walked up to her, speaking in a low voice, studiously made kind, she thought “Go away now—we are engaged, you see.”
“But dinner,” she added. “Will not your brother stay and dine with us?”
Major Harper turned with an imploring look to his brother's wife.
“No,” said Mr. Harper emphatically; held the door open for Agatha to retire, and closed it after her. Never in all her life had she been treated so unceremoniously.
The newly-married wife returned to her room, her cheeks burning with no trifling displeasure. She began to feel the tightening pressure of that chain with which her life was now eternally bound.