And he held out his hands to his younger brother in the helplessness of despair.
“The first thing, Frederick, is for you to be silent Anne, take my sisters away; my brother and I have something to say to one another. What? no one will go? Then, brother, come with me.”
The other rose mechanically; Agatha likewise. She began to put circumstances together, and guess darkly at what was amiss. Probably she herself had to do with it. She remembered in what strict honour the old Squire held the duty of a guardian, as he had shown in what he said about his own relation to Anne Valery. Perhaps some carelessness of his son's had caused her own loss of fortune. Yet that was not a thing to break his father's heart, or harden his brother's against him. Mere chance it must have been; ill-luck, or at the worst carelessness. There could not be any real dishonour in Major Harper. And after all what was money, when they could be so much happier without it? She determined to go to her husband and openly say so, telling all that had come to her knowledge of their secrets. They should no longer be angry with one another—if it were on her account.
So she followed after them, with her soft, noiseless step; and when the two brothers stood together in their father's deserted study, there she was between them.
“Agatha!” They both uttered her name—the elder in much confusion. He had seemed all along as though he could scarcely bear the sight of her innocent face.
“Don't send me away,” she said, laying a hand on either. “I know I am a young ignorant thing, and you are wise men; but perhaps a straightforward girl may be as wise as you. Why are you angry with one another?”
Both looked uncomfortable. Major Harper tried to throw the question off.
“Are we angry with one another? Nay, I am sure”—
“Don't deceive me—this is no time for making pretences of any kind. What is this quarrel between you two?” And she turned from one to the other her fearless eyes.
Major Harper could not meet them; Nathanael did, calmly, but sorrowfully.