answered—"The name of the song is Love."
CHAPTER V. LOVE'S SWEET DREAM.
It is not truth, but falsehood which requires explanation, and Maria was sensible of this fact as she sat at her tambour frame thinking of Agnes and of Harry and of her uncle Neil. There was something not straightforward in the life of Agnes, and she resolved every day to make inquiry into it, and every day she made, instead, some deferring excuse. But one morning, while eating breakfast, they were all sensitive to unusual movements in the city, and the air was tense with human emotion. The Elder and Neil became restless and anticipative, and Maria could not escape the feverish mental contagion. When the men had left the house she hurried through her few duties, and then went to her friend. Agnes was standing at the garden gate, watching and listening.
"There is news of some kind, Maria," she said; "I am anxious to know what it is."
"Grandmother says we need not run after news, it will find us out, and I dare say it is only more Connecticut ravaging."
Then Agnes turned into the house with Maria, for she perceived something unusual in her voice and manner—dissatisfaction, and perhaps a tone of injury. There was no pretence of study about her, she had not even brought her books, and Agnes became silent, and lifted her sewing. At length Maria spoke:
"What is the matter with you, Agnes?" she asked, and then added: "you are not like yourself this morning."
"Whatever the matter is, Maria, I caught it from you."
"You are cross."
"I was only curious and anxious when you came. You brought dissatisfaction and annoyance with you. I think you had better tell me at once what has displeased you."
"Oh, you must know what displeases me, Agnes. Do you think I can bear to see you playing with two lovers at once? I am very fond of my uncle Neil, and he adores you. And when Harry is away, uncle Neil is everything; but as soon as Harry comes, then Harry is everything. It is not fair to uncle, and I do not approve of such ways. If I were to act in that kind of fashion between Lord Medway and Quentin Macpherson, who would be so shocked as Agnes Bradley? I am so disappointed in you, Agnes. I have not been able to come and see you for days; this morning I felt that I must speak to you about things."
"Maria, I once asked you to defer judgment on whatever you saw or heard or suspected, and to take my word for it being all right. It seems that I asked too much."
"But how can it be all right, if you allow two men to make love to you?—and you seem to like it from both of them."
"I do like it—from both of them. The two loves are different."
"Agnes! Agnes! I am shocked at you!" and Maria hid her face on the sofa cushion and began to cry.
Then Agnes knelt at her side, and lifted her face and kissed it, and 

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