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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of How It All Came Round, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: How It All Came Round
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: November 28, 2007 [EBook #23653]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW IT ALL CAME ROUND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire, D Alexander and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HOW IT ALL CAME ROUND
+
+BY
+
+MRS. L. T. MEADE
+
+AUTHOR OF "GIRLS OF THE TRUE BLUE," "WILD KITTY,"
+"A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE," ETC., ETC.
+
+NEW YORK
+HURST & COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+[Illustration: MRS. L. T. MEADE.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE RICH CHARLOTTE.
+
+
+The room had three occupants, two were men, the third a woman. The men
+were middle-aged and gray-haired, the woman on the contrary was in the
+prime of youth; she was finely made, and well proportioned. Her face was
+perhaps rather too pale, but the eyes and brow were noble, and the
+sensitive mouth showed indications of heart as well as intellect.
+
+The girl, or rather young woman, for she was past five and twenty, sat
+by the fire, a book on her knee. The two men had drawn chairs close to a
+table. The elder of these men bore such an unmistakable likeness to the
+girl, that even the most casual observer must have guessed the
+relationship which existed between them. He was a handsome man,
+handsomer even than his daughter, but the same individualities marked
+both faces. While, however, in the woman all was a profound serenity and
+calm, the man had some anxious lines round the mouth, and some
+expression, now coming, now going, in the fine gray eyes, which
+betokened a long-felt anxiety.
+
+The other and younger man was shrewd-looking and commonplace; but a very
+close observer of human nature might have said, "He may be commonplace,
+but do not feel too certain; he simply possesses one of those faces
+which express nothing, from which not the cleverest detective in
+Scotland Yard could extract any secret."
+
+He was a man with plenty to say, and much humor, and at the moment this
+story opens he was laughing merrily and in a heart-whole way, and his
+older and graver companion listened with evident enjoyment.
+
+The room in which the three sat bore evidence of wealth. It was a
+library, and handsome books lay on the tables, and rare old folios could
+have been found by those who cared to look within the carefully locked
+bookcases. Some manuscripts were scattered about, and by the girl's
+side, on a small table, lay several carefully revised proofs, and even
+now she was bending earnestly over a book of reference.
+
+"Well, Jasper," said the elder man, when the younger paused for an
+instant in his eager flow of words, "we have talked long enough about
+that fine land you have just come from, for even Australian adventures
+can keep--I am interested in something nearer home. What do you say to
+Charlotte there? She was but a baby when you saw her last."
+
+"She was five years old," replied Jasper. "A saucy little imp, bless
+you! just the kind that would be sure to grow into a fine woman. But to
+tell the truth I don't much care to look at her, for she makes me feel
+uncommonly old and shaky."
+
+"You gave me twenty years to grow into a woman, uncle," answered the
+pleasant voice of Charlotte Harman. "I could not choose but make good
+use of the time."
+
+"So you have, lass--so you have; I have been growing old and you have
+been growing beautiful; such is life; but never mind, your turn will
+come."
+
+"But not for a long, long time, Lottie my pet," interrupted the father.
+"You need not mind your uncle Jasper. These little speeches were always
+his way. And I'll tell you something else, Jasper; that girl of mine has
+a head worth owning on her shoulders, a head she knows how to use. You
+will not believe me when I say that she writes in this magazine and
+this, and she is getting a book ready for the press; ay, and there's
+another thing. Shall I tell it, Charlotte?"
+
+"Yes, father; it is no secret," replied Charlotte.
+
+"It is this, brother Jasper; you have come home in time for a wedding.
+My girl is going to leave me. I shall miss her, for she is womanly in
+the best sense of the word, and she is my only one; but there is a
+comfort--the man she is to marry is worthy of her."
+
+"And there is another comfort, father," said Charlotte; "that though I
+hope to be married, yet I never mean to leave you. You know that well, I
+have often told you so," and here this grave young girl came over and
+kissed her father's forehead.
+
+He smiled back at her, all the care leaving his eyes as he did so. Uncle
+Jasper had sprung impatiently to his feet.
+
+"As to the lass being married," he said, "that's nothing; all women
+marry, or if they don't they ought to. But what was that you said, John,
+about writing, writing in a printed book? You were joking surely, man?"
+
+"No, I was not," answered the father. "Go and show your uncle Jasper
+that last article of yours, Charlotte."
+
+"Oh, heaven preserve us! no," said uncle Jasper, backing a pace or two.
+"I'm willing with all my heart to believe it, if you swear it, but not
+the article. Don't for heaven's sake, confront me with the article."
+
+"There's nothing uncommon in my writing for magazines, Uncle Jasper; a
+great many girls do write now. I have three friends myself who----"
+
+Uncle Jasper's red face had grown positively pathetic in its agitation.
+"What a place England must have become!" he interrupted with a groan.
+"Well, lass, I'll believe you, but I have one request to make. Tell me
+what you like about your wedding; go into all the raptures you care for
+over your wedding dress, and even over the lucky individual for whom you
+will wear it; tell me twenty times a day that he's perfection, that you
+and you alone have found the eighth wonder of the world, but for the
+love of heaven leave out about the books! The other will be hard to
+bear, but I'll endeavor to swallow it--but the books, oh! heaven
+preserve us--leave out about the printed books. Don't mention the
+unlucky magazines for which you write. Don't breathe to me the thoughts
+with which you fill them. Oh, if there's an awful creature under the sun
+'tis a blue-stocking, and to think I should have come back from England
+to find such a horror in the person of my own niece!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE POOR CHARLOTTE.
+
+
+While this light and playful scene was being enacted in a wealthy house
+in Prince's Gate, and Charlotte Harman and her father laughed merrily
+over the Australian uncle's horror of authors and their works, another
+Charlotte was going through a very different part, in a different place
+in the great world's centre.
+
+There could scarcely be a greater contrast than between the small and
+very shabby house in Kentish Town and the luxurious mansion in
+Kensington. The parlor of this house, for the drawing-rooms were let to
+lodgers, was occupied by one woman. She sat by a little shabbily covered
+table, writing. The whole appearance of the room was shabby: the
+furniture, the carpet, the dingy window panes, the tiny pretence of a
+fire in the grate. It was not exactly a dirty room, but it lacked all
+brightness and freshness. The chimney did not draw well, and now and
+then a great gust of smoke would come down, causing the busy writer to
+start and rub her smarting eyes. She was a young woman, as young as
+Charlotte Harman, with a slight figure and very pale face. There were
+possibilities of beauty in the face. But the possibilities had come to
+nothing; the features were too pinched, too underfed, the eyes, in
+themselves dark and heavily fringed, too often dimmed by tears. It was a
+very cold day, and sleet was beginning to fall, and the smoking chimney
+had a vindictive way of smoking more than ever, but the young woman
+wrote on rapidly, as though for bare life. Each page as she finished it,
+was flung on one side; some few fell on the floor, but she did not stop
+even to pick them up.
+
+The short winter daylight had quite faded, and she had stood up to light
+the gas, when the room door was pushed slightly ajar, and one of those
+little maids-of-all-work, so commonly seen in London, put in her untidy
+head.
+
+"Ef you please, 'em, Harold's been and hurt Daisy, and they is
+quarreling h'ever so, and I think as baby's a deal worse, 'em."
+
+"I will go up to them, Anne, and you may stay down and lay the cloth for
+tea--I expect your master in early to-night."
+
+She put her writing materials hastily away, and with a light, quick step
+ran upstairs. She entered a room which in its size and general
+shabbiness might better have been called an attic, and found herself in
+the presence of three small children. The two elder ran to meet her with
+outstretched arms and glad cries. The baby sat up in his cot and gazed
+hard at his mother with flushed cheeks and round eyes.
+
+She took the baby in her arms and sat down in a low rocking-chair close
+to the fire. Harold and Daisy went on their little knees in front of
+her. Now that mother had come their quarrel was quite over, and the poor
+baby ceased to fret.
+
+Seated thus, with her little children about her there was no doubt at
+all that Charlotte Home had a pleasant face; the care vanished from her
+eyes as she looked into the innocent eyes of her babies, and as she
+nursed the seven-months-old infant she began crooning a sweet old song
+in a true, delicious voice, to which the other two listened with
+delight:----
+
+  "In the days when we went gipsying,
+  A long time ago."
+
+"What's gipsying, mother?" asked Harold, aged six.
+
+"Something like picnicking, darling. People who live in the country, or
+who are rich,"--here Mrs. Home sighed--"often, in the bright summer
+weather, take their dinner or their tea, and they go out into the woods
+or the green fields and eat there. I have been to gypsy teas; they are
+great fun. We lit a fire and boiled the kettle over it, and made the
+tea; it was just the same tea as we had at home, but somehow it tasted
+much better out-of-doors."
+
+"Was that some time ago, mother?" asked little Daisy.
+
+"It would seem a long, long time to you, darling; but it was not so many
+years ago."
+
+"Mother," asked Harold, "why aren't we rich, or why don't we live in the
+country?"
+
+A dark cloud, caused by some deeper emotion than the mere fact of being
+poor, passed over the mother's face.
+
+"We cannot live in the country," she said, "because your father has a
+curacy in this part of London. Your father is a brave man, and he must
+not desert his post."
+
+"Then why aren't we rich?" persisted the boy.
+
+"Because--because--I cannot answer you that, Harold; and now I must run
+downstairs again. Father is coming in earlier than usual to-night, and
+you and Daisy may come down for a little bit after tea--that is, if you
+promise to be very good children now, and not to quarrel. See, baby has
+dropped asleep; who will sit by him and keep him from waking until Anne
+comes back?"
+
+"I, mother," said Harold, and, "I, mother," said Daisy.
+
+"That is best," said the gentle-voiced mother; "you both shall keep him
+very quiet and safe; Harold shall sit on this side of his little cot and
+Daisy at the other."
+
+Both children placed themselves, mute as mice, by the baby's side, with
+the proud look of being trusted on their little faces. The mother kissed
+them and flew downstairs. There was no time for quiet or leisurely
+movement in that little house; in the dingy parlor, the gas had now been
+lighted, and the fire burned better and brighter, and Anne with most
+praiseworthy efforts, was endeavoring to make some toast, which, alas!
+she only succeeded in burning. Mrs. Home took the toasting-fork out of
+her hands.
+
+"There, Anne, that will do nicely: I will finish the toast. Now please
+run away, and take Miss Mitchell's dinner up to her; she is to have a
+little pie to-night and some baked potatoes; they are all waiting, and
+hot in the oven, and then please go back to the children."
+
+Anne, a really good-tempered little maid-of-all-work, vanished, and Mrs.
+Home made some fresh toast, which she set, brown, hot, and crisp, in the
+china toast-rack. She then boiled a new-laid egg, and had hardly
+finished these final preparations before the rattle of the latch-key was
+heard in the hall-door, and her husband came in. He was a tall man, with
+a face so colorless that hers looked almost rosy by contrast; his voice,
+however, had a certain ring about it, which betokened that most rare and
+happy gift to its possessor, a brave and courageous heart. The way in
+which he now said, "Ah, Lottie!" and stooped down and kissed her, had a
+good sound, and the wife's eyes sparkled as she sat down by the
+tea-tray.
+
+"Must you go out again to-night, Angus?" she said presently.
+
+"Yes, my dear. Poor Mrs. Swift is really dying at last. I promised to
+look in on her again."
+
+"Ah, poor soul! has it really come? And what will those four children
+do?"
+
+"We must get them into an Orphanage; Petterick has interest. I shall
+speak to him. Lottie?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Beat up that fresh egg I saw you putting into the cupboard when I came
+in; beat it up, and add a little milk and a teaspoonful of brandy. I
+want to take it round with me to little Alice. That child has never left
+her mother's side for two whole days and nights, and I believe has
+scarcely tasted a morsel; I fear she will sink when all is over."
+
+Lottie rose at once and prepared the mixture, placing it, when ready, in
+a little basket, which her husband seldom went out without; but as she
+put it in his hand she could not refrain from saying----
+
+"I was keeping that egg for your breakfast, Angus; I do grudge it a
+little bit."
+
+"And to eat it when little Alice wanted it so sorely would choke me,
+wife," replied the husband; and then buttoning his thin overcoat tightly
+about him, he went out into the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE STORY.
+
+
+The children were at last in bed, the drawing-room lodger had finished
+her dinner, the welcome time of lull in the day's occupations had come,
+and Mrs. Home sat by the dining-room fire. A large basket, filled with
+little garments ready for mending, lay on the floor at her feet, and her
+working materials were close by; but, for a wonder, the busy fingers
+were idle. In vain Daisy's frock pleaded for that great rent made
+yesterday, and Harold's socks showed themselves most disreputably out at
+heels. Charlotte Home neither put on her thimble nor threaded her
+needle; she sat gazing into the fire, lost in reverie. It was not a very
+happy or peaceful reverie, to judge from the many changes on her
+expressive face. The words, "Shall I, or shall I not?" came often to
+her lips. Many things seemed to tear her judgment in divers ways; most
+of all the look in her little son's eyes when he asked that eager,
+impatient question, "mother, why aren't we rich?" but other and older
+voices than little Harold's said to her, and they spoke pleadingly
+enough, "Leave this thing alone; God knows what is best for you. As you
+have gone on all these years, so continue, not troubling about what you
+cannot understand, but trusting to him."
+
+"I cannot; I am so tired sometimes," sighed the poor young wife.
+
+She was still undetermined when her husband returned. There was a great
+contrast in their faces--a greater almost in their voices, in the tone
+of her dispirited, "Well, Angus," and his almost triumphant answer,----
+
+"Well, Lottie, that hard fight has ended bravely. Thank God!"
+
+"Ah! then the poor soul has gone," said the wife, moving her husband's
+chair into the warmest corner.
+
+"She has truly gone; I saw her breathe her last. But there is no need to
+apply the word 'poor' to her; she has done with all that. You know what
+a weakly, troubled creature she always was, how temptation and doubt
+seemed to wrap her round like a mist, and prevent her seeing any of the
+shining of the blue sky. Well, it all passed away at the last, and there
+was nothing but a steadfast looking into the very face of her Lord. He
+came for her, and she just stretched out her arms and went to Him. Thank
+God for being privileged to witness such a death; it makes life far more
+easy."
+
+A little weariness had crept perceptibly into the brave voice of the
+minister as he said these last words. His wife laid her hand
+sympathizingly on his. They sat silent for a few moments, then he spoke
+on a different subject,----
+
+"How is baby to-night, Lottie?"
+
+"Better, I think; his tooth is through at last. He will have rest now
+for a bit, poor little darling."
+
+"We must be careful to keep him from catching another cold. And how is
+Anne getting on?"
+
+"As well as we can expect from such an ignorant little mite. And oh!
+Angus, the nursery is such a cold, draughty room, and I do--I do wish we
+were rich."
+
+The last words were tumbled out with a great irrepressible burst of
+tears.
+
+"Why, my Lottie, what has come to you?" said her husband, touched and
+alarmed by this rare show of feeling "What is it, dear? You wish we were
+rich, so do not I; I am quite content. I go among so very much poorer
+people than myself, Lottie, that it always seems to me I have far more
+than my fair share of life's good things; but, at any rate my Lottie,
+crying won't make us rich, so don't waste your strength over it."
+
+"I can't help it sometimes, Angus; it goes to my heart to see you
+shivering in such a great-coat as you have just taken off, and then I
+know you want better food, and wine; you are so tired this moment you
+can scarcely speak. What a lot of good some port wine would do you!"
+
+"And what a lot of good, wishing for it will do me! Come Lottie, be
+sensible; we must not begin to repine for what we have not got, and
+cannot get. Let us think of our mercies."
+
+"You make me ashamed of myself, Angus. But these thoughts don't come to
+me for nothing; the fact is--yes, I will tell you at last, I have long
+been making up my mind. The truth is, Angus, I can't look at the
+children--I can't look at you and see you all suffering, and hold my
+peace any longer. We are poor, very--very--dreadfully poor, but we ought
+to be rich."
+
+"Lottie!"
+
+Such a speech, so uttered, would have called for reproof from Angus
+Home, had it passed the lips of another. But he knew the woman he had
+married too well not to believe there was reason in her words.
+
+"I am sorry you have kept a secret from me," he said. "What is this
+mystery, Lottie?"
+
+"It was my mother, Angus. She begged of me to keep it to myself, and she
+only told me when she was dying. But may I just tell you all from the
+very beginning?"
+
+"Yes, dear. If it is a romance, it will just soothe me, for though I am,
+I own, tired, I could not sleep for a long time to come."
+
+"First, Angus, I must confess to a little bit of deceit I practised on
+you."
+
+"Ah, Lottie!" said her husband playfully, "no wonder you cried, with
+such a heavy burden on your soul; but confess your sins, wife."
+
+"You know how it has always fretted me, our being poor," said Charlotte.
+"Your income is only just sufficient to put bread into our mouths, and,
+indeed, we sometimes want even that. I have often lain awake at night
+wondering how I could make a little money, and this winter, when it set
+in so very severe, set my thoughts harder to work on this great problem
+than ever. The children did want so much, Angus--new boots, and little
+warm dresses--and so--and so--one day about a month ago, Mrs. Lisle, who
+reads and writes so much, called, and I was very low, and she was kind
+and sympathizing; somehow, at last out it all came, I did so wish to
+earn money. She asked me if I could write a good clear hand, a hand
+easily read. I showed her what I could do, and she was good enough to
+call it excellent. She said no more then, but the next day she came
+early. She brought me a MS. written by a friend of hers; very illegible
+it was. She would not tell me the name of her friend, but she said she
+was a lady very desirous of seeing herself in print. If I would copy
+this illegible writing in my own good clear hand, the lady would give me
+five pounds. I thought of the children's boots and their winter dresses,
+and I toiled over it. I confess now that it was weary work, and tired me
+more than I cared to own. I finished it to-day; this evening, just
+before you came home, that task was done; but this morning I did
+something else. You know Miss Mitchell is always kind enough to let me
+see the _Times_. This morning Anne brought it down as usual, and, as I
+ran my eyes over it I was struck by an advertisement, 'A young lady
+living at Kensington wished for the services of an amanuensis, for so
+many hours daily. Remuneration good.' I could not help it, Angus, my
+heart seemed to leap into my mouth. Then and there I put on my bonnet,
+and with a specimen of my handwriting in my pocket, went off to answer
+the advertisement in person. The house was in Prince's Gate, Kensington:
+the name of the young lady who had advertised for my services was
+Harman."
+
+"Harman! how strange, wife! your own name before you married."
+
+"Yes, dear; but such a different person from me, so rich, while I am so
+poor; so very, very beautiful, and graceful, and gracious: she may have
+been a year or so younger than I, she was not much. She had a thoughtful
+face, a noble face. I could have drawn tears from her eyes had I
+described the little children, but I did not. It was delightful to look
+upon her calm. Not for worlds would I disturb it; and, Angus, I found
+out another thing--her name was not only Harman, but Charlotte Harman."
+
+There was no doubt at all that the other Charlotte was excited now, the
+color had come into her cheeks, her eyes sparkled. Her husband watched
+her with undisguised surprise.
+
+"I made a good thing of it Angus," she continued. "I am to go to
+Prince's Gate every morning, I am to be there at ten, and give my
+services till one o'clock. I am then to have lunch with the young lady,
+and for all this, and the enjoyment of a good dinner into the bargain, I
+am to receive thirty shillings a week. Does not it sound too good to be
+true?"
+
+"And that is how we are to be rich, Lottie. Well, go on and prosper. I
+know what an active little woman you are and how impossible it is for
+you to let the grass grow under your feet. I do not object to your
+trying this thing, if it is not too much for your strength, and if you
+can safely leave the children."
+
+"I have thought of the children, Angus; this is so much for their real
+interest, that it would be a pity to throw it away. But, as you say,
+they must not be neglected. I shall ask that little Alice Martin to come
+in to look after them until I am back every day; she will be glad to
+earn half-a-crown a week."
+
+"As much in proportion, as your thirty shillings is to you--eh, Lottie?
+See how rich we are in reality."
+
+Mrs. Home sighed, and the bright look left her face. Her husband
+perceived the change.
+
+"That is not all you have got to tell me," he said.
+
+"No, it is only leading up to what I want to tell you. It is what has
+set me thinking so hard all day that I can keep it to myself no longer.
+Angus, prepare for a surprise; that beautiful young lady, who bears the
+same name I bore before I was married--is--is--she is my near relation."
+
+"Your near relation, Charlotte? But I never knew you had any near
+relations."
+
+"No, dear, I never told you; my mother thought it best that you should
+not know. She only spoke to me of them when she was dying. She was sorry
+afterwards that she had even done that; she begged of me, unless great
+necessity arose, not to say anything to you. It is only because it seems
+to me the necessity has really come that I speak of what gave my mother
+such pain to mention."
+
+"Yes, dear, you have wealthy relations. I don't know that it matters
+very greatly. But go on."
+
+"There is more than that, Angus, but I will try to tell you all. You
+know how poor I was when you found me, and gave me your love and
+yourself."
+
+"We were both poor, Lottie; so much so that we thought two hundred a
+year, which was what we had to begin housekeeping on, quite riches."
+
+"Yes, Angus; well, I had been poor all my life, I could never do what
+rich girls did, I was so accustomed to wearing shabby dresses, and
+eating plain food, and doing without the amusements which seem to come
+naturally into the lives of most young girls, that I had ceased to miss
+them. I was sent to a rather good school, and had lessons in music and
+painting, and I sometimes wondered how my mother had money even to give
+me these. Then I met you, and we were married. It was just after our
+little Harold was born that my mother died."
+
+"Yes, you went down into Hertfordshire; you were away for six weeks."
+
+"I took Harold with me; mother was so proud of him. Whenever she had an
+easy moment, she used to like to have him placed on her knee. She told
+me then that she had a little son older than I, who died, and that our
+Harold reminded her of him. One night, I remember so well, I was sitting
+up with her. She had been going through great pain, but towards the
+morning she was easier. She was more inclined, however, to talk than to
+sleep. She began again speaking about the likeness between our Harold
+and my little brother who died.
+
+"'I shall give you little Edgar's christening robe for Harold,' she
+said. 'I never could bear to part with it before but I don't mind his
+having it. Open my wardrobe, Charlotte, and you will find it folded away
+in a blue paper, in the small wooden box.'
+
+"I did so, and took out a costly thing, yellow, it is true, with age,
+but half covered with most valuable lace.
+
+"'Why, mother,' I exclaimed, 'how did you ever get such a valuable dress
+as this? Why, this lace would be cheap at a guinea a yard!'
+
+"'It cost a great deal more than that,' replied mother, stroking down
+the soft lace and muslin with her thin fingers; 'but we were rich then,
+Lottie.'
+
+"'Rich!' I said, 'rich! I never, never thought that you and I had
+anything to say to money, mother.'
+
+"'You don't remember your father, child?'
+
+"'No, mother,' I said; 'how could I? I was only two years old when he
+died.'
+
+"Mother was silent after that, and I think she went into a doze, but my
+curiosity and wonder were excited, and I could not help seeking to know
+more.
+
+"'I never knew that we were rich,' I said again the next day. 'Why did
+you never tell me before? The next best thing to enjoying riches would
+be to hear about them.'
+
+"'I did not want to make you discontented, Lottie. I thought what you
+had never known or thought of you would never miss. I feared, my dear,
+to make you discontented.'
+
+"'But I have thought of money,' I owned, 'I have thought of it lately a
+great deal. When I look at Angus I long to get him every luxury, and I
+want my little Harold to grow up surrounded by those things which help
+to develop a fine and refined character.
+
+"'But they don't, Lottie; they don't indeed,' answered my dear dying
+mother. 'Riches bring a snare--they debase the character, they don't
+ennoble it.'
+
+"'Mother,' I said, 'I see plainly that you are well acquainted with this
+subject. You will tell me, mother, what you know?'
+
+"'Yes,' replied my mother; 'it won't do you the least good; but as I
+have said so much to you I may as well tell the rest.'
+
+"Then, Angus, my mother told me the following story; it is not very
+long.
+
+"She was an orphan and a governess when my father found her and married
+her--she was my father's second wife. She was much younger than he--he
+had grown-up sons--two grown-up sons at the time of his marriage; and
+they were very deeply offended at his thinking of a second marriage. So
+indignant were they that my father and they came to quite an open
+quarrel, and mother said that during the five years that my father lived
+she never saw either of her stepsons until just at the close. She was
+very happy as my father's wife; he loved her dearly, and as he had
+plenty of money she wanted for nothing. My father was an old man, as I
+have said, and he was tired of fuss, and also of much society; so though
+they were so rich mother lived rather a lonely life--in a large and
+beautiful place in Hertfordshire. She said the place was called the
+Hermitage, and was one of the largest and best in the neighborhood. At
+last my father fell ill, very ill, and the doctors said he must die.
+Then for the first time there came hastening back to the Hermitage the
+two elder sons--their names were John and Jasper--the eldest John, my
+mother said, was very handsome, and very kind and courteous to her. He
+was a married man, and he told mother that he had a little daughter much
+about my age, who was also called Charlotte. My father and his two sons
+seemed quite reconciled in these last days, and they spent most of their
+time with him. On the evening, however, before he died, he had mother
+and me with him alone. I sat on the bed, a little baby child of two, and
+my father held mother's hand. He told mother how much he loved her, and
+he spoke a very little about money matters.
+
+"'John will make it all right for you, Daisy,' he said. 'John knows all
+about my wishes with regard to you and little Charlotte. I should like
+this little Charlotte and his to be friends; they are both called after
+my own mother, the best woman I ever met. You will bring up little
+Charlotte with every comfort and refinement, dear wife.'
+
+"The next day my father died, and John and Jasper went to London. They
+did not even wait for the funeral, though Jasper came back for it. John,
+he told mother, was kept by the sudden dangerous illness of his wife.
+Jasper said that John felt our father's death most dreadfully. Mother
+had liked John, who was always very civil to her, but she could not bear
+Jasper: she said he seemed a cleverer man than his brother, but she
+never could get over a feeling of distrust towards him. The will was
+never read to my mother, but Jasper came back again from London to tell
+her of its contents, and then judge of her surprise--her name was not
+even mentioned, neither her name nor mine. She had been married without
+settlements, and every farthing of all my father's great wealth was left
+to his two sons, John and Jasper. Jasper expressed great surprise; he
+even said it was a monstrously unfair thing of his father to do, and
+that certainly he and his brother would try to rectify it in a measure.
+He then went back to London, and mother was left alone in the great
+empty house. She said she felt quite stunned, and was just then in such
+grief for my father that she scarcely heeded the fact that she was left
+penniless. Two days afterwards a lawyer from London came down to see
+her. He came with a message from her two stepsons. They were much
+concerned for her, and they were willing to help her. They would allow
+her, between them, as long as she lived the interest on three thousand
+pounds--on one condition. The condition was this: she was never to claim
+the very least relationship with them; she was to bring up her daughter
+as a stranger to them. They had never approved of their father's
+marrying her; they would allow her the money on condition that all
+connection between them be completely dropped. The day it was renewed by
+either mother or daughter, on that day the interest on the three
+thousand pounds would cease to be paid. My mother was too young, too
+completely inexperienced, and too bowed down with grief, to make the
+least objection. Only one faint protest did she make. 'My husband said,'
+she faltered, 'on the very last day of his life, he said that he wished
+my little Charlotte and that other Charlotte in London to be friends.'
+But the lawyer only shook his head. On this point his clients were firm.
+'All communication between the families must cease.'
+
+"That is the story, Angus," continued Charlotte Home, suddenly changing
+her voice, and allowing her eyes, which had been lowered during her
+brief recital, to rise to her husband's face. "My dear mother died a day
+or two afterwards. She died regretting having to own even what she did,
+and begging me not to think unkindly of my father, and not to unsettle
+your mind by telling you what could do no good whatever.
+
+"'I do not think unkindly of my father, mother,' I answered, 'and I will
+not trouble my husband's mind, at least, not yet, never, perhaps, unless
+fitting opportunity arises. But I know what I think, mother--what,
+indeed, I know. That was not my father's real will; my brothers John and
+Jasper have cheated you. Of this I am very sure.'
+
+"Mother, though she was so weak and dying, got quite a color into her
+cheeks when I said this. 'No, no,' she said, 'don't harbor such a
+thought in your heart--my darling, my darling. Indeed it is utterly
+impossible. It was a real, real will. I heard it read, and your
+brothers, they were gentlemen. Don't let so base a thought of them dwell
+in your heart. It is, I know it is, impossible.'
+
+"I said no more to trouble my dear mother and shortly afterwards she
+died. That is six years ago."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT IT.
+
+
+After the story was finished the husband and wife sat for a long time
+side by side, in absolute silence. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on the
+glowing embers in the fire; the wife's reflected back both the lights
+and the shadows; they were troubled eyes, troubled with possible joy,
+troubled also with the dark feelings of anger. The husband's, on the
+contrary, were calm and steady. No strong hope was visiting them, but
+despair, even disquietude, seemed miles away. Presently the wife's small
+nervous fingers were stretched out to meet her husband's, his closed
+over them, he turned his head, met her anxious face, smiled and spoke.
+
+"So it seems on the cards that you might have been rich, Lottie. Well,
+it was unjust of your father not to have made some provision for your
+mother and you, but--but--he has long been dead, the whole thing is
+over. Let it pass."
+
+"Angus! do you know what I should like?" asked his wife.
+
+"No. What?"
+
+"I should like to meet those two men, John and Jasper Harman, face to
+face, and ask them without the least preamble or preparation, what they
+have done with my father's real will?"
+
+"Dear Lottie, you must get this strange idea out of your head. It is not
+right of you to harbor such thoughts of any men."
+
+"I should like to look so hard at them," continued Charlotte, scarcely
+heeding her husband's words. "I know their eyes would flinch, they would
+be startled, they would betray themselves. Angus, I can't help it, the
+conviction that is over me is too strong to be silenced. For years, ever
+since my mother told me that story, I have felt that we have been
+wronged, nay, robbed of our own. But when I entered that house to-day
+and found myself face with my half-brother's daughter, when I found
+myself in the house that I had been forbidden to enter, I felt--I knew,
+that a great wrong had been committed. My father! Why should I think
+ill of my father, Angus? Is it likely that he would have made no
+provision for my mother whom he loved, or for me? Is it likely that he
+would have left everything he possessed to the two sons with whom he had
+so bitterly quarrelled, that for years they had not even met? Is it
+likely? Angus, you are a just man, and you will own to the truth. Is it
+likely, that with his almost dying breath, he should have assured my
+mother that all was settled that she could bring me up well, in comfort
+and luxury, that Charlotte Harman and I should be friends? No, Angus! I
+believe my father; he was a good and just man always; and, even if he
+was not, dying men don't tell lies."
+
+"I grant that it seems unlikely, Lottie; but then, on the other hand,
+what do you accuse these men of? Why, of no less a crime than forging a
+will, of suppressing the real will, and bringing forward one of their
+own manufacture. Why, my dear wife, such an act of villainy would be not
+only difficult, but, I should say, impossible."
+
+"I don't know _how_ it was done, Angus, but something was done, of that
+I am sure, and what that thing was I shall live, please God, to find
+out."
+
+"Then you--you, a clergyman's wife--the wife of a man who lives to
+proclaim peace on earth, good-will to men, you go into your brother's
+house as a spy!"
+
+Mrs. Home colored. Her husband had risen from his chair.
+
+"You shall not do that," he said; "I am your husband, and I forbid it.
+You can only go to the Harmans, if they are indeed the near relations
+you believe them to be, on one condition."
+
+"And that?" said Charlotte.
+
+"That you see not only Mr. Harman's daughter, but Mr. Harman himself;
+that you tell him exactly who you are.... If, after hearing your story,
+he allows you to work for his daughter, you can do so without again
+alluding to the relationship. If they wish it dropped, drop it, Lottie;
+work for them as you would for any other strangers, doing your best work
+bravely and well. But begin openly. Above all things thinking no evil in
+your heart of them."
+
+"Then I cannot go on these conditions, Angus, for I cannot feel charity
+in my heart towards Mr. Harman. It seemed such a good thing this
+morning. But I must give it up."
+
+"And something else will come in it's place, never fear; but I did not
+know until to-night that my Lottie so pined for riches."
+
+"Angus, I do--I do--I want Harold to go to a good school, Daisy to be
+educated, little Angus to get what is necessary for his health, and
+above all, you, my dearest, my dearest, to have a warm overcoat, and
+port wine: the overcoat when you are cold, the port wine when you are
+tired. Think of having these luxuries, not only for yourself, but to
+give away to your poor, Angus, and I am sure we ought to have them."
+
+"Ah, Lottie! you are a witch, you try to tempt me, and all these things
+sound very pleasant. But don't dream of what we haven't, let us live for
+the many, many things we have."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+LOVE IN A DIAMOND.
+
+
+The next day Angus Home went out early as usual, about his many parish
+duties; this was it was true, neither a feast nor a fast day, nor had he
+to attend a morning service, but he had long ago constituted himself
+chief visitor among the sick and poorest of his flock, and such work
+occupied him from morning to night. Perhaps in a nature naturally
+inclined to asceticism, this daily mingling with the very poor and the
+very suffering, had helped to keep down all ambitions for earthly good
+things, whether those good things came in the guise of riches or honors;
+but though unambitious and very humble, never pushing himself forward,
+doing always the work that men who considered themselves more fastidious
+would shun, never allowing his voice to be heard where he believed wiser
+men than he might speak, Mr. Home was neither morbid nor unhappy; one of
+his greatest characteristics was an utter absence of all
+self-consciousness.
+
+The fact was, the man, though he had a wife whom he loved, and children
+very dear to him, had grown accustomed to hold life lightly; to him life
+was in very truth a pilgrimage, a school, a morning which should usher
+in the great day of the future. His mental and spiritual eyes were fixed
+expectantly and longingly on that day; and in connection with it, it
+would be wrong to say that he was without ambition, for he had a very
+earnest and burning desire, not only for rank but for kingship by and
+by: he wanted to be crowned with the crown of righteousness.
+
+Angus Home knew well that to wear that crown in all its lustre in the
+future, it must begin to fit his head down here; and he also knew that
+those who put on such crowns on earth, find them, as their great and
+blessed Master did before them, made of thorns.
+
+It is no wonder then that the man with so simple a faith, so Christ-like
+a spirit, should not be greatly concerned by his wife's story of the
+night before. He did not absolutely forget it, for he pondered over it
+as he wended his way to the attic where the orphan Swifts lived. He felt
+sorry for Lottie as he thought of it, and he hoped she would soon cease
+to have such uncharitable ideas of her half-brothers; he himself could
+not even entertain the notion that any fraud had been committed; he felt
+rather shocked that his Lottie should dwell on so base a thing.
+
+There is no doubt that this saint-like man could be a tiny bit
+provoking; and so his wife felt when he left her without again alluding
+to their last night's talk. After all it is wives and mothers who feel
+the sharpest stings of poverty. Charlotte had known what to be poor
+meant all her life, as a child, as a young girl, as a wife, as a mother,
+but she had been brave enough about it, indifferent enough to it, until
+the children came; but from the day her mother's story was told her, and
+she knew how close the wings of earthly comfort had swept her by,
+discontent came into her heart. Discontent came in and grew with the
+birth of each fresh little one. She might have made her children so
+comfortable, she could do so little with them; they were pretty children
+too. It went to her heart to see their beauty disfigured in ugly
+clothes; she used to look the other way with a great jealous pang, when
+she saw children not nearly so beautiful as hers, yet looked at and
+admired because of their bright fresh colors and dainty little
+surroundings. But poverty brought worse stings than these. The small
+house in Kentish Town was hot and stifling in the months of July and
+August; the children grew pale and pined for the fresh country air which
+could not be given to them; Lottie herself grew weak and languid, and
+her husband's pale face seemed to grow more ethereal day by day. At all
+such times as these did Charlotte Home's mind and thoughts refer back
+to her mother's story, and again and again the idea returned that a
+great, great wrong had been done.
+
+In the winter when this story opens, poverty came very close to the
+little household. They were, it is true, quite out of debt, but they
+were only so because the food was kept so scanty, the fires so low,
+dress so very insufficient to keep at a distance the winter's bitter
+cold; they were only out of debt because the mother slaved from morning
+to night, and the father ate less and less, having, it is to be feared,
+less and less appetite to eat.
+
+Then the wife and mother grew desperate, money must be brought in--how
+could it be done? The doctor called and said that baby Angus would die
+if he had not more milk--he must have what is called in London
+baby-milk, and plenty of it. Such milk in Kentish Town meant money.
+Lottie resolved that baby Angus should not die. In answering an
+advertisement which she hoped would give her employment, she
+accidentally found herself in her own half-brother's house. There was
+the wealth which had belonged to her father; there were the riches to
+which she was surely born. How delicious were those soft carpets; how
+nice those cushioned seats; how pleasant those glowing fires; what an
+air of refinement breathed over everything; how grand it was to be
+served by those noiseless and well-trained servants; how great a thing
+was wealth, after all!
+
+She thought all this before she saw Charlotte Harman. Then the gracious
+face, the noble bearing, the kindly and sweet manner of this girl of her
+own age, this girl who might have been her dearest friend, who was so
+nearly related to her, filled her with sudden bitterness; she believed
+herself immeasurably inferior to Miss Harman, and yet she knew that she
+might have been such another. She left the house with a mingled feeling
+of relief and bitterness. She was earning present money. What might she
+not discover to benefit her husband and children by and by?
+
+In the evening, unable to keep her thoughts to herself, she told them
+and her story for the first time to her husband. Instantly he tore the
+veil from her eyes. Was she, his wife, to go to her own brother's house
+as a spy? No! a thousand times no! No wealth, however needed, would be
+worth purchasing at such a price. If Charlotte could not banish from her
+mind these unworthy thoughts, she must give up so excellent a means of
+earning money.
+
+Poor Charlotte! The thoughts her husband considered so mean, so untrue,
+so unworthy, had become by this time part of her very being. Oh! must
+the children suffer because unrighteous men enjoyed what was rightfully
+theirs?
+
+For the first time, the very first time in all her life, she felt
+discontented with her Angus. If only he were a little more everyday, a
+little more practical; if only he would go to the bottom of this
+mystery, and set her mind at rest!
+
+She went about her morning duties in a state of mental friction and
+aggravation, and, as often happens, on this very morning when she seemed
+least able to bear it, came the proverbial last straw. Anne, the little
+maid, put in her head at the parlor door.
+
+"Ef you please, 'em, is Harold to wear 'em shoes again? There's holes
+through and through of 'em, and it's most desp'rate sloppy out of doors
+this mornin'."
+
+Mrs. Home took the little worn-out shoes in her hand; she saw at a
+glance that they were quite past mending.
+
+"Leave them here, Anne," she said. "You are right, he cannot wear these
+again. I will go out at once and buy him another pair."
+
+The small maid disappeared, and Charlotte put her hand into her pocket.
+She drew out her purse with a sinking heart. Was there money enough in
+it to buy the necessary food for the day's consumption, and also to get
+new shoes for Harold? A glance showed her but too swiftly there was not.
+She never went on credit for anything--the shoes must wait, and Harold
+remain a prisoner in the house that day. She went slowly up to the
+nursery: Daisy and baby could go out and Harold should come down to the
+parlor to her.
+
+But one glance at her boy's pale face caused her heart to sink. He was a
+handsome boy--she thought him aristocratic, fit to be the son of a
+prince--but to-day he was deadly pale, with that washy look which
+children who pine for fresh air so often get. He was standing in rather
+a moping attitude by the tiny window; but at sight of his mother he flew
+to her.
+
+"Mother, Anne says I'm to have new shoes. Have you got them? I am so
+glad."
+
+No, she could not disappoint her boy. A sudden idea darted through her
+brain. She would ask Miss Mitchell, the drawing-room boarder, to lend
+her the three-and-sixpence which the little shoes would cost. It was the
+first time she had ever borrowed, and her pride rose in revolt at even
+naming the paltry sum--but, for the sake of her boy's pale face?
+
+"I am going out to buy the shoes," she said, stooping down to kiss the
+sweet upturned brow; and she flew downstairs and tapped at the
+drawing-room door.
+
+Miss Mitchell was a lady of about fifty; she had been with them now for
+nearly a year, and what she paid for the drawing-room and best bedroom
+behind it, quite covered the rent of the shabby little house. Miss
+Mitchell was Charlotte Home's grand standby; she was a very
+uninteresting person, neither giving nor looking for sympathy, never
+concerning herself about the family in whose house she lived. But then,
+on the other hand, she was easily pleased; she never grumbled, she paid
+her rent like clockwork. She now startled Lottie by coming instantly
+forward and telling her that it was her intention to leave after the
+usual notice; she found the baby's fretful cries too troublesome, for
+her room was under the nursery; this was one reason. Another, perhaps
+the most truthful one, was, that her favorite curate in St. Martin's
+Church over the way, had received promotion to another and more
+fashionable church, and she would like to move to where she could still
+be under his ministry. Charlotte bowed; there was nothing for it but to
+accept the fact that her comfortable lodger must go. Where could she
+find a second Miss Mitchell, and how could she possibly now ask for the
+loan of three and sixpence?
+
+She left the room. Where was the money to come from to buy Harold's
+shoes? for that little pleading face must not be disappointed. This care
+was, for the moment, more pressing than the loss of Miss Mitchell. How
+should she get the money for her boy? She pressed her hand to her brow
+to think out this problem. As she did so, a ring she wore on her
+wedding-finger flashed; it was her engagement ring, a plain gold band,
+only differing from the wedding-ring, which it now guarded, in that it
+possessed one small, very small diamond. The diamond was perhaps the
+smallest that could be purchased, but it was pure of its kind, and the
+tiny gem now flashed a loving fire into her eyes, as though it would
+speak if it could in answer to her inquiry. Yes, if she sold this ring,
+the money would be forthcoming. It was precious, it symbolized much to
+her; she had no other to act as guard; but it was not so precious as the
+blue eyes of her first-born. Her resolve was scarcely conceived before
+it was put in practice. She hastened out with the ring; a jeweller
+lived not far away; he gave her fifteen shillings, and Charlotte,
+feeling quite rich, bought the little shoes and hurried home.
+
+As she almost flew along the sloppy streets a fresh thought came to her.
+Yes! she must certainly decline that very excellent situation with Miss
+Harman. That sorely wanted thirty shillings a week must be given up,
+there was no question about that. Bitter were her pangs of heart as she
+relinquished the precious money, but it would be impossible for her to
+go to her brother's house in the only spirit in which her husband would
+allow her to go. Yes; she must give it up. When the children were at
+last fairly started on their walk she would sit down and write to Miss
+Harman. But why should she write? She stood still as the thought came to
+her to go to Miss Harman in person; to tell her from her own lips that
+she must not visit that house, or see her daily. She might or might not
+tell her who she really was; she would leave that to circumstances; but
+she would at least once more see her brother's house and look into the
+eyes of her brother's child. It would be a short, soon-lived-through
+excitement. Still she was in that mood when to sit still in inactivity
+was impossible; the visit would lead to nothing, but still she would pay
+it; afterwards would be time enough to think of finding some one to
+replace Miss Mitchell, of trying to buy again her engagement ring, of
+purchasing warm clothes for her little ones.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN PRINCE'S GATE.
+
+
+Having arranged her household matters, been informed of another pair of
+boots which could not last many days longer, seen to the children's
+dinner, and finally started the little group fairly off for their walk
+with Anne, Charlotte ran upstairs, put on her neat though thin and worn
+black silk, her best jacket and bonnet and set off to Kensington to see
+Miss Harman.
+
+She reached the grand house in Prince's Gate about twelve o'clock. The
+day had indeed long begun for her, but she reflected rather bitterly
+that most likely Miss Harman had but just concluded her breakfast. She
+found, however, that she had much wronged this energetic young lady.
+Breakfast had been over with some hours ago, and when Mrs. Home asked
+for her, the footman who answered her modest summons said that Miss
+Harman was out, but had left directions that if a lady called she was to
+be asked to wait.
+
+Charlotte was taken up to Miss Harman's own private sitting room, where,
+after stirring the fire, and furnishing her with that morning's _Times_,
+the servant left her alone.
+
+Mrs. Home was glad of this. She drew her comfortable easy chair to the
+fire, placed her feet upon the neat brass rail, closed her eyes, and
+tried to fancy herself alone. Had her father lived, such comforts as
+these would have been matters of everyday occurrence to her. Common as
+the air she breathed would this grateful warmth be then to her thin
+limbs, this delicious easy chair to her aching back. Had her father
+lived, or had justice been done, in either case would soft ease have
+been her portion. She started from her reclining position and looked
+round the room. A parrot swung lazily on his perch in one of the
+windows. Two canaries sang in a gilded cage in the other. How Harold and
+Daisy would love these birds! Just over her head was a very beautifully
+executed portrait in oils of a little child, most likely Miss Harman in
+her infancy. Ah, yes, but baby Angus at home was more beautiful. A
+portrait of him would attract more admiration than did that of the proud
+daughter of all this wealth. Tears started unbidden to the poor
+perplexed mother's eyes. It was hard to sit quiet with this burning pain
+at her heart. Just then the door was opened and an elderly gentleman
+with silver hair came in. He bowed, distantly to the stranger sitting by
+his hearth, took up a book he had come to seek, and withdrew. Mrs. Home
+had barely time to realize that this elderly man must really be the
+brother who had supplanted her, when a sound of feet, of voices, of
+pleasant laughter, drew near. The room door was again opened, and
+Charlotte Harman, accompanied by two gentlemen, came in. The elder of
+the two men was short and rather stout, with hair that had once been
+red, but was now sandy, keen, deep-set eyes, and a shrewd, rather
+pleasant face. Miss Harman addressed him as Uncle Jasper, and they
+continued firing gay badinage at one another for a moment without
+perceiving Mrs. Home's presence. The younger man was tall and
+square-shouldered, with a rather rugged face of some power. He might
+have been about thirty. He entered the room by Miss Harman's side, and
+stood by her now with a certain air of proprietorship.
+
+"Ah! Mrs. Home," said the young lady, quickly discovering her visitor
+and coming forward and shaking hands with her at once, "I expected you.
+I hope you have not waited long, John," turning to the young man, "will
+you come back at four? Mrs. Home and I have some little matters to talk
+over, and I daresay her time is precious. I shall be quite ready to go
+out with you at four. Uncle Jasper, my father is in the library; will
+you take him this book from me?"
+
+Uncle Jasper, who had been peering with all his might out of his
+short-sighted eyes at the visitor, now answered with a laugh, "We are
+politely dismissed, eh? Hinton," and taking the arm of the younger man
+they left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IT INTERESTS HER.
+
+
+"And now, Mrs Home, we will have some lunch together up here, and then
+afterwards we can talk and quite finish all our arrangements," said the
+rich Charlotte, looking with her frank and pleasant eyes at the poor
+one. She rang a bell as she spoke, and before Mrs. Home had time to
+reply, a tempting little meal was ordered to be served without delay.
+
+"I have been with my publishers this morning," said Miss Harman. "They
+are good enough to say they believe my tale promises well, but they want
+it completed by the first of March, to come out with the best spring
+books. Don't you think we may get it done? It is the middle of January
+now."
+
+"I daresay it may be done," answered Mrs. Home, rising, and speaking in
+a tremulous voice. "I have no doubt you will work hard and have it
+ready--but--but--I regret it much, I have come to-day to say I cannot
+take the situation you have so kindly offered me."
+
+"But why?" said Miss Harman, "why?" Some color came into her cheeks as
+she added, "I don't understand you. I thought you had promised. I
+thought it was all arranged yesterday."
+
+Her tone was a little haughty, but how well she used it; how keenly Mrs.
+Home felt the loss of what she was resigning.
+
+"I did promise you," she said; "I feel you have a right to blame me. It
+is a considerable loss to me resigning your situation, but my husband
+has asked me to do so. I must obey my husband, must I not?"
+
+"Oh! yes, of course. But why should he object. He is a clergyman, is he
+not? Is he too proud--I would tell no one. All in this house should
+consider you simply as a friend. Our writing would be just a secret
+between you and me. Your husband will give in when you tell him that."
+
+"He is not in the least proud, Miss Harman--not proud I mean in that
+false way."
+
+"Then I am not giving you money enough--of course thirty shillings seems
+too little; I will gladly raise it to two pounds a week, and if this
+book succeeds, you shall have more for helping me with the next."
+
+Mrs. Home felt her heart beating. How much she needed, how keenly she
+longed for that easily earned money. "I must not think of it," she said,
+however, shaking her head. "I confess I want money, but I must earn it
+elsewhere. I cannot come here. My husband will only allow me to do so on
+a certain condition. I cannot even tell you the condition--certainly I
+cannot fulfil it, therefore I cannot come."
+
+"Oh! but that is exciting. _Do_ tell it to me."
+
+"If I did you would be the first to say I must never come to this house
+again."
+
+"I am quite sure you wrong me there. I may as well own that I have taken
+a fancy to you. I am a spoiled child, and I always have my own way. My
+present way is to have you here in this snug room for two or three hours
+daily--you and I working in secret over something grand. I always get my
+way so your conditions must melt into air. Now, what are they?"
+
+"Dare I tell her?" thought Mrs. Home. Aloud she said, "The conditions
+are these:--I must tell you a story, a story about myself--and--and
+others."
+
+"And I love stories, especially when they happen in real life."
+
+"Miss Harman, don't tempt me. I want to tell you, but I had better not;
+you had better let me go away. You are very happy now, are you not?"
+
+"What a strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! Yes, I am happy."
+
+"You won't like my story. It is possible you may not be happy after you
+have heard it."
+
+"That is a very unlikely possibility. How can the tale of an absolute
+stranger affect my happiness?" These words were said eagerly--a little
+bit defiantly.
+
+But Mrs. Home's face had now become so grave, and there was such an
+eager, almost frightened look in her eyes, that her companion's too
+changed. After all what was this tale? A myth, doubtless; but she would
+hear it now.
+
+"I accept the risk of my happiness being imperiled," she said. "I choose
+to hear the tale--I am ready."
+
+"But I may not choose to tell," said the other Charlotte.
+
+"I would make you. You have begun--begun in such a way that you _must_
+finish."
+
+"Is that so?" replied Mrs. Home. The light was growing more and more
+eager in her eyes. She said to herself, "The die is cast." There rose up
+before her a vision of her children--of her husband's thin face. Her
+voice trembled.
+
+"Miss Harman--I will speak--you won't interrupt me?"
+
+"No, but lunch is on the table. You must eat something first."
+
+"I am afraid I cannot with that story in prospect; to eat would choke
+me!"
+
+"What a queer tale it must be!" said the other Charlotte. "Well, so be
+it." She seated herself in a chair at a little distance from Mrs. Home,
+fixed her gaze on the glowing fire, and said, "I am ready. I won't
+interrupt you."
+
+The poor Charlotte, too, looked at the fire. During the entire telling
+of the tale neither of these young women glanced at the other.
+
+"It is my own story," began Mrs. Home: then she paused, and continued,
+"My father died when I was two years old. During my father's lifetime I,
+who am now so poor, had all the comforts that you must have had, Miss
+Harman, in your childhood. He died, leaving my mother, who was both
+young and pretty, nothing. She was his second wife, for five years she
+had enjoyed all that his wealth could purchase for her. He died, leaving
+her absolutely penniless. My mother was, as I have said, a second wife.
+My father had two grown-up sons. These sons had quarrelled with him at
+the time of his marrying my young mother; they came to see him and were
+reconciled on his deathbed. He left to these sons every penny of his
+great wealth. The sons expressed surprise when the will was read. They
+even blamed my father for so completely forgetting his wife and youngest
+child. They offered to make some atonement for him. During my mother's
+lifetime they settled on her three thousand pounds; I mean the interest,
+at five per cent., on that sum. It was to return to them at her death,
+it was not to descend to me, and my mother must only enjoy it on one
+condition. The condition was, that all communication must cease between
+my father's family and hers. On the day she renewed it the money would
+cease to be paid. My mother was young, a widow, and alone; she accepted
+the conditions, and the money was faithfully paid to her until the day
+of her death. I was too young to remember my father, and I only heard
+this story about him on my mother's deathbed; then for the first time I
+learned that we might have been rich, that we were in a measure meant to
+enjoy the good things which money can buy. My mother had educated me
+well, and you may be quite sure that with an income of one hundred and
+fifty pounds a year this could only be done by practising the strictest
+economy. I was accustomed to doing without the pretty dresses and nice
+things which came as natural to other girls as the air they breathed. In
+my girlhood, I did not miss these things; but at the time of my mother's
+death, at the time the story first reached my ears, I was married, and
+my eldest child was born. A poor man had made me, a poor girl his wife,
+and, Miss Harman, let me tell you, that wives and mothers do long for
+money. The longing with them is scarcely selfish, it is for the beings
+dearer than themselves. There is a pain beyond words in denying your
+little child what you know is for that child's good, but yet which you
+cannot give because of your empty purse; there is a pain in seeing your
+husband shivering in too thin a coat on bitter winter nights. You know
+nothing of such things--may you never know them; but they have gone
+quite through my heart, quite, quite through it. Well, that is my story;
+not much, you will say, after all. I might have been rich, I am poor,
+that is my story."
+
+"It interests me," said Miss Harman, drawing a long breath, "it
+interests me greatly; but you will pardon my expressing my real
+feelings: I think your father was a cruel and unjust man."
+
+"I think my brothers, my half-brothers, were cruel and unjust. I don't
+believe that was my father's real will."
+
+"What! you believe there was foul play? This is interesting--if so, if
+you can prove it, you may be righted yet. Are your half-brothers
+living?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you think you have proof that you and your mother were unjustly
+treated?"
+
+"I have no proof, no proof whatever, Miss Harman, I have only
+suspicions."
+
+"Oh! you will tell me what they are?"
+
+"Even they amount to very little, and yet I feel them to be certainties.
+On the night before my father died he told my mother that she and I
+would be comfortably off; he also said that he wished that I and his
+son's little daughter, that other Charlotte he called her, should grow
+up together as sisters. My father was a good man, his mind was not
+wandering at all, why should he on his deathbed have said this if he
+knew that he had made such an unjust will, if he knew that he had left
+my mother and her little child without a sixpence?"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Harman slowly and thoughtfully, "it looks strange."
+
+After this for a few moments both these young women were silent. Mrs.
+Home's eyes again sought the fire, she had told her story, the
+excitement was over, and a dull despair came back over her face.
+Charlotte Harman, on the contrary, was deep in that fine speculation
+which seeks to succor the oppressed, her grey eyes glowed, and a faint
+color came in to her cheeks. After a time she said--
+
+"I should like to help you to get your rights. You saw that gentleman
+who left the room just now, that younger gentleman, I am to be his wife
+before long--he is a lawyer, may I tell him your tale?"
+
+"No, no, not for worlds." Here Mrs. Home in her excitement rose to her
+feet. "I have told the story, forget it now, let it die."
+
+"What a very strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! I must say I cannot
+understand you."
+
+"You will never understand me. But it does not matter, we are not likely
+to meet again. I saw you for the first time yesterday. I love you, I
+thank you. You are a rich and prosperous young lady, you won't be too
+proud to accept my thanks and my love. Now good-bye."
+
+"No, you are not going in that fashion. I do not see why you should go
+at all; you have told me your story, it only proves that you want money
+very much, there is nothing at all to prevent your becoming my
+amanuensis."
+
+"I cannot, I must not. Let me go."
+
+"But why? I do not understand."
+
+"You will never understand. I can only repeat that I must not come
+here."
+
+Mrs. Home could look proud when she liked. It was now Miss Harman's turn
+to become the suppliant; with a softness of manner which in so
+noble-looking a girl was simply bewitching, she said gently----
+
+"You confess that you love me."
+
+Mrs. Home's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Because I do I am going away," she said.
+
+She had just revealed by this little speech a trifle too much, the
+trifle reflected a light too vivid to Charlotte Harman's mind, her face
+became crimson.
+
+"I will know the truth," she said, "I will--I must. This story--you say
+it is about you; is it all about you? has it anything to say to me?"
+
+"No, no, don't ask me--good-bye."
+
+"I stand between you and the door until you speak. How old are you, Mrs.
+Home?"
+
+"I am twenty-five."
+
+"That is my age. Who was that Charlotte your dying father wished you to
+be a sister to?"
+
+"I cannot tell you."
+
+"You cannot--but you must. I will know. Was it--but impossible! it
+cannot be--am _I_ that Charlotte?"
+
+Mrs. Home covered her face with two trembling hands. The other woman,
+with her superior intellect, had discovered the secret she had feebly
+tried to guard. There was a pause and a dead silence. That silence told
+all that was necessary to Charlotte Harman. After a time she said
+gently, but all the fibre and tune had left her voice,----
+
+"I must think over your story, it is a very, very strange tale. You are
+right, you cannot come here; good-bye."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE WOMAN BY THE HEARTH.
+
+
+Mrs. Home went back to the small house in Kentish Town, and Miss Harman
+sat on by her comfortable fire. The dainty lunch was brought in and laid
+on the table, the young lady did not touch it. The soft-voiced,
+soft-footed servant brought in some letters on a silver salver. They
+looked tempting letters, thick and bulgy. Charlotte Harman turned her
+head to glance at them but she left them unopened by her side. She had
+come in very hungry, from her visit to the publishers, and these letters
+which now lay so close had been looked forward to with some impatience,
+but now she could neither eat nor read. At last a pretty little
+timepiece which stood on a shelf over her head struck four, and a clock
+from a neighboring church re-echoed the sound. Almost at the same
+instant there came a tap at her room door.
+
+"That is John," said Charlotte. She shivered a little. Her face had
+changed a good deal, but she rose from her seat and came forward to meet
+her lover.
+
+"Ready, Charlotte?" he said, laying his two hands on her shoulders; then
+looking into her face he started back in some alarm. "My dear, my
+dearest, something has happened; what is the matter?"
+
+This young woman was the very embodiment of truth. She did not dream of
+saying, "Nothing is the matter." She looked up bravely into the eyes she
+loved best in the world and answered,----
+
+"A good deal is the matter, John. I am very much vexed and--and
+troubled."
+
+"You will tell me all about it; you will let me help you?" said the
+lover, tenderly.
+
+"Yes, John dear, but not to-night. I want to think to-night. I want to
+know more. To-morrow you shall hear; certainly to-morrow. No, I will not
+go out with you. Is my father in? Is Uncle Jasper in?"
+
+"Your father is out, and your uncle is going. I left him buttoning on
+his great-coat in the hall."
+
+"Oh! I must see Uncle Jasper; forgive me, I must see him for a minute."
+
+She flew downstairs, leaving John Hinton standing alone, a little
+puzzled and a little vexed. Breathless she arrived in the hall to find
+her uncle descending the steps; she rushed after him and laid her hand
+on his shoulder.
+
+"Uncle Jasper, I want you. Where are you going?"
+
+"Hoity-toity," said the old gentleman, turning round in some surprise,
+and even dismay when he caught sight of her face. "I am going to the
+club, child. What next. I sent Hinton up to you. What more do you want?"
+
+"I want you. I have a story to tell you and a question to ask you. You
+must come back."
+
+"Lottie, I said I would have nothing to do with those books of yours,
+and I won't. I hate novels, and I hate novelists. Forgive me, child. I
+don't hate you; but if your father and John Hinton between them mean to
+spoil a fine woman by encouraging her to become that monster of nature,
+a blue-stocking, I won't help them, and that's flat. There now. Let me
+go."
+
+"It is no fiction I want to ask you, Uncle Jasper. It is a true tale,
+one I have just heard. It concerns me and you and my father. It has
+pained me very much, but I believe it can be cleared up. I would rather
+ask you than my father about it, at least at first; but either of you
+can answer what I want to know; so if you will not listen to me I can
+speak to my father after dinner."
+
+Uncle Jasper had one of those faces which reveal nothing, and it
+revealed nothing now. But the keen eyes looked hard into the open gray
+eyes of the girl who stood by his side.
+
+"What thread out of that tangled skein has she got into her head?" he
+whispered to himself. Aloud he said, "I will come back to dinner,
+Charlotte, and afterwards you shall take me up to your little snuggery.
+If you are in trouble, my dear, you had better confide in me than in
+your father. He does not--does not look very strong."
+
+Then he walked down the street; but when he reached his club he did not
+enter it. He walked on and on. He puzzling, not so much over his niece's
+strange words as over something else. Who was that woman who sat by
+Charlotte's hearth that day?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+CHARLOTTE CANNOT BEAR THE DARK.
+
+
+The elder Mr. Harman had retired to his study, and Charlotte and her
+uncle sat side by side in that young lady's own private apartment. The
+room looked snug and sheltered, and the subdued light from a Queen's
+reading-lamp, and from the glowing embers of a half burned-out fire,
+were very pleasant. Uncle Jasper was leaning back in an armchair, but
+Charlotte stood on the hearthrug. Soft and faint as the light was, it
+revealed burning cheeks and shining eyes; but the old face these tokens
+of excitement appealed to remained completely in shadow.
+
+Charlotte had told the story she had heard that day, and during its
+whole recital her uncle had sat motionless, making no comment either by
+word or exclamation.
+
+Mrs. Home's tale had been put into skilful hands. It was well told--all
+the better because the speaker so earnestly hoped that its existence
+might turn out a myth--that the phantom so suddenly conjured up might
+depart as quickly as it had arrived. At last the story came to a
+conclusion. There was a pause, and Charlotte said,----
+
+"Well, Uncle Jasper?"
+
+"Well, Lottie?" he answered. And now he roused himself, and bent a
+little forward.
+
+"Is the story true, Uncle Jasper?"
+
+"It is certainly true, Charlotte, that my father and your grandfather
+married again."
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"It is also highly probable that this young woman is the daughter of
+that marriage. When I saw her in this room to-day I was puzzled by an
+intangible likeness in her. This accounts for it."
+
+"Then why----" began Charlotte, and then she stopped. There was a whole
+world of bitterness in her tone.
+
+"Sit down, child," said her uncle. He pointed to a footstool at his
+feet. Whenever he came into this room Charlotte had occupied this
+footstool, and he wanted her to take it now, but she would not; she
+still kept her place on the hearth.
+
+"I cannot sit," she said. "I am excited--greatly excited. This looks to
+me in the light of a wrong."
+
+"Who do you think has committed the wrong, Charlotte?"
+
+Before she answered, Charlotte Harman lit a pair of candles which stood
+on the mantelshelf.
+
+"There, now," she said with a sigh of relief, "I can see your face. It
+is dreadful to speak to any one in the dark. Uncle Jasper, if I had so
+near a relation living all these years why was I never told of it? I
+have over and over again longed for a sister, and it seems I had one or
+one who might have been to me a sister. Why was I kept in ignorance of
+her very existence?"
+
+"You are like all women--unreasonable, Lottie. I am glad to find you so
+human, my dear; so human, and--and--womanly. You jump to conclusions
+without hearing reasons. Now I will give you the reasons. But I do wish
+you would sit down."
+
+"I will sit here," said Charlotte, and she drew a chair near the table.
+The room abounded in easy-chairs of all sizes and descriptions, but she
+chose one hard and made of cane, and she sat upright upon it, her hands
+folded on her lap. "Now, Uncle Jasper," she said, "I am ready to hear
+your reasons."
+
+"They go a good way back, my dear, and I am not clever at telling a
+story; but I will do my best. Your grandfather made his money in trade;
+he made a good business, and he put your father and me both into it. It
+is unnecessary to go into particulars about our special business; it was
+small at first, but we extended it until it became the great firm of
+which your father is the present head. We both, your father and I,
+showed even more aptitude for this life of mercantile success than our
+father did, and he, perceiving this, retired while scarcely an old man.
+He made us over the entire business he had made, taking, however, from
+it, for his own private use, a large sum of money. On the interest of
+this money he would live, promising, however, to return it to us at his
+death. The money taken out of the business rather crippled us, and we
+begged of him to allow us to pay him the interest, and to let the
+capital remain at our disposal; but he wished to be completely his own
+master, and he bought a place in Hertfordshire out of part of the
+money. It was a year or two after, that he met his second wife and
+married her. I don't pretend," continued Uncle Jasper, "that we liked
+this marriage or our stepmother. We were young fellows then, and we
+thought our father had done us an injustice. The girl he had chosen was
+an insipid little thing, with just a pretty face, and nothing whatever
+else. She was not quite a lady. We saw her, and came to the conclusion
+that she was common--most unsuited to our father. We also remembered our
+own mother; and most young men feel pain at seeing any one put into her
+place.
+
+"We expostulated with our father. He was a fiery old man, and hot words
+passed between us. I won't repeat what we all said, my dear, or how
+bitter John and I felt when we rode away from the old place our father
+had just purchased. One thing he said as we were going off.
+
+"'My marrying again won't make any money difference to you two fellows,
+and I suppose I may please myself.'"
+
+"I think my grandfather was very unjust," said Charlotte, but
+nevertheless a look of relief stole over her face.
+
+"We went back to our business, my dear, and our father married; and when
+we wrote to him he did not answer our letters. After a time we heard a
+son had been born, and then, shortly after the birth of this child, the
+news reached us, that a lawyer had been summoned down to the manor-house
+in Hertfordshire. We supposed that our father was making provision for
+the child; and it seemed to us fair enough. Then we saw the child's
+death in the _Times_, and shortly after the news also came to us that
+the same lawyer had gone down again to see our father.
+
+"After this, a few years went by, and we, busy with our own life, gave
+little heed to the old man, who seemed to have forgotten us. Suddenly we
+were summoned to his deathbed. John, your father, my dear, had always
+been his favorite. On his deathbed he seemed to have returned to the old
+times, when John was a little fellow. He liked to have him by his side;
+in short, he could not bear to have him out of his sight. He appeared to
+have forgotten the poor, common little wife he had married, and to live
+his early days over again. He died quite reconciled to us both, and we
+held his hand as he breathed his last.
+
+"To our surprise, my dear, we found that he had left us every penny of
+his fortune. The wife and baby girl were left totally unprovided for. We
+were amazed! We thought it unjust. We instantly resolved to make
+provision for her and her baby. We did so. She never wanted to the day
+of her death."
+
+"She did not starve," interrupted Charlotte, "but you shut her out, her
+and her child, from yourselves, and from me. Why did you do this?"
+
+"My dear, you would scarcely speak in that tone to your father, and it
+was his wish as well as mine--indeed, far more his wish than mine. I was
+on the eve of going to Australia, to carry on a branch of our trade
+there; but he was remaining at home. He was not very long married. You
+don't remember your mother, Charlotte. Ah! what a fine young creature
+she was, but proud--proud of her high birth--of a thousand things. It
+would have been intolerable to her to associate with one like my
+stepmother. Your father was particular about his wife and child. He
+judged it best to keep these undesirable relations apart. I, for one,
+can scarcely blame him."
+
+"I _will_ not blame my father," said Charlotte. Again that look of
+relief had stolen over her face. The healthy tint, which was scarcely
+color, had returned to her cheek; and the tension of her attitude was
+also withdrawn, for she changed her seat, taking possession now of her
+favorite easy-chair. "But I like Charlotte Home," she said after a
+pause. "She is--whatever her mother may have been--quite a lady. I think
+it is hard that when she is so nearly related to me she should be so
+poor and I so rich. I will speak to my father. He asked me only this
+morning what I should like as a wedding present. I know what I shall
+like. He will give that three thousand pounds to Charlotte Home. The
+money her mother had for her life she shall have for ever. I know my
+father won't refuse me."
+
+Charlotte's eyes were on the ground, and she did not see the dark
+expression which for a moment passed over Jasper Harman's face. Before
+he answered her he poked the fire into a vigorous flame.
+
+"You are a generous girl, Lottie," he said then. "I admire your spirit.
+But it is plain, my dear, that money has come as easily to you as the
+very air you breathe, or you would not speak of three thousand pounds in
+a manner so light as almost to take one's breath away. But
+suppose--suppose the money could be given, there is another difficulty.
+To get that money for Mrs. Home, who, by the way, has her husband to
+provide for her, you must tell this tale to your father--you must not do
+that."
+
+"Why not?" asked Charlotte, opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+
+"Simply because he is ill, and the doctors have forbidden him to be in
+the least agitated."
+
+"Uncle Jasper--I know he is not well, but I did not hear this; and
+why--why should what I have to say agitate him?"
+
+"Because he cannot bear any allusion to the past. He loved his father;
+he cannot dwell on those years when they were estranged. My dear,"
+continued old Uncle Jasper. "I am glad you came with this tale to me--it
+would have done your father harm. The doctors hope soon to make him much
+better, but at present he must hear nothing likely to give rise to
+gloomy thoughts; wait until he is better, my dear. And if you want help
+for this Mrs. Home, you must appeal to me. Promise me that, Lottie."
+
+"I will promise, certainly, not to injure my father, but I confess you
+puzzle me."
+
+"I am truly sorry, my dear. I will think over your tale, but now I must
+go to John. Will you come with me?"
+
+"No, thanks; I would rather stay here."
+
+"Then we shall not meet again, for in an hour I am off to my club.
+Good-night, my dear."
+
+And Charlotte could not help noticing how soft and catlike were the
+footsteps of the old Australian uncle as he stole away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+JOHN AND JASPER HARMAN.
+
+
+Jaspar Harman was sixty years old at this time, but the days of his
+pilgrimage had passed lightly over him, neither impairing his frame nor
+his vigor. At sixty years of age he could think as clearly, sleep as
+comfortably, eat as well--nay, even walk as far as he did thirty years
+ago. His life in the Antipodes seemed to have agreed with him. It is
+true his hair was turning gray, and his shrewd face had many wrinkles on
+it, but these seemed more the effects of climate than of years. He
+looked like a man whom no heart-trouble had ever touched and in this
+doubtless lay the secret of his perpetual youth. Care might sweep him
+very close, but it could not enter an unwelcome guest, to sit on the
+hearth of his holy of holies; into the innermost shrine of his being it
+could scarcely find room to enter. His was the kind of nature to whom
+remorse even for a sin committed must be almost unknown. His affections
+were not his strong point. Most decidedly his intellect overbalanced his
+heart. But without an undue preponderance of heart he was good-natured;
+he would pat a chubby little cheek, if he passed it in the street, and
+he would talk in a genial and hearty way to those beneath him in life.
+In business matters he was considered very shrewd and hard, but those
+who had no such dealings with him pronounced him a kindly soul. His
+smile was genial; his manner frank and pleasant. He had one trick,
+however, which no servant could bear--his step was as soft as a cat's;
+he must be on your heels before you had the faintest clue to his
+approach.
+
+In this stealthy way he now left his niece's room, stole down the
+thickly carpeted stairs, crept across a tiled hall, and entered the
+apartment where his elder brother waited for him.
+
+John Harman was only one year Jasper's senior, but there looked a much
+greater difference between them. Jasper was young for his years; John
+was old; nay, more--he was very old. In youth he must have been a
+handsome man; in age for every one spoke of him as aged, he was handsome
+still. He was tall, over six feet; his hair was silver-white; his eyes
+very deep set, very dark. Their expression was penetrating, kind, but
+sad. His mouth was firm, but had some lines round it which puzzled you.
+His smile, which was rare and seldom seen, was a wintry one. You would
+rather John Harman did not smile at you; you felt miserable afterwards.
+All who knew him said instinctively that John Harman had known some
+great trouble. Most people attributed it to the death of his wife, but,
+as this happened twenty years ago, others shook their heads and felt
+puzzled. Whatever the sorrow, however, which so perpetually clouded the
+fine old face, the nature of the man was so essentially noble that he
+was universally loved and respected.
+
+John Harmon was writing a letter when his brother entered. He pushed
+aside his writing materials, however, and raised his head with a sigh of
+relief. In Jasper's presence there was always one element of comfort.
+He need cover over no anxieties; his old face looked almost sharp as he
+wheeled his chair round to the fire.
+
+"No, you are not interrupting me," he began. "This letter can keep; it
+is not a business one. I never transact business at home." Then he
+added, as Jasper sank into the opposite chair, "You have been having a
+long chat with the child. I am glad she is getting fond of you."
+
+"She is a fine girl," said Jasper; "a fine, generous girl. I like her,
+even though she does dabble in literature; and I like Hinton too. When
+are they to be married, John?"
+
+"When Hinton gets his first brief--not before," answered John Harman.
+
+"Well, well, he's a clever chap; I don't see why you should wait for
+that--he's safe to get on. If I were you, I'd like to see my girl
+comfortably settled. One can never tell what may happen!"
+
+"What may happen!" repeated the elder Harman. "Do you allude now to the
+doctor's verdict on myself. I did not wish Charlotte acquainted with
+it."
+
+"Pooh! my dear fellow, there's nothing to alarm our girl in that
+quarter. I'd lay my own life you have many long years before you. No,
+Charlotte knows you are not well, and that is all she need ever know. I
+was not alluding to your health, but to the fact that that fine young
+woman upstairs is, just to use a vulgar phrase, eating her own head off
+for want of something better to do. She is dabbling in print. Of course,
+her book must fail. She is full of all kinds of chimerical expedients.
+Why, this very evening she was propounding the most preposterous scheme
+to me, as generous as it was nonsensical. No, no, my dear fellow, even
+to you I won't betray confidence. The girl is an enthusiast. Now
+enthusiasts are always morbid and unhappy unless they can find vent for
+their energies. Why don't you give her the natural and healthy vents
+supplied by wifehood and motherhood? Why do you wait for Hinton's first
+brief to make them happy? You have money enough to make them happy at
+once."
+
+"Yes, yes, Jasper--it is not that. It is just that I want the young man
+not to be altogether dependent on his wife. I am fonder of Hinton than
+of any other creature in the world except my own child. For his sake I
+ask for his short delay to their marriage. On the day he brings me news
+of that brief I take the first steps to settle on Charlotte a thousand
+a year during my lifetime. I make arrangements that her eldest son
+inherits the business, and I make further provision for any other
+children she may have."
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, all that sounds very nice; and if Hinton was not
+quite the man he is I should say, 'Wait for the brief.' But I believe
+that having a wife will only make him seek that said brief all the
+harder. I see success before that future son-in-law of yours."
+
+"And you are a shrewd observer of character, Jasper," answered his
+brother.
+
+Neither of the men spoke for some time after this, and presently Jasper
+rose to go. He had all but reached the door when he turned back.
+
+"You will be in good time in the city to-morrow, John."
+
+"Yes, of course. Not that there is anything very special going on. Why
+do you ask?"
+
+"Only that we must give an answer to that question of the trusteeship to
+the Rutherford orphans. I know you object to the charge, still it seems
+a pity for the sake of a sentiment."
+
+Instantly John Harman, who had been crouching over the fire, rose to his
+full height. His deep-set eyes flashed, his voice trembled with some
+hardly suppressed anguish.
+
+"Jasper!" he said suddenly and sharply; then he added, "you have but one
+answer to that question from me--never, never, as long as I live, shall
+our firm become trustees for even sixpence worth. You know my feelings
+on that point, Jasper, and they shall never change."
+
+"You are a fool for your pains, then," muttered Jasper, but he closed
+the door rather hastily behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"A PET DAY."
+
+
+At breakfast the next morning Charlotte Harman was in almost wild
+spirits. Her movements were generally rather sedate, as befitted one so
+tall, so finely proportioned, so dignified. To-day her step seemed set
+to some hidden rhythmic measure; her eyes laughed; her gracious, kindly
+mouth was wreathed in perpetual smiles. Her father, on the contrary,
+looked more bent, more careworn, more aged even than usual. Looking,
+however, into her eyes for light, his own brightened. As he ate his
+frugal breakfast of coffee and dry toast he spoke:
+
+"Charlotte, your Uncle Jasper came to me last night with a proposal on
+your behalf."
+
+"Yes, father," answered Charlotte. She looked up expectantly. She
+thought of Mrs. Home. Her uncle had told the tale after all, and her
+dear and generous father would refuse her nothing. She should have the
+great joy of giving three thousand pounds to that poor mother for the
+use of her little children.
+
+The next words, however, uttered by Mr. Harman caused these dreams to be
+dispelled by others more golden. The most generous woman must at times
+think first of herself. Charlotte was very generous; but her father's
+next words brought dimples into very prominent play in each cheek.
+
+"My darling, Jasper thinks me very cruel to postpone your marriage. I
+will not postpone it. You and Hinton may fix the day. I will take that
+brief of his on trust."
+
+No woman likes an indefinite engagement, and Charlotte was not the
+exception to prove this rule.
+
+"Dearest father," she said, "I am very happy at this. I will tell John.
+He is coming over this morning. But you know my conditions? No wedding
+day for me unless my father agrees to live with me afterwards."
+
+"Settle it as you please, dear child. I don't think there would be much
+sunshine left for me if you were away from me. And now I suppose you
+will be very busy. You have _carte blanche_ for the trousseau, but your
+book? will you have time to write it, Charlotte? And that young woman
+whom I saw in your room yesterday, is she the amanuensis whom you told
+me about?"
+
+"She is the lady whom I hoped to have secured, father, but she is not
+coming."
+
+"Not coming! I rather liked her look, she seemed quite a lady. Did you
+offer her too small remuneration? Not that that would be your way, but
+you do not perhaps know what such labor is worth."
+
+"It was not that, dear father. I offered her what she herself considered
+a very handsome sum. It was not that. She is very poor; very, very poor
+and she has three little children. I never saw such a hungry look in any
+eyes as she had, when she spoke of what money would be to her. But she
+gave me a reason--a reason which I am not at liberty to tell to you,
+which makes it impossible for her to come here."
+
+Charlotte's cheeks were burning now, and something in her tone caused
+her father to gaze at her attentively. It was not his way, however, to
+press for any confidence not voluntarily offered. He rose from his seat
+with a slight sigh.
+
+"Well, dear," he said, "you must look for some one else. We can't talk
+over matters to-night. Ask Hinton to stay and dine. There; I must be
+off, I am very late as it is."
+
+Mr. Harman kissed his daughter and she went out as usual to button on
+his great-coat and see him down the street. She had performed this
+office for him ever since--a little mite of four years old--she had
+tried to take her dead mother's place. The child, the growing girl, the
+young woman, had all in turns stood on those steps, and watched that
+figure walking away. But never until to-day had she noticed how aged and
+bent it had grown. For the first time the possibility visited her heart
+that there might be such a thing for her in the future as life without
+her father.
+
+Uncle Jasper had said he was not well; no, he did not look well. Her
+eyes filled with tears as she closed the hall door and re-entered the
+house. But her own prospects were too golden just now to permit her to
+dwell as long, or as anxiously, as she otherwise would have done, on so
+gloomy an aspect of her father's case.
+
+Charlotte Harman was twenty-five years of age; but, except when her
+mother died, death had never come near her young life. She could
+scarcely remember her mother, and, with this one exception, death and
+sickness were things unknown. She has heard of them of course; but the
+grim practical knowledge, the standing face to face with the foe, were
+not her experience. She was the kind of woman who could develop into the
+most tender nurse, into the wisest, best, and most helpful guide,
+through those same dark roads of sickness and death, but the training
+for this was all to come. No wonder that in her inexperience she should
+soon cease to dwell on her father's bent figure and drawn, white face. A
+reaction was over her, and she must yield to it.
+
+As she returned to the comfortable breakfast-room, her eyes shone
+brighter through their momentary tears. She went over and stood by the
+hearth. She was a most industrious creature, having trained herself not
+to waste an instant; but to-day she must indulge in a happy reverie.
+
+How dark had been those few hours after Mrs. Home had left her
+yesterday; how undefined, how dim, and yet how dark had been her
+suspicions! She did not know what to think, or whom to suspect; but she
+felt that, cost her what it might, she must fathom the truth, and that
+having once fathomed it, something might be revealed to her that would
+embitter and darken her whole life.
+
+And behold! she had done so. She had bravely grasped the phantom in both
+hands, and it had vanished into thin air. What she dreamed was not.
+There was no disgrace anywhere. A morbid young woman had conjured up a
+possible tale of wrong. There was no wrong. She, Mrs. Home, was to be
+pitied, and Charlotte would help her; but beyond this no dark or evil
+thing had come into her life.
+
+And now, what a great further good was in store for her! Her father had
+most unexpectedly withdrawn his opposition over the slight delay he had
+insisted upon to her marriage. Charlotte did not know until now how she
+had chafed at this delay; how she had longed to be the wife of the man
+she loved. She said, "Thank God!" under her breath, then ran upstairs to
+her own room.
+
+Charlotte's maid had the special care of this room. It was a sunshiny
+morning, and the warm spring air came in through the open window.
+
+"Yes, leave it open," she said to the girl; "it seems as if spring had
+really come to-day."
+
+"But it is winter still, madam, February is not yet over," replied the
+lady's maid. "Better let me shut it, Miss Harman, this is only a pet
+day."
+
+"I will enjoy it then, Ward," answered Miss Harman. "And now leave me,
+for I am very busy."
+
+The maid withdrew, and Charlotte seated herself by her writing table.
+She was engaged over a novel which Messrs. M----, of ---- Street, had
+pronounced really good; they would purchase the copyright, and they
+wanted the MS. by a given date. How eager she had felt about this
+yesterday; how determined not to let anything interfere with its
+completion! But to-day, she took up her pen as usual, read over the last
+page she had written, then sat quiet, waiting for inspiration.
+
+What was the matter with her? No thought came. As a rule thoughts flowed
+freely, proceeding fast from the brain to the pen, from the pen to the
+paper. But to-day? What ailed her to-day? The fact was, the most natural
+thing in the world had come to stop the flow of fiction. It was put out
+by a greater fire. The moon could shine brilliantly at night, but how
+sombre it looked beside the sun! The great sunshine of her own personal
+joy was flooding Charlotte's heart to-day, and the griefs and delights
+of the most attractive heroine in the world must sink into
+insignificance beside it. She sat waiting for about a quarter of an
+hour, then threw down her pen in disgust. She pulled out her watch.
+Hinton could not be with her before the afternoon. The morning was
+glorious. What had Ward, her maid, called the day?--"a pet day." Well,
+she would enjoy it; she would go out. She ran to her room, enveloped
+herself in some rich and becoming furs, and went into the street. She
+walked on a little way, rather undecided where to turn her steps. In an
+instant she could have found herself in Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park;
+but, just because they were so easy of access, they proved unattractive.
+She must wander farther afield. She beckoned to a passing hansom.
+
+"I want to go somewhere where I shall have green grass and trees," she
+said to the cabby. "No, it must not be Hyde Park, somewhere farther
+off."
+
+"There's the Regent's," replied the man. "I'll drive yer there and back
+wid pleasure, my lady."
+
+"I will go to Regent's Park," said Charlotte. She made up her mind, as
+she was swiftly bowled along, that she would walk back. She was just in
+that condition of suppressed excitement, when a walk would be the most
+delightful safety-valve in the world.
+
+In half an hour she found herself in Regent's Park and, having dismissed
+her cab, wandered about amongst the trees. The whole place was flooded
+with sunshine. There were no flowers visible; the season had been too
+bad, and the year was yet too young; but for all that, nature seemed to
+be awake and listening.
+
+Charlotte walked about until she felt tired, then she sat down on one of
+the many seats to rest until it was time to return home. Children were
+running about everywhere. Charlotte loved children. Many an afternoon
+had she gone into Kensington Gardens for the mere and sole purpose of
+watching them. Here were children, too, as many as there, but of a
+different class. Not quite so aristocratic, not quite so exclusively
+belonging to the world of rank and fashion. The children in Regent's
+Park were certainly quite as well dressed; but there was just some
+little indescribable thing missing in them, which the little creatures,
+whom Charlotte Harman was most accustomed to notice, possessed.
+
+She was commenting on this, in that vague and slight way one does when
+all their deepest thoughts are elsewhere, when a man came near and
+shared her seat. He was a tall man, very slight, very thin. Charlotte,
+just glancing at him took in this much also, that he was a clergyman. He
+sat down to rest, evidently doing so from great fatigue. Selfish in her
+happiness, Charlotte presently returned to her golden dreams. The
+children came on fast, group after group; some pale and thin, some rosy
+and healthy; a few scantily clothed, a few overladen with finery. They
+laughed and scampered past her. For, be the circumstances what they
+might, all the little hearts seemed full of mirth and sweet content. At
+last a very small nurse appeared, wheeling a perambulator, while two
+children ran by her side. These children were dressed neatly, but with
+no attempt at fashion. The baby in the shabby perambulator was very
+beautiful. The little group were walking past rather more slowly than
+most of the other groups, for the older boy and girl looked decidedly
+tired, when suddenly they all stopped; the servant girl opened her mouth
+until it remained fixed in the form of a round O; the baby raised its
+arms and crowed; the elder boy and girl uttered a glad shout and ran
+forward.
+
+"Father, father, you here?" said the boy. "You here?" echoed the girl,
+and the whole cavalcade drew up in front of Charlotte and the thin
+clergyman. The boy in an instant was on his father's knee, and the girl,
+helping herself mightily by Charlotte's dress, had got on the bench.
+
+The baby seeing this began to cry. The small nurse seemed incapable of
+action, and Charlotte herself had to come to the rescue. She lifted the
+little seven months old creature out of its carriage, and placed it in
+its father's arms.
+
+He raised his eyes gratefully to her face and placed his arm round the
+baby.
+
+"Oh! I'm falling," said the girl. "This seat is so slippy, may I sit on
+your knee?"
+
+It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Charlotte to take this
+strange, shabbily dressed little girl into her embrace.
+
+The child began to stroke down and admire her soft furs.
+
+"Aren't they lovely?" she said. "Oh, Harold, look! Feel 'em, Harold;
+they're like pussies."
+
+Harold, absorbed with his father, turned his full blue eyes round
+gravely and fixed them not on the furs, but on the strange lady's face.
+
+"Father," he said in a slow, solemn tone, "may I kiss that pretty lady?"
+
+"My dear boy, no, no. I am ashamed of you. Now run away, children; go on
+with your walk. Nurse, take baby."
+
+The children were evidently accustomed to implicit obedience. They went
+without a word.
+
+"But I will kiss Harold first," said Charlotte Harman, and she stooped
+down and pressed her lips to the soft round cheek.
+
+"Thank you," said the clergyman. Again he looked into her face and
+smiled.
+
+The smile on his careworn face reminded Charlotte of the smile on St.
+Stephen's face, when he was dying. It was unearthly, angelic; but it was
+also very fleeting. Presently he added in a grave tone,----
+
+"You have evidently the great gift of attracting the heart of a little
+child. Pardon me if I add a hope that you may never lose it."
+
+"Is that possible?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"Yes; when you lose the child spirit, the power will go."
+
+"Oh! then I hope it never will," she replied.
+
+"It never will if you keep the Christ bright within you," he answered.
+Then he raised his hat to her, smiled again, and walked away.
+
+He was a strange man, and Charlotte felt attracted as well as repelled.
+She was proud, and at another time and from other lips such words would
+have been received with disdain. But this queer, shadowy-looking
+clergyman looked like an unearthly visitant. She watched his rather weak
+footsteps, as he walked quietly away in the northern direction through
+the park. Then she got up and prepared to return home. But this little
+incident had sobered her. She was not unhappy; but she now felt very
+grave. The child spirit! She must keep it alive, and the Christ must
+dwell bright within her.
+
+Charlotte's temperament was naturally religious. Her nature was so frank
+and noble that she could not but drink in the good as readily as the
+flower receives the dew; but she had come to this present fulness of her
+youthful vigor without one trial being sent to test the gold. She
+entered the house after her long walk to find Hinton waiting for her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FOUR MONTHS HENCE.
+
+
+Hinton had gone away the day before rather disturbed by Charlotte's
+manner. He had found her, for the first time since their betrothal, in
+trouble. Wishing to comfort, she had repelled him. He was a strong man,
+as strong in his own way as Charlotte was in hers, and this power of
+standing alone scarcely pleased him in her. His was the kind of nature
+which would be supposed to take for its other half one soft and
+clinging. Contrary to the established rule, however, he had won this
+proud and stately Charlotte. She thought him perfection: he was anything
+but that. But he had good points, there was nothing mean or base about
+him. There were no secrets hidden away in his life. His was an honorable
+and manly nature. But he had one little fault, running like a canker
+through the otherwise healthy fruit of his heart. While Charlotte was
+frank and open as the day, he was reserved; not only reserved, but
+suspicious. All the men who knew Hinton said what a capital lawyer he
+would make; he had all the qualities necessary to insure success in his
+profession. Above all things in the world secrets oppressed, irritated,
+and yet interested him. Once having heard of any little possible
+mystery, he could not rest until it was solved.
+
+This had been his character from a boy. His own brothers and sisters had
+confided in him, not because they found him particularly sympathetic, or
+particularly clever, not because they loved him so much, but simply
+because they could not help themselves. John would have found out all
+the small childish matter without their aid; it was better, safer to
+take him into confidence. Then, to do him justice, he was true as steel;
+for though he must discover, he would scorn to betray.
+
+On the white, untroubled sheet of Charlotte Harmon's heart no secrets
+yet had been written. Consequently, though she had been engaged for many
+months to John Hinton, she had never found out this peculiarity about
+him. Those qualities of openness and frankness, so impossible to his own
+nature, had attracted him most of all to this beautiful young woman.
+Never until yesterday had there been breath or thought of concealment
+about her. But then--then he had found her in trouble. Full of sympathy
+he had drawn near to comfort, and she had repelled him. She had heard of
+something which troubled her, which troubled her to such an extent that
+the very expression of her bright face had changed, and yet this
+something was to be a secret from him--true, only until the following
+day, but a whole twenty-four hours seemed like for ever to Hinton in his
+impatience. Before he could even expostulate with her she had run off,
+doubtless to confide her care to another. Perhaps the best way to
+express John Hinton's feelings would be to say that he was very cross as
+he returned to his chambers in Lincoln's Inn.
+
+All that evening, through his dreams all that night, all the following
+morning as he tried to engage himself over his law books, he pondered on
+Charlotte's secret. Such pondering must in a nature like his excite
+apprehension. He arrived on the next day at the house in Prince's Gate
+with his mind full of gloomy forebodings. His face was so grave that it
+scarcely cleared up at the sight of the bright one raised to meet it. He
+was full of the secret of yesterday; Charlotte, in all the joy of the
+secret of to-day, had already forgotten it.
+
+"Oh, I have had such a walk!" she exclaimed; "and a little bit of an
+adventure--a pretty adventure; and now I am starving. Come into the
+dining-room and have some lunch."
+
+"You look very well," answered her lover, "and I left you so miserable
+yesterday!"
+
+"Yesterday!" repeated Charlotte; she had forgotten yesterday. "Oh, yes,
+I had heard something very disagreeable: but when I looked into the
+matter, it turned out to be nothing."
+
+"You will tell me all about it, dear?"
+
+"Well, I don't know, John. I would of course if there was anything to
+tell; but do come and have some lunch, I cannot even mention something
+else much more important until I have had some lunch."
+
+John Hinton frowned. Even that allusion to something much more important
+did not satisfy him. He must know this other thing. What! spend
+twenty-four hours of misery, and not learn what it was all about in the
+end! Charlotte's happiness, however, could not but prove infectious, and
+the two made merry over their meal, and not until they found themselves
+in Charlotte's own special sanctum did Hinton resume his grave manner.
+Then he began at once.
+
+"Now, Charlotte, you will tell me why you looked so grave and scared
+yesterday. I have been miserable enough thinking of it ever since. I
+don't understand why you did not confide in me at once."
+
+"Dear John," she said--she saw now that he had been really hurt--"I
+would not give you pain for worlds, my dearest. Yes, I was much
+perplexed, I was even very unhappy for the time. A horrid doubt had been
+put into my head, but it turned out nothing, nothing whatever. Let us
+forget it, dear John; I have something much more important to tell you."
+
+"Yes, afterwards, but you will tell me this, even though it did turn out
+of no consequence."
+
+"Please, John dear, I would rather not. I was assailed by a most
+unworthy suspicion. It turned out nothing, nothing at all. I would
+rather, seeing it was all a myth, you never knew of it."
+
+"And I would rather know, Charlotte; the myth shall be dismissed from
+mind, too, but I would rather be in your full confidence."
+
+"My full confidence?" she repeated; the expression pained her. She
+looked hard at Hinton; his words were very quietly spoken, but there was
+a cloud on his brow. "You shall certainly have my full confidence," she
+said after that brief pause; "which will you hear first, what gave me
+pain yesterday, or what brings me joy to-day?"
+
+"What gave you pain yesterday."
+
+There is no doubt she had hoped he would have made the latter choice,
+but seeing he did not she submitted at once, sitting, not as was her
+wont close to his side, but on a chair opposite. Hinton sat with his
+back to the light, but it fell full on Charlotte, and he could see every
+line of her innocent and noble face as she told her tale. Having got to
+tell it, she did so in few but simple words; Mrs. Home's story coming of
+a necessity first, her Uncle Jasper's explanation last. When the whole
+tale was told, she paused, then said,--
+
+"You see there was nothing in it."
+
+"I see," answered Hinton. This was his first remark. He had not
+interrupted the progress of the narrative by a single observation; then
+he added, "But I think, if even your father does not feel disposed to
+help her, that we, you and I, Charlotte, ought to do something for Mrs.
+Home."
+
+"Oh, John dear, how you delight me! How good and noble you are! Yes, my
+heart aches for that poor mother; yes, we will help her. You and I, how
+very delightful it will be!"
+
+Now she came close to her lover and kissed him, and he returned her
+embrace.
+
+"You will never have a secret again from me, my darling?" he said.
+
+"I never, never had one," she answered, for it was impossible for her to
+understand that this brief delay in her confidence could be considered a
+secret. "Now for my other news," she said.
+
+"Now for your other news," he repeated.
+
+"John, what is the thing you desire most in the world?"
+
+Of course this young man being sincerely attached to this young woman,
+answered,--
+
+"You, Charlotte."
+
+"John, you always said you did not like Uncle Jasper, but see what a
+good turn he has done us--he has persuaded my father to allow us to
+marry at once."
+
+"What, without my brief?"
+
+"Yes, without your brief; my dear father told me this morning that we
+may fix the day whenever we like. He says he will stand in the way no
+longer. He is quite sure of that brief, we need not wait to be happy for
+it, we may fix our wedding-day, John, and you are to dine here this
+evening and have a talk with my father afterwards."
+
+Hinton's face had grown red. He was a lover, and an attached one; but so
+diverse were the feelings stirred within him, that for the moment he
+felt more excited than elated.
+
+"Your father is very good," he said, "he gives us leave to fix the day.
+Very well, that is your province, my Lottie; when shall it be?"
+
+"This is the twentieth of February, our wedding-day shall be on the
+twentieth of June," she replied.
+
+"That is four months hence," he said. In spite of himself there was a
+sound of relief in his tone. "Very well, Charlotte; yes, I will come and
+dine this evening. But now I am late for an appointment; we will have a
+long talk after dinner."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HIS FIRST BRIEF.
+
+
+Hinton, when he left Charlotte, went straight back to his chambers. He
+had no particular work to hurry him there; indeed, when he left that
+morning he had done so with the full intention of spending the entire
+afternoon with his betrothed. He was, as has been said, although a
+clever, yet certainly at present a briefless young barrister.
+Nevertheless, had twenty briefs awaited his immediate attention, he
+could not have more rapidly hurried back as he now did. When he entered
+his rooms he locked the outer door. Then he threw himself on a chair,
+drew the chair to his writing table, pushed his hands through his thick
+hair, and staring hard at a blank sheet of paper which lay before him
+began to think out a problem. His might scarcely have been called a
+passionate nature, but it was one capable of a very deep, very real
+attachment. This attachment had been formed for Charlotte Harman. Their
+engagement had already lasted nearly a year, and now with her own lips
+she had told him that it might end, that the end, the one happy end to
+all engagements, was in sight. With comfort, nay, with affluence, with
+the full consent of all her friends, they might become man and wife.
+John Hinton most undoubtedly loved this woman, and yet now as he
+reviewed the whole position the one pleasure he could deduct for his own
+reflection was in the fact that there was four months' reprieve.
+Charlotte had herself postponed their wedding-day for four months.
+
+Hinton was a proud man. When, a year ago, he had gone to Mr. Harman and
+asked him for his daughter, Mr. Harman had responded with the very
+natural question, "What means have you to support her with?"
+
+Hinton had answered that he had two hundred a year--and--his profession.
+
+"What are you making in your profession?" asked the father.
+
+"Not anything--yet," answered the young man.
+
+There was a tone of defiance and withal of hope thrown into that "yet"
+which might have repelled some men, but pleased Mr. Harman. He paused to
+consider. He might have got a much, much better match for Charlotte from
+a temporal standpoint. Hinton was of no family in particular; he had no
+money worthy of the name. He was simply an honest fellow, fairly
+good-looking, and with the heart of a gentleman.
+
+"You are doubtless aware," replied Mr. Harman, "that my daughter will
+inherit a very large fortune. She has been sought for in marriage before
+now, and by men who could give something to meet what she brings, both
+with regard to money and position."
+
+"I have heard of Mr. S.'s proposal," answered Hinton. "I know he is
+rich, and the son of Lord ----; but that is nothing, for she does not
+love him."
+
+"And you believe she loves you?"
+
+"Most certainly she loves me."
+
+In spite of himself Mr. Harman smiled, then after a little more thought,
+for he was much taken with Hinton, he came to terms.
+
+He must not have Charlotte while he had nothing to support her with.
+Pooh! that two hundred a year was nothing to a girl brought up like his
+daughter. For Hinton's own sake it would not be good for him to live on
+his wife's money; but when he obtained his first brief then they might
+marry.
+
+Hinton was profuse in thanks. He only made on his part one
+stipulation--that brief, which was to obtain for him his bride, was in
+no way to come to him through Mr. Harman's influence. He must win it by
+his own individual exertion.
+
+Mr Harman smiled and grew a trifle red. In his business capacity he
+could have put twenty briefs in this young fellow's way, and in his
+inmost heart he had resolved to do so; but he liked him all the better
+for this one proviso, and promised readily enough.
+
+Hinton had no business connections of his own. He had no influential
+personal friends, and his future father-in-law felt bound in honor to
+leave him altogether to his own resources. A year had nearly passed
+since the engagement, and the brief which was to win him Charlotte was
+as far away as ever. But now she told him that this one embargo to their
+happiness had been withdrawn. They might marry, and the brief would
+follow after. Hinton knew well what it all meant. The rich city
+merchant could then put work in his way. Work would quickly pour in to
+the man so closely connected with rich John Harman. Yes. As he sat by
+his table in his small shabbily furnished room, he knew that his fortune
+was made. He would obtain Charlotte and Charlotte's wealth; and if he
+but chose to use his golden opportunities, fame too might be his
+portion. He was a keen and ardent politician, and a seat in the House
+might easily follow all the other good things which seemed following in
+his track. Yes; but he was a proud man, and he did not like it. He had
+not the heart to tell Charlotte to-day, as she looked at him with all
+the love she had so freely given shining in her sweet and tender face,
+that he would not accept such terms, that the original bargain must yet
+abide in force. He could not say to this young woman when she came to
+him, "I do not want you." But none the less, as he now sat by his
+writing-table, was he resolved that unless his brief was won before the
+twentieth of June it should bring no wedding-day to him. This was why he
+rejoiced in the four months' reprieve. But this was by no means his only
+perplexity. Had it been, so stung to renewed action was his sense of
+pride and independence, that he would have gone at once to seek, perhaps
+to obtain work; but something else was lying like wormwood against his
+heart. That story of Mrs. Home's! That explanation of Jasper Harman's!
+The story was a queer one; the explanation, while satisfying the
+inexperienced girl, failed to meet the requirements of the acute lawyer.
+Hinton saw flaws in Jasper's narrative, where Charlotte saw none. The
+one great talent of his life, if it could be called a talent, was coming
+fiercely into play as he sat now and thought about it all. He had
+pre-eminently the gift of discovering secrets. He was rooting up many
+things from the deep grave of the hidden past now. That look of care on
+Mr. Harman's face, how often it had puzzled him! He had never liked
+Jasper; indefinite had been his antipathy hitherto, but it was taking
+definite form now. There _was_ a secret in the past of that most
+respectable firm, and he, John Hinton, would give himself no rest until
+he had laid it bare. No wedding-day could come to him and Charlotte
+until his mind was at rest on this point. It was against his interest to
+ferret out this hidden thing, but that fact weighed as nothing with him.
+It would bring pain to the woman he loved; it might ruin her father; but
+the pain and the ruin would be inflicted unsparingly by his righteous
+young hand, which knew nothing yet of mercy but was all for justice, and
+justice untempered with mercy is a terrible weapon. This Hinton was yet
+to learn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+LODGINGS IN KENTISH TOWN.
+
+
+After a time, restless from the complexity of his musings, Hinton went
+out. He had promised to return to the Harmans for dinner, but their hour
+for dinner was eight o'clock, and it still wanted nearly three hours of
+that time. As Charlotte had done before that day, he found himself in
+the close neighborhood of Regent's Park. He would have gone into the
+park, but that he knew that the hour of closing the gates at this early
+period of the year must be close at hand; he walked, therefore, by the
+side of the park, rather aimlessly it is true, not greatly caring,
+provided he kept moving, in what direction his footsteps took him.
+
+At last he found himself on the broad tram line which leads to the
+suburb of Kentish Town. It was by no means an interesting neighborhood.
+But Hinton, soon lost in his private and anxious musings, went on. At
+last he left the public thoroughfare and turned down a private road.
+There were no shops here, nor much traffic. He felt a sense of relief at
+leaving the roar and bustle behind him. This road on which he had now
+entered was flanked at each side by a small class of dwelling-houses,
+some shabby and dirty, some bright and neat; all, however, were
+poor-looking. It was quite dusk by this time, and the gas had been
+already lit. This fact, perhaps, was the reason which drew Hinton's
+much-preoccupied attention to a trivial circumstance.
+
+In one of these small houses a young woman, who had previously lit the
+gas, stepped to the window and proceeded to paste a card to the pane.
+There was a gas lamp also directly underneath, and Hinton, raising his
+eyes, saw very distinctly, not only the little act, but also the words
+on the card. They were the very common words----
+
+  APARTMENTS TO LET
+
+  INQUIRE WITHIN.
+
+Hinton suddenly drew up short on the pavement. He did not live in his
+chambers, and it occurred to him that here he would be within a walk of
+Regent's Park. In short, that these shabby-looking little lodgings might
+suit him for the next few uncertain months. As suddenly as he had
+stopped, and the thought had come to him, he ran up the steps and rang
+the bell. In a moment or two a little servant-maid opened the door. She
+was neither a clean nor a tidy-looking maid, and Hinton, fastidious on
+such matters, took in this fact at a glance. Nevertheless the desire to
+find for himself a habitation in this shabby little house did not leave
+him.
+
+"I saw a card up in your window. You have rooms to let," he said to the
+little maid.
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed, please, sir," answered the servant with a broad and
+delighted grin. "'Tis h'our drawing-rooms, please, sir; and ef you'll
+please jest come inter the 'all I'll run and tell missis."
+
+Hinton did so; and in another moment the maid, returning, asked him to
+step this way.
+
+This way led him into a dingy little parlor, and face to face with a
+young woman who, pale, self-possessed, and ladylike, rose to meet him.
+Hinton felt the color rising to his face at sight of her. He also
+experienced a curious and sudden constriction of his heart, and an
+overawed sense of some special Providence leading him here. For he had
+seen this young woman before. She was Charlotte Home. In his swift
+glance, however, he saw that she did not recognize him. His resolve was
+taken on the instant. However uncomfortable the rooms she had to offer,
+they should be his. His interest in this Mrs. Home became intensified to
+a degree that was painful. He knew that he was about to pursue a course
+which would be to his own detriment, but he felt it impossible now to
+turn aside. In a quiet voice, and utterly unconscious of this tumult in
+his breast, she asked him to be seated, and they began to discuss the
+accommodation she could offer.
+
+Her back and front drawing-rooms would be vacant in a week. Yes,
+certainly; Mr. Hinton could see them. She rang the bell as she spoke,
+and the maid appearing, took Hinton up stairs. The rooms were even
+smaller and shabbier than he had believed possible. Nevertheless, when
+he came downstairs he found no fault with anything, and agreed to the
+terms asked, namely, one guinea a week. He noticed a tremor in the
+young, brave voice which asked for this remuneration, and he longed to
+make the one guinea two, but this was impossible. Before he left he had
+taken Mrs. Home's drawing-rooms for a month, and had arranged to come
+into possession of his new quarters that day week.
+
+Looking at his watch when he left the house, he found that time had gone
+faster than he had any idea of. He had now barely an hour to jump into a
+cab, go to his present most comfortable lodgings, change his morning
+dress, and reach the Harmans in time for eight o'clock dinner. Little
+more than these sixty minutes elapsed from the time he left the shabby
+house in Kentish Town before he found himself in the luxurious abode of
+wealth, and every refinement, in Prince's Gate. He ran up to the
+drawing-room, to find Charlotte waiting for him alone.
+
+"Uncle Jasper will dine with us, John," she said, "but my father is not
+well."
+
+"Not well!" echoed Hinton. Her face only expressed slight concern, and
+his reflected it in a lesser degree.
+
+"He is very tired," she said, "and he looks badly. But I hope there is
+not much the matter. He will see you after dinner. But he could not eat,
+so I have begged of him to lie down; he will be all right after a little
+rest."
+
+Hinton made no further remark, and Uncle Jasper then coming in, and
+dinner being announced, they all went downstairs.
+
+Uncle Jasper and Charlotte were merry enough, but Hinton could not get
+over a sense of depression, which not even the presence of the woman he
+loved could disperse. He was not sorry when the message came for him to
+go to Mr. Harman. Charlotte smiled as he rose.
+
+"You will find me in the drawing-room whenever you like to come there,"
+she said to him.
+
+He left the room suppressing the sigh. Charlotte, however, did not hear
+or notice it. Still, with that light of love and happiness crowning her
+bright face, she turned to the old Australian uncle.
+
+"I will pour you out your next glass of port, and stay with you for a
+few moments, for I have something to tell you."
+
+"What is that, my dear?" asked the old man.
+
+"Something you have had to do with, dear old uncle. My wedding-day is
+fixed."
+
+Uncle Jasper chuckled.
+
+"Ah! my dear," he said, "there's nothing like having the day clear in
+one's head. And when is it to be, my pretty lass?"
+
+"The twentieth of June, Uncle Jasper. Just four months from to-day."
+
+"Four months off!" repeated Uncle Jasper. "Well, I don't call that very
+close at hand. When I spoke to your father last night--for you know I
+did speak to him, Charlotte--he seemed quite inclined to put no obstacle
+in the way of your speedy marriage."
+
+"Nor did he, Uncle Jasper. You don't understand. He said we might marry
+at once if we liked. It was I who said the twentieth of June."
+
+"You, child!--and--and did Hinton, knowing your father had withdrawn all
+opposition, did Hinton allow you to put off his happiness for four whole
+months?"
+
+"It was my own choice," said Charlotte. "Four months do not seem to me
+too long to prepare."
+
+"They would seem a very long time to me if I were the man who was to
+marry you, my dear."
+
+Charlotte looked grave at this. Her uncle seemed to impute blame to her
+lover. Being absolutely certain of his devotion, she scorned to defend
+it. She rose from the table.
+
+"You will find me in the drawing-room, Uncle Jasper."
+
+"One word, Charlotte, before you go," said her uncle. "No, child, I am
+not going to the drawing-room. You two lovers may have it to yourselves.
+But--but--you remember our talk of last night?"
+
+"Yes," answered Charlotte, pausing, and coming back a little way into
+the room. "Did you say anything to my father? Will he help Mrs. Home?"
+
+"I have no doubt he will, my dear. Your father and I will both do
+something. He is a very just man, is your father. He was a good deal
+upset by this reference to his early days, and to his quarrel with his
+own father. I believe, between you and me, that it was that which made
+him ill this evening. But, Charlotte, you leave Mrs. Home to us. I will
+mention her case again when your father is more fit to bear the subject.
+What I wanted to say now, my dear, is this, that I think it would best
+please the dear old man if--if you told nothing of this strange tale,
+not even to Hinton, my dear."
+
+"Why, Uncle Jasper?"
+
+"Why, my dear child? The reason seems to me obvious enough. It is a
+story of the past. It relates to an old and painful quarrel. It is all
+over years ago. And then you could not tell one side of the tale without
+the other. Mrs. Home, poor thing, not personally knowing your father as
+one of the best and noblest of men, imputes very grave blame to him.
+Don't you think such a tale, so false, so wrong, had better be buried in
+oblivion?"
+
+"Mrs. Home was most unjust in her ignorance," repeated Charlotte. "But,
+uncle, you are too late in your warning, for I told John the whole story
+already to-day."
+
+Not a muscle of Uncle Jasper's face changed.
+
+"Well, child, I should have said that to you last night. After all, it
+is natural. Hinton won't let it go farther, and no harm is done."
+
+"Certainly, John does not speak of my most sacred things," answered
+Charlotte proudly.
+
+"No, no, of course he doesn't. I am sorry you told him; but as you say,
+he is one with yourself. No harm is done. No, thank you, my dear, no
+more wine now. I am going off to my club."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+MR. HARMAN'S CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+All through dinner, Hinton had felt that strange sense of depression
+stealing upon him. He was a man capable of putting a very great
+restraint upon his feelings, and he so behaved during the long and weary
+meal as to rouse no suspicions, either in Charlotte's breast or in the
+far sharper one of the Australian uncle. But, nevertheless, so
+distressing was the growing sense of coming calamity, that he felt the
+gay laugh of his betrothed almost distressing, and was truly relieved
+when he had to change it for the gravity of her father. As he went from
+the dining-room to Mr. Harman's study, he reflected with pleasure that
+his future father-in-law was always grave, that never in all the months
+of their rather frequent intercourse had he seen him even once indulge
+in what could be called real gayety of heart. Though this fact rather
+coupled with his own suspicions, still he felt a momentary relief in
+having to deal to-night with one who treated life from its sombre
+standpoint.
+
+He entered the comfortable study. Mr. Harman was sunk down in an
+armchair, a cup of untasted coffee stood by his side; the moment he
+heard Hinton's step, however, he rose and going forward, took the young
+man's hand and wrung it warmly.
+
+The room was lit by candles, but there were plenty of them, and Hinton
+almost started when he perceived how ill the old man looked.
+
+"Charlotte has told you what I want you for to-night, eh, Hinton?" said
+Mr. Harman.
+
+"Yes; Charlotte has told me," answered John Hinton. Then he sat down
+opposite his future father-in-law, who had resumed his armchair by the
+fire. Standing up, Mr. Harman looked ill, but sunk into his chair, with
+his bent, white head, and drawn, anxious face, and hands worn to
+emaciation, he looked twenty times worse. There seemed nearly a lifetime
+between him and that blithe-looking Jasper, whom Hinton had left with
+Charlotte in the dining-room. Mr. Harman, sitting by his fire, with
+firelight and candlelight shining full upon him, looked a very old man
+indeed.
+
+"I am sorry to see you so unwell, sir. You certainly don't look at all
+the thing," began Hinton.
+
+"I am not well--not at all well. I don't want Charlotte to know. But
+there need be no disguises between you and me; of course I show it; but
+we will come to that presently. First, about your own affairs. Lottie
+has told you what I want you for to-night?"
+
+"She has, Mr. Harman. She says that you have been good and generous
+enough to say you will take away the one slight embargo you made to our
+marriage--that we may become man and wife before I bring you news of
+that brief."
+
+"Yes, Hinton: that is what I said to her this morning: I repeat the same
+to you to-night. You may fix your wedding-day when you like--I dare say
+you have fixed it."
+
+"Charlotte has named the twentieth of next June, sir; but----"
+
+"The twentieth of June! that is four months away. I did not want her to
+put it off as far as that. However, women, even the most sensible, have
+such an idea of the time it takes to get a trousseau. The twentieth of
+June! You can make it sooner, can't you?"
+
+"Four months is not such a long time, sir. We have a house to get, and
+furniture to buy. Four months will be necessary to make these
+arrangements."
+
+"No, they won't; for you have no such arrangements to make. You are to
+come and live here when you marry. This will be your house when you
+marry, and I shall be your guest. I can give you Charlotte Hinton; but I
+cannot do without her myself."
+
+"But this house means a very, very large income, Mr. Harman. Is it
+prudent that we should begin like this? For my part I should much rather
+do on less."
+
+"You may sell the house if you fancy, and take a smaller one; or go more
+into the country. I only make one proviso--that while I live, I live
+with my only daughter."
+
+"And with your son, too, Mr. Harman," said Hinton, just letting his hand
+touch for an instant the wrinkled hand which lay on Mr. Harman's knee.
+
+The old man smiled one of those queer, sad smiles which Hinton had often
+in vain tried to fathom. Responding to the touch of the vigorous young
+hand, he said--
+
+"I have always liked you, Hinton. I believe, in giving you my dear
+child, I give her to one who will make her happy."
+
+"Happy! yes, I shall certainly try to make her happy," answered Hinton,
+with a sparkle in his eyes.
+
+"And that is the main thing; better than wealth, or position, or
+anything else on God's earth. Happiness comes with goodness, you know,
+my dear fellow; no bad man was ever happy. If you and Charlotte get this
+precious thing into your lives you must both be good. Don't let the evil
+touch you ever so slightly. If you do, happiness flies."
+
+"I quite believe you," answered Hinton.
+
+"Well, about money matters. I am, as you know, very rich. I shall settle
+plenty of means upon my daughter; but it will be better for you to enter
+into all these matters with my solicitor. When can you meet him?"
+
+"Whenever convenient to you and to him, sir."
+
+"I will arrange it for you, and let you know."
+
+"Mr. Harman, may I say a word for myself?" suddenly asked the young man.
+
+"Most certainly. Have I been so garrulous as to keep you from speaking?"
+
+"Not at all, sir; you have been more than generous. You have been
+showing me the rose-color from your point of view. Now it is not all
+rose-color."
+
+"I was coming to that; it is by no means all rose-color. Well, say your
+say first."
+
+"You are a very rich man, and you are giving me your daughter; so
+endowing her, that any man in the world would say I had drawn a prize in
+money, if in nothing else."
+
+Mr. Harman smiled.
+
+"I fear you must bear that," he said. "I do not see that you can support
+Charlotte without some assistance from me."
+
+"I certainly could not do so. I have exactly two hundred a year, and
+that, as you were pleased to observed before, would be, to one brought
+up as Charlotte has been, little short of beggary."
+
+"To Charlotte it certainly would be almost beggary."
+
+"Mr. Harman, I have some pride in me. I am a barrister by profession.
+Some barristers get high in their profession."
+
+"Undoubtedly _some_ do."
+
+"Those who are brilliant do," continued Hinton. "I have abilities,
+whether they are brilliant or not, time will show. Mr. Harman, I should
+like to bring you news of that brief before we are married."
+
+"I can throw you in the way of getting plenty of briefs when you are my
+son-in-law. I promise you, you will no longer be a barrister with
+nothing to do."
+
+"Yes, sir; but I want this before my marriage."
+
+"My influence can give it to you before."
+
+"But that was against our agreement, Mr. Harman. I want to find that
+brief which is to do so much for me without your help."
+
+"Very well. Find it before the twentieth of June."
+
+After this the two men were silent for several moments. John Hinton,
+though in no measure comforted, felt it impossible to say more just
+then, and Mr. Harman, with a face full of care, kept gazing into the
+fire. John Hinton might have watched that face with interest, had he not
+been otherwise occupied. After this short silence Mr. Harman spoke
+again.
+
+"You think me very unselfish in all this; perhaps even my conduct
+surprises you."
+
+"I confess it rather does," answered Hinton.
+
+"Will you oblige me by saying how?"
+
+"For one thing, you give so much and expect so little."
+
+"Ay, so it appears at first sight; but I told you it was not all
+rose-color; I am coming to that part. Your pride has been roused--I can
+soothe it."
+
+"I love Charlotte too much to feel any pride in the matter," replied
+Hinton, with some heat.
+
+"I don't doubt your affection, my good fellow; and I put against it an
+equal amount on Charlotte's part; also a noble and beautiful woman, and
+plenty of money, with money's attendant mercies. I fear even your
+affection is outweighed in that balance."
+
+"Nothing can outweigh affection," replied Hinton boldly.
+
+Mr. Harman smiled, and this time stretching out his own hand he touched
+the young man's.
+
+"You are right, my dear boy; and because I am so well aware of this, I
+give my one girl to a man who is a gentleman, and who loves her. I ask
+for nothing else in Charlotte's husband, but I am anxious for you to be
+her husband at once."
+
+"And that is what puzzles me," said Hinton: "you have a sudden reason
+for this hurry. We are both young; we can wait; there is no hardship in
+waiting."
+
+"There would be a hardship to me in your waiting longer now. You are
+quite right in saying I have a sudden reason; this time last night I had
+no special thought of hurrying on Charlotte's marriage. Her uncle
+proposed it; I considered his reasoning good--so good, that I gave
+Charlotte permission this morning to fix with you the time for the
+wedding. But even then delay would have troubled me but little; now it
+does; now even these four short months trouble me sorely."
+
+"Why?" asked Hinton.
+
+"Why? You mentioned my health, and observed that I looked ill; I said I
+would come to that presently. I am ill; I look very ill. I have seen
+physicians. To-day I went to see Sir George Anderson; he told me,
+without any preamble, the truth. My dear fellow, I want you to be my
+child's protector in a time of trouble, for I am a dying man."
+
+Hinton had never come face to face with death in his life before. He
+started forward now and clasped his hands.
+
+"Dying!" he repeated, in a tone of unbelief and consternation.
+
+"Yes; you don't see it, for I am going about. I shall go about much as
+usual to the very last. Your idea of dying men is that they stay in bed
+and get weak, and have a living death long before the last great mercy
+comes. That will not be my case. I shall be as you see me now to the
+very last moment; then some day, or perhaps some night, you will come
+into this room, or into another room, it does not a bit matter where,
+and find me dead."
+
+"And must this come soon?" repeated Hinton.
+
+"It may not come for some months; it may stay away for a year; but again
+it may come to-night or to-morrow."
+
+"Good God!" repeated Hinton.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Hinton, you are right, in the contemplation of such a solemn
+and terrible event, to mention the name of your Creator. He is a good
+God, but His very goodness makes Him terrible. He is a God who will see
+justice done; who will by no means cleanse the guilty. I am going into
+His presence--a sinful old man. Well, I bow to His decree. But enough of
+this; you see my reasons for wishing for an early marriage for my
+child."
+
+"Mr. Harman, I am deeply, deeply pained and shocked. May I know the
+nature of your malady?"
+
+"It is unnecessary to discuss it, and does no good; suffice it to know
+that I carry a disease within me which by its very nature must end both
+soon and suddenly; also that there is no cure for the disease."
+
+"Are you telling me all this as a secret?"
+
+"As a most solemn and sacred secret. My brother suspects something of
+it, but no one, no one in all the world knows the full and solemn truth
+but yourself."
+
+"Then Charlotte is not to be told?"
+
+"Charlotte! Charlotte! It is for her sake I have confided to you all
+this, that you may guard her from such a knowledge."
+
+John Hinton was silent for a moment or two; if he disliked Charlotte
+having a secret from him much more did he protest against the knowledge
+which now was forced upon him being kept from her. He saw that Mr.
+Harman was firmly set on keeping his child in the dark; he disapproved,
+but he hardly dared, so much did he fear to agitate the old man, to make
+any vigorous stand against a decree which seemed to him both cruel and
+unjust. He must say something, however, so he began gently--
+
+"I will respect your most sacred confidence, Mr. Harman; without your
+leave no word from me shall convey this knowledge to Charlotte; but
+pardon me if I say a word. You know your own child very well, but I also
+know Charlotte; she has lived, for all her talent and her five and
+twenty years, the sheltered life of a child hitherto--but that is
+nothing; she is a noble woman, she has a noble woman's heart; in
+trouble, such a nature as hers could rise and prove itself great. Don't
+you suppose, when by and by the end really comes, she will blame me, and
+even perhaps, you, sir, for keeping this knowledge from her."
+
+"She will never blame her old father. She will see, bless her, that I
+did it in love; you will tell her that, be sure you tell her that, when
+the time comes; please God, you will be her husband then, and you will
+have the right to comfort her."
+
+"I hope to have the right to comfort her, I hope to be her husband;
+still, I think you are mistaken, though I can urge the matter no
+further."
+
+"No, for you cannot see it with my eyes; that child and I have lived the
+most unbroken life of peace and happiness together; neither storm nor
+cloud has visited us in one another. The shadow of death must not
+embitter our last few months; she must be my bright girl to the very
+last. Some day, if you and she ever have a daughter, you will understand
+my feelings--at least in part you will understand it."
+
+"I cannot understand it now, but I can at least respect it," answered
+the young man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+"VENGEANCE IS MINE."
+
+
+When Hinton at last left him, Mr. Harman sat on for a long time by his
+study fire. The fire burnt low but he did not replenish it, neither did
+he touch the cold coffee which still remained on his table. After an
+hour or so of musings, during which the old face seemed each moment to
+grow more sad and careworn, he stretched out his hand to ring his bell.
+
+Almost instantly was the summons answered--a tall footman stood before
+him.
+
+"Dennis, has Mr. Jasper left?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He said he was going to his club. I can have him fetched,
+sir."
+
+"Do not do so. After Mr. Hinton leaves, ask Miss Harman to come here."
+
+The footman answered softly in the affirmative and withdrew, and Mr.
+Harman still sat on alone. He had enough to think about. For the first
+time to-day death had come and stared him in the face; very close indeed
+his own death was looking at him. He was a brave man, but the sight of
+the cold, grim thing, brought so close, so inevitably near, was scarcely
+to be endured with equanimity. After a time, rising from his seat, he
+went to a bookcase and took down, not a treatise on medicine or
+philosophy, but an old Bible.
+
+"Dying men are said to find comfort here," he said faintly to himself.
+He put one of the candles on the table and opened the book. It was an
+old Bible, but John Harman was not very well acquainted with its
+contents.
+
+"They tell me there is much comfort here," he said to himself. He turned
+the old and yellow leaves.
+
+"_Vengeance is mine. I will repay._" These were the words on which his
+eyes fell.
+
+Comfort! He closed the book with a groan and returned it to the
+bookshelf. But in returning it he chose the highest shelf of all and
+pushed it far back and well out of sight.
+
+He had scarcely done so before a light quick step was heard at the door,
+and Charlotte, her eyes and cheeks both bright, entered.
+
+"My dearest, my darling," he said. He came to meet her, and folded her
+in his arms. He was a dying man, and a sin-laden one, but not the less
+sweet was that young embrace, that smooth cheek, those bright, happy
+eyes.
+
+"You are better, father; you look better," said his daughter.
+
+"I have been rather weak and low all the evening, Lottie; but I am much
+better for seeing you. Come here and sit at my feet, my dear love."
+
+"I am very happy this evening," said Charlotte, seating herself on her
+father's footstool, and laying her hand on his knee.
+
+"I can guess the reason, my child; your wedding-day is fixed."
+
+"This morning, father, I said it should be the twentieth of June; John
+seemed quite satisfied, and four months were not a bit too long for our
+preparations; but to-night he has changed his mind; he wants our wedding
+to be in April. I have not given in--not yet. Two months seem so short."
+
+"You will have plenty of time to prepare in two months, dear; and April
+is a nice time of year. If I were you, I would not oppose Hinton."
+
+Charlotte smiled. She knew in her heart of hearts she should not oppose
+him. But being a true woman, she laid hold of a futile excuse.
+
+"My book will not be finished. I like to do well what I do at all."
+
+Her father was very proud of this coming book; but now, patting her
+hand, he said softly,--
+
+"The book can keep. Put it out of your head for the present; you can get
+it done later."
+
+"Then I shall leave you two months sooner, father; does that not weigh
+with you at all?"
+
+"You are only going for your honeymoon, darling; and the sooner you go
+the sooner you will return."
+
+"Vanquished on all points," said Charlotte, smiling radiantly, and then
+she sat still, looking into the fire.
+
+Long, long afterwards, through much of sorrow--nay, even of
+tribulation--did her thoughts wander back to that golden evening of her
+life.
+
+"You remind me of my own mother to-night," said her father presently.
+
+Charlotte and her father had many times spoken of this dead mother. Now
+she said softly,--
+
+"I want, I pray, I long to make as good a wife as you tell me she did."
+
+"With praying, longing, and striving, it will come Charlotte. That was
+how she succeeded."
+
+"And there is another thing," continued Charlotte, suddenly changing her
+position and raising her bright eyes to her old father's face. "You had
+a good wife and I had a good mother. If ever I die, as my own mother
+died, and leave behind me a little child, as she did, I pray that my
+John may be as good a father to it as you have been to me."
+
+But in answer to this little burst of daughterly love, a strange thing
+happened. Mr. Harman grew very white, so white that he gasped for
+breath.
+
+"Water, a little water," he said, feebly; and when Charlotte had brought
+it to him and he raised it to his lips, and the color and power to
+breathe had come back again, he said slowly and with great pain,--
+
+"Never, never pray that your husband may be like me, Charlotte. To be
+worthy of you at all, he must be a much better and a very different
+man."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+HAPPINESS NOT JUSTICE.
+
+
+Hinton left Mr. Harman's house in a very perplexed frame of mind. It
+seemed to him that in that one short day as much had happened to him as
+in all the course of his previous life, but the very force of the
+thoughts, the emotions, the hopes, the fears, which had visited him,
+made him, strong, young and vigorous as he was, so utterly weary, that
+when he reached his rooms he felt that he must let tired-out nature have
+its way--he threw himself on his bed and slept the sleep of the young
+and healthy until the morning.
+
+It was February weather, February unusually mild and genial, and the pet
+day of yesterday was followed by another as soft and sweet and mild.
+When Hinton awoke from his refreshing slumbers, the day was so well and
+thoroughly risen that a gleam of sunshine lay across his bed. He started
+up to discover a corresponding glow in his heart. What was causing this
+glow? In a moment he remembered, and the gleam of heart sunshine grew
+brighter with the knowledge. The fact was, happiness was standing by the
+young man's side, holding out two radiant hands, and saying, "Take me,
+take me to your heart of hearts, for I have come to dwell with you."
+Hinton rose, dressed hastily, and went into his sitting-room. All the
+gloom which had so oppressed him yesterday had vanished. He could not
+resist the outward sunshine, nor the heart-glow which had come to him.
+He stepped lightly, and whistled some gay airs. He ate his breakfast
+with appetite, then threw himself into an easy-chair which stood near
+the window; he need not go to his chambers for at least an hour, he
+might give himself this time to think.
+
+Again happiness stepped up close and showed her beautiful face. Should
+he take her; should he receive the rare and lovely thing and shut out
+that stern sense of justice, of relieving the oppressed, of seeing the
+wronged righted, which had been as his sheet-anchor yesterday, which had
+been more or less the sheet-anchor of his life. Here was his position.
+He was engaged to marry Charlotte Harman; he loved her with his whole
+heart; she loved him with her whole heart; she was a beautiful woman, a
+noble woman, a wealthy woman. With her as his wife, love, riches, power
+might all be his. What more could the warm, warm feelings of youth
+desire? what more could the ambitions of youth aspire to? Yesterday, it
+is true, he had felt some rising of that noble pride which scorns to
+receive so much and give so little. He had formed a wild, almost
+passionate determination to obtain his brief before he obtained his
+bride, but Mr. Harman had soothed that pride to sleep. There was indeed
+a grave and sad reason why this beautiful and innocent woman whom he had
+won should receive all the full comfort his love and protection could
+give her as quickly as possible. Her father was dying, and she must not
+know of his approaching death. Her father wished to see her Hinton's
+wife as soon as possible. Hinton felt that this was reasonable, this was
+fair; for the sake of no pride, true or false, no hoped-for brief, could
+he any longer put off their wedding. Nay, far from this. Last night he
+had urged its being completed two months sooner than Charlotte herself
+had proposed. He saw by the brightness in Charlotte's eyes that, though
+she did not at once agree to this, her love for him was such that she
+would marry him in a week if he so willed it. He rejoiced in these
+symptoms of her great love, and the rejoicings of last night had risen
+in a fuller tide this morning. Yes, it was the rule of life, the one
+everlasting law, the old must suffer and die, the young must live and
+rejoice. Yes; Hinton felt very deep sympathy for Mr. Harman last night,
+but this morning, his happiness making him more self-absorbed than
+really selfish, he knew that the old man's dying and suffering state
+could not take one iota from his present delight.
+
+What then perplexed him? What made him stand aloof from the radiant
+guest, Happiness, for a brief half hour? That story of Charlotte's; it
+would come back to him; he wished now he had never heard it. For having
+heard he could not forget: he could not exorcise this grim Thing which
+stood side by side with Happiness in his sunny room. The fact was, his
+acute mind took in the true bearings of the case far more clearly than
+Charlotte had done. He felt sure that Mrs. Home had been wronged. He
+felt equally sure that, if he looked into the case, it lay in his power
+to right her. Over and over he saw her pale, sad face, and he hoped it
+was not going to haunt him. The tale in his mind lay all in Mrs. Home's
+favor, all against John and Jasper Harman. Was it likely that their
+wealthy father would do anything so monstrously unjust as to leave all
+his money to his two eldest sons with whom he had previously quarrelled,
+and nothing, nothing at all to his young wife and infant daughter? It
+would be a meaningless piece of injustice, unlike all that he had
+gleaned of the previous character of the old man. As to John and Jasper,
+and their conduct in the affair, that too was difficult to fathom.
+Jasper had spent the greater portion of his life in Australia. Of his
+character Hinton knew little; that little he felt was repugnant to him.
+But John Harman--no man in the City bore a higher character for
+uprightness, for integrity, for honor. John Harman was respected and
+loved by all who knew him.
+
+Yes, yes: Hinton felt that all this was possible, but also he knew that
+never in their close intercourse had he been able to fathom John Harman.
+A shadow rested over the wealthy and prosperous merchant. Never until
+now had Hinton even approached the cause; but now, now it seemed to him
+that he was grappling with the impenetrable mystery, that face to face
+he was looking at the long and successfully hidden sin. Strong man as he
+was, he trembled as this fear came over him. Whatever the cause,
+whatever the sudden and swift temptation, he felt an ever-growing
+conviction that long ago John and Jasper Harman had robbed the widow and
+fatherless. Feeling this, being almost sure of this, how then should he
+act? He knew very well what he could do. He could go to Somerset House
+and see the will of old Mr. Harman. It was very unlikely that a forged
+will had been attempted. It was, he felt sure, far, far more probable
+that the real will was left untampered with, that the deed of injustice
+had been done in the hope that no one who knew anything about such
+matters would ever inquire into it.
+
+Hinton could go that very day and set his mind at rest. Why then did he
+hesitate? Ah! he knew but too well. Never and nearer came that shining
+form of Happiness. If he did this thing, and found his suspicions
+correct, as he feared much he should, if he then acted upon this
+knowledge and gave Mrs. Home her own again, happiness would fly from
+him, it might be for ever. To give Mrs. Home her rights he must cruelly
+expose a dying old man. Such a shock, coming now, would most probably
+kill John Harman. After bringing her father to such shame and dishonor,
+would Charlotte ever consent to be his wife? would she not indeed in
+very horror fly from his presence? What was Mrs. Home to him, that he
+should ruin his whole life for her sake, that he should give up wife,
+wealth, and fame? Nothing--a complete stranger. Why should he, for her
+sake, pain and make miserable those he loved, above all break the heart
+of the woman who was more precious to him than all the rest of the
+world? He felt he could not do this thing. He must take that bright
+winged happiness and let justice have her day when she could. Some other
+hand must inflict the blow, it could not be his hand. He was sorry now
+that he had taken Mrs. Home's lodgings. But after all what did it
+signify? He had taken them for a month, he could go there for that short
+period. His quickly approaching marriage would make it necessary for him
+to leave very soon after, and he would try amongst his many friends to
+find her a more permanent tenant, for though he had now quite made up
+his mind to let matters alone, his heart ached for this woman. Yes, he
+would, if possible, help her in little ways, though it would be
+impossible for his hand to be the one to give her her own again. Having
+come to this determination he went out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"SUGAR AND SPICE AND ALL THAT'S NICE."
+
+
+Perhaps for one day Charlotte Harman was selfish in her happiness. But
+when she awoke on the morning after her interview with her father, her
+finely balanced nature had quite recovered its equilibrium. She was a
+woman whom circumstances could make very noble; all her leanings were
+towards the good, she had hitherto been unassailed by temptation,
+untouched by care. All her life the beautiful and bright things of this
+world had been showered at her feet. She had the friends whom rich,
+amiable, and handsome girls usually make. She had the devotion of a
+most loving father. John Hinton met her and loved her. She responded to
+his love with her full heart. Another father might have objected to her
+giving herself to this man, who in the fashionable world's opinion was
+nothing. But Harman only insisted on a slight delay to their marriage,
+none whatever to their engagement, and now, after scarcely a year of
+waiting, the embargo was withdrawn, their wedding-day was fixed, was
+close at hand. The twentieth of April (Charlotte knew she should not
+oppose the twentieth of April) was not quite two months away. Very light
+was her heart when she awoke to this happy fact. Happiness, too, was
+standing by her bedside, and she made no scruple to press the radiant
+creature to her heart of hearts. But Charlotte's was too fine a nature
+to be spoiled by prosperity. Independent of her wealth, she must always
+have been a favorite. Her heart was frank and generous; she was
+thoughtful for others, she was most truly unselfish. Charlotte was a
+favorite with the servants; her maid worshipped her. She was a just
+creature, and had read too much on social reform to give away
+indiscriminately and without thought; but where her sense of justice was
+really satisfied, she could give with a royal hand, and there were many
+poor whom Ward, her maid, knew, who, rising up, called Miss Harman
+blessed.
+
+Charlotte had taken a great interest in Mrs. Home. Her face attracted,
+her manner won, before ever her story touched the heart of this young
+woman. The greatest pain Charlotte had ever gone through in her life had
+followed the recital of Mrs. Home's tale, a terrible foreboding the
+awful shadow which points to wrong done, to sin committed by her best
+and dearest, had come near and touched her. Uncle Jasper, with his
+clever and experienced hand, had driven that shadow away, and in her
+first feeling of intense thankfulness and relief, she had almost
+disliked the woman who had come to her with so cruel a tale. All
+yesterday, in the midst of her own happiness, she had endeavored to shut
+Mrs. Home from her thoughts; but this morning, more calm herself, the
+remembrance of the poor, pale, and struggling mother rose up again fresh
+and vivid within her heart. It is true Mrs. Home believed a lie, a cruel
+and dreadful lie; but none the less for this was she to be pitied, none
+the less for this must she be helped. Mrs. Home was Charlotte's near
+relation, she could not suffer her to want. As she lay in bed, she
+reflected with great thankfulness that John Hinton had said, on hearing
+the tale, how manifestly it would be his and her duty to help this poor
+mother. Yes, by and by they would give her enough to raise her above all
+want, but Charlotte felt she could not wait for that distant time. She
+must succor Mrs. Home at once. Her father had said last night that, if
+she married in two months, there would be no time for her to finish her
+book. He was right; she must give up the book; she would devote this
+morning to Mrs. Home.
+
+She rose with her determination formed and went downstairs. As usual her
+father was waiting for her, as usual he came up and kissed her; and as
+they had done every morning for so many years, they sat down opposite
+each other to breakfast. Charlotte longed to speak to her father about
+Mrs. Home, but he looked, even to her inexperienced eyes, very ill and
+haggard, and she remembered her uncle's words and refrained from the
+subject.
+
+"You seem so feeble, father, had you not better go into town in the
+carriage this morning?" she asked, as he rose from his chair.
+
+To her surprise he assented, even confessed that he had already ordered
+the carriage. He had never to her knowledge done such a thing before,
+and little as she knew of real illness, nothing as she knew of danger
+and death, she felt a sharp pain at her heart as she watched him driving
+away. The pain, however, was but momentary, lost in the pressing
+interests of other thoughts. Before eleven o'clock she had started off
+to see Mrs. Home.
+
+Now it was by no means her intention to go to this newly found relation
+empty handed. Mrs. Home might or might not be willing to receive a gift
+of money, but Charlotte hoped so to be able to convey it to her as to
+save her pride from being too greatly hurt.
+
+Charlotte had a small banking account of her own. She drove now straight
+to her bank in the city, and drawing fifty pounds in one note slipped it
+into her purse. From the bank she went to a children's West End shop.
+She there chose a lovely velvet frock for the fair-haired little Daisy,
+two embroidered white dresses for the baby; and going a little farther
+she bought a smart tailor suit for the eldest boy. After buying the
+pretty clothes she visited a toy shop, where she loaded herself with
+toys; then a cake shop to purchase cakes and other goodies; and having
+at last exhausted her resources; she desired the coachman to drive to
+Mrs. Home's address in Kentish Town. She arrived, after a drive of a
+little over half an hour, to find the lady whom she had come to seek,
+out. The dirty little maid stared with full round eyes at the beautiful
+young lady and at the handsome carriage, and declared she did not know
+when her missis would be in.
+
+For a moment Charlotte felt foiled; but she was excited now--she could
+not go away, laden as she was with fairy gifts, without making some
+effort to dispense these blessings.
+
+"I am a relation of Mrs. Home's and I want to see the children. Are the
+children in?" she asked of the little maid.
+
+Rounder and rounder grew that small domestic's eyes.
+
+"They can't be hout without me," she volunteered; "ain't I the nuss and
+maid-of-all work? Yes, the children is hin."
+
+Then she opened the dining-room door, and Charlotte, first flying to the
+carriage and returning laden with brown paper parcels, followed her into
+the little parlor.
+
+The maid, on the swift wings of excitement, flew upstairs. There was the
+quick patter of eager little feet, and in a very few moments the door
+was pushed open and a boy and girl entered. Charlotte recognized them at
+a glance. They were the very handsome little pair whose acquaintance she
+had made yesterday in Regent's Park. The girl hung back a trifle shyly,
+but the boy, just saying to his sister, "The pretty lady," came up, and
+raised his lips for a kiss.
+
+"You don't think me rude?" he said; "you don't mind kissing me, do you."
+
+"I love to kiss you; I am your own cousin," said Charlotte.
+
+"My own cousin! Then I may sit on your knee. Daisy, come here--the
+pretty lady is our own cousin."
+
+On hearing this, Daisy too advanced. Neither child had any idea what the
+word cousin meant, but it seemed to include proprietorship. They stroked
+Charlotte's furs, and both pairs of lips were raised again and again for
+many kisses. In the midst of this scene entered the little maid with the
+baby. Pretty as Daisy and Harold were, they were nothing to the baby;
+this baby of eight months had a most ethereal and lovely face.
+
+"Oh, you beauty! you darling!" said Charlotte, as she clasped the little
+creature in her arms, and the baby, too young to be shy, allowed her to
+kiss him repeatedly.
+
+"What a lot of lumber!" said Daisy, touching the brown-paper parcels.
+
+This little child's speech brought Charlotte back to the fact of her
+cakes and toys. Giving baby to his small nurse, she opened her
+treasures. Daisy received her doll with a kind of awed rapture, Harold
+rattled his drum and blew his trumpet in a way most distracting to any
+weak nerves within reasonable distance, and the baby sucked some rather
+unwholesome sweets. No child thought of thanking their benefactor, but
+flushed cheeks, bright eyes, eager little voices, were thanks louder and
+more eloquent than words.
+
+"I want to see your mother; when will she be in?" asked Charlotte, after
+a little quiet had been restored.
+
+"Not all day," answered Harold. "Mother has gone with father to nurse a
+poor sick lady; she won't be back till quite night."
+
+"She said we were to be very good; we are, aren't we?" said Daisy.
+
+"Yes, darling; you are quite perfect," replied the inexperienced
+Charlotte.
+
+"Did our mother ask you to come and play with us and give us lovely
+things?" demanded Harold.
+
+"She does not know I am here, my dear little boy; but now, if you will
+show me where I can get a sheet of paper, I will just write your mother
+a little note."
+
+The paper was quickly found, and Charlotte sat down, a boy and girl on
+each side. It was not easy to say much under such circumstances, so the
+words in the little note were few.
+
+"You will give this to your mother when she comes in. See!--I will put
+it on the mantelpiece," she said to Harold; "and you must not touch
+these parcels until mother opens them herself. Yes; I will come again.
+Now, good-by." Her bonnet was decidedly crooked as she stepped into the
+carriage, her jacket was also much crumpled; but there was a very sweet
+feel of little arms still round her neck, and she touched her hair and
+cheeks with satisfaction, for they had been honored by many child
+kisses.
+
+"I believe she's just a fairy godmother," said Harold, as he watched the
+carriage rolling away.
+
+"I never seed the like in hall my born days," remarked the small
+maid-of-all-work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+"THE PRETTY LADY"
+
+
+"Mother, mother, mother!"
+
+"And look!--oh, do look at what I have got!" were the words that greeted
+Mrs. Home, when, very tired, after a day of hard nursing with one of her
+husband's sick parishioners, she came back.
+
+The children ought to have been in bed, the baby fast asleep, the little
+parlor-table tidily laid for tea: instead of which, the baby wailed
+unceasingly up in the distant nursery, and Harold and Daisy, having
+nearly finished Charlotte's sweeties, and made themselves very
+uncomfortable by repeated attacks on the rich plum-cake, were now, with
+very flushed cheeks, alternately playing with their toys and poking
+their small fingers into the still unopened brown-paper parcels. They
+had positively refused to go up to the nursery, and, though the gas was
+lit and the blinds were pulled down, the spirit of disorder had most
+manifestly got into the little parlor.
+
+"Oh, mother!--what _do_ you think? The lovely lady!--the lady we met in
+the park yesterday!--she has been, and she brought us _lots_ of
+things--toys, and sweeties, and cakes, and--oh, mother, do look!"
+
+Daisy presented her doll, and Harold blew some very shrill blasts from
+his trumpet right up into his mother's eyes.
+
+"My dear children," said Mrs. Home, "whom do you mean? where did you get
+all these things? who has come here? Why aren't you both in bed? It is
+long past your usual hour."
+
+This string of questions met with an unintelligible chorus of replies,
+in which the words "pretty lady," "Regent's Park," "father knew her,"
+"we _had_ to sit up," so completely puzzled Mrs. Home, that had not her
+eyes suddenly rested on the little note waiting for her on the
+mantelpiece she would have been afraid her children had taken leave of
+their senses.
+
+"Oh, yes; she told us to give you that," said Harold when he saw his
+mother take it up.
+
+I have said the note was very short. Charlotte Home read it in a moment.
+
+"Mother, mother! what does she tell you, and what are in the other
+parcels? She said we weren't to open them until you came home. Oh, _do_
+tell us what she said, and let us see the rest of the pretty things!"
+
+"Do, do mother; we have been so patient 'bout it!" repeated little
+Daisy.
+
+Harold now ran for the largest of the parcels, and raised it for his
+mother to take. Both children clung to her skirts. Mrs. Home put the
+large parcel on a shelf out of reach, then she put aside the hot and
+eager little hands. At last she spoke.
+
+"My little children must have some more patience, for mother can tell
+them nothing more to-night. Yes, yes, the lady is very pretty and very
+kind, but we can talk no more about anything until the morning. Now,
+Harold and Daisy, come upstairs at once."
+
+They were an obedient, well-trained little pair. They just looked at one
+another, and from each dimpled mouth came a short, impatient sigh; then
+they gave their hands to mother, and went gravely up to the nursery.
+Charlotte stayed with her children until they were undressed. She saw
+them comfortably washed, their baby prayers said, and each little head
+at rest on its pillow, then kissing the baby, who was also by this time
+fast asleep, she went softly downstairs.
+
+Anne, the little maid, was flying about, trying to get the tea ready and
+some order restored, but when she saw her mistress she could not refrain
+from standing still to pour out her excited tale.
+
+"Ef you please, 'em, it come on me hall on a 'eap. She come in that free
+and that bounteous, and seemed as if she could eat all the children up
+wid love; and she give 'em a lot, and left a lot more fur you, 'em. And
+when she wor goin' away she put half-a-crown in my hand. I never seed
+the like--never, 'em--never! She wor dressed as grand as Queen Victory
+herself, and she come in a carriage and two spanking hosses; and,
+please, 'em, I heard of her telling the children as she wos own cousin
+to you, 'em."
+
+"Yes, I know the young lady," replied Mrs. Home. "She is, as you say,
+very nice and kind. But now, Anne, we must not talk any more. Your
+master won't be in for an hour, but I shan't wait tea for him; we will
+have some fresh made later. Please bring me in a cup at once, for I am
+very tired."
+
+Anne gazed at her mistress in open-eyed astonishment. Any one--any one
+as poor as she well knew missis to be--who could take the fact of being
+cousin to so beautiful and rich a young lady with such coolness and
+apparent indifference quite passed Anne's powers of comprehension.
+
+"It beats me holler--that it do!" she said to herself; then, with a
+start, she ran off to her kitchen.
+
+Mrs. Home had taken her first cup of tea, and had even eaten a piece of
+bread and butter, before she again drew Charlotte Harman's little note
+out of her pocket. This is what her eyes had already briefly glanced
+over:--
+
+     DEAR FRIEND AND SISTER--for you must let me call you so--I have
+     come to see you, and finding you out asked to see your children. I
+     have lost my heart to your beautiful and lovely children. They are
+     very sweet! Your baby is more like an angel than any earthly
+     creature my eyes have ever rested on. Charlotte, I brought your
+     children a few toys, and one or two other little things. You won't
+     be too proud to accept them. When I bought them I did not love your
+     children, but I loved you. You are my near kinswoman. You won't
+     take away the pleasure I felt when I bought those things. Dear
+     Sister Charlotte, when shall we meet again? Send me a line, and I
+     will come to you at any time. Yours,
+
+     "CHARLOTTE HARMAN."
+
+It is to be regretted that Charlotte Home by no means received this
+sweet and loving little note in the spirit in which it was written. Her
+pale, thin face flushed, and her eyes burnt with an angry light. This
+burst of excited feeling was but the outcome of all she had undergone
+mentally since she had left Miss Harman's house a few days ago. She had
+said then, and truly, that she loved this young lady. The pride, the
+stately bearing, the very look of open frankness in Charlotte's eyes had
+warmed and touched her heart. She had not meant to tell to those ears,
+so unaccustomed to sin and shame, this tale of long-past wrong. It had
+been in a manner forced from her, and she had seen a flush of
+perplexity, then of horror, color the cheeks and fill the fine brave
+eyes. She had come away with her heart sympathies so moved by this girl,
+so touched, so shocked with what she herself had revealed, that she
+would almost rather, could her father's money now be hers, relinquish
+it, than cause any further pain or shame to Charlotte Harman.
+
+She came home and confided what she had done to her husband. It is not
+too much to say that he was displeased--that he was much hurt. The
+Charlotte who in her too eagerness for money could so act was scarcely
+the Charlotte he had pictured to himself as his wife. Charlotte was
+lowered in the eyes of the unworldly man. But just because her husband
+was so unworldly, so unpractical, Charlotte's own more everyday nature
+began to reassert itself. She had really done no harm. She had but told
+a tale of wrong. Those who committed the wrong were the ones to blame.
+She, the sufferer--who could put sin at her door? Her sympathy for
+Charlotte grew less, her sorrow for herself and her children more. She
+felt more sure than ever that injustice had been committed--that she and
+her mother had been robbed; she seemed to read the fact in Charlotte
+Harman's innocent eyes, Charlotte, in spite of herself, even though her
+own father was the one accused, believed her--agreed with her.
+
+All that night she spent in a sort of feverish dream, in which she saw
+herself wealthy, her husband happy, her children cared for as they ought
+to be. The ugly, ugly poverty of her life and her surroundings had all
+passed away like a dream that is told.
+
+She got up in a state of excitement and expectation, for what might not
+Charlotte Harman do for her? She would tell the tale to her father, and
+that father, seeing that his sin was found out, would restore her to her
+rights. Of course, this must be the natural consequence. Charlotte was
+not low and mean; she would see that she had her own again. Mrs. Home
+made no allowance for any subsequent event--for any influence other than
+her own being brought to bear on the young lady. All that day she
+watched the post; she watched for the possibility of a visit. Neither
+letter nor visit came, but Mrs. Home was not discouraged. That day was
+too soon to hear; she must wait with patience for the morrow.
+
+On the morrow her husband, who had almost forgotten her story, asked her
+to come and help him in the care of a sick woman at some distance away.
+Charlotte was a capital sick-nurse, and had often before given similar
+aid to Mr. Home in parish work.
+
+She went, spent her day away, and returned to find that Charlotte had
+come--that so far her dream was true. Yes, but only so far, for
+Charlotte had come, not in shame, but in the plenitude of a generous
+benefactor. She had come laden with gifts, and had gone away with the
+hearts of the children and the little maid. Charlotte Home felt a great
+wave of anger and pain stealing over her heart. In her pain and
+disappointment she was unjust.
+
+"She is a coward after all. She dare not tell her father. She believes
+my tale, but she is not brave enough to see justice done to me and mine;
+so she tries to make up for it; she tries to salve her conscience and
+bribe me with gifts--gifts and flattery. I will have none of it. My
+rights--my true and just rights, or nothing! These parcels shall go back
+unopened to-morrow." She rose from her seat, and put them all tidily
+away on a side-table. She had scarcely done so before her husband's
+latch-key was heard in the hall-door. He came in with the weary look
+which was habitual to his thin face. "Oh, Angus, how badly you do want
+your tea!" said the poor wife. She was almost alarmed at her husband's
+pallor, and forgot Charlotte while attending to his comfort.
+
+"What are those parcels, Lottie?" he said, noticing the heaped-up things
+on the side-table.
+
+"Never mind. Eat your supper first," she said to him.
+
+"I can eat, and yet know what is in them. They give quite a Christmas
+and festive character to the place. And what is that I see lying on that
+chair--a new doll for Daisy? Why, has my careful little woman been so
+extravagant as to buy the child another doll?"
+
+Mr. Home smiled as he spoke. His wife looked at him gravely. She picked
+up the very pretty doll and laid it with the other parcels on the
+side-table.
+
+"I will tell you about the parcels and the doll if you wish it," she
+answered. "Miss Harman called when I was out, and brought cakes, and
+sweeties, and toys to the children. She also brought those parcels. I do
+not know what they contain, for I have not opened them. And she left a
+note for me. I cannot help the sweeties and cakes, for Harold and Daisy
+have eaten them; but the toys and those parcels shall go back
+to-morrow."
+
+Mrs. Home looked very proud and defiant as she spoke. Her husband
+glanced at her face; then, with a slight sigh, he pushed his supper
+aside.
+
+"No, I am not hungry, dear. I am just a little overtired. May I see Miss
+Harman's note?"
+
+Charlotte put it at once into his hand.
+
+He read it carefully once--twice. His own spirit was very loving and
+Christ-like; consequently the real love and true human feeling in the
+little note touched him.
+
+"Lottie," he said, as he gave it back to his wife, "why do you want to
+pain that sweet creature?"
+
+Mrs. Home took the note, and flung it into the fire.
+
+"There!" she said, an angry spot on each cheek. "She and hers have
+injured me and mine. I don't want gifts from her. I want my rights!"
+
+To this burst of excited feeling Mr. Home answered nothing. After a
+moment or two of silence he rang the bell, and when Anne appeared asked
+her to take away the tea-things. After this followed an hour of perfect
+quiet. Mrs. Home took out her great basket of mending. Mr. Home sat
+still, and apparently idle, by the fire. After a time he left the room
+to go for a moment to his own. Passing the nursery, he heard a little
+movement, and, entering softly, saw Harold sitting up in his little cot.
+
+"Father, is that you?" he called through the semi-light.
+
+"Yes, my boy. Is anything the matter? Why are you not asleep?"
+
+"I couldn't, father dear; I'm so longing for to-morrow. I want to blow
+my new trumpet again, and to see the rest of the brown-paper parcels.
+Father, do come over to me for a moment."
+
+Mr. Home came, and put his arm round the little neck.
+
+"Did mother tell you that _our_ pretty lady came to-day, and brought
+such a splendid lot of things?"
+
+"Whose pretty lady, my boy?"
+
+"_Ours_, father--the lady you, and I, and Daisy, and baby met in the
+park yesterday. You said it was rude to kiss her, and _she_ did not
+mind. She gave me dozens and dozens of kisses to-day."
+
+"She was very kind to you," said Mr. Home. Then, bidding the child lie
+down and sleep, he left him and went on to his own room. He was going to
+his room with a purpose. That purpose was quickened into intensity by
+little Harold's words.
+
+That frank, fearless, sweet-looking girl was Miss Harman! That letter
+was, therefore, not to be wondered at. It was the kind of letter he
+would have expected such a woman to write. What was the matter with his
+Lottie?
+
+In his perplexity he knelt down; he remained upon his knees for about
+ten minutes, then he returned to the little parlor. The answer to his
+earnest prayer was given to him almost directly. His wife was no longer
+proud and cold. She looked up the moment he entered, and said,--
+
+"You are angry with me, Angus."
+
+"No, my darling," he answered, "not angry, but very sorry for you."
+
+"You must not be sorry for me. You have anxieties enough. I must not add
+to them. Not all the Miss Harmans that ever breathe shall bring a cloud
+between you and me. Angus, may I put out the gas and then sit close to
+you? You shall talk me out of this feeling, for I do feel bad."
+
+"I will talk all night if it makes you better, my own Lottie. Now, what
+is troubling you?"
+
+"In the first instance, you don't seem to believe this story about our
+money."
+
+"I neither believe it, nor the reverse--I simply don't let it trouble
+me."
+
+"But, Angus, that seems a little hard; for if the money was left to me
+by my father I ought to have it. Think what a difference it would make
+to us all--you, and me, and the children?"
+
+"We should be rich instead of poor. It would make that difference,
+certainly."
+
+"Angus, you talk as if this difference was nothing."
+
+"Nothing! It is not quite nothing; but I confess it does not weigh much
+with me."
+
+"If not for yourself, it might for the children's sakes; think what a
+difference money would make to our darlings."
+
+"My dear wife, you quite forgot when speaking so, that they are God's
+little children as well as ours. He has said that not a sparrow falls
+without His loving knowledge. Is it likely when that is so, that He will
+see His children and ours either gain or suffer from such a paltry thing
+as money?"
+
+"Then you will do nothing to get back our own?"
+
+"If you mean that I will go to law on the chance of our receiving some
+money which may have been left to us, certainly I will not. The fact is,
+Lottie--you may think me very eccentric--but I cannot move in this
+matter. It seems to me to be entirely God's matter, not ours. If Mr.
+Harman has committed the dreadful sin you impute to him, God must bring
+it home to him. Before that poor man who for years has hidden such a sin
+in his heart, and lived such a life before his fellow-men, is fit to go
+back to the arms of His father, he must suffer dreadfully. I pray, from
+my heart I pray, that if he committed the sin he may have the suffering,
+for there is no other road to the Father; but I cannot pray that this
+awful suffering may be sent to give us a better house, and our children
+finer clothes, and that richer food may be put on our table."
+
+Mrs. Home was silent for a moment, then she said,--
+
+"Angus, forgive me, I did not look at it in that light."
+
+"No, my dearest, and because I so pity her, if her father really is
+guilty, I do not want you unnecessarily to pain Miss Harman. You
+remember my telling you of that fine girl I met in Regent's Park
+yesterday, the girl who was so kind and nice to our children. I have
+just been up with Harold, and he tells me that your Miss Harman and his
+pretty lady are one and the same."
+
+"Is that really so?" answered Mrs. Home. "Yes. I know that Charlotte
+Harman is very attractive. Did I not tell you, Angus, that she had won
+my own heart? But I confess when I saw those gifts and read her note I
+felt angry. I thought after hearing my tale she should have done more.
+These presents seemed to me in the light of a bribe."
+
+"Charlotte!"
+
+"Ah! I know you are shocked. You cannot see the thing with my eyes; that
+is how they really looked to me."
+
+"Then, my dear wife, may I give you a piece of advice?"
+
+"That is what I am hungering for, Angus."
+
+"Tell the whole story, as frankly--more frankly than you have told it to
+me, to God to-night. Lay the whole matter in the loving hands of your
+Father, then, Charlotte; after so praying, if in the morning you still
+think Miss Harman was actuated by so mean a spirit, treat her as she
+deserves. With your own hands deal the punishment to her, send
+everything back."
+
+Mrs. Home's face flushed very brightly, and she lowered her eyes to
+prevent her husband seeing the look of shame which filled them. The
+result of this conversation was the following note written the next
+morning to Miss Harman.
+
+     I could not have thanked you last night for what you have done,
+     but I can to-day. You have won my children's little hearts. Be
+     thankful that you have made my dear little ones so happy. You ask
+     to see me again, Miss Harman. I do not think I can come to you, and
+     I don't ask you to come here. Still I will see you; name some
+     afternoon to meet me in Regent's Park and I will be there.
+
+     Yours,
+     CHARLOTTE HOME.
+
+Thus the gifts were kept, and the mother tried to pray away a certain
+soreness which would remain notwithstanding all her husband's words. She
+was human after all, however, and Charlotte Harman might have been
+rewarded had she seen her face the following Sunday morning when she
+brought her pretty children down to their father to inspect them in
+their new clothes.
+
+Harold went to church that morning, with his mother, in a very
+picturesque hat; but no one suspected quite how much it was worth, not
+even those jealous mothers who saw it and remarked upon it, and wondered
+who had left Mrs. Home a legacy, for stowed carefully away under the
+lining was Charlotte Harman's bright, crisp, fifty-pound note.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+TWO CHARLOTTES.
+
+
+It was a week after; the very day, in fact, on which Hinton was to give
+up his present most comfortable quarters for the chances and changes of
+Mrs. Home's poor little dwelling. That anxious young wife and mother,
+having completed her usual morning duties, set off to Regent's Park to
+meet Miss Harman. It was nearly March now, and the days, even in the
+afternoon, were stretching, and though it was turning cold the feeling
+of coming spring was more decidedly getting into the air.
+
+Mrs. Home had told her children that she was going to meet their pretty
+lady, and Harold had begged hard to come too. His mother would have
+taken him, but he had a cold, and looked heavy, so she started off for
+her long walk alone. Won by her husband's gentler and more Christ-like
+spirit, Mrs. Home had written to Miss Harman to propose this meeting;
+but in agreeing to an interview with her kinswoman she had effected a
+compromise with her own feelings. She would neither go to her nor ask
+her to come to the little house in Kentish Town. The fact was she wanted
+to meet this young woman on some neutral ground. There were certain
+unwritten, but still most stringent, laws of courtesy which each must
+observe in her own home to the other. Charlotte Home intended, as she
+went to meet Miss Harman on this day of early spring, that very plain
+words indeed should pass between them.
+
+By this it will be seen that she was still very far behind her husband,
+and that much of a sore and angry sensation was still lingering in her
+heart.
+
+"Miss Harman will, of course, keep me waiting," she said to herself, as
+she entered the park, and walked quickly towards the certain part where
+they had agreed to meet. She gave a slight start therefore, when she saw
+that young woman slowly pacing up and down, with the very quiet and
+meditative air of one who had been doing so for some little time. Miss
+Harman was dressed with almost studied plainness and simplicity. All the
+rich furs which the children had admired were put away. When she saw
+Mrs. Home she quickened her slow steps into almost a run of welcome, and
+clasped her toil-worn and badly gloved hands in both her own.
+
+"How glad I am to see you! You did not hurry, I hope. You are quite out
+of breath. Why did you walk so fast?"
+
+"I did not walk fast until I saw you under the trees, Miss Harman. I
+thought I should have time enough, for I imagined I should have to wait
+for you."
+
+"What an unreasonable thing to suppose of me! I am the idle one, you the
+busy. No: I respect wives and mothers too much to treat them in that
+fashion." Miss Harman smiled as she spoke.
+
+Mrs. Home did not outwardly respond to the smile, though the gracious
+bearing, the loving, sweet face were beginning very slowly to effect a
+thaw, for some hard little ice lumps in her heart were melting. The
+immediate effect of this was, however, so strong a desire to cry that,
+to steel herself against these untimely tears, she became in manner
+harder than ever.
+
+"And now what shall we do?" said Charlotte Harman. "The carriage is
+waiting for us at the next gate; shall we go for a drive, or shall we
+walk about here?"
+
+"I would rather walk here," said Mrs. Home.
+
+"Very well. Charlotte, I am glad to see you. And how are your children?"
+
+"Harold has a cold. The other two are very well."
+
+"I never saw sweeter children in my life. And do you know I met your
+husband? He and your children both spoke to me in the park. It was the
+day before I came to your house. Mr. Home gave me a very short sermon to
+think over. I shall never forget it."
+
+"He saw you and liked you," answered Mrs. Home. "He told me of that
+meeting."
+
+"And I want another meeting. Such a man as that has never come into my
+life before. I want to see more of him. Charlotte, why did you propose
+that we should meet here? Why not in my house, or in yours? I wanted to
+come to you again. I was much disappointed when I got your note."
+
+"I am sorry to have disappointed you; but I thought it best that we
+should meet here."
+
+"But why? I don't understand."
+
+"They say that rich people are obtuse. I did not want to see your
+riches, nor for you to behold the poverty of my land."
+
+"Charlotte!"
+
+"Please don't think me very hard, but I would rather you did not say
+Charlotte."
+
+"You would rather I did not say Charlotte?"
+
+Two large tears of surprise and pain filled Miss Harman's gray eyes. But
+such a great flood of weeping was so near the surface with the other
+woman that she dared not look at her.
+
+"I would rather you did not say Charlotte," she repeated, "for we call
+those whom we love and are friendly with by their Christian names."
+
+"I thought you loved me. You said so. You can't take back your own
+words."
+
+"I don't want to. I do love you in my heart. I feel I could love you
+devotedly; but for all that we can never be friends."
+
+Miss Harman was silent for a moment or two, then she said slowly, but
+with growing passion in her voice, "Ah! you are thinking of that
+wretched money. I thought love ranked higher than gold all the world
+over."
+
+"So it does, or appears to do, for those who all their lives have had
+plenty; but it is just possible, just possible, I say, that those who
+are poor, poor enough to know what hunger and cold mean, and have seen
+their dearest wanting the comforts that money can buy, it is possible
+that such people may prefer their money rights to the profession of
+empty love."
+
+"Empty love!" repeated Miss Harman. The words stung her. She was growing
+angry, and the anger became this stately creature well. With cheeks and
+eyes both glowing she turned to her companion. "If you and I are not to
+part at once, and never meet again, there must be very plain words
+between us. Shall I speak those words?" she asked.
+
+"I came here that our words might be very plain," answered Mrs. Home.
+
+"They shall be," said Charlotte Harman.
+
+They were in a very quiet part of the park. Even the nurses and children
+were out of sight. Now they ceased walking, and turned and faced each
+other.
+
+They were both tall, and both the poor and the rich young woman had
+considerable dignity of bearing; but Charlotte Home was now the composed
+one. Charlotte Harman felt herself quivering with suppressed anger.
+Injustice was being dealt out to her, and injustice to the child of
+affluence and luxury was a new sensation.
+
+"You came to me the other day," she began, "I had never seen you before,
+never before in all my life ever heard your name. You, however, knew me,
+and you told me a story. It was a painful and very strange story. It
+made you not only my very nearest kin, but also made you the victim of a
+great wrong. The wrong was a large one, and the victim was to be pitied;
+but the sting of it all lay, to me, not in either of the facts, but in
+this, that you gave me to understand that he who had dealt you such a
+blow was--my father. My father, one of the most noble, upright, and
+righteous of men, you made out to me, to me, his only child, to be no
+better than a common thief. I did not turn you from my doors for your
+base words. I pitied you. In spite of myself I liked you; in spite of
+myself I _believed_ you. You went away, and in the agony of mind which
+followed during the next few hours I could have gladly fled for ever
+from the sight of all the wide world. I had been the very happiest of
+women. You came. You went. I was one of the most miserable. I am engaged
+to be married, and the man I am engaged to came into the room. I felt
+guilty before him. I could not raise my eyes to his, for, again I tell
+you, I believed your tale, and my father's bitter shame was mine. I
+could not rest. Happen what would I must learn the truth at once. I have
+an uncle, my father's brother; he must know all. I sent my lover away
+and went to this uncle. I asked to have an interview with him, and in
+that interview I told him all you had told to me. He was not surprised.
+He acknowledged at once the true and real relationship between us; but
+he also explained away the base doubts you had put into my head. My
+father, my own beloved father, is all, and more than all, I have ever
+thought him. He would scorn to be unjust, to rob any one. You have been
+unfortunate; you have been treated cruelly; but the injustice, the
+cruelty have been penetrated by one long years now in his grave. In
+short, your father has been the wicked man, not mine."
+
+Here Mrs. Home tried to speak, but Miss Harman held up her hand.
+
+"You must hear me out," she said. "I am convinced, but I do not expect
+you to be. After my uncle had done speaking, and I had time to realize
+all the relief those words of his had given me, I said, still an
+injustice has been done. We have no right to our wealth while she
+suffers from such poverty. Be my grandfather's will what it may, we must
+alter it. We must so act as if he had left money to his youngest child.
+My uncle agreed with me; perhaps not so fully as I could wish, still he
+did agree; but he made one proviso. My father is ill, I fear. I fear he
+is very ill. The one dark cloud hanging over his whole life lay in those
+years when he was estranged from his own father. To speak of you I must
+bring back those years to his memory. Any excitement is bad for him now.
+My uncle said, 'Wait until your father is better, then we will do
+something for Mrs. Home.' To this I agreed. Was I very unreasonable to
+agree to this delay for my father's sake?"
+
+Here Charlotte Harman paused and looked straight at her companion. Mrs.
+Home's full gaze met hers. Again, the innocent candor of the one pair of
+eyes appealed straight to the heart lying beneath the other. Unconvinced
+she was still. Still to her, her own story held good: but she was
+softened, and she held out her hand.
+
+"There is no unreasonableness in _you_, Charlotte," she said.
+
+"Ah! then you will call me Charlotte?" said the other, her face glowing
+with delight.
+
+"I call you so now. I won't answer for the future."
+
+"We will accept the pleasant present. I don't fear the future. I shall
+win your whole heart yet. Now let us drop all disagreeables and talk
+about those we both love. Charlotte, what a baby you have got! Your baby
+must be an angel to you."
+
+"All my children are that to me. When I look at them I think God has
+sent to me three angels to dwell with me."
+
+"Ah! what a happy thought, and what a happy woman. Then your husband, he
+must be like the archangel Gabriel, so just, so righteous, so noble. I
+love him already: but I think I should be a little afraid of him. He is
+so--so very unearthly. Now you, Mrs. Home, let me tell you, are very
+earthly, very human indeed."
+
+Mrs. Home smiled, for this praise of her best beloved could not but be
+pleasant to her. She told Miss Harman a little more about her husband
+and her children, and Miss Harman listened with that appreciation which
+is the sweetest flattery in the world. After a time she said,--
+
+"I am not going to marry any one the least bit unearthly, but I see you
+are a model wife, and I want to be likewise. For--did I not tell you?--I
+am to be married in exactly two months from now."
+
+"Are you really? Are you indeed?"
+
+Was it possible after this piece of confidence for these two young women
+not to be friends?
+
+Charlotte Home, though so poor, felt suddenly, in experience, in all
+true womanly knowledge, rich beside her companion. Charlotte Harman, for
+all her five and twenty years, was but a child beside this earnest wife
+and mother.
+
+They talked; the one relating her happy experience, the other listening,
+as though on her wedding-day she was certainly to step into the land of
+Beulah. It was the old, old story, repeated again, as those two paced up
+and down in the gray March afternoon. When at last they parted there was
+no need to say that they were friends.
+
+And yet as she hurried home the poor Charlotte could not help reflecting
+that whatever her cause she had done nothing for it. Charlotte Harman
+might be very sweet. It might be impossible not to admire her, to love
+her, to take her to her heart of hearts. But would that love bring back
+her just rights? would that help her children by and by? She reached
+her hall door to find her husband standing there.
+
+"Lottie, where have you been? I waited for you, for I did not like to go
+out and leave him. Harold is ill, and the doctor has just left."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+For many days after that interview in Regent's Park, it seemed that one
+of the three, who made the little house in Kentish Town so truly like
+heaven, was to be an angel indeed. Harold's supposed cold had turned to
+scarlet fever, and the doctor feared that Harold would die.
+
+Immediately after her interview with Charlotte Harman, Mrs. Home went
+upstairs to learn from the grave lips of the medical man what ailed her
+boy, and what a hard fight for life or death he had before him. She was
+a brave woman, and whatever anguish might lie underneath, no tears
+filled her eyes as she looked at his flushed face. When the doctor had
+gone, she stole softly from the sick-room, and going to the drawing-room
+where Hinton was already in possession, she tapped at the door.
+
+To his "Come in," she entered at once, and said abruptly without
+preface,--
+
+"I hope you have unpacked nothing. I must ask you to go away at once."
+
+She had her bonnet still on, and, but for the pallor of her face, she
+looked cold, even unmoved.
+
+"I have everything unpacked, and I don't want to go. Why should I?"
+demanded Hinton, in some surprise.
+
+"My eldest boy has scarlet fever. The other two will probably take it.
+You must on no account stay here; you must leave to-night if you wish to
+escape infection."
+
+In an instant Hinton was by her side.
+
+"Your boy has scarlet fever?" he repeated. "I know something of scarlet
+fever. He must instantly be moved to an airy bedroom. The best bedroom
+in the house is mine. Your boy must sleep in my bedroom to-night."
+
+"It is a good thought," said Mrs. Home. "Thank you for suggesting it--I
+will move him down at once; the bed is well aired, and the sheets are
+fresh and clean. I will have him moved whenever you can go."
+
+She was leaving the room when Hinton followed her.
+
+"I said nothing about going. I don't mean to. I can have a blanket and
+sleep on the sofa. I am not going away, Mrs. Home."
+
+"Mr. Hinton, have you no one you care for? Why do you run this risk."
+
+"I have some one I care for very much indeed; but I run no risk. I had
+scarlet fever long ago. In any case I have no fear of infection. Now I
+know your husband is out; let me go upstairs and help you bring down the
+little fellow."
+
+"God bless you," said the wife and mother. Her eyes were beautiful as
+she raised them to the face of this good Samaritan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The little patient was moved to the large and comfortable room, and
+Hinton found himself in the position of good angel to this poor family.
+He had never supposed himself capable of taking such a post with regard
+to any one; but the thing seemed thrust upon him. An obvious duty had
+come into his life, and he never even for the briefest instant dreamed
+of shirking it. He was a man without physical fear. The hardships of
+life, the roughing of poverty were not worth a passing thought of
+annoyance; but there was one little act of self-denial which he must now
+exercise; and it is to be owned that he felt it with a heart-pang. He
+had never told Charlotte that he was going to live in the house with
+Mrs. Home. He had not meant to keep this fact a secret from her, but
+there was still a soreness over him when he thought of this young woman
+which prevented her name coming readily to his lips. On this first night
+in his new abode he sat down to write to his promised wife; but neither
+now did he give his address, nor tell his landlady's name. He had an
+obvious reason, however, now for his conduct.
+
+This was what Charlotte received from her lover on the following
+morning,--
+
+     "MY DARLING,--Such a strange thing has happened; but one which,
+     thank God, as far as I am concerned, need not cause you the least
+     alarm. I moved from my old lodgings to-day and went a little
+     further into the country. I had just unpacked my belongings and was
+     expecting some tea, for I was hot and thirsty, when my landlady
+     came in and told me that her eldest child is taken very ill with
+     scarlet fever. She has other children, and fears the infection will
+     spread. She is a very poor woman, but is one of those who in their
+     bearing and manner, you, Charlotte, would call noble. She wanted me
+     to leave at once, but this, Charlotte, I could not do. I am staying
+     here, and will give her what little help lies in my power. You know
+     there is no fear for me, for I had the complaint long ago. But,
+     dearest, there is just one thing that is hard. Until this little
+     child is better, I must not see you. You have not had this fever,
+     Charlotte, and for you, for my own sake, and your father's sake, I
+     must run no risk. I will write to you every day, or as much oftener
+     as you wish, for I can disinfect my paper; but I will not go to
+     Prince's Gate at present."
+
+     "Ever, my own true love,
+     "Yours most faithfully,
+     "John Hinton."
+
+This letter was posted that very night, but Hinton did not put his new
+address on it; he meant Charlotte now for prudential reasons to write to
+his chambers. He returned to his lodgings, and for many weary and
+anxious nights to come shared their watch with Mr. and Mrs. Home. So
+quietly, so absolutely had this young man stepped into his office, that
+the father and mother did not think of refusing his services. He was a
+good nurse, as truly tender-hearted and brave men almost always are. The
+sick child liked his touch. The knowledge of his presence was pleasant.
+When nothing else soothed him, he would lie quiet if Hinton held his
+little hot hand in his.
+
+One evening, opening his bright feverish eyes, he fixed them full on
+Hinton's face and said slowly and earnestly,--
+
+"I did kiss that pretty lady."
+
+"He means a lady whom he met in the Park; a Miss Harman, who came here
+and brought him toys," explained Mrs. Home.
+
+"Yes, isn't she a pretty lady?" repeated little Harold.
+
+"Very pretty," answered Hinton, bending low over him.
+
+The child smiled. It was a link between them. He again stole his hand
+into that of the young man. But as days wore on and the fever did not
+abate, the little life in that small frame began to grow feeble. From
+being an impossibility, it grew to be probable, then almost certain,
+that the little lad must die. Neither father nor mother seemed alive to
+the coming danger; but Hinton, loving less than they did, was not
+blinded. He had seen scarlet fever before, he knew something of its
+treatment; he doubted the proper course having ever been pursued here.
+One evening he followed the doctor from the sick-room.
+
+"The child is very ill," he said.
+
+"The child is so ill," answered the medical man, "that humanly speaking
+there is very little hope of his life."
+
+"Good sir!" exclaimed Hinton, shocked at his fears being put into such
+plain language. "Don't you see that those parents' lives are bound up in
+the child's, and they know nothing? Why have you told them nothing? Only
+to-night his mother thought him better."
+
+"The fever is nearly over, and in consequence the real danger beginning;
+but I dare not tell the mother, she would break down. The father is of
+different stuff, he would bear it. But there is time enough for the
+mother to know when all is over."
+
+"I call that cruel. Why don't you get in other advice?"
+
+"My dear sir, they are very poor people. Think of the expense, and it
+would be of no use, no use whatever."
+
+"Leave the expense to me, and also the chance of its doing any good. I
+should never have an easy moment if I let that little lad die without
+having done all in my power. Two heads are better than one. Do you
+object to consulting with Dr. H----?"
+
+"By no means, Mr. Hinton. He is a noted authority on such cases."
+
+"Then be here in an hour from now, doctor, and you shall meet him."
+
+Away flew Hinton, and within the specified time the great authority on
+such cases was standing by little Harold's bedside.
+
+"The fever is over, but the child is sinking from exhaustion. Give him a
+glass of champagne instantly," were the first directions given by the
+great man.
+
+Hinton returned with a bottle of the best his money could purchase in
+ten minutes.
+
+A tablespoonful was given to the child. He opened his eyes and seemed
+revived.
+
+"Ah! that is good. I will stay with the little fellow to-night," said
+Dr. H----. "You, madam," he added, looking at Mrs. Home, "are to go to
+bed. On no other condition do I stay."
+
+Hinton and Dr. H---- shared that night's watch between them, and in the
+morning the little life was pronounced safe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+EMPTY PURSES.
+
+
+It was not until Harold's life was really safe that his mother realized
+how very nearly he had been taken from her. But for Hinton's timely
+interposition, and the arrival of Doctor H---- at the critical moment,
+the face she so loved might have been cold and still now, and the spirit
+have returned to God who gave it.
+
+Looking at the little sleeper breathing in renewed health and life with
+each gentle inspiration, such a rush of gratitude and over-powering
+emotion came over Mrs. Home that she was obliged to follow Hinton into
+his sitting-room. There she suddenly went down on her knees.
+
+"God bless you," she said. "God most abundantly bless you for what you
+have done for me and mine. You are, except my husband, the most truly
+Christian man I ever met."
+
+"Don't," said Hinton, moved and even shocked at her position. "I
+loved--I love the little lad. It is nothing, what we do for those we
+love."
+
+"No; it is, as you express it, nothing to save a mother's heart from
+worse than breaking," answered Charlotte Home. "If ever you marry and
+have a son of your own, you will begin to understand what you have done
+for me. You will be thankful then to think of this day."
+
+Then with a smile which an angel might have given him, the mother went
+away, and Hinton sat down to write to Charlotte. But he was much moved
+and excited by those earnest words of love and approval. He felt as
+though a laurel wreath had been placed on his head, and he wondered
+would his first brief, his first sense of legal triumph, be sweeter to
+him than the look in that mother's face this morning.
+
+"And it was so easily won," he said to himself. "For who but a brute
+under the circumstances could have acted otherwise?"
+
+In writing to Charlotte he told her all. It was a relief to pour out his
+heart to her, though of course he carefully kept back names.
+
+By return of post he received her answer.
+
+"I must do something for that mother. You will not let me come to her.
+But if I cannot and must not come, I can at least help with money. How
+much money shall I send you?"
+
+To this Hinton answered,--
+
+"None. She is a proud woman. She would not accept it."
+
+As he put this second letter in the post, he felt that any money gift
+between these two Charlottes would be impossible. During little Harold's
+illness he had put away all thoughts of the possibility of Mrs. Home
+being entitled to any of his Charlotte's wealth. The near and likely
+approach of death had put far from his mind all ideas of money. But now,
+with the return of the usual routine of life in this small and humble
+house, came back to Hinton's mind the thoughts which had so sorely
+troubled him on the night on which Charlotte had told him Mrs. Home's
+story. For his own personal convenience and benefit he had put away
+these thoughts. He had decided that he could not move hand or foot in
+the matter. But in the very house with this woman, though he might so
+resolve not to act, he could not put the sense of the injustice done to
+her away from his heart. He pondered on it and grew uneasy as to the
+righteousness of his own conduct. As this uneasiness gathered strength,
+he even avoided Mrs. Home's presence. For the first time, too, in his
+life Hinton was beginning to realize what a very ugly thing
+poverty--particularly the poverty of the upper classes--really is. To
+make things easier for this family in their time of illness, he had
+insisted on having what meals he took in the house, in the room with Mr.
+and Mrs. Home. He would not, now that Harold was better, change this
+custom. But though he liked it, it brought him into direct contact with
+the small shifts necessary to make so slender a purse as their's cover
+their necessary expenses. Mr. Home noticed nothing; but Mrs. Home's thin
+face grew more and more worn, and Hinton's heart ached as he watched it.
+He felt more and more compunctions as to his own conduct. These
+feelings were to be quickened into activity by a very natural
+consequence which occurred just then.
+
+Little Harold's life was spared, and neither Daisy nor the baby had
+taken the fever. So far all was well. Doctor H----, too, had ceased his
+visits, and the little invalid was left to the care of the first doctor
+who had been called in. Yes, up to a certain point Harold's progress
+towards recovery was all that could be satisfactory. But beyond that
+point he did not go. For a fortnight after the fever left him his
+progress towards recovery was rapid. Then came the sudden standstill.
+His appetite failed him, a cough came on, and a hectic flush in the pale
+little face. The child was pining for a change of air, and the father's
+and mother's purse had been already drained almost to emptiness by the
+expenses of the first illness. One day when Doctor Watson came and felt
+the feeble, too rapid pulse he looked grave. Mrs. Home followed him from
+the room.
+
+"What ails my boy, doctor? He is making no progress, none whatever."
+
+"Does he sleep enough?" asked Doctor Watson suddenly.
+
+"Not well; he coughs and is restless."
+
+"Ah! I am sorry he has got that cough. How is his appetite?"
+
+"He does not fancy much food. He has quite turned against his beef-tea."
+
+Doctor Watson was silent.
+
+"What is wrong?" asked Mrs. Home, coming nearer and looking up into his
+face.
+
+"Madam, there is nothing to alarm yourself with. Your boy has gone
+through a most severe illness; the natural consequences must follow. He
+wants change. He will be fit to travel by easy stages in a week at
+latest. I should recommend Torquay. It is mild and shielded from the
+spring east winds. Take him to Torquay as soon as possible. Keep him
+there for a month, and he will return quite well."
+
+"Suppose I cannot?"
+
+"Ah! then----" with an expressive shrug of the shoulders and raising of
+the brows, "my advice is to take him if possible. I don't like that
+cough."
+
+Doctor Watson turned away. He felt sorry enough, but he had more acute
+cases than little Harold Home's to trouble him, and he wisely resolved
+that to think about what could not be remedied, would but injure his own
+powers of working. Being a really kind-hearted man he said to himself,
+"I will make their bill as light as I can when I send it in." And then
+he forgot the poor curate's family until the time came round for his
+next visit. Meanwhile Mrs. Home stood still for a moment where he had
+left her, then went slowly to her own room.
+
+"Mother, mother, I want you," called the weak, querulous voice of the
+sick child.
+
+"Coming in a moment, darling," she said. But for that one moment, she
+felt she must be alone.
+
+Locking her door she went down on her knees. Not a tear came to her
+eyes, not a word to her lips. There was an inward groan, expressing
+itself in some voiceless manner after this fashion,--
+
+"My God, my God, must I go through the fiery furnace?" Then smoothing
+her hair, and forcing a smile back to her lips, she went back to her
+little son.
+
+All that afternoon she sat with him, singing to him, telling him
+stories, playing with him. In the evening, however, she sought an
+opportunity to speak to her husband alone.
+
+"Angus, you know how nearly we lost our boy a week ago?"
+
+The curate paused, and looked at her earnestly, surprised at her look
+and manner.
+
+"Yes, my dearest," he said. "But God was merciful."
+
+"Oh! Angus," she said; and now relief came to her, for as she spoke she
+began to weep. "You are good, you are brave, you could have let him go.
+But for me--for me--it would have killed me. I should have died or gone
+mad!"
+
+"Lottie dear--my darling, you are over-strung. The trial, the fiery
+trial, was not sent. Why dwell on what our loving Father has averted?"
+
+"Oh, Angus! but has He--has He," then choking with pent-up emotion, she
+told what the doctor had said to-day, how necessary the expensive change
+was for the little life. "And we have no money," she said in conclusion,
+"our purse is very nearly empty."
+
+"Very nearly empty indeed," answered Angus Home.
+
+He was absolutely silent after this news, no longer attempting to
+comfort his wife.
+
+"Angus, God is cruel if for the sake of wanting a little money our boy
+must die."
+
+"Don't," said the curate--God was so precious to him that these words
+smote on him even now with a sense of agony--"don't," he repeated, and
+he raised his hand as though to motion away an evil spirit.
+
+"He is cruel if He lets our boy die for want of money to save him,"
+repeated the mother in her desperation.
+
+"He won't do that, Lottie--He will never do that, there is not the least
+fear."
+
+"Then how are we to get the money?"
+
+"I don't know, I cannot think to-night. I will go up to Harold now."
+
+He turned and left the room with slow steps. As he mounted the stairs
+his back was so bent, his face so gray and careworn, that though
+scarcely forty he looked like an old man.
+
+This was Harold's one precious hour with his father, and the little
+fellow was sitting up in bed and expecting him.
+
+"Father," he said, noticing the anxious look on his face, which was
+generally as serene and peaceful as the summer sea, "what is the matter?
+You are ill; are you going to have the scarlet fever too?"
+
+"No, my dear, dear boy. I am quite well, quite well at least in body. I
+have a care on my mind that makes me look a little sad, but don't notice
+it, Harold, it will pass."
+
+"_You_ have a care on your mind!" said Harold in a tone of surprise. "I
+know mother often, often has, but I did not think you had cares,
+father."
+
+"How can I help it, boy, sometimes?"
+
+"I thought you gave your cares to God. I don't understand a bit how you
+manage it, but I remember quite well your telling mother that you gave
+your cares away to God."
+
+The father turning round suddenly, stooped down and kissed the boy.
+
+"Thank you, my son, for reminding me. Yes, I will give this care too to
+God, it shall not trouble me."
+
+Then the two began to talk, and the son's little wasted hand was held in
+the father's. The father's face had recovered its serenity, and the
+little son, though he coughed continually, looked happy.
+
+"Father," he said suddenly, "there's just one thing I'm sorry for."
+
+"What's that, my boy?"
+
+"There were a whole lot of other things, father; about my never having
+gone to live in the country, and those gypsy teas that mother told me
+of. You light a fire outside, you know, father, and boil the kettle on
+it, and have your tea in the woods and the fields. It must be just
+delicious. I was sorry about that, for I've never been to one, never
+_even_ to one all my life long; and then there's the pretty lady--I do
+want to see my pretty lady once again. I was sorry about those things
+all day, but not now. 'Tisn't any of those things makes me so sorry
+now."
+
+"What makes you sorry, Harold?"
+
+"Father, I'm just a little bit jealous about Jesus. You see there's
+always such a lot of us little children dying and going to heaven, and
+He can't come for us all, so He has to send angels. Now I don't want an
+angel, I want Him to come for me Himself."
+
+"Perhaps He will, Harold," said his father, "perhaps Jesus will be so
+very loving to His little lamb that He will find time to come for him
+Himself."
+
+"Oh, father! when you are giving Him your new care to-night, will you
+just ask Him not to be so dreadfully busy, but to try and come Himself?"
+
+"Yes, Harold," said the father.
+
+After this promise little Harold went to sleep very happily.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+"THY WILL BE DONE."
+
+
+"You always give your cares to God," little Harold had said to his
+father.
+
+That father, on his knees with his head bowed between his hands, and a
+tempest of agony, of entreaty in his heart, found suddenly that he could
+not give this care away to God. For a moment, when the boy had spoken,
+he had believed that this was possible, but when little Harold had
+himself spoken so quietly of dying and going to Jesus, the father's
+heart rose suddenly in the fiercest rebellion. No; if it meant the
+slaying of his first-born he could not so quietly lay it in the hands of
+God and say, "Thy will be done." This unearthly man, who had always
+lived with a kind of heaven-sent radiance round his path, found himself
+suddenly human after all. His earthly arms clung tightly round the
+earthly form of his pretty little lad and would not unclasp themselves.
+It was to this man who had so serenely and for many years walked in the
+sunshine of God's presence, with nothing to hide his glory from his
+eyes, as though he had come up to a high, a blank, an utterly
+impenetrable wall, which shut away all the divine radiance. He could
+neither climb this wall, nor could he see one glimpse of God at the dark
+side where he found himself. In an agony this brave heart tried to pray,
+but his voice would not rise above his chamber, would not indeed even
+ascend to his lips. He found himself suddenly voiceless and dumb, dead
+despair stealing over him. He did not, however, rise from his knees, and
+in this position his wife found him when, late that night, she came up
+to bed. She had been crying so hard and so long that by very force of
+those tears her heart was lighter, and her husband, when he raised his
+eyes, hollow from the terrible struggle within, to her face, looked now
+the most miserable of the two. The mute appeal in his eyes smote on the
+wife's loving heart, instantly she came over and knelt by his side.
+
+"You must come to bed, Angus dear. I have arranged with Mr. Hinton, and
+he will sit up with our little lad for the next few hours."
+
+"I could not sleep, Lottie," answered the husband. "God is coming to
+take away our child and I can't say, 'Thy will be done.'"
+
+"You can't!" repeated the wife, and now her lips fell apart and she
+gazed at her husband.
+
+"No Lottie; you called God cruel downstairs, and now He looks cruel to
+me. I can't give Him my first-born. I can't say 'Thy will be done;' but
+oh!" continued the wretched man, "this is horrible, this is blasphemous.
+Oh! has God indeed forsaken me?"
+
+"No, no, no!" suddenly almost shrieked the wife; "no, no!" she repeated;
+and now she had flung her arms round her husband and was straining him
+to her heart. "Oh, my darling! my beloved! you were never, never, never,
+so near to me, so dear to me, as now. God does not want you to say that,
+Angus. Angus, it is _not_ God's will that our child should die, it is
+Satan's will, not God's. God is love, and it can't be love to torture
+us, and tear our darling away from us like that. The will of God is
+righteousness, and love, and happiness; not darkness, and death, and
+misery. Oh, Angus! let us both kneel here and say, 'Thy will be done,'
+for I believe the will of God will be to save the child."
+
+A great faith had suddenly come to this woman. She lifted her voice, and
+a torrent of eloquent words, of passionate utterances, rent the air and
+went up to God from that little room, and the husband stole his hand
+into the wife's as she prayed. After this they both slept, and Lottie's
+heart was lighter than it had ever been in all her life before.
+
+The next morning this lightness, almost gayety of heart, was still
+there. For the time she had really changed places with her husband; for,
+believing that the end would be good, she felt strong to endure.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Home went downstairs to find Hinton regarding them
+anxiously. He had not spent a long night with the sick child without
+gathering very clearly how imminent was the peril still hanging over the
+family. Harold's night had been a wretched one, and he was weaker this
+morning. Hinton felt that a great deal more must be done to restore
+Harold to health; but he had not heard what Dr. Watson had said, and was
+therefore as yet in the dark and much puzzled how best to act. Seeing
+the mother's face serene, almost calm, as she poured out the tea, and
+the father's clouded over, he judged both wrongly.
+
+"She is deceived," he said of the one. "He knows," he said of the other.
+Had he, however, reversed the positions it would have been nearer the
+truth.
+
+He went away with a thousand schemes in his head. He would visit the
+doctor. He would--could he--might he, risk a visit to Charlotte? He was
+resolved that in some way he must save the boy; but it was not reserved
+for his hand to do the good deed on this occasion. After breakfast he
+went out, and Mr. Home, feeling almost like a dead man, hurried off to
+the daily service.
+
+For a brief moment Charlotte was alone. The instant she found herself
+so, she went straight down on her knees, and with eyes and heart raised
+to heaven, said, aloud and fervently,--
+
+"Thy holy, loving, righteous Will be done."
+
+Then she got up and went to her little son. In the course of the morning
+the boy said to his mother,--
+
+"How much I should like to see that pretty lady."
+
+"It would not be safe for her to come to you, my darling," said Mrs.
+Home. "You are not yet quite free from infection, and if you saw her
+now she might get ill. You would not harm your pretty lady, Harold?"
+
+"No, indeed, mother, not for worlds. But if I can't see her," he added,
+"may I have her toys to play with?"
+
+The mother fetched them and laid them on the bed.
+
+"And now give me what was in the brown paper parcels, mother. The dear,
+dear, dainty clothes! Oh! didn't our baby look just lovely in his velvet
+frock? Please, mother, _may_ I see those pretty things once again?"
+
+Mrs. Home could not refuse. The baby's pelisse, Daisy's frock, and
+Harold's own hat were placed by his side. He took up the hat with a
+great sigh of admiration. It was of dark purple plush, with a plume of
+ostrich feathers.
+
+"May I put it on, mother?" asked the little lad.
+
+He did so, then asked for a glass to look at himself.
+
+"Ah?" he said, half crying, half frightened at his wasted pale little
+face under this load of finery, "I don't like it now. My pretty, pretty
+lady's hat is much too big for me now. I can't wear it. Oh! mother,
+wouldn't she be disappointed?"
+
+"She shan't be," said the mother, "for I will draw in the lining, and
+then it will fit you as well as possible."
+
+"But oh! mother, do be careful. I saw her put in a nice little bit of
+soft paper; I saw her put it under the lining my own self. You will
+crush that bit of paper if you aren't careful, mother."
+
+The mother did not much heed the little eager voice, she drew in a cord
+which ran round the lining, then again placed the hat on Harold's head.
+
+"Now it fits, darling," she said.
+
+"But I think the bit of paper is injured," persisted the boy. "How funny
+I should never have thought of it until now. I'll take it out, mother,
+and you can put it by with the other things."
+
+The little fingers poked under the lining and drew out something thin
+and neatly folded.
+
+"Look, look, mother!" he said excitedly; "there's writing. Read it,
+mother; read what she said."
+
+Mrs. Home read,--
+
+     "For Harold, with his lady's love."
+
+She turned the paper. There, staring her in the face, lay a fresh, crisp
+Bank of England note for fifty pounds.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+"YOU KEPT A SECRET FROM ME."
+
+
+Hinton, when he went away that morning, was, as I have said, very
+undecided how best to act. He saw very clearly the fresh danger arising
+to Harold. Was he but rescued from the dangerous fever to fall a prey to
+lingering, or, perhaps, rapid consumption? Even his unprofessional eye
+saw the danger the boy was in; and the boy himself, lying awake during
+most of the weary hours of the night, had confided to his friend some
+thoughts which it seemed to Hinton could only come to such a child as
+the precursor of death. He now loved the boy for his own sake, and he
+was determined, even more determined than during the height of the
+fever, to do something to again save his life.
+
+After a brief pause for rapid thought, he determined to visit Dr.
+Watson. That busy man was at home and saw Hinton at once.
+
+"Little Home is no better," said Hinton, going straight, as his wont
+was, to the very heart of his subject.
+
+"He will never be any better unless he has change," replied the doctor.
+"Neither I nor any other man can now do more for him. He requires, nay,
+he is dying for want of nature's remedies, complete change, fresh, mild
+sea-air. I told his mother so most plainly yesterday. I recommended
+Torquay within a week from now, if she wishes to save his life."
+
+"Torquay is an expensive place, and a very long way from London,"
+replied Hinton. "It seems almost cruel to tell Mrs. Home to do that for
+her child which must be utterly impossible."
+
+"There is no other chance for his life," replied the doctor. "I should
+be doing less than my duty, did I for a moment conceal that fact."
+
+Hinton paused for a moment to think, then he abruptly changed the
+subject.
+
+"I want to visit a friend this morning--a friend who has never had
+scarlet fever. It is rather important that we should meet; but I must
+not risk danger. You know I have been a good deal with the little boy.
+Is there a risk to my friend in our meeting now?"
+
+"Change all your clothes," replied the doctor; "wear nothing you have in
+the Homes' house. Perhaps it would also be a wise precaution to take a
+Turkish bath. If you do all this you may meet your friend without the
+slightest risk of evil consequences."
+
+Hinton thanked the doctor, and as the result of this conversation
+entered the dining-room in Prince's Gate just as Charlotte was sitting
+down to her solitary luncheon.
+
+It was over three weeks since these two had met, and the long three
+weeks had seemed like for ever to the loving heart of the woman, who was
+so soon now to be Hinton's wife. She expressed her joy at this
+unexpected meeting, not so much by words, but so effectually with eyes
+and manner, that Hinton, as he folded his arms round her, could not help
+a great throb of thankfulness rising up from his heart.
+
+They sat down to lunch, and then afterwards Hinton told her the story of
+little Harold Home. In telling this tale, however, he omitted again both
+name and address. He had not meant when beginning his tale to keep these
+things any longer a mystery from her, but as the words dropped from him,
+and Charlotte's eyes were fixed on his face, and Charlotte's lips
+trembled with emotion, some undefined sensation prompted him to keep
+back these particulars.
+
+Hinton, in coming to Charlotte, relied on her help, but he meant her
+just now to bestow it as on a stranger. As he had expected, his tale
+aroused her warmest enthusiasm and interest.
+
+"John," she said, "something must be done. The boy must not die!"
+
+"He must go to Torquay," replied Hinton. "That is most manifest. But the
+difficulty will be how. They are very proud people. The difficulty will
+be how to induce them to accept aid from outsiders."
+
+"Do you think they will be proud, John, when their child's life depends
+on their accepting some aid from others? I don't think they will allow
+so false an emotion to sacrifice his little precious life. It seems to
+me, that were I in that mother's place, I would lick the dust off the
+most menial feet that ever walked, to save my child."
+
+"Perhaps you are right," said Hinton: "there is no doubt that one woman
+can best read the heart of another. What I propose is, that I take the
+little boy down to Torquay for a few weeks; I can make an excuse to the
+mother on my own score, and it will not seem so hard for her to send her
+boy. And the little lad loves me, I believe."
+
+"Would it not be best for the mother to take her child herself?"
+
+"It undoubtedly would. But it would be placing her under deeper
+obligation. I want to make it as light as possible to her."
+
+"Then, John, you will give me one happiness? I will provide the money
+for this expedition."
+
+"You shall, my dearest," answered Hinton, stooping down and kissing her.
+
+He meant her to help Charlotte Home in this way, and he did not notice
+the slight sigh scarcely allowed to escape her lips. The fact was,
+Charlotte Harman had grown very hungry, almost starved, for her lover
+during his three weeks' absence, and now the thought that he was going
+still farther away from her, and their wedding-day drawing so quickly
+on, could not but excite a pang; the selfish part of her rose in revolt,
+and struggled to rebel, but with a firm hand she kept it well under, and
+Hinton never noticed her strangled little sigh. They talked for a long
+time of their plans, and Charlotte mentioned what money she had of her
+very own, and which could be immediately at Hinton's disposal. In the
+midst of this conversation, the postman's knock was heard, and a moment
+later a servant brought Charlotte a letter. She did not recognize the
+handwriting, and laid it for a moment unopened by her side. Then some
+confused remembrance of having seen it before, caused her to tear open
+the envelope. This was what her eyes rested on.
+
+     Charlotte--my sister and friend--I have found the little piece of
+     paper you put into my Harold's hat. I never knew it was there until
+     to-day. Thank God I did not know, for had I seen it after your
+     visit, I should certainly, in my mad, ungracious, evil pride, have
+     returned it to you.
+
+     Dear Charlotte--God nearly broke my heart since I saw you. He
+     nearly took my boy away. In that process my pride has gone, though
+     my love and tenderness and gratitude to you remain, for with this
+     fifty pounds you are saving my child's little life. Thank you for
+     it. God will bless you for it. You will never--never regret this
+     deed. It will come back to you, the remembrance of it, in the midst
+     of your own wealth and affluence, or if dark days visit you, you
+     will let your thoughts wander to it as a place of safe anchorage
+     in the storm. It will, all your life long, be a source to you of
+     rejoicing that you saved a father's and mother's hearts from
+     breaking, and kept a precious little life in this world.
+
+     I can add no more now, my dear. For this money must be spent, and
+     at once. Oh! precious, valuable gold, which is to keep Harold with
+     me! I will write to you when we come back from Torquay; do not come
+     to see me before, it would not be safe for you.
+
+     Ever, my dear friend, because of you, the happiest and most
+     grateful mother on God's earth,
+
+     CHARLOTTE HOME.
+
+Charlotte Harman's face was very white when, after reading this letter,
+she raised her eyes to Hinton's. What had been written with all joy and
+thankfulness was received with pain. Why had Hinton kept this thing from
+her? Why had he not told her where he had been staying?
+
+"You kept a secret from me," she said, and her eyes filled with heavy
+tears.
+
+Then as he tried to comfort her, being very compunctious himself at
+having failed utterly to trust one so brave and noble, she suddenly drew
+herself from his embrace.
+
+"John," she said, with some pride in her voice, "did you in any degree
+keep this thing from me because you believed Mrs. Home's story about my
+grandfather's will?"
+
+"I had a thousand nameless reasons for not telling you, Charlotte. My
+principal one after the child got ill was my fear that you would come to
+the house, and so run the risk of infection."
+
+"Then you do not at all believe Mrs. Home's story?"
+
+"I have not investigated it, my darling. I have done nothing but simply
+listen to what you yourself told me. _You_ do not believe it?"
+
+"Certainly not! How could I? It implicates my father."
+
+"We will not think of it, Charlotte."
+
+"We must think of it, for justice must be done to this woman and to her
+children; and besides, I wish to clear it up, for I will not have my
+father blamed."
+
+Hinton was silent. Charlotte gazed at him eagerly, his silence
+dissatisfied her. His whole manner carried the conviction that his faith
+in her father was by no means equal to hers.
+
+"Is it possible to see wills?" she asked suddenly.
+
+"Certainly, dear; anybody can see any will by paying a shilling, at
+Somerset House."
+
+"Would my grandfather's will be kept at Somerset House?"
+
+"Yes. All wills are kept there."
+
+"Then," said Charlotte, rising as she spoke, "before our wedding-day I
+will go to Somerset House and read my grandfather's will."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THEY RECALL TOO MUCH.
+
+
+Mr. Harman had a hard task before him. He was keeping two things at bay,
+two great and terrible things, Death and Thought. They were pursuing
+him, they were racing madly after him, and sometimes the second of these
+his enemies so far took possession of him as to grasp him by the
+heartstrings. But though he knew well that in the end both one and the
+other would conquer and lay him low, yet still he was in a measure
+victor. That strong nourishment, those potent medicines were keeping the
+life in him; while his still eager absorption in business prevented that
+time for reflection which was worse than death. His medical man, knowing
+nothing of his inner history, had begged of him to rest, to give up
+business, assuring him that by so doing he would prolong his short span
+of life. But Harman had answered, and truly, "If I give up business I
+shall be in my grave in a fortnight;" and there was such solemn
+conviction in his voice and manner, that the physician was fain to bow
+to the dictum of his patient. Except once to his brother Jasper, and
+once to Hinton, Mr. Harman had mentioned to no one how near he believed
+his end to be. The secret was not alluded to, the master of the house
+keeping up bravely, bearing his pains in silence and alone, and that
+subtle element of rejoicing began to pervade this quiet, luxurious home
+which precedes a wedding. Only one in the dwelling ever thought of
+funeral gloom.
+
+Little Harold Home had gone to Torquay with his mother. Hinton was once
+more free to go in and out of the house in Prince's Gate, and he and
+Charlotte were necessarily much occupied with each other. There seemed
+to these two so much to be done, and the time seemed so short until the
+twentieth of April, that had the very sun stood still for them, they
+would have felt no undue sensation of surprise.
+
+When people are about to step into the Garden of Eden even nature must
+sympathize, and marriage seemed that to Charlotte and Hinton. After
+their wedding tour it was arranged that they were to come to the house
+in Prince's Gate. For some time Mr. Harman had begged them to make it
+their home; but though Hinton could not oppose, he had a hope of some
+day settling down in a smaller house. He liked the power which wealth
+could give, but he was so unused to luxuries, that they were in
+themselves almost repellent to him. Charlotte, on the contrary, was
+perfectly happy to live in the old place. Home to this womanly heart was
+wherever her loved ones were; and she also acceded joyfully to another
+question which otherwise might have appeared a little either strange or
+selfish. Her father begged of her not to extend her wedding tour beyond
+a week. "Come back to me," said the old man, "at the end of a week; let
+me feel that comfort when you say good-by on your wedding-day."
+
+Charlotte had promised, with her arms round his neck and her bright hair
+touching his silver locks. And now April had set in, and the days flew
+fast. All was bustle and confusion, and milliners and dressmakers worked
+as though there had never been a bride before, and Charlotte, too,
+believed there had never been so happy, so fortunate, so altogether
+blessed a woman as herself.
+
+One of those spring days, for the weather was particularly lovely, Mr.
+Harman came home earlier than usual and went to his study. For no
+special reason he had found it impossible to settle to any active work
+that morning. He had hastened home, and now taking his accustomed
+medicine, lay back in his armchair to rest. The medicine he had taken
+was partly of a sedative character, but to-day it failed in all soothing
+effects. That bloodhound Thought was near, and with a bound it sprang
+forward and settled its fangs into his heartstrings.
+
+Mr. Harman could not sit still, he rose and began to pace his room.
+Stay--how could he quiet this monster of remorse and reflection? Would
+death do it by and by? He shook his head as this idea came to him. Were
+death but an annihilation he could, would, how gladly, welcome it, but
+all his firmest convictions pointed to a God and a future. A future to
+him meant retribution. He found it absolutely impossible to comfort his
+heart with so false a doctrine as that of annihilation. In the midst of
+his meditations his brother Jasper entered.
+
+"Good Heavens! John, you do look bad!" he exclaimed almost
+involuntarily, noticing the anguish on the fine old face.
+
+"I'm a very miserable man," answered John Harman, and he sank down into
+a chair as he spoke.
+
+"I would not think so much about my health," said Jasper; "doctors are
+the most mistaken fools under the sun. I knew a man out in Australia,
+and the first medical man in Sydney told him he had not a week to live.
+He came home and made his will and bid all his relations good-by. Well,
+what were the consequences? The week came to an end, but not the man; my
+dear John, that man is alive now, and what is more, he is in the
+enjoyment of perfect health. The doctor was all wrong; they are mortal
+like ourselves, man, and by no means infallible. I would not take my
+death for granted, if I were you; I would determine to take out a fresh
+lease of life when Charlotte is married. Determination does wonders in
+such cases."
+
+"I am not thinking of my death," answered Mr. Harman; "were death but
+all, I could almost welcome it. No, it is not death, it is memory.
+Jasper," he added, turning fiercely on his brother, "you were as the
+very devil to me once, why do you come to preach such sorry comfort
+now?"
+
+Jasper Harman had an impenetrable face, but at these words it turned a
+shade pale. He went to the fire and stirred it, he put on more coal, he
+even arranged in a rather noisy way one or two of the chimney ornaments.
+
+"If only that trustee had not died just then--and if only--only you had
+not tempted me," continued the elder man.
+
+"You forget, John," suddenly said Jasper, "what the alternative would
+have been just then, absolute ruin, ruin coupled with disgrace!"
+
+"I do not believe in the disgrace, and as to the ruin, we could have
+started afresh. Oh! to start even now with but sixpence in my pocket,
+and with clean hands! What would have been the old disgrace compared to
+the present misery?"
+
+"Take comfort, John, no one knows of it; and if we are but careful no
+one need ever know. Don't excite yourself, be but careful, and no one
+need ever know."
+
+"God knows," answered the white-headed elder brother. And at these words
+Jasper again turned his face away. After a time, in which he thought
+briefly and rapidly, he turned, and sitting down by John, began to
+speak.
+
+"Something has come to my knowledge which may be a comfort to you. I did
+not mention it earlier, because in your present state of health I know
+you ought not to worry yourself. But as it seems you are so
+over-sensitive, I may as well mention that it will be possible for you
+to make reparation without exposing yourself."
+
+"How?" asked Mr. Harman.
+
+"I know where Daisy Harman's daughter lives--you know we completely lost
+sight of her. I believe she is poor; she is married to a curate, all
+curates are poor; they have three children. Suppose, suppose you
+settled, say, well, half the money her mother had for her lifetime, on
+this young woman. That would be seventy-five pounds a year; a great
+difference seventy-five pounds would make in a poor home."
+
+"A little of the robbery paid back," said Mr. Harman with a dreary
+smile. "Jasper, you are a worse rogue than I am, and I believe you study
+the Bible less. God knows I don't care to confront myself with its
+morality, but I have a memory that it recommends, nay, commands, in the
+case of restoring again, or of paying back stolen goods, that not half
+should be given, but the whole, multiplied fourfold!"
+
+"Such a deed, as Quixotic as unnecessary, could not be done, it would
+arouse suspicion," said Jasper decidedly.
+
+After this the two brothers talked together for some time. Jasper quiet
+and calm, John disturbed and perplexed, too perplexed to notice that the
+younger and harder man was keeping back part of the truth. But
+conversation agitated John Harman, agitated him so much that that
+evening some of the veil was torn from his daughter's eyes, for during
+dinner he fainted away. Then there was commotion and dismay, and the
+instant sending for doctors, and John Hinton and Jasper Harman both felt
+almost needless alarm.
+
+When the old man came to himself he found his head resting on his
+daughter's shoulder. During all the time he was unconscious she had eyes
+and ears for no one else.
+
+"Leave me alone with the child," he said feebly to all the others. When
+they were gone, he looked at her anxious young face. "There is no cause,
+my darling, no cause whatever; what does one faint signify? Put your
+arms round me, Charlotte, and I shall feel quite well."
+
+She did so, laying her soft cheek against his.
+
+"Now you shall see no one but me to-night," she said, "and I shall sit
+with you the whole evening, and you must lie still and not talk. You are
+ill, father, and you have tried to keep it from me."
+
+"A little weak and unfit for much now, I confess," he said in a tone of
+relief. He saw she was not seriously alarmed, and it was a comfort to
+confide so far in her.
+
+"You are weak and tired, and need rest," she said: "you shall see no one
+to-night but me, and I will stay with you the whole evening!"
+
+"What!" said her father, "you will give up Hinton for me, Lottie!"
+
+"Even that I will do for you," she said, and she stooped and kissed his
+gray head.
+
+"I believe you love me, Lottie. I shall think of that all the week you
+are away. You are sure you will only remain away one week?"
+
+"Father, you and I have never been parted before in all my life; I
+promise faithfully to come back in a week," she answered.
+
+He smiled at this, and allowing her still to retain his hand in hers,
+sank into a quiet sleep. While he slept Charlotte sat quietly at his
+feet. She felt perplexed and irresolute. Her father's fainting fit had
+alarmed her, and now, looking into his face, even to her inexperience,
+the ravages which disease, both mental and physical, had brought there
+could not but be apparent to her. She had to acknowledge to herself that
+her father, only one year her Uncle Jasper's senior, looked a very old,
+nay, she could not shut her eyes to the fact, a very unhappy man. What
+brought that look on his face? A look which she acknowledged to herself
+she had seen there all her life, but which seemed to be growing in
+intensity with his added years. She closed her own eyes with a pang as a
+swift thought of great anguish came over her. This thought passed as
+quickly as it came; in her remorse at having entertained it she stooped
+down and kissed the withered old hand which still lay in hers.
+
+It was impossible for Charlotte really to doubt her father; but occupied
+as she was with her wedding preparations, and full of brightness as her
+sky undoubtedly looked to her just now, she had not forgotten Hinton's
+manner when she had asked him what faith he put in Mrs. Home's story.
+Hinton had evaded her inquiry. This evasion was as much as owning that
+he shared Mrs. Home's suspicions. Charlotte must clear up her beloved
+father in the eyes of that other beloved one. If on all hands she was
+warned not to agitate him, there was another way in which she could do
+it: she could read her grandfather's will. But though she had made up
+her mind to do this, she had an unaccountable repugnance to the task.
+For the first time in all her open, above-board life she would be doing
+something which she must conceal from her father. Even John Hinton
+should not accompany her to Somerset House. She must find the will and
+master its contents, and the deed once done, what a relief to her! With
+what joy would she with her own lips chase away the cloud which she felt
+sure rested over her beloved father in her lover's heart!
+
+"It is possible that, dearly as we love each other, such a little doubt
+might divide us by and by," she said to herself. "Yes, yes, it is right
+that I should dissipate it, absolutely right, when I feel so very, very
+sure."
+
+At this moment her father stirred in his sleep, and she distinctly heard
+the words drop from his lips----
+
+"I would make reparation."
+
+Before she had even time to take these words in, he had opened his eyes
+and was gazing at her.
+
+"You are better now," she said, stooping down and kissing him.
+
+"Yes, my darling; much, much better." He sat up as he spoke, and made an
+effort to put on at least a show of life and vigor. "A man of my age
+fainting, Charlotte, is nothing," he said; "really nothing whatever. You
+must not dwell on it again."
+
+"I will not," she said.
+
+Her answer comforted him and he became really brighter and better.
+
+"It is nice to have you all to myself, my little girl; it is very nice.
+Not that I grudge you to Hinton; I have a great regard for Hinton; but,
+my darling, you and I have been so much to each other. We have never in
+all our lives had one quarrel."
+
+"Quarrel, father! of course not. How can those who love as we do
+quarrel?"
+
+"Sometimes they do, Lottie. Thank God, such an experience cannot visit
+you; but it comes to some and darkens everything. I have known it."
+
+"You have, father?" In spite of herself, Charlotte felt her voice
+trembling.
+
+"I had a great and terrible quarrel with my father, Charlotte; my father
+who seemed once as close to me as your father is to you. He married
+again, and the marriage displeased me, and such bitter words passed
+between us, that for years that old man and I did not speak. For years,
+the last years of his life, we were absolutely divided. We made it up in
+the end; we were one again when he died; but what happened then has
+embittered my whole life--my whole life."
+
+Charlotte was silent, though the color was coming into her cheeks and
+her heart began to beat.
+
+"And to-day, Lottie," continued Mr. Harman, "to-day your uncle Jasper
+told me about my father's little daughter. You have never heard of her;
+she was a baby-child when I saw her last. There were many complications
+after my father's death; complications which you must take on trust, for
+I cannot explain them to you. They led to my never seeing that child
+again. Lottie, though she was my little half-sister, she was quite
+young, not older than you, and to-day Jasper told me about her. He knows
+where she lives; she is married and has children, and is poor. I could
+never, never bring myself to look on her face; but some day, not when I
+am alive, but some day you may know her; I should like you to know her
+some day, and to be kind to her. She has been hardly treated, into that
+too I cannot go; but I must set it right. I mean to give her money; you
+will not be quite so rich; you won't mind that?"
+
+"Mind it! mind it! Oh, father!" And Charlotte suddenly began to weep;
+she could not help that sudden, swift shower, though she struggled hard
+to repress it, seeing how her father trembled, and how each moment he
+looked more agitated.
+
+"Do you know," she said, checking her sobs as soon as she possibly
+could, "that Uncle Jasper, too, has told me that story; he asked me not
+to speak of it to you, for you would only be upset. He said how much you
+took to heart, even still, that time when your father was angry with
+you."
+
+"And I angry with him, Lottie; and I with him. Don't forget that."
+
+"Yes, dear father, he told me the tale. I longed to come to you with
+it, for it puzzled me, but he would not let me. Father, I, too, have
+seen that little sister; she is not little now, she is tall and
+noble-looking. She is a sweet and brave woman, and she has three of the
+most lovely children I ever saw; her children are like angels. Ah! I
+shall be glad to help that woman and those children. I cannot thank you
+enough for doing this."
+
+"Don't thank me, child; in God's name don't thank me."
+
+"If you could but see those children."
+
+"I would not see them; I would not; I could not. Charlotte, you don't
+know what bygone memories are to an old man like me. I could never see
+either the mother or the children. Lottie, tell me nothing more about
+them; if you love me never mention their names to me. They recall too
+much, and I am weak and old. I will help them; yes, before God I promise
+to help them; but I can never either see or speak of them, they recall
+too much."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+HAD HE SEEN A GHOST?
+
+
+At this time Jasper Harman was a very perplexed man. Unlike his brother
+John, he was untroubled by remorse. Though so outwardly good-tempered
+and good-natured, his old heart was very hard; and though the arrows of
+past sins and past injustices might fly around him, they could not visit
+the inner shrine of that adamantine thing which he carried about instead
+of a heart of flesh within him.
+
+What the painful process must be which would restore to Jasper Harman
+the warm living heart of a little child, one must shudder even to
+contemplate. At present that process had not begun. But though he felt
+no remorse whatever, and stigmatized his brother as an old fool, he had
+considerable anxiety.
+
+There was an ugly secret in the back parts of these two brothers' lives;
+a secret which had seemed all these years safe and buried in the grave,
+but over which now little lights were beginning to pour. How could
+Jasper plaster up the crevices and restore the thing to its silent
+grave? Upon this problem he pondered from morning to night.
+
+He did not like that growing anxiety of his brother's; he could not tell
+to what mad act it would lead him; he did not like a new look of fear
+which, since her father's fainting fit, he had seen on Charlotte's
+smooth brow; he did not like Mrs. Home coming and boldly declaring that
+an injustice had been done; he felt that between them these foolish and
+miserable people would pull a disgraceful old secret out of its grave,
+unless he, Jasper Harman, could outwit them. What a blessing that that
+other trustee was dead and buried, and that he, Jasper Harman, had
+really stood over his grave. Yes, the secret which he and his brother
+had guarded so faithfully for over twenty years might remain for ever
+undiscovered if only common sense, the tiniest bit of common sense, was
+exercised. Jasper paced his room as he thought of this. Yes, there could
+be no fear, unless--here he stood still, and a cold dew of sudden terror
+stole over him--suppose that young woman, that wronged young woman,
+Charlotte Home, should take it into her head to go and read her father's
+will. The will could not be put away. For the small sum of one shilling
+she might go and master the contents, and then the whole fraud would be
+laid bare. Was it likely that Mrs. Home would do this? Jasper had only
+seen her for a moment, but during that brief glance he read
+determination and fixity of purpose in her eyes and mouth. He must trust
+that this thought would not occur to her; but what a miserable
+uncertainty this was to live in! He did not know that the graver danger
+lay still nearer home, and that his own niece Charlotte was already
+putting the match to this mine full of gunpowder. No, clever as he
+thought himself, he was looking for the danger at the front door, when
+it was approaching him by the back.
+
+After many days of most anxious thought he resolved to go and see the
+Homes, for something must be done, and he could feel his way better if
+he knew something of his opponents.
+
+Getting Mr. Home's address in the Post Office Directory, for he would
+not betray himself by questioning Charlotte, he started off one evening
+to walk to Kentish Town. He arrived in the dusk, and by good fortune or
+otherwise, as he liked best to term it, the curate was at home, and so
+far disengaged as to be able to give him a little leisure time.
+
+Jasper sent in his card, and the little maid, Anne, showed him into the
+small parlor. There was a musty, unused smell in the dingy little room,
+for Mrs. Home was still at Torquay, and the curate during her absence
+mostly occupied his study. The maid, however, turned on the gas, and as
+she did so a small girl of four slipped in behind her. She was a very
+pretty child, with gray eyes and black eyelashes, and she stared in the
+full, frank manner of infancy at old Jasper. She was not a shy child,
+and felt so little fear of this good-natured, cherry-cheeked old man,
+that when Anne withdrew she still remained in the room.
+
+Jasper had a surface love for children; he would not take any trouble
+about them, but they amused him, and he found pleasure in watching their
+unsophisticated ways. His good-natured, smiling face appealed to a
+certain part of Daisy Home, not a very high part certainly, but with the
+charming frankness of babyhood, the part appealed to gave utterance to
+its desire.
+
+"Have 'ou brought me a present?" she demanded, running up to old Jasper
+and laying her hand on his knee.
+
+"No, my dear," he replied quickly. "I'm so sorry; I forgot it."
+
+"Did 'ou?" said Daisy, puckering her pretty brows; "Then 'ou're not like
+our pretty lady; she did not forget; she brought lots and lots and
+lots."
+
+"I am very sorry," replied Jasper; "I will think of it next time." And
+then Mr. Home coming in, the two went into the little study.
+
+"I am your wife's half-brother," said Jasper, introducing himself
+without preface, for he had marked out his line of action before he
+came.
+
+"Indeed!" replied Mr. Home. He was not a man easily surprised, but this
+announcement did bring a slight color into his face. "You are Mr.
+Harman," he repeated. "I am sorry my wife is away. She is staying at
+Torquay with our eldest boy, who has been ill. She has seen your
+daughter."
+
+"Not my daughter, sir, my niece--a fine girl, but Quixotic, a little
+fanciful and apt to take up whims, but a fine girl for all that."
+
+"I, too, have seen Miss Harman," answered Mr. Home. "I met her once in
+Regent's Park, and, without knowing anything about us, she was good to
+our children. You must pardon me, sir, if in expressing the same opinion
+about her we come to it by different roads. It seems to me that the
+fine traits in Miss Harman's character are _due_ to her Quixotic or
+unworldly spirit."
+
+For a moment Jasper Harman felt puzzled, then he chuckled inwardly. "The
+man who says that, is unworldly himself, therefore unpractical. So much
+the better for my purpose." Aloud he said, "Doubtless you put the case
+best, sir; but I will not take up your valuable time discussing my
+niece's virtues. I have come to talk to you on a little matter of
+business. Your wife has told you her story?"
+
+"My wife has certainly concealed nothing from me," replied Mr. Home.
+
+"She has mentioned her father's very curious will?"
+
+"His very unjust will," corrected Mr. Home.
+
+"Yes, sir, I agree with you, it was unjust. It is to talk to you about
+that will I have come to you to-night."
+
+"Sit nearer to the fire," replied Mr. Home, poking up the handful in the
+grate into as cheerful a blaze as circumstances would permit.
+
+"It was, as you say, an unjust will," proceeded old Jasper, peering hard
+with his short-sighted eyes at the curate, and trying to read some
+emotion beneath his very grave exterior. Being unable to fathom the
+depths of a character which was absolutely above the love of money, he
+felt perplexed, he scarcely liked this great self-possession. Did this
+Home know too much? "It was an unjust will," he repeated, "and took my
+brother and myself considerably by surprise. Our father seemed fond of
+his young wife, and we fully expected that he would leave her and her
+child well provided for. However, my dear sir, the facts could not be
+disputed. Her name was not mentioned at all. The entire property was
+left principally to my elder brother John. He and I were partners in
+business. Our father's money was convenient, and enabled us to grow
+rich. At the time our father died we were very struggling. Perhaps the
+fact that the money was so necessary to us just then made us think less
+of the widow than we should otherwise have done. We did not, however,
+forget her. We made provision for her during her life. But for us she
+must have starved or earned her own living."
+
+"The allowance you made was not very ample," replied Mr. Home, "and such
+as it was it ceased at her death."
+
+"Yes, sir; and there I own we--my brother and I--were guilty of an act
+of injustice. I can only exonerate us on the plea of want of thought.
+Our father's widow was a young woman--younger than either of us. The
+child was but a baby. The widow's death seemed a very far off
+contingency. We placed the money we had agreed to allow her the interest
+on, in the hands of our solicitor. We absolutely forgot the matter. I
+went to Australia, my brother grew old at home. When, five or six years
+ago, we heard that Mrs. Harman was dead, and that our three thousand
+pounds could return to us, we had absolutely forgotten the child. In
+this I own we showed sad neglect. Your wife's visit to my niece, through
+a mere accident, has recalled her to our memory, and I come here
+to-night to say that we are willing, willing and anxious, to repay that
+neglect, and to settle on your wife the sum of three thousand pounds;
+that sum to be hers unconditionally, to do what she pleases with."
+
+When Jasper ceased to speak, Mr. Home was quite silent for a moment,
+then he said, "My wife is away at present. I would rather not trouble
+her with money matters during her short holiday. When she returns I will
+tell her what you say and communicate to you the result."
+
+There was neither exultation nor annoyance in the quiet manner in which
+these few words were spoken. Uncle Jasper found it impossible to
+understand this man. He spoke as indifferently as if three thousand
+pounds were nothing to him and yet, to judge from appearances, his whole
+yearly income seemed hardly to represent the interest on so much
+capital. Did this quiet manner but hide deep designs? Jasper Harman
+fidgeted in his chair as this thought occurred to him.
+
+"There is just one thing more to add," he said. "I will leave you my
+club address. Kindly communicate with me there. I should like, while
+carrying out my elder brother's wish, to act entirely on it without
+troubling him in any way. He is, I am sorry to say, very ill, so ill
+that the least, the very least, agitation is dangerous to him. He feels
+with me the unintentional injustice done to your wife, but he cannot
+bear the subject alluded to.
+
+"Would it not rather be an ease to his mind to feel that what he looks
+on and perhaps dwells on as a sin has been expiated, as far as his own
+earthly act can expiate it?" inquired the clergyman gently.
+
+"He shall know it, but from my lips. I should like him best to hear it
+from me," said Jasper Harman.
+
+A few moments after, he went away, Mr. Home accompanying him to the hall
+door. The strong light of the gas lamp fell on his ruddy face and sandy
+hair. He bade his host good-bye, and hurried down the street, never
+observing that a man, much larger and much rougher than himself, was
+bearing down upon him. It was raining, and the large man had an umbrella
+up. The two came full tilt against each other. Jasper felt his breath
+taken away, and could only gasp out a word of remonstrance and apology.
+
+But the other, in a full, round, cheery voice, replied, "I'm home from
+the Colonies, stranger--you need not mention a tiff like that to _me_.
+Bless you! I guess you got the worst of it."
+
+He passed on with a laugh, never noticing that he had left Jasper
+standing in the middle of the road, gasping indeed now, but from a
+different cause. He put his hand to his heart. He felt his breath come
+too fast for comfort. What had come to him? Had he seen a ghost?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE CHILDREN'S GREAT-UNCLE.
+
+
+It was a few days after this that, the morning being very bright and
+sunshiny, the little maid, Anne, determined to give Daisy and the baby a
+long morning in the park. Mrs. Home was expected back in a few days.
+Harold was very much better, and Anne, being a faithful and loving
+little soul, was extremely anxious that Daisy and the baby should show
+as rosy faces as possible to greet their mother's return. Hinton, who
+still occupied the drawing-rooms, was absent as usual for the day. Mr.
+Home would not come in until tea time. So Anne, putting some dinner for
+the children and herself, in the back of the perambulator, and the house
+latch-key in her pocket, started off to have what she called to Daisy, a
+"picnic in the park."
+
+The baby was now nearly ten months old. His beauty had increased with
+his growing months, and many people turned to look at the lovely little
+fellow as Anne gayly wheeled him along. He had a great deal of hair,
+which showed in soft golden rings under his cap, and his eyes, large and
+gentle as a gazelle's, looked calmly out of his innocent face. Daisy,
+too, was quite pretty enough to come in for her share of admiration,
+and Anne felt proud of both her little charges.
+
+Reaching the park, she wheeled the perambulator under the shade of a
+great tree, and sitting down herself on a bench, took little Angus in
+her arms. Daisy scampered about and inquired when her namesakes, the
+starry daisies of the field, would be there for her to gather.
+
+As the little child played and shouted with delight, and the baby and
+small maid looked on, a stout, florid-faced man of foreign appearance,
+passing slowly by, was attracted by the picturesque group. Daisy had
+flung off her shabby little hat. Her bright hair was in wild confusion.
+Her gray eyes looked black beneath their dark lashes. Running full tilt
+across the stranger's path, she suddenly stumbled and fell. He stooped
+to pick her up. She hardly thanked him, but flew back to Anne. The
+foreign-looking man, however, stood still. Daisy's piquant little face
+had caused him to start and change color.
+
+"Good gracious! what a likeness," he exclaimed, and he turned and sat
+down on the bench beside Anne and the baby.
+
+"I hope the little thing didn't get hurt by that fall," he said to the
+small maid.
+
+Anne, who was accustomed to having all admiration bestowed on her baby,
+replied briefly that missy was right enough. As she spoke she turned
+baby Angus round so that the stranger might see his radiant little face.
+The dark eyes, however, of the pretty boy had no attraction for the man.
+He still watched Daisy, who had resumed her amusements at a little
+distance.
+
+Anne, who perceived that Daisy had attracted the stranger's admiration,
+was determined to stay to watch the play out. She pretended to amuse
+little Angus, but her eyes took furtive glances at the foreign-looking
+man. Presently Daisy, who was not at all shy, came up.
+
+"You never thanked me for picking you up from the ground," said the
+stranger to the little girl.
+
+Four year old Daisy turned up her eyes to his face.
+
+"I wor _so_ busy," she apologized. "T'ank 'ou now."
+
+The light on her face, her very expression, caused this rough-looking
+man's heart to beat strangely. He held out his hand. Daisy put her soft
+little palm into his.
+
+"Come and sit on my knee," he said.
+
+Daisy accepted the invitation with alacrity. She dearly liked
+attention, and it was not often, with baby by, that she came in for the
+lion's share.
+
+"What a funny red beard you have!" she said, putting up a small finger
+to touch it delicately.
+
+This action, however, scandalized Anne, who, awaking to a sudden sense
+of her responsibilities, rose to depart.
+
+"Come along, Miss Daisy," she exclaimed; "'tis time we was a-moving
+home, and you mustn't trouble the gentleman no further, missy."
+
+"I s'ant go home, and I will stay," responded Daisy, her face growing
+very red as she clung to her new friend. The man put his arm round her
+in delight.
+
+"Sit down, my girl," he said, addressing Anne, "the little miss is not
+troubling me. Quite the contrary, she reminds me of a little lassie I
+used to know once, and she had the same name too, Daisy. Daisy Wilson
+was her name. Now this little kid is so like her that I shouldn't a bit
+wonder if she was a relation--perhaps her daughter. Shall I tell you
+what your two names are, little one?"
+
+Daisy nodded her head and looked up expectantly. Anne, hoping no harm
+was done, and devoured with curiosity, resumed her seat.
+
+"Your mamma's name was Daisy Wilson. You are her dear little daughter,
+and your name is Daisy Harman. Well, I'm right, ain't I?" The man's face
+was now crimson, and he only waited for Daisy's reply to clasp her to
+his breast. But Daisy, in high delight at his mistake, clapped her
+pretty hands.
+
+"No, no," she said, "you're quite wrong. Guess again, guess again."
+
+Instantly his interest and excitement died out. He pushed the child a
+trifle away, and said,--
+
+"I made a mistake. I can't guess."
+
+"I'm Daisy Home," replied Daisy, "and my mamma was never no Daisy
+Wilson. Her name is Sarlotte Home."
+
+The stranger put Daisy gently from his lap, and the discovery which was
+to affect so many people might never have been made but for Anne, who
+read the _Family Herald_, was burning with anxiety and wonder. Many
+kinds of visions were flashing before her romantic young eyes. This man
+might be very rich--very, very rich. He must have something to say to
+them all. She had long ago identified herself with the Home family. This
+man was coming to give them gold in abundance. He was not so beautiful
+to look at, but he might be just as valuable as the pretty lady of
+Harold's dreams. That pretty lady had not come back, though Anne had
+almost prayed for her return. Yes, she was sure this man was a relation.
+It was highly probable. Such things were always happening in the _Family
+Herald_. Raising her shrill, high-pitched voice, she exclaimed,--
+
+"Miss Daisy, you're too young to know, or may be you furgets. But I
+think the gen'leman is near right. Yer mamma's name wos Harman afore she
+married yer papa, missy, and I ha' seen fur sure and certain in some old
+books at the house the name o' Daisy Wilson writ down as plain as could
+be, so maybe that wor yer grandma's name afore she married too."
+
+At these words the stranger caught Daisy up and kissed her.
+
+"I thought that little face could only belong to one related to Daisy
+Wilson," he said. "Little one, put yer arms round me. I'm your
+great-uncle--your great-uncle! I never thought that Daisy Wilson could
+have a daughter married, and that that daughter could have little ones
+of her own. Well, well, well, how time does fly! I'm your grandmother's
+brother--Sandy Wilson, home from Australia, my little pet; and when
+shall I see you all? It does my old heart good to see my sister over
+again in a little thing like you."
+
+"My great-uncle?" repeated Daisy. She was an affectionate little thing,
+and the man's agitation and delight so far touched her baby heart as to
+induce her to give him one very slight, dainty kiss. Then she sidled
+down to the ground.
+
+"Ef you please, sir," said Anne again, who felt absolutely certain that
+she had now made the fortune of her family, and who thought that that
+fact ought to be recognised--"ef you please, sir, 'tis but right as you
+should know as my missis's mother have long bin dead. My missis as is
+her living model is away, and won't be back afore Thursday. She's down
+by the seaside wid Master Harold wot' ad the scarlet fever, and wor like
+to die; and the fam'ly address, please sir, is 10, Tremins Road, Kentish
+Town."
+
+At the news of his sister's death so curtly announced by Anne, the man's
+rough, weatherbeaten face grew white. He did not touch Daisy again, or
+even look at little Angus; but going up to Anne, he slipped a sovereign
+into her hand.
+
+"Take those children safely home now," he said; "the day is turning
+chilly, and--and--thank you for what you told me of, my good lass. I'll
+come and see your missis on Thursday night."
+
+Then, without another word, he hurried away.
+
+Quickly this big, rough man, who had nearly knocked down Jasper Harman
+the night before, hurried through the park. The exultation had died out
+of his face; his heart had ceased to beat wildly. Little Daisy's pretty
+figure was still before his eyes; but, weatherbeaten and lifebeaten man
+that he was, he found himself looking at it through a mist of tears.
+"'Tis a bit of a shock," he said to himself. "I'll take it quietly, of
+course. Sandy Wilson learned long ago to take everything quietly; but
+it's a rare bit of a shock. I never guessed as my little Daisy would
+die. Five and twenty years since we met, and all that time I've never
+once clasped the hand of a blood-relation--never had one belonging to
+me. I thought I was coming back to Daisy, and Daisy has died. She was
+very young to die--quite five years younger than me. A pretty, pretty
+lass; the little 'un is her image. How odd I should have knocked up
+against Daisy's grandchild, and should find her out by the likeness.
+Well, well, I'll call at 10, Tremins Road. I'll call, of course; not
+that I care much now, as my little sister Daisy Wilson is dead."
+
+He pressed his hand before his eyes; they felt weak and dim. The rough
+man had got a considerable shock; he did not care to look at London
+sights again to-day; he returned to the Commercial Hotel in the Strand,
+where for the present he was staying.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+CUT OFF WITH A SHILLING.
+
+
+Never was a little maid-of-all-work more excited than Anne on the night
+on which her mistress was expected home from Torquay. A secret--quite a
+great secret--had been burning a hole in her heart ever since Monday,
+and to-night she expected this secret to result in something grand. Anne
+felt that the days of poverty for the family were over; the days for
+scraping and toiling were at an end. The uncle from Australia would
+give her missis everything that money could buy; he must be a very rich
+man indeed, for had he not given her a sovereign? Whoever before had
+even dreamed of giving little hard-worked Anne a sovereign? It meant
+unheard-of wealth to this childish soul of sixteen; it filled her with
+delight, and, carefully put away in a little gingham bag, it lay golden
+and warm now against her heart.
+
+But Anne's honest little heart had another and less selfish cause for
+rejoicing. It was she who was bringing this uncle and niece to meet
+again; but for her prompt interference Daisy and her great-uncle would
+never have discovered their relationship; but for her the uncle, so
+blessed with riches, would not have known where to seek for his niece.
+In a big place like London was it likely, was it at all likely, that
+they would meet? No, no, he would look for his poor dead sister for a
+little while, and then go back to Australia, and perhaps give his money
+to some one else. Anne felt that the family owed her a great deal; but
+she had full confidence in them, and felt sure that in their rise in
+life they would not forget her. Missis could keep plenty of servants
+now; she would have a cook and a housemaid, and probably some one to
+help in the nursery. This was what a family whom Anne thought immensely
+wealthy, did in a house just round the corner. In that case she, Anne,
+would be promoted to the proud position of head nurse--head nurse with
+wages--well, say wages as high as £13 a year. Even to think of being
+raised to so dazzling a height made Anne's head a trifle giddy. On the
+strength of it, and all the riches in prospect, she became quite
+reckless in preparing missis's tea. She put out the best table-linen,
+and all the silver the house possessed, and she filled a great dish with
+water-cresses, and had hot buttered scones and a seed-cake and
+eggs--rather fresh for London--and finally half a pound of sliced ham.
+
+She was standing contemplating her well-laden board when the cab drove
+up, and out stepped her master and mistress and little Harold--Harold
+looking white and thin even yet, but still with an altogether improved
+expression on his little face. Anne was so excited, knowing all that was
+to come, that she caught Harold up in her arms and kissed him, which
+proceeding he bore with more patience than appreciation. Then ensued
+bustle and confusion and pleasant excitement. Charlotte Home felt so
+well and rested from her change, her husband was so delighted to have
+her back, and little Harold was so manifestly better, that Anne flew
+about nearly wild with delight. "They'll be a deal, deal 'appier
+by-and-by, and 'tis hall 'long of HAnne," she kept whispering to
+herself.
+
+And now, tea being over, and Harold tucked up comfortably once more in
+his own little cot in the nursery, the small maid began to be devoured
+with impatience for the expected ring. It came at last; Anne with her
+own hands unfastened the door, showed the rich uncle into the
+dining-room, and danced upstairs to find her mistress. Charlotte Home
+was unpacking a trunk in her own room.
+
+"What do you say, Anne? A gentleman is downstairs, and wants to see me?
+But I am so dreadfully busy. What does he want? Do you think he has come
+about the drawing-rooms? They will be vacant next week."
+
+"I don't think 'tis about the drawing-rooms, 'em," answered Anne as
+demurely as she could speak. "I 'avent put no card hup yet. Please, 'em,
+he looks a most benevolent gen'leman, and he axed fur you, yer hown
+self, 'em, most partic'lar bad."
+
+"I wish he had not come this evening, everything is in such confusion.
+Anne, are you sure your master is out?"
+
+"Yes, 'em, sure and certain; and ef you please, 'em, it wor fur you as
+the strange gen'leman axed."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must go down. He may have heard of the drawing-rooms
+through Mr. Hinton, and it would not do to lose a good lodger."
+
+Charlotte went to the looking-glass to smooth her hair. She felt
+travel-stained and dusty; she was only a worn, pale-looking woman at the
+best of times. She ran downstairs, and Anne's heart beat as she heard
+the dining-room door shut behind her.
+
+Mr. Wilson--Sandy Wilson as he preferred to be called--had got himself
+up with due care for his interview with his niece. He had a perfectly
+new and shining broadcloth suit on, a diamond pin was in his necktie,
+and a very massive gold chain could be seen dangling from his vest
+pocket. His full face, always florid, was now flushed with extra color
+from agitation. Yes, Daisy might be dead, but the next best thing was to
+see Daisy's child. When the door opened he came forward eagerly, with
+outstretched hands. A pale, slight, cold-looking woman had come in. He
+drew back in dismay. She showed but too plainly by one swift glance that
+she thought him a stranger, and a vulgar one. He owned to himself that
+he looked at her with a kind of shock. This Daisy Wilson's Daughter?
+This pale, dark, thin woman the child of that little, bright,
+curly-locked, golden-headed sister, whose face was as the sun, whose
+gay, rounded figure he had seen flitting before his eyes during all the
+weary years of his exile? It could scarcely be possible. Perhaps it was
+not possible?
+
+"I have come to see Mrs. Home," he began.
+
+"And I am Mrs. Home," answered the distinct, quiet voice.
+
+No, there was no hope; his Daisy's daughter was not in the least like
+her. Well, she was at least her child. He must take what comfort he
+could out of the relationship without the likeness.
+
+"You are Daisy's Wilson's child?" he said, and now again his hands were
+outstretched, and the smiles had returned to his face.
+
+But Mrs. Home, completely in the dark, rather startled than otherwise,
+made no gesture of welcome. Her hands were not held out, her lips
+remained unsmiling.
+
+"My mother's name was Wilson," she admitted. "Yes, it was Daisy Wilson.
+I did not recognize it at first, as of course she was never called it to
+me."
+
+"Ay, ay, likely enough; but she was never anything else to me, just
+always little bright Daisy Wilson. I thought I'd find her before me,
+something as she used to be, a bit stoutened, perhaps, but not greatly
+altered. I have pictured her for the last six and twenty years just as I
+saw her last the bonniest bit of a thing the sun ever shone on."
+
+"You knew my mother then?" said Charlotte.
+
+"Knew her, lass, knew her! good heavens, what next? Did Daisy never
+speak to you about me? I don't believe it. Before I left it was 'Sandy,
+Sandy,' from morning to night. It was not in her to forget. Tell me,
+lass, did you never hear of your mother's big brother, Sandy Wilson who
+went to Australia?"
+
+Charlotte's eyes began to dilate.
+
+"My mother often spoke of this brother," she said slowly. "My mother
+would have liked to have met you, had you known him. She never fretted
+for any one so much, except when my father died. My mother's brother is
+dead for many, many years. They are together now."
+
+"In spirit, lass, in spirit, I doubt not, but not otherwise. Why, is it
+possible you don't know me? Aren't you prepared? Did not your little
+lass tell you? I am your mother's brother, I am alive, as you see; I am
+Sandy Wilson."
+
+"You!" Charlotte looked at him half incredulous, half pained; but then a
+sudden joy came over her, she forgot the vulgarity in the love for her
+dead mother which still shone out of those honest blue eyes. She glanced
+up again; those eyes were her mother's eyes; instantly they acted as
+open sesame to her heart. She held out her own hands now and her eyes
+filled with tears. "Forgive me, Uncle Sandy; if you are indeed he. I did
+not know you, I could not know you; I have believed you dead for many,
+many years. But you have a look of my mother. She would welcome you
+to-night, so I must in her name."
+
+"Will you kiss me in her name, my lassie? Ah! that's good; 'tis long
+since I kissed one of my own. Yes, I've come back. I never did die, you
+see, though I knew that the report had reached England. I let it be, I
+did not trouble to contradict it."
+
+"But it was wrong of you, Uncle Sandy. You said you loved my mother, and
+that report of your death gave her terrible pain."
+
+"I am sorry for it, lass; I never guessed about the pain, though I might
+have thought of it, sweet soul; but I knew she was married to a very
+rich man. I was poor, so poor as to know what hunger meant, I thought
+she could do without me. I went up into the bush and stayed there until
+I had made my fortune. After a time I got accustomed to knowing that
+every one in England would think me dead. I used to laugh in my sleeve
+at the surprise I meant to give Daisy when I walked in rich some day.
+Well, well, what an old fool I made of myself! I never once thought of
+_her_ dying. She is dead, and I am left; there's no one to welcome me
+back, after all."
+
+"She has been dead for over six years now; but come to the fire, uncle.
+I welcome you in my mother's name, and my children will love you. Now
+you must sit there and I will ring for Anne to bring in some tea."
+
+After this the uncle and niece talked together for some time. Anne
+brought in the tea, and looked at them with eyes rendered round and
+large from excitement. They both nodded to her, for both felt pleased.
+Uncle Sandy had discovered that his niece had a voice like her mother,
+if not a face. It was delicious to him to sit so close to his own flesh
+and blood, and Charlotte, who had heard of Uncle Sandy during all her
+early days, who had seen her mother's eyes filling with tears when she
+mentioned him, felt now that for her mother's sake she could not make
+enough of this newly recovered relation. His rough, honest, kindly
+nature was finding its way too, very straight, to her heart. There was
+nothing innately common or vulgar about Uncle Sandy. Charlotte was a
+keen observer of character, and she detected the ring of the true metal
+within.
+
+"To think I should have mistaken my uncle for some one going to see
+after the drawing-rooms!" she said after a pause.
+
+"Ay, lass, you looked fairly dazed when I came up with my hand stretched
+out, hoping for a kiss," he said; "but no wonder: I never reckoned that
+that little maid-servant of yours would have told you nothing--nothing
+whatever. But what is that about drawing-rooms? You don't mean to tell
+me that you, Daisy Wilson's child, let lodgings?"
+
+The color flew into Charlotte's pale, proud face.
+
+"We do not need all the room in this house, so I generally have some one
+in the drawing-room," she answered--"the drawing-room and the bedroom
+beyond."
+
+"Are your rooms free now, Charlotte?"
+
+"No; but in a week they will be."
+
+"Suppose you let the old uncle have them? I will pay any rent you like
+to ask. The fact is, I have lost my whole heart to that little Daisy of
+yours. I want to be near the child. I won't spoil her more than I can
+help."
+
+"Then I _was_ called down to my drawing-room lodger," answered Charlotte
+with a faint sweet smile.
+
+"Yes, and I don't expect he will want to leave in a hurry. The fact is I
+have been so utterly friendless and homeless for such a number of years,
+that it is _nearly_ as good as finding Daisy to be with her child. But,
+my dear lass, you will forgive a frank old man asking you a frank
+question. It's all moonshine about the house being too big for you.
+These houses are not so very monstrous, to judge by the looks of them.
+You have three children, so you tell me; if you let two rooms you must
+be a bit crippled, put as good a face on it as you will."
+
+"We also want the money. The want of the help this brings in, in the
+matter of rent, is our true reason for letting," replied Charlotte. "You
+see, Uncle Sandy, my husband is a clergyman--a clergyman and curate.
+Such men are never over-burdened with money."
+
+Sandy Wilson had small, penetrating, but very bright blue eyes; they
+were fixed now earnestly on his niece. He took a glance round the little
+parlor where they sat. He was an old Australian, accustomed to bush
+life, but even he noticed how threadbare was the carpet, how poor and
+meagre the window curtains. Charlotte herself, too, how thin and worn
+she was! Could those pale and hollow cheeks mean insufficient food?
+
+"How old are you, niece Charlotte?" he suddenly demanded.
+
+"I was twenty-five my last birthday."
+
+"Forgive me, my lass, you look very old for that; I should have taken
+you for thirty. The fact is you are poor, nothing ages like poverty. And
+the greater fact remains that it was full time for old Uncle Sandy to
+come home and prove himself of some use in the world."
+
+"We are poor," answered Charlotte; "we certainly are very poor. But
+poverty is not the greatest of troubles."
+
+"No, but it puzzles me why you should be poor. When I left my little
+sister, she had been married about three months to that rich old Mr.
+Harman. He seemed devoted to her. He had surrounded her with wealth; and
+he assured me when I came to bid her good-bye, and she put her dear arms
+round my neck, that my little darling should never want for anything. He
+was a good old man, ages too old of course for my bright little Daisy.
+But it seemed better than leaving her as a governess. It was my one
+comfort when parting with Daisy, to feel that she could never want for
+anything that money could get her."
+
+"My mother has told me that during my father's life she lived as a rich
+woman," answered Charlotte.
+
+"That means she did not afterwards. Did the old gentleman die bankrupt?
+I don't see how he could, for he had retired from business."
+
+"No, my father died a very wealthy man."
+
+"Then he did not leave her well off! You don't surely mean to tell me,
+Charlotte Home, that that old man dared to do anything but leave a large
+sum of money to your pretty young mother and to you? Why, be told me
+with his own lips that he would make most ample provision for her."
+
+At these words Charlotte's white face grew yet whiter, and a piteous
+look of terror came into her eyes, but all she said was,--
+
+"Nevertheless, after my father's death we were poor."
+
+"Oh! the scoundrel! 'Tis well he's out of Sandy Wilson's power. To think
+of my Daisy not profiting by his wealth at least. How much did he leave
+to your mother, Charlotte?
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing!" Here Uncle Sandy sprang to his feet. "Mr. Harman left my
+Daisy nothing--nothing whatever! Then he did die bankrupt?"
+
+"No, Uncle Sandy, he died rich."
+
+"And her name was not mentioned in the will?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Ah! there was a will. Have you seen it?"
+
+"No; why should I? It all happened long, long ago."
+
+"And your mother never saw the will?"
+
+"I don't think she did."
+
+"Then to whom, may I ask, did he leave all his wealth?"
+
+"You forget, Uncle Sandy, that my father was married before. He had two
+sons by his first marriage. These sons came in for his fortune. They
+were--they said they were, sorry for my mother, and they settled on her
+one hundred and fifty pounds a year for her life."
+
+"Ay, I suppose you have got that pittance now?"
+
+"No, it was only for my mother. When she died six years ago it ceased."
+
+Sandy Wilson began to pace up and down the little parlor.
+
+"Nothing left to Daisy. Daisy's name not mentioned in the will. Brothers
+sorry--pretend to be. Give my Daisy a pittance for her life--nothing to
+the child. Charlotte," he suddenly stopped in front of his niece, "don't
+you think you are a good bit of a fool?"
+
+"Perhaps I am, Uncle Sandy. But I never recognized the fact before."
+
+"You believe that story about the will?"
+
+"I tell you the tale as my own mother told it to me."
+
+"Ay, Daisy was always too credulous, a foolish little thing, if you
+like. But you--you are of different metal. You believe that story?"
+
+"I--I--Don't ask me, Uncle Sandy."
+
+"You do not believe it?"
+
+"If you will have it so, I do not believe it."
+
+"Ay, my lass, shake hands on that. You are not a fool. Oh! it was full
+time Sandy Wilson came home. Sandy can see to your rights, late as it is
+in the day."
+
+Mrs. Home was silent. The old Australian was stamping his feet on the
+hearthrug. His face was now crimson from excitement and anger.
+
+"Charlotte," he repeated, "why don't you speak to me? I have come back
+to see to your rights. Do you hear me, niece?"
+
+Charlotte put her hand into his.
+
+"Thank you, Uncle Sandy." Then she added, "You can do nothing. I mean
+you can take no legal steps without my knowledge and sanction."
+
+"Well, it is not likely you will withhold your sanction from getting
+back what is your own. Charlotte, where are these half-brothers of
+yours? Why, they were a good bit older than Daisy. They must be old men
+now. Where are they, Charlotte? Are they alive?"
+
+"They are alive. I will tell you about them to-morrow. I want to think
+to-night."
+
+"And so do I want to think. I will run away now, my dear niece. I am
+staggered by this tale, perfectly staggered. I will look in to-morrow
+evening, and you shall tell me more. Ay, I guess they never reckoned
+that Sandy Wilson would turn up. They thought with the rest of you that
+old Sandy--sharp old Sandy was safe in his grave, and they said to
+themselves that dead men tell no tales. If I remember aright, your
+father told me I should be one of the trustees to my sister. He _did_
+mention it; though, just like me, I never thought of it until this
+minute. Is it likely that he would speak of trustees if he meant to cut
+off that poor darling with a shilling? Oh! it's preposterous,
+preposterous. But I'll sleep over it. We'll think how best to expose the
+villains!"
+
+"Uncle Sandy, you will promise me one thing: you will do nothing until
+you see me again?"
+
+"Well, child, I can scarcely do much. I don't want to be long away from
+you, niece Charlotte. I'll look in to-morrow, about six o'clock. See
+that little Daisy is up, and introduce me to your husband. Oh! it was
+plain to be seen that Sandy Wilson was wanting in this country. Bless my
+old heart, what a Providence is over everything! Oh, the scoundrels! But
+Sandy will expose them. My Daisy cut off with a shilling!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+"SOMETHING BETTER FOR THE CHILDREN THAN MONEY."
+
+
+After her newly found uncle had left her, Charlotte Home sat on by the
+fire; her face was very pale; she looked a quite broken-down and
+troubled woman. Little Anne, almost on tiptoe, crept into the room. She
+was all quivering with excitement. She expected her mistress to turn to
+her--almost to fling her arms around her neck--to thank her with the
+warmest expressions for what she had done.
+
+"Anne," rehearsed the little maid, imagining Charlotte's words, "you
+have saved us all; you are our lifelong benefactor. Henceforth partake
+of our wealth. Be not only our servant, but our friend."
+
+This was how matters would have been managed in the _Family Herald_.
+Anne raised expectant eyes to her mistress's face, but one glance at it
+scattered her golden visions. She softly lifted up the tea-tray and
+withdrew. Her faith and hope had gone down to zero. She was a very
+dispirited little girl as she returned to her kitchen. That uncle from
+Australia was not a rich uncle. Missis would never look so miserable if
+he was rich. As a poor relation he was no use whatever; and Anne had
+done nothing for the family she loved. Oh, how _very_ disappointing life
+was after all!
+
+Meanwhile what now troubled Charlotte Home had very little to do with
+Uncle Sandy's possible gold. She was solving another problem, and the
+task was a difficult one.
+
+For the past month Charlotte had been making up her mind to a certain
+line of action. Before she left Torquay her resolution was formed. She
+had been over four weeks there, and during those four weeks she and her
+boy had lived on Charlotte Harman's money. That money had saved the life
+of her child. When she first saw it and thanked for it, and each
+succeeding day, each succeeding hour, as she saw the color which was
+health, and the appetite which was life, returning to her darling, the
+conviction was growing upon her, that her hand could never inflict a
+blow upon the woman who had done so much for her. Her children wanted
+money, and her husband wanted money, and she herself too! A little dip
+into this world's softnesses, she owned, would be very pleasant; but,
+for all that, her hand must be still; her lips could not speak to cause
+pain and agony to one who had done so much for her. Miss Harman was
+going to be married. Was it possible that on the eve of her marriage
+she, Charlotte Home, could deal to her so cruel a blow? No, it was not
+possible. For Charlotte's sake, her father and uncle might keep their
+ill-gotten wealth. Mrs. Home believed more and more firmly that she and
+hers were robbed of their money. But now she could do nothing. She had
+been so treated by her enemy's daughter that to appear against that
+daughter's father would be impossible. As this conviction came to her,
+and she resolved to act upon it, and to let all chance of recovering her
+lost wealth go, a wonderful peace and calm stole over her. She almost
+used to fancy she heard the voice of God saying to her,--
+
+"I will provide for your children, I can give them riches. There are
+better things to be won for those little ones than what money can give.
+There is such a thing as a heavy purse and a poor and empty heart.
+Suppose I fill those hearts with goodness, and greatness, and
+generosity, and love; is not that a better portion for these creatures
+who are to live for all eternity than the gold which lasts only for a
+time?"
+
+Yes, Charlotte felt that it was a better portion. And such peace and
+contentment came to this woman during the last week at Torquay that she
+thought it the happiest week of her whole life. But now--now she sat by
+her own hearth in troubled maze. She had come back to find her resolve
+sorely shaken. With no one to help her, she had resolved to let her
+chance of riches go. She came back to find an unexpected deliverer come
+to her. A strong, brave, practical man had appeared. This man was her
+own uncle--her beloved mother's brother. He knew how to act. While she
+alone must stumble in the dark, he would know what to do. He would--he
+could get her back her own. It seemed hard to reject such help; and yet
+her resolve was scarcely shaken, and the temptation, though severe, was
+not allowed to prevail. The voice of God was still talking to the woman,
+and she was not turning from Him.
+
+Since the life of her child had been given back to her, a great softness
+and sweetness had come to Mrs. Home; she had tasted of a mother's
+bitterest cup, but God had not asked her to drink it to the dregs. Her
+dark eyes, always beautiful, had now grown very lovely, being filled
+with a tenderness which not only took in her own child, but, for his
+sake, all the other children in the world.
+
+Yes, Charlotte loved God as she had never loved Him before, and it was
+becoming impossible for her to do that which might pain Him. After a
+time her husband came in, and the two sat and talked for some time. They
+had a great deal to say, and the hours flew on as each poured out a full
+heart to the other.
+
+After a time Charlotte told of her visit from the uncle whom she had
+supposed for so many years to be dead. Mr. Home was interested, and
+asked many questions. Charlotte repeated, almost word for word, what
+Uncle Sandy had said. Her husband regarded her attentively. After a time
+he spoke.
+
+"Lottie, you remember when first you told me that queer story about your
+father's will?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"I own I did not believe it; I own I thought very little about it. I ask
+your pardon, my dear. I now believe you are right."
+
+"Oh, Angus!" a great flood of color came up to her face. "Oh! why," she
+added in a voice of pain, "why do you say this to me now?"
+
+"Partly from what your uncle said to-night; partly for another reason.
+The fact is, my dear wife, while you were away I had a visit from your
+half-brother, Mr. Jasper Harman.".
+
+"Angus!"
+
+"Yes, he came here one evening. He told a tale, and he made a
+proposition. His tale was a lame one; his proposition scarcely came well
+from his lips. He evidently thought of me as of one unworldly and
+unpractical. I believe I am unpractical, but he never guessed that in my
+capacity as clergyman I have had much to do with sinners. This man has a
+conscience by no means void of offence. He is hardened. Charlotte, when
+I saw him, I instantly believed your story."
+
+Mr. Home then told his wife the whole of his interview with Jasper
+Harman, and the proposal he had made to settle on Charlotte and on her
+children the three thousand pounds which had been her mother's for that
+mother's lifetime.
+
+"I gave him no answer, my Lottie," he said in conclusion. "I told him
+you were away--that I would tell you all on your return."
+
+"Then the decision is to rest with me, Angus?"
+
+"Yes, I think it must."
+
+"You do not mind whether I decline or accept?"
+
+"I trust you absolutely. You shall do as you think best."
+
+After this Mrs. Home was silent for a moment or two; then she got up,
+went on her knees by her husband's side, and laying her head against his
+breast, said,--
+
+"We will be poor, my darling--poor and blessed. I will not touch their
+gold."
+
+"My Lottie!" he answered. He did not quite understand her, but his heart
+began to beat.
+
+"I will tell you all in a few words, Angus. I longed for money--be my
+reason base or noble, I longed for money. A month ago how sorely we
+needed it! God saw our need and sent it to us. He sent it through a
+channel and by a means which tried my proud heart. I accepted the
+gracious boon, and, when I accepted it, instantly I loved the giver; I
+loved--I love Charlotte Harman. She is innocent of all wrong. Angus, I
+cannot disturb her peace. My uncle has come home. My uncle, with his
+knowledge and his worldly skill, could now win my cause for me, and get
+back for me and mine what is ours. I will not let him. These old men may
+keep their ill-gotten wealth, for I cannot break the daughter's heart. I
+made my resolve at Torquay, Angus; and, though I own I have been tempted
+to-night--yes, I believe I have been tempted--still I must let this
+money go. I will leave those wicked men to God; but I cannot take their
+punishment into my own hands. And, Angus, dearest, neither can I take
+that small sum of money; for, though I cannot prosecute, neither can I
+accept a bribe. This money comes as a bribe. Is it not so?"
+
+"Yes, Lottie, I fear it is so."
+
+"I am right not to take it?"
+
+"You are absolutely right."
+
+"Then we will not touch it. I and mine can live without it."
+
+"You and yours can live well and nobly without it, my most precious
+wife."
+
+"Ah! there is rest and peace in my heart; and the little house, though
+so poor and shabby, seems very home-like. Angus, I am so tired after all
+this! I will go to bed."
+
+Long after his wife had left him, the husband remained up. He had gone
+down on his knees, and he remained there for some hours. He had to thank
+God for his Charlotte, but even while he thanked a weight was heavy on
+his heart. Sin was very terrible to this man, and he feared that a very
+grievous sin had been committed. Long, long, into the night he cried to
+God for these sinners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+SHE COULD NOT POSTPONE HER ENGAGEMENT.
+
+
+Mr. Harman felt himself growing weaker and weaker. The disease which was
+to lay him in his grave was making slow, but steady progress. It was
+just possible that, had his mind been at rest, the weakness of body, the
+pain of body, the slow decay might have been, not removed, but at least
+arrested. Had Mr. Harman been a very happy man, he might have lived,
+even with so fatal a malady, for many years. He had lived a life of
+almost perfect physical health for over sixty years, and during all that
+time he had been able to keep mental pains at bay; but in his present
+weakness he found this impossible. His whole nervous system became
+affected, and it was apparent even to his daughter's eyes, that he was a
+very unhappy man. For her sake, however, he still did wonders. He
+dragged himself up to breakfast morning after morning, when he would
+have given worlds to remain in bed. He still went every day to his
+office in the city, though, when there, he sat in his office chair dull
+and unmindful of what was going on. Jasper did the work. Jasper was
+here, there, and everywhere; but it had come to such a pass with John
+Harman, that he now almost disliked gold. Still, for Charlotte's sake,
+he went there. Charlotte on the verge of her marriage must suspect
+nothing. In the evenings he sat with his daughter, he looked with
+apparent interest at the many presents which came pouring in, he made
+her show herself to him in each of the new dresses, and he even went
+himself with her to choose her wedding wreath and veil. But all these
+things had become such a weariness to the man that, dearly as he loved
+this one precious daughter, he began to look forward with almost a sense
+of relief to the one week of her absence. During that week he need
+disguise nothing, he need not go to the office, he need not put on this
+forced cheerfulness. He might stay in bed all day long if he pleased.
+
+That week was near now, for it was the twelfth of April. In another
+eight days the wedding morning would dawn.
+
+Charlotte was very busy. What young woman is not busy at such a time?
+Friends poured in, presents arrived at all hours. There were dressmakers
+and milliners to see and consult, from morning to night. Then Hinton
+took up some of his bride-elect's time, and the evening hours were given
+to her father. Seeing how much he liked having her all to himself after
+dinner each night, Charlotte had begged her lover not to come to see her
+at this particular time.
+
+"You will have me for all the rest of my life, John," she would say,
+"and I think it does my father good to be quite alone with me. It
+reminds him of old times." Then, when Hinton acceded to her request, she
+often added, "My father puzzles me. Is it the parting from me makes him
+look so ill and sad? I often fear that there is more the matter with him
+than he lets appear. I wish he would consult a good doctor."
+
+Hinton dared not tell her that he had consulted the very best. He could
+only try to turn her attention, and in this he believed that he
+succeeded much better than he really did. For when the night came after
+those quiet evenings, Charlotte found that she could not sleep. Was it
+excitement at her coming happiness, or was it anxiety?
+
+Anxiety was new to this happy nature--new to this prosperous life. She
+shuddered at the grim thing, as it visited her night after night, in the
+solitude of her luxurious room. But shut her eyes to it, fight against
+it, as she would, it could not be got to depart from her. The fact was,
+a dreadful thing had happened to this frank and loving nature, she was
+beginning to suspect the father whom she loved. These suspicions had
+first come into play on the night when he had fainted in her presence.
+Some words he had used that night, some expressions which had fallen
+from his lips, had aroused a new and dreadful thought, that thought
+would not go to sleep, would not depart. Was it possible that her father
+had done something wrong long ago in his life, and that the remembrance
+of that wrong--that sin--was what ailed him now? Was it possible that
+her uncle Jasper, who always appeared so frank and open, had deceived
+her? Was it possible that Hinton knew that she was deceived? These
+thoughts did not trouble her much in the daytime, but at night they rose
+to agonies. They kept sleep far away: so much so, that in the morning
+she often came downstairs heavy-eyed and weary. She blamed herself,
+then, for her mean suspicions; she said to herself, as she gave her
+father his morning cup of coffee, that no face could be more incapable
+of concealing a wrong than that noble old face opposite to her, and she
+tried to atone for her feelings by extra tenderness of voice and manner.
+But though this revulsion of feeling came with the morning, the night
+brought back the same agony. She now disliked even to think of Mrs.
+Home, she never spoke of her to John Hinton. He watched for her to do
+so, but the name of this young woman which had so intensely interested
+her never passed her lips. When Hinton told her that little Harold was
+better, and that on a certain day he and his mother would be in Kentish
+Town once more, she colored slightly and changed the subject. Hinton
+rather wondered at this. Uncle Jasper also remarked it. It was now a
+week to the wedding-day, and Charlotte was nerving herself for an
+effort. She had firmly resolved that before she really gave herself to
+Hinton, she would read her grandfather's will. She felt that nothing
+else would completely set her mind at rest. She dreaded doing this as
+much as she longed for it. Each day as it dawned she had put off the
+task, but when the day just a week before her wedding came, she felt
+that she must overcome what she called a weakness. She would learn the
+worst that very day. She had little or no idea how to carry out her
+design. She only knew that the will was kept at Somerset House, that if
+she went there and allowed herself to go through certain forms she
+should see it. She had never seen a will in her life, she scarcely knew
+even what it would look like. Nevertheless, she could consult no one.
+She must just go to the place and trust to circumstances to do the rest.
+
+On the thirteenth of April she resolved, as she put on her dress and
+hurried down to meet her father at breakfast, that before that night
+came she would carry out her design. Her father seemed better that
+morning. The day was a specially lovely one, and Charlotte said to
+herself that, before that time to-morrow, her heart would be at rest;
+she would not even allow herself to glance at a darker alternative.
+Indeed, happy in having at last firmly made up her mind; she became
+suddenly scarcely at all fearful, scarcely anything but completely
+hopeful. She resolved that nothing should turn her from her purpose
+to-day.
+
+Her father kissed her, told her he felt certainly better, and went off
+to the city.
+
+Immediately after, her uncle Jasper came in.
+
+"Lottie, child! I can take you to the private view of Mrs. ----'s
+pictures; I have just got an invitation. You know how wild you are to
+see them. Be ready at two o'clock. I will call for you then."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I cannot go with you this afternoon, Uncle
+Jasper."
+
+"Oh! You have made an engagement with Hinton. Can't you put it off? This
+is the last day for the pictures. You can go with Hinton to-morrow."
+
+"It is not an engagement with John, Uncle Jasper. It is something else,
+and I cannot put it off."
+
+All the time a rather loud voice within was saying to her, "Go and see
+the pictures. Put off the reading of the will. Be happy for one more
+day." But because this voice, which became so loud, frightened her, she
+would not yield to it.
+
+"I am very sorry," she repeated; "I should have liked it greatly. But I
+cannot go."
+
+"Well! it is a pity, and I took some trouble about it. However, it can't
+be helped."
+
+"No, it can't be helped," repeated Charlotte.
+
+Uncle Jasper went, feeling some annoyance, and also a little curiosity.
+
+"Strange cattle--women," he said to himself. "I confess I don't
+understand 'em. Charlotte, wild to get to that private view two days
+ago, now won't go because of a whim. Well! I'm glad I never took a wife.
+I rather pity Hinton. I would not be tied even to that fine creature,
+Lottie, forever."
+
+Jasper Harman had scarcely turned the corner of the street, before a cab
+drew up at the house, and Hinton came in. Charlotte had not yet left the
+breakfast-room.
+
+"Ah! my dearest, I am afraid you might be out I must hurry away at once;
+but I just called to say that I have had a telegram from Webster. You
+know how I have longed for you two to meet. Well, he is coming to town
+to-day, and I want to bring him here at three o'clock. You will be sure
+to be at home."
+
+"I am afraid I can't, John; I have an engagement."
+
+"Oh! but you must put it off, you really _must_ see Webster. He is my
+greatest friend, and is to be my best man. You really must, Lottie! and
+he telegraphs that he is coming up from Oxford on purpose."
+
+"I am ever so sorry. Could not you telegraph to him to put off his visit
+until to-morrow?"
+
+"No, my dear; he has started before this."
+
+"I am very sorry; I am unfortunate," repeated Charlotte. A certain
+degree of obstinacy, altogether foreign to her nature, had crept into
+her voice.
+
+Hinton looked at her in undisguised astonishment.
+
+"You don't mean to say that you are not going to see Webster, when he is
+coming up to town on purpose?"
+
+"John, dear, I will see him at five o'clock, I shall be home then. But I
+have an engagement at three."
+
+"I cannot bring Webster here at five, he must be on his way back then.
+You must put off your engagement."
+
+"I really cannot. Uncle Jasper has just been here, and he asked me to go
+with him to see the private views at Mrs. ----'s studio. He took some
+trouble to get the invitation for us both, but I could not go with him,
+nor can I stay in. Mr. Webster must wait to make my acquaintance on our
+wedding-day, John."
+
+"And I am to tell him that?"
+
+"Say everything as nice and polite as you can. Say that I am most truly
+sorry."
+
+Hinton turned his back on his promised bride; there was a cloud on his
+brow, he felt both hurt and angry.
+
+"Lottie! what is your engagement?" This was said while pretending to
+look down the street.
+
+Charlotte came close and put her hand a little timidly on his shoulder.
+"I know you will be vexed," she said "but I cannot tell you."
+
+Hinton held up his hand to a passing hansom.
+
+"Yes, I am vexed," he said, "but I cannot wait any longer now. You know
+I hate secrets, and I think you might have obliged me, Charlotte."
+
+"I wish I could," she said, and now her eyes filled with tears.
+
+Hinton scarcely kissed her before he rushed away, and Charlotte sank
+down on the nearest chair. The unaccountable feeling which had prompted
+her to refuse both her uncle and her lover, and to fix just that hour of
+three o'clock to visit Somerset House, was too strange and strong to be
+overcome. But the hope which had brightened her breakfast hour had now
+all departed. Her heart felt like lead within her breast, she dared not
+fully contemplate the realization of her worst fears. But they thronged
+like legion round her path.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHERE HAD THE MONEY CARES VANISHED TO?
+
+
+Hinton felt thoroughly angry; perhaps he had some cause. Webster, his
+college chum, his greatest friend, was coming up to town. He had heard
+many times and often of Hinton's promised bride, and he was coming to
+town, Hinton knew well at some personal inconvenience, to see her, and
+she refused to see him.
+
+Hinton, as well as Uncle Jasper, considered it a whim of Charlotte's. He
+was surprised. Nay, he was more than surprised. He was really angry.
+Here was the woman, who in a week's time now must stand up before God
+and promise solemnly to obey him for all the remainder of her life,
+refusing to attend to his most natural desire. She had an engagement,
+and she would not tell him what it was; she made a secret of it. Be the
+secret little or great, she knew how he disliked all such concealments.
+
+Was it possible that he was deceived in Charlotte after all? No, no, he
+was too really loyal to her, too sincerely attached to her: her
+frankness and sweetness were too natural, too complete, for him really
+to doubt her; but he owned that he was disappointed--he owned that he
+had not the greatness which she under similar circumstances would have
+exercised. She was keeping him in the dark--in the dark he could not
+trust. He recalled, with feelings of anything but pleasure, her last
+secret. She thought little of it. But Hinton knew how differently he had
+received it; he did not like to be reminded of it now. During the last
+few weeks he had managed almost completely to banish it from his
+thoughts; but now it came back to his memory with some force; it
+reminded him of Mrs. Home. Was it possible that he was acting wrongly
+in not searching into her rights? Was it possible that things had
+already come to such a pass with him, that he would not do the right
+because he feared the consequences? Had riches and wealth and worldly
+honor already become dearer to his soul than righteousness and judgment
+and truth?
+
+These condemnatory thoughts were very painful to the young man; but they
+turned his feelings of indignation from Charlotte to himself.
+
+It was nearly a month now since he had left Mrs. Home. When he went away
+he had provided her with another lodger. He remembered that by this time
+she must have come back from Torquay. As this thought came to him he
+stopped suddenly and pulled out his watch. Webster would not be at
+Paddington before two o'clock. He had nothing very special to do that
+morning, he would jump into a hansom and go and see Mrs. Home and
+Harold. He put his ideas into execution without an instant's delay, and
+arrived at Kentish Town and drew up at the well-known door at quite an
+early hour. Daisy and the baby were already out, but Harold, still
+something of an invalid, stood by the dining-room window. Harold, a
+little weary from his journey, a little spoiled by his happy month at
+Torquay was experiencing some of that flatness, which must now and then
+visit even a little child when he finds he must descend from a pedestal.
+For a very long time he had been first in every one's thoughts. He had
+now to retire from the privileges of an invalid to the everyday
+position, the everyday life of a healthy child. While at Torquay his
+mother had no thought for any one but him; but now, this very morning,
+she had clasped the baby in such an ecstasy of love to her heart, that
+little spoiled Harold felt quite a pang of jealousy. It was with a shout
+therefore of almost ecstasy that he hailed Hinton. He flew to open the
+door for him himself, and when he entered the dining-room he instantly
+climbed on his knee. Hinton was really fond of the boy, and Harold
+reflected with satisfaction that he was altogether his own friend, that
+he scarcely knew either Daisy or the baby.
+
+In a moment entered the happy, smiling mother.
+
+"Ah! you have come to see your good work completed," she said. "See what
+a healthy little boy I have brought back with me."
+
+"We had just a delicious time," said Harold, "and I'm very strong again
+now, ain't I, mother? But it wasn't Mr. Hinton gave us the money to go
+to Torquay, it was my pretty lady."
+
+"Do you know," said Mrs. Home, "I think you were scarcely, for all your
+great, great, and real kindness, scarcely perfect even in that respect.
+I never knew until a few days ago, and then it was in a letter from
+herself, that you are so soon to marry Charlotte Harman."
+
+"Yes, we are to be married on the twentieth," answered Hinton, "Has she
+written to you? I am glad."
+
+"I had one letter from her. She wrote to ask about my boy, and to tell
+me this of you."
+
+"She takes a great interest in you," said Hinton.
+
+"And I in her. I believe I can read character fairly well, and in her I
+see----"
+
+"What?" asked the lover, with a smile.
+
+"In brow, eyes, and lips I see truth, honor, love, bravery. Mr. Hinton,
+you deserve it all, but, nevertheless, you are drawing a great prize in
+your wife."
+
+"I believe I am," answered the young man, deeply moved.
+
+"When _can_ I see my pretty lady again?" asked Harold, suddenly. "If you
+are going to marry her, do you mean to take her quite, quite away? When
+may I see her?"
+
+"Before very long, I hope, my dear boy," answered Hinton.
+
+"He has talked of her so often," said the mother. "I never saw any one
+who in so short a time so completely won the heart of a little child; I
+believe the thought of her helped to make him well. Ah! how thankful I
+am when I look at him; but Mr. Hinton, there is another thing which
+gives me great joy just now."
+
+"And that?" said Hinton.
+
+"Last night something very wonderful happened. I was at home not two
+hours, when I was surprised by a visit from one whom I had never seen
+before and whom I had supposed to be in his grave for over twenty years.
+My dear mother had one brother who went to Australia shortly after her
+marriage. From Australia the news reached her of his death. He was not
+dead; he came back again. I had a visit from that uncle last night."
+
+"How strange!" said Hinton.
+
+"Yes; I have not heard his story yet. He met my little Daisy in Regent's
+Park, and found out who she was through her likeness to my mother. Is it
+not all like a romance? I had not an idea who the dear old man was when
+he came to visit me last night; but how glad I am now to feel that my
+own mother's brother is still alive!"
+
+Hinton asked a few more questions; then after many promises of effecting
+a meeting very soon between Charlotte and little Harold he went away. He
+was puzzled by Mrs. Home. The anxious woman he had thought of, whose sad
+face often haunted him, was gone, and another peaceful, happy, almost
+beautiful in her serenity, had come in her place. Her joy at Harold's
+recovery was both natural and right; but where had the money cares
+vanished to? Surely Charlotte's fifty pounds could not have done more
+than pay the Torquay trip. As to her delight over her Australian uncle's
+return, he rather wondered at it, and then forgot it. He little guessed,
+as he allowed it to vanish from his mind, how it was yet to influence
+the fate of more lives than his.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+JASPER'S TERROR.
+
+
+Uncle Jasper, too, left Charlotte on that special morning with some
+displeasure, some surprise, and some anxiety. Remorse, as I have said,
+did not visit the man. Long ago, a very long time ago now, he and his
+brother John had touched an evil thing. For both men the natural
+consequences followed; but how differently? John wanted to fling the
+base defilement from his soul; Jasper wanted so to bury it there, so
+deftly, so cleverly to hide it within his very heart of hearts, that it
+should not appear to dishonor him in the eyes of his fellow-men. Of the
+final judgment and its disclosure he never thought. It was his inability
+to cover up the secret; it was his ever-growing knowledge that the
+garment was neither long enough nor broad enough to wrap it round, that
+caused his anxiety from day to day. In spite of his cheerful and ruddy
+face he was feeling quite worn and old. If this continues, if these
+people will insist on pulling the house down over their heads, I shall
+fall ill like John, he reflected. He was very angry with these stupid
+and silly people, who were bringing such shame and dishonor on
+themselves. He often found himself wishing that his niece Charlotte had
+not been the fine and open character she was. Had Charlotte been
+different he might have ventured to confide in her. He felt that with
+Charlotte on his side all might yet be well. This, however, was
+absolutely impossible. To tell Charlotte would be to tell the world. Bad
+as her father was in keeping this ugly secret quiet, Charlotte would be
+ten times, twenty times, worse. What an unfortunate thing it was that
+Charlotte had put that advertisement in the papers, and that Mrs. Home
+had answered it! Mrs. Home of all people! Well, well, it came of that
+dreadful meddling of women in literature. _He_, Jasper, had known no
+peace since the day that Charlotte had wished for an amanuensis to help
+her with her silly book.
+
+Jasper on this particular morning, as he hurried off from the Harman
+house, felt less and less comfortable. He was sure, by Charlotte's
+manner, that her engagement was something very particular. He feared she
+was going to meet Mrs. Home. He came, with all his surmises, very far
+short of the real truth, but he was in that state of mind when the
+guilty fly, with no man pursuing. It had been an awful moment for old
+Jasper Harman when, a week ago, he had suddenly knocked up against that
+solitary, foreign-looking man. He had heard his voice and seen his face,
+and he had felt his own heart standing still. Who _was_ this man? Was he
+a ghost? the ghost of the long-dead trustee? Jasper began to hope that
+it was but an accidental likeness in voice and manner. For was not this
+man, this Alexander Wilson, named in his father's will, dead and buried
+for many a day? Had not he, Jasper, not, indeed, seen him die, but had
+he not stood on his grave? Had not he travelled up some hundreds of
+miles in that wild Australian country for the sole purpose of standing
+on that special grave? And had not he read name and age, and date of
+death, all fully corroborating the story which had been sent to him?
+Yes, Jasper hoped that it was but a very remarkable likeness--a ghost of
+the real man. How, indeed, could it be anything but a ghost when he had
+stood upon the man's very grave? He hoped this. He had brought himself
+almost to believe it; but for all that, fear and uneasiness were
+becoming more and more his portion, and he did not like to dwell even in
+thought upon that night's adventures. He walked on fast. He disliked
+cabs, and never took them. One of his great secrets of health was
+exercise, and plenty of it; but he was rather in a hurry; he had an
+appointment in town for a comparatively early hour, and he wanted to
+call at his club for letters. He reached his destination, entered the
+building, and found a little pile awaiting him. He turned slowly into
+the reading-room to read them. One after the other he tore them open.
+They were not very interesting, and a rapid glance of his quick, deep
+eye was sufficient to enable him to master the contents. In ten minutes
+he had but one letter left to read, and that was in a strange
+handwriting. "Another begging epistle," he said to himself. He felt
+inclined to tear it up without going to the trouble of opening it. He
+had very nearly slipped it into his pocket, to take its chance at some
+future time, for he remembered that he was already late. Finally he did
+neither; he opened the letter and read it where he sat. This was what
+his eyes rested on--
+
+     10, TREMINS ROAD, KENTISH TOWN.
+     SIR:--
+
+     According to your wish I write to you at your club. My wife
+     returned from Torquay last night, and I told her of your visit and
+     your proposal. She desires me to say, and this I do, both from her
+     and myself, that she will not accept your offer, for reasons which
+     we neither of us care to explain. We do not wish for the three
+     thousand pounds you are willing to settle on my wife.
+
+     I remain, sir,
+     Yours faithfully,
+     ANGUS HOME.
+
+     _To_ JASPER HARMAN, ESQ.
+
+This letter fell from the hands of Jasper. His lips came a little apart,
+and a new look of terror came into his eyes. So absorbed was he, so
+thoroughly frightened by this letter, that he forgot where he was. He
+neither saw the looks of surprise, nor heard the words of astonishment
+made by those about him. Finally he gathered up envelope and paper and
+hurried out. As he walked down the street he looked by no means so young
+as he had done when he got up that morning. His hat was put on crooked,
+his very gait was uncertain. Jasper had got a shock. Being utterly
+unable to read the minds of the people who had written to him, he could
+but imagine one meaning to their words. They were not so unworldly as he
+had hoped. They saw through his bribe; they would not accept it,
+because--because--_they knew better_. Mrs. Home had read that will. Mrs.
+Home meant to prosecute. Yes, yes, it was all as plain as that the sun
+was shining overhead. Mrs. Home meant to go to law. Exposure, and
+disgrace, and punishment were all close at hand. There was no doubt of
+it, no doubt whatever now. Those were the reasons which neither Mr. nor
+Mrs. Home cared to explain. Turning a corner he came suddenly full tilt
+against Hinton. The young man turned and walked down the street with
+him.
+
+"You are on your way to Charlotte?" remarked the old man.
+
+"No: I have been to her already. She has an engagement this afternoon.
+Did she not tell you? She said you wanted her to go somewhere with you,
+and this same engagement prevented it. No, I am not going to Prince's
+Gate, but I am off to Paddington in about an hour to meet a friend."
+
+Hinton spoke cheerfully, for his passing annoyance with Charlotte had
+absolutely vanished under Mrs. Home's words of loving praise. When Mrs.
+Home spoke as she had done of his brave and noble Charlotte the young
+man had felt quite ashamed of having doubted her even for a brief
+moment.
+
+Jasper had, however, been told of little Harold's illness, and Hinton,
+knowing this, continued,--
+
+"I have just come from the Homes. You know whom I mean? Their little boy
+was the one I helped to nurse through scarlet fever. Mother and boy have
+come back from Torquay like different creatures from the pleasant
+change. Mrs. Home looked absolutely bright. Charlotte will like to hear
+of her; and by the way, a curious thing, a little bit of a romance has
+happened to her. An uncle from Australia, whom she had supposed to be
+dead and in his grave for over twenty years, walked in alive and hale
+last night. She did not know him at first, but he managed to prove his
+identity. He----good heavens! Mr. Harman, what is the matter? You are
+ill; come in here."
+
+Hinton led Jasper into a chemist's shop, which they happened to be
+passing at the moment, for his ruddy face had suddenly become ghastly
+white, and he had to clutch the young man's arm to keep himself from
+falling.
+
+"It is nothing," he explained, when he had been given a restorative.
+"Yes, I felt faint. I hope I am not going to be taken bad like my
+brother. What do you say? a hansom? Well, yes, perhaps I had better have
+one."
+
+Jasper was bowled rapidly out of sight and Hinton walked on. No dust had
+been thrown in his eyes as to the cause of Jasper's agitation. He had
+observed the start of almost terror with which he had turned on him when
+he had first mentioned the long-lost Australian uncle of Mrs. Home's. He
+had often seen how uneasy he was, however cleverly he tried to hide it,
+when the Homes were mentioned. What did it all mean? Hinton felt very
+uncomfortable. Much as he loved Charlotte, it was not nice to marry into
+a family who kept concealed an ugly secret. Hinton was more and more
+convinced that there was a secret, and that this uncle who was supposed
+to be dead was in some way connected with it. Hinton was too acute, too
+clever, to put down Jasper's agitation to any other cause. Instantly he
+began to see a reason for Mrs. Home's joy in the recovery of this
+long-lost relation. It was a reason unworthy of her, unworthy and
+untrue; but nevertheless it took possession of the mind of this young
+man. The uncle ceased to be an object of little interest to him. He
+walked on, feeling downcast and perplexed. This day week would be his
+wedding-day, and Charlotte--Charlotte, beautiful and noble, nothing
+should part them. But what was this secret? Could he, dare he, fathom
+it? No, because of Charlotte he must not--it would break Charlotte's
+heart; because of Charlotte's father he must not, for it would cause his
+death; and yet, because of Jasper, he longed to, for he owned to himself
+that he disliked Jasper more and more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE READING OF THE WILL.
+
+
+Charlotte's depression did not remain with her all through the day. She
+was a healthy creature, healthy both in body and mind. It was impossible
+for her, with the bright spring sun shining, and with her wedding-day
+but one week absent, not to turn again to hope. She saw that she had
+vexed Hinton. She still felt that queer and uncomfortable desire to be
+at Somerset House, just at the very hour when her lover had pleaded for
+her society. But she reflected that when she told him the story, when
+she proudly cleared her father in his eyes, he would most abundantly
+forgive her.
+
+"He hates secrets," she said to herself; "and it is the last, the very
+last, little, tiny secret I shall ever have from my darling."
+
+By this it will be seen that she had ceased to fear her grandfather's
+will. She had ordered the carriage immediately after lunch, and now
+asked the coachman to drive to the Strand. As she lay back at her ease
+she reflected how soon now her anxiety would be over.
+
+"Dear father," she whispered to her heart, "how extra loving and tender
+I must be to him to-night! I believe him now--fully and absolutely
+believe him now. I am only doing this for John's sake."
+
+When she reached the Strand she desired the coachman to stop. She would
+not have him drive to Somerset House. Her secret was a secret, even the
+old coachman, who had known her from her birth, must not guess it. She
+told him that she had some business to transact, but that he might meet
+her at a certain part of the Embankment in an hour.
+
+The carriage rolled out of sight. Now she was alone. She was not
+accustomed to walking the London streets by herself. Certainly she had
+never been in the Strand before alone. She had dressed herself with
+studied plainness, and now, with her veil drawn tightly over her face,
+she hurried on. She had consulted the map, and knew exactly where
+Somerset House was. She also had obtained a little, a very little
+information as to how she was to act for the pursuit of her purpose,
+from a young barrister who had visited at her home with Hinton some few
+weeks before. She considered that she had gained her knowledge with
+considerable skill; and now, with a beating heart, she proceeded to act
+on it. She turned into the great square which Somerset House encloses,
+found the particular building where wills are kept, and entered. She was
+now in a large room, or entrance-hall. There were many desks about, and
+some clerks, who did not seem particularly busy. Charlotte went up to
+one of the desks, a clerk lent an attentive ear, she told her errand.
+
+"Ah! you want to read a will," said the gentleman. "You must first
+produce the proper stamp. Yes, yes, you can certainly see any will you
+desire. Just go through that door to your right, walk down the passage;
+you will see a door with such a direction written on it; ask for a
+search stamp. It will cost you a shilling. Bring it back to me."
+
+Charlotte did as she was desired. The clerk she had appealed to,
+attracted by her appearance and manner, was willing to be both helpful
+and polite.
+
+"Whose will do you want, madam?"
+
+"I want my grandfather's will. His name was Harman."
+
+"What year did he die?"
+
+"Twenty-three years ago."
+
+"Ah! just so. This is 1880. So he died in the year 1857. Do you see
+those catalogues to your left? Go up to those marked 1857. Look under
+letter H, until you find Harman. Bring the book open at that name to
+me."
+
+Charlotte was clever at carrying out her instructions. She quickly
+returned with the book opened at the desired name. The clerk wrote Mr.
+Harman's name and a number of a folio on a small piece of blue paper.
+This he gave to Charlotte.
+
+"Take this piece of paper to room number 31, along the passage," he
+said. "You will have the will very soon now."
+
+She bowed, thanked him, and went away. At room 31 she was desired to
+wait in the reading-room. She found it without difficulty. It was a
+small room, with a long table in the middle, and benches round it. At
+one end sat a clerk at a desk. Charlotte seated herself at the table.
+There were other people about, some reading wills, some others waiting
+like herself. She happened just then to be the only woman in the room.
+She drew up her veil, pressed her hand to her pale face, and waited with
+what patience she could. She was too much excited to notice how she was
+looked at and her appearance commented upon. Sitting there and waiting
+with what courage she could muster, her fear returned. What stealthy
+thing was this she was doing in the dark? What march was she stealing on
+her father, her beloved and honored father? Suddenly it appeared to her
+that she had done wrong. That it would be better, more dignified, more
+noble, to ask from his own lips the simple truth, than to learn it by
+such underhand means as these. She half rose to go away; but at this
+moment a clerk entered, gave a piece of folded paper to the man at the
+desk, who read aloud the one word,--
+
+"Harman."
+
+Charlotte felt herself turning deadly white as she stood up to receive
+it. But when she really held her grandfather's will in her hand all
+desire not to read it had left her. She opened the folio with her
+shaking fingers, and began to read as steadily as she could. Her eyes
+had scarcely, however, turned over the page, and most certainly her mind
+had failed to grasp the meaning of a single word, before, for some
+unaccountable reason, she raised her head. A large man had come in and
+had seated himself opposite to her. He was a man on an immense scale,
+with a rough, red, kind face, and the longest, most brilliantly colored
+beard Charlotte had ever seen. His round, bright blue eyes were fixed
+earnestly on the young lady. She returned his glance, in her own
+peculiar full and open way, then returned to her interrupted task. Ah!
+what a task it was after all. Hard to understand, how difficult to
+follow! Charlotte, unused to all law phraseology, failed to grasp the
+meaning of what she read. She knit her pretty brows, and went over each
+passage many times. She was looking for certain names, and she saw no
+mention of them. Her heart began to leap with renewed joy and hope. Ah!
+surely, surely her grandfather had been unjust, and her own beloved
+father was innocent. Mrs. Home's story was but a myth. She had read for
+such a long, long time, and there was no mention of her or of her
+mother. Surely if her grandfather meant to leave them money he would
+have spoken of it before now. She had just turned another page, and was
+reading on with a light heart, when the clerk again entered. Charlotte
+raised her head, she could not tell why. The clerk said something to the
+clerk at the desk, who, turning to the tall foreign-looking man said,--
+
+"The will of the name of Harman is being read just now by some one in
+the room."
+
+"I will wait then," answered the man in his deep voice.
+
+Charlotte felt herself turning first crimson, then pale. She saw that
+the man observed her. A sudden sense of fright and of almost terror
+oppressed her. Her sweet and gracious calm completely deserted her. Her
+fingers trembled so that she could scarcely turn the page. She did not
+know what she feared. A nightmare seemed pressing on her. She felt that
+she could never grasp the meaning of the will. Her eyes travelled
+farther down the page. Suddenly her finger stopped; her brain grew
+clear, her heart beat steadily. This was what she read,--
+
+     "I will and bequeath all the residue of my real and personal
+     estate and effects to the said John Harman, Jasper Harman, and
+     Alexander Wilson, in trust to sell and realize the same, and out of
+     the proceeds thereof to invest such a sum in public stocks or
+     funds, or other authorized securities, as will produce an annual
+     income of £1,200 a year, and to hold the investment of the said sum
+     in trust to pay the income thereof to my dear wife for her life:
+     and after her decease to hold the said investment in trust for my
+     daughter Charlotte to her sole and separate use, independently of
+     any husband with whom she may intermarry."
+
+Charlotte Harman was not the kind of woman who faints. But there is a
+heart faintness when the muscles remain unmoved, and the eyes are still
+bright. At that moment her youth died absolutely. But though she felt
+its death pang, not a movement of her proud face betrayed her. She saw,
+without looking at him, that the red-faced man was watching her. She
+forced herself to raise her eyes, and saying simply, "This is Mr.
+Harman's will," handed it to him across the table. He took it, and began
+to devour the contents with quick and practised eyes. What she had taken
+so long to discover he took it in at a glance. She heard him utter a a
+smothered exclamation of pain and horror. She felt not the least
+amazement or curiosity. All emotion seemed dead in her. She drew on her
+gloves deliberately, pulled down her veil, and left the room. That dead,
+dead youth she was dragging away with her had made her feel so cold and
+numb that she never noticed that the red faced man had hastily folded up
+the will, had returned it to the clerk at the desk, and was following
+her. She went through the entrance hall, glancing neither to the left or
+right. The man came near. When they both got into the square he came to
+her side, raised his hat and spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+TRUSTEES.
+
+
+"Madam," said the stranger, "you will pardon my intruding on you, but I
+saw it in your face. You are interested in that will you have just
+read."
+
+"Yes," answered Charlotte simply.
+
+At another time she would have given an indignant retort to what she
+would have considered a liberty. Now she turned her eyes with a mute
+appeal in them to this stranger, for she recognized kindness in his
+tones.
+
+"It was my grandfather's will," she said, responding yet farther to the
+full, kind gaze he gave her back.
+
+"Ah! then that sets me right," said Sandy Wilson, for it was he. "That
+sets me right, young lady. Now I saw you got a considerable bit of a
+shock just then. You ain't, you'll forgive me for saying so, but you
+ain't quite fit to meet any of your people for a bit; you may want them
+not to guess, but any one with half an eye can see you're not the young
+lady you were even when I entered that reading-room not half an hour
+back. I'm a rough, plain man, but I'm very much interested in that will
+too, and I'd like to have a little bit of a talk with you about it, if
+you'll allow me. Suppose, miss, that you and I just take a turn round
+the square for a few moments."
+
+Charlotte's answer to this was to turn her face again towards the
+particular building where she had read the will, and her companion,
+turning with her, began to talk eagerly.
+
+"You see, miss, it was quite a little bit of luck brought you and me
+together to-day. The gentleman who made that will was your grandfather;
+your name is----"
+
+"Harman," answered Charlotte.
+
+"Ah! yes, I see; and I--I am Alexander Wilson. I don't suppose you ever
+saw me before; but I, too, am much interested in that will. I have been
+abroad, and--and--supposed to be dead almost ever since that will was
+made. But I was not dead, I was in Australia; I came home a week ago,
+and found out my one living relation, my niece, my sister's child. She
+is married and is a Mrs. Home now, but she is the Charlotte named in Mr.
+Harman's will, the Charlotte to whom, and to her mother before her, Mr.
+Harman left £1,200 a year."
+
+"Yes," said Charlotte Harman. She found difficulty in dragging this one
+word from her lips.
+
+"Madam, I find my niece very poor; very, very poor. I go and look at her
+father's will. I see there that she is entitled to wealth, to what she
+would consider riches. I find also that this money is left for her
+benefit in the hands of trustees; two of the trustees are called Harman,
+the other, madam, is--is I--myself; I--Alexander Wilson, am the other
+trustee, supposed to be dead. I could not hitherto act, but I can act
+now. I can get that wronged woman back her own. Yes, a monstrous piece
+of injustice has been done. It was full time for Sandy Wilson to come
+home. Now the first thing I must do is to find the other trustees; I
+must find the Harmans, wherever they are, for these Harmans have robbed
+my niece."
+
+"I can give you their addresses," answered Charlotte, suddenly pausing
+in her walk and turning and facing her companion. "John Harman, the
+other trustee, who, as you say, has robbed Mrs. Home, is my father. I am
+his only child. His address is Prince's Gate, Kensington."
+
+"Good heavens!" said Wilson, shocked and frightened by her manner; "I
+never guessed that you were his child--and yet you betray him."
+
+"I am his only child. When do you wish to see him?"
+
+To this question Wilson made no answer for a few moments. Though a just
+man, he was a kind one. He could read human nature with tolerable
+accuracy. It was despair, not want of feeling, which put those hard
+tones into that young voice. He would not, he could not, take advantage
+of its bewilderment.
+
+"Miss Harman," he said after a pause, "you will pardon me, but I don't
+think you quite know what you are saying; you have got a considerable
+bit of a shock; you were not prepared for this baseness--this baseness
+on your father's part."
+
+Here her eyes, turned with a sudden swift flash of agony upon him, said
+as plainly as eyes could speak--
+
+"Need you ask?"
+
+"No, you could not have guessed it," continued Sandy, replying to this
+mute, though beautiful appeal, almost with tears. "You are Mr. Harman's
+only child. Now I daresay you are a good bit of an idol with him. I know
+how I'd worship a fine lassie like you if I had her. Well, well, miss: I
+don't want to pain you, but when young things come all on a heap on a
+great wrong like you have done to-day, they're apt, whatever their
+former love, to be a bit, just a bit, too hard. They do things, in their
+first agony, that they are sorry enough for by and by. Now, miss, what I
+want to say is this, that I won't take down your father's address to-day
+nor listen indeed to anything you may tell me about him. I want you to
+sleep it over, miss. Of course something must be done, but if you will
+sleep it over, and I, Sandy Wilson sleep it over too, we'll come
+together over the business with our heads a deal clearer than we could
+when we both felt scared, so to speak, as we doubtless do just at
+present. I won't move hand or foot in the matter until I see you again,
+Miss Harman, When do you think you will be able to see me again?"
+
+"Will this hour to-morrow do?"
+
+"Yes; I shall be quite at your service. And as we may want to look at
+that will again, suppose we meet just here, miss?"
+
+"I will be here at this hour to-morrow," said Charlotte, and as she
+spoke she pulled out her watch to mark the exact time. "It is a quarter
+past four now," she said; "I will meet you here at this hour to-morrow,
+at a quarter past four."
+
+"Very well, young lady, and may God help you! If I might express a wish
+for you, it is that you may have a good hard cry between now and then.
+When I was told, and quite sudden like too, that my little sister, Daisy
+Wilson, was dead nothing took off the pressure from my heart and brain
+like a good hearty cry. So I wish you the same. They say women need it
+more than men."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DAN'S WIFE
+
+
+Charlotte watched Wilson out of the square, then she slowly followed
+him. The numbness of that dead youth was still oppressing her heart and
+brain. But she remembered that the carriage must be waiting for her on
+the Embankment, also that her father--she gasped a little as the thought
+of her father came to her--that her father would have returned from the
+city; that he might ask for her, and would wonder and grow uneasy at her
+absence. She must go home, that was her first thought. She hurried her
+steps, anxious to take the first turning which would lead to the
+Embankment.
+
+She had turned down a side street and was walking rapidly, when she
+heard her name called suddenly and eagerly, and a woman, very shabbily
+dressed, came up to her.
+
+"Oh, Miss Harman--Miss Harman--don't you know me?"
+
+Charlotte put her hand to her brow.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know you now; you are Hester Wright. Is your husband
+out of prison yet?"
+
+"He is, Miss, and he's dying; he's dying 'ard, 'ard; he's allers saying
+as he wants to see either you or his master. We are told that the master
+is ill; but oh! miss, miss, ef you would come and see him, he's dreadful
+anxious--dreadful, dreadful anxious. I think it's jest some'ut on his
+mind; ef he could tell it, I believe as he'd die easy. Oh! my beautiful,
+dear young lady, every one has a good word for you. Oh! I was going to
+make bold to come to Prince's Gate, and ask you to come to see him.
+You'll never be sorry, miss, if you can help a poor soul to die easy."
+
+"You say he is really dying?" said Charlotte.
+
+"Yes, indeed, indeed, miss; he never held up his head since he saw the
+inside of the prison. He's dying now of a galloping waste, so the
+doctors say. Oh! Miss Harman, I'll bless you for ever if you'll come and
+see him."
+
+"Yes, I will come," said Charlotte. "Where do you live?"
+
+"Away over at Poplar, miss. Poor place enough, and unfit for one like
+you, but I'll come and fetch you my own self, and not a pin's worth of
+harm shall come to you; you need have no cause to fear. When shall I
+come for you, my dear, dear young lady?"
+
+"The man is dying, you say," said Charlotte. "Death doesn't wait for our
+convenience; I will come with you now. My carriage is waiting quite
+near, I must go and give directions to the coachman: you can come with
+me: I will then get a cab and drive to see your husband."
+
+After this the two women--the rich and the poor--walked on side by side,
+quickly and in silence. The heart of the one was dry and parched with
+the sudden fire of that anguish and shame, the heart of the other was so
+soothed, so thankful, that soft tears came, to be wiped stealthily away.
+
+"Ain't she an angel?" she said to herself, knowing nothing, guessing
+less, of the storm which raged within her companion's soul; "and won't
+my poor Dan die easy now?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+AN OLD WEDDING-RING.
+
+
+Once in Charlotte's life before now, she had remembered her father doing
+what she considered a strangely hard thing. A valet in whom he had
+always reposed full confidence had robbed him of one hundred pounds. He
+had broken open his master's desk at night and taken from thence notes
+to that amount. The deed had been clumsily done, and detection was very
+easy. The name of this valet was Wright. He was young and good-looking,
+and had been lately married; hitherto he had been considered all that
+was respectable. When his crime was brought home to him, he flew to seek
+Charlotte, then a very young girl; he flung himself on his knees in her
+presence, and begged of her to ask her father to show mercy to him.
+Scarcely half a dozen words of passionate, terrified entreaty had passed
+his trembling lips, before there came a tap at the door and the young
+wife rushed in to kneel by his side. Together they implored; their words
+were poor and halting, but the agony of their great plea for mercy went
+straight to the young generous heart they asked to intercede for them.
+Charlotte promised to do what she could. She promised eagerly, with hope
+in her tones.
+
+Never afterwards did she forget that day. Long indeed did the faces of
+those two continue to haunt her, for she had promised in vain; her
+father was obdurate to all her entreaties; even her tears, and she had
+cried passionately, had failed to move him. Nothing should save Wright
+from the full penalty of his crime. He was arrested, convicted, and sent
+to prison.
+
+From that moment the Harmans lost sight of the couple. Charlotte had
+tried, it is true, to befriend Hester Wright, but the young woman with
+some pride had refused all assistance from those whom she considered
+strangely hard and cruel. It was some years now since anything had been
+heard of either of them. Charlotte, it is true, had not forgotten them,
+but she had put them into a back part of her memory, for her father's
+conduct with regard to Wright had always been a sore puzzle to her. And
+now, on this day of all days, she was driving in a cab by the side of
+Hester Wright to see her dying husband. She had sent a message home by
+the coachman which would allay all immediate anxiety on her account, and
+she sat back in the cab by the side of the poor and sad woman with a
+sense of almost relief, for the present. For an hour or two she had
+something outside of herself and her home to turn her thoughts to. After
+what seemed a very long drive, they reached the shabby court and
+shabbier house where the Wrights lived.
+
+Charlotte had heard of such places before, but had never visited them.
+Shabby women, and dirty and squalid children surrounded the young lady
+as she descended to the pavement. The children came very close indeed,
+and some even stroked her dress. One mite of three years raised, in the
+midst of its dirt and neglect, a face of such sweetness and innocence,
+that Charlotte suddenly stooped down and kissed it. That kiss, though it
+left a grimy mark on her lips, yet gave the first faint touch of
+consolation to her sorely bruised heart. There was something good still
+left on God's earth, and she had come to this slum, in the East end of
+London, to see it shine in a baby's eyes.
+
+"Ef you please, Miss, I think we had better keep the cab," said Hester
+Wright; "I don't think there's any cabstand, not a long way from yere."
+
+Charlotte spoke to the cabby, desired him to wait, then she followed
+Hester into the house.
+
+"No, I have no children," said the woman in answer to a question of the
+young lady's; "thank God fur that; who'd want to have young 'uns in a
+hole like this?"
+
+By this time they had reached their destination. It was a cellar; Hester
+was not so very far wrong in calling it a hole. It was damp, dirty, and
+ill-smelling, even to the woman who was accustomed to it; to Charlotte
+it was horrible beyond words. For a time, the light was so faint she
+could distinguish nothing, then on some straw in a corner she saw a man.
+He was shrunken, and wasted, and dying, and Charlotte, prepared as she
+was for a great change, could never have recognized him. His wife,
+taking Charlotte's hand in hers, led her forward at once.
+
+"You'd never ha' guessed, Dan, as I'd have so much luck," she said. "I
+met our young lady in the street, and I made bold to 'ax her and come
+and see you, and she come off at once. This is our Miss Harman, Dan
+dear."
+
+"Our Miss Harman," repeated the dying man, raising his dim eyes. "She's
+changed a goodish bit."
+
+"Don't call me yours," said Charlotte. "I never did anything for you."
+
+"Ay, but you tried," said the wife. "Dan and me don't furget as we heerd
+you cryin' fit to break yer heart outside the study door, and him
+within, wid a heart as hard as a nether mill-stone, would do nought. No,
+you did yer werry best; Dan and me, we don't furget."
+
+"No, I don't furget," said the man. "It wor a pity as the old man were
+so werry 'ard. I wor young and I did it rare and clumsy; it wor to pay a
+debt, a big, big debt. I 'ad put my 'and to a bit of paper widhout
+knowing wot it meant, and I wor made to pay for it, and the notes they
+seemed real 'andy. Well, well, I did it badly, I ha' larnt the right way
+since from some prison pals. I would not be found out so easy now."
+
+He spoke in an indifferent, drawling kind of voice, which expressed no
+emotion whatever.
+
+"You are very ill, I fear," said Charlotte, kneeling by his side.
+
+"Ill! I'm dying, miss dear."
+
+Charlotte had never seen death before. She noticed now the queer shade
+of grey in the complexion, the short and labored breath. She felt
+puzzled by these signs, for though she had never seen death, this
+grayness, this shortness of breath, were scarcely unfamiliar.
+
+"I'm dying," continued the man. "I don't much care; weren't it fur Hetty
+there, I'd be rayther glad. I never 'ad a chance since the old master
+sent me to prison. I'd ha' lived respectable enough ef the old master
+'ad bin merciful that time. But once in prison, always in prison fur a
+friendless chap like me. I never wanted to steal agen, but I jest 'ad
+to, to keep the life in me. I could get no honest work hanywhere; then
+at last I took cold, and it settled yere," pointing to his sunken chest,
+"and I'm going off, sure as sure!"
+
+"He ain't like to live another twenty-four hours, so the doctor do say,"
+interrupted the wife.
+
+"No, that's jest it. Yesterday a parson called. I used ter see the jail
+chaplain, and I never could abide him, but this man, he did speak hup
+and to the point. He said as it wor a hawful thing to die unforgiven. He
+said it over and over, until I wor fain to ax him wot I could do to get
+furgiven, fur he did say it wor an hawful thing to die without having
+parding."
+
+"Oh, it must be, it must be!" said Charlotte, suddenly clasping her
+hands very tightly together.
+
+"I axed him how I could get it from God h'Almighty, and he told me, to
+tell him, the parson, first of all my whole story, and then he could
+_adwise_ me; so I hup and telled him heverything, hall about that theft
+as first tuk me to prison and ruined me, and how 'ard the old master
+wor, and I telled him another thing too, for he 'ad sech a way, he
+seemed to draw yer werry 'art out of you. Then he axed me ef I'd
+furgiven the old master, and I said no, fur he wor real, real 'ard; then
+he said so solemn-like, 'That's a great, great pity, fur I'm afraid as
+God can't furgive you, till you furgives.' Arter that he said a few more
+words, and prayed awhile, and then he went away. I could not sleep hall
+night, and to-day I called Hetty there, over, and she said as she'd do
+her werry best to bring either the old master yere, or you miss, and you
+see you are come; 'tis an awful thing to die without parding, that's why
+I axed you to come."
+
+"Yes," said Charlotte very softly.
+
+"Please, miss, may a poor dying feller, though he ain't no better nor a
+common, common thief, may he grip, 'old of yer and?"
+
+"With all my heart."
+
+"There now, it don't seem so werry 'ard. _Lord Jesus, I furgives Mr.
+Harman._ Now I ha' said it. Wife dear, bring me hover that little box,
+that as I allers kep' so close."
+
+His wife brought him a tiny and very dirty cardboard box.
+
+"_She_ kep' it when I wor locked up; I allers call it my bit o' revenge.
+I'll give it back now. Hetty, open it."
+
+Hetty did so, taking from under a tiny bit of cotton-wool a worn,
+old-fashioned wedding-ring.
+
+"There, miss dear," said Wright, handing it to her, "that wor the old
+master's wife's ring. I knew as he set more prize to it nor heverything
+else he had, he used to wear it on a bit of ribbon round his neck. One
+day he did not put it on, he furgot it, and I, when I found he meant to
+be so werry, werry 'ard, I took it and hid it, and took it away wid me.
+It comforted me when I wor so long in prison to think as he might be
+fretting fur it, and never guess as the lad he were so 'ard on had it. I
+never would sell it, and now as I has furgiven him, he may have it back
+agen. You tell him arter I'm dead, tell him as I furgives him, and
+yere's the ring back agen."
+
+Charlotte slipped the worn little trinket on her finger.
+
+"I will try and give my father your message," she said. "I may not be
+able at once, but I will try. I am glad you have forgiven him; we all
+stand in sore, sore need of that, not only from our fellow-men, but much
+more from our God. Now good-bye, I will come again." She held out her
+hand.
+
+"Ah, but miss dear, I won't be yere fur no coming again, I'll be far
+away. Hetty knows that, poor, poor, gal! Hetty'll miss me, but only fur
+that I could be real glad, fur now as I ha' furgiven the old master, I
+feels real heasy. I ain't nothing better nor a common thief, but fur
+hall that, I think as Jesus 'ull make a place for me somehow nigh of
+hisself."
+
+"And, miss," said Hester, "I'm real sorry, and so will Dan be when I
+tell him how bad the old master is."
+
+"My father is not well; but how do you know?" said Charlotte.
+
+"Well, miss, I went to the house to-day, a-looking fur you and the
+servant she told me, she said as there worn't never a hope, as the old
+master were safe to die."
+
+"Then maybe I can tell himself hup in heaven as I quite furgives him,"
+said Dan Wright.
+
+Charlotte glanced from one speaker to the other in a kind of terrible
+astonishment. Suddenly she knew on whose brow she had seen that awful
+grayness, from whose lips she had heard that short and hurried breath. A
+kind of spasm of great agony suddenly contracted her heart. Without a
+word, however, she rose to her feet, gave the wife money for her present
+needs, bade the dying husband good-bye, and stepped into the cab which
+still waited for her. It was really late, and all daylight had faded as
+she gave the direction for her own luxurious home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THREE FACTS.
+
+
+Dinner was more than half over when she reached Prince's Gate. She was
+glad of this. She went straight up to her own room and sent for her
+maid.
+
+"Ward, I am very tired and not very well. I shall not go down again
+to-night, nor do I wish to see any one. Please bring up a cup of strong
+tea here, and a little dry toast, and then you may leave me. I shall not
+want you again to-night."
+
+"You won't see Mr. Harman again to-night, miss. Am I to take him that
+message?"
+
+"Yes; say that I have a headache and think I had better stay quiet. I
+will be down to breakfast as usual."
+
+Ward went away, to return in a few moments with the tea and toast.
+
+"If you please, Miss Harman, they have just sent the wedding dress and
+veil from ----. Are you too tired to be fitted to-night?"
+
+Charlotte gave a little involuntary shudder.
+
+"Yes, I am much too tired," she said; "put everything away, I do not
+want even to look at them. Thank you, Ward, this tea looks nice. Now you
+need not come in again. Good-night."
+
+"Good night, Miss Harman," said the maid, going softly to the door and
+closing it behind her.
+
+Charlotte got up at once and turned the key. Now, at last, thank God,
+she was quite alone. She threw off her bonnet and cloak and going
+straight to her bed flung herself upon it. In this position she lay
+still for over an hour. The strong tension she had put on herself gave
+way during that hour, for she groaned often and heavily, though tears
+were very far from her eyes. At the end of about an hour she got up,
+bathed her face and hands in cold water, drank a cup of tea, and put
+some coals on a fire in the grate. She then pulled out her watch. Yes;
+she gave a sigh of relief--it was not yet ten o'clock, she had the best
+part of twelve hours before her in which to prepare to meet her father
+at breakfast. In these hours she must think, she must resolve, she must
+prepare herself for action. She sat down opposite the little cheerful
+fire which, warm though the night was, was grateful to her in her
+chilled state of mind and body. Looking into its light she allowed
+thought to have full dominion over her. Hitherto, from the moment she
+had read those words in her grandfather's will until this present
+moment, she had kept thought back. In the numbness which immediately
+followed the first shock, this was not so difficult. She had heard all
+Sandy Wilson's words, but had only dimly followed out their meaning. He
+wanted to meet her on the morrow. She had promised to meet him, as she
+would have promised also to do anything else, however preposterous, at
+that moment. Then she had felt a desire, more from the force of habit
+than from any stronger motive, to go home. She had been met by Hester
+Wright, and Hester had taken her to see her dying husband. She had stood
+by the deathbed and looked into the dim and terrible eyes of death, and
+felt as though a horrible nightmare was oppressing her, and then at last
+she had got away, and at last, at last she was at home. The luxuries of
+her own refined and beautiful home surrounded her. She was seated in the
+room where she had slept as a baby, as a child, as a girl; and now, now
+she must wake from this semi-dream, she must rouse herself, she must
+think it out. Hinton was right in saying that in a time of great trouble
+a very noble part of Charlotte would awake; that in deep waters such a
+nature as hers would rise, not sink. It was awakening now, and putting
+forth its young wings, though its birth-throes were causing agony. "I
+_will_ look the facts boldly in the face," she said once aloud, "even my
+own heart shall not accuse me of cowardice." There were three facts
+confronting this young woman, and one seemed nearly as terrible as the
+other. First, her father was guilty. During almost all the years of her
+life he had been not an honorable, but a base man; he had, to enrich
+himself, robbed the widow and the fatherless; he had grown wealthy on
+their poverty; he had left them to suffer, perhaps to die. The will
+which he had thought would never be read was there to prove his
+treachery. Believing that his fellow-trustee was dead, he had betrayed
+his sacred trust. Charlotte could scarcely imagine a darker crime. Her
+father, who looked so noble, who was so tender and good to her, who bore
+so high a character in the eyes of the world, was a very bad man. This
+was her first fact. Her second seemed, just because of the first, even a
+shade darker. This father, whom she had loved, this poor, broken-down,
+guilty father, who, like a broken idol, had fallen from his high estate
+in her heart, was _dying_. Ah! she knew it now; that look on his old
+face could only belong to the dying. How blind she had been! how
+ignorant! But the Wrights' words had torn the veil from her eyes; the
+guilty man was going fast to judgment. The God whom he had sinned
+against was about to demand retribution. Now she read the key to his
+unhappiness, his despair. No wonder, no wonder, that like a canker it
+had eaten into his heart. Her father was certainly dying; God himself
+was taking his punishment into His own hands. Charlotte's third fact,
+though the most absolutely personal of the whole, scarcely tortured her
+as the other two did to-night. It lay so clearly and so directly in her
+path, that there was no pausing how best to act. The way for action was
+too clear to be even for an instant disobeyed. Into this fire she must
+walk without hesitation or pause. Her wedding-day could not be on the
+twentieth; her engagement must be broken off; her marriage at an end.
+What! she, the daughter of a thief, ally herself to an upright,
+honorable man! Never! never! Whatever the consequences and the pain to
+either, Hinton and she must part. She did not yet know how this parting
+would be effected. She did not know whether she would say farewell to
+her lover telling him all the terrible and bitter disgrace, or with a
+poor and lame excuse on her lips. But however she did it, the thing must
+be done. Never, never, never would she drag the man she loved down into
+her depths of shame.
+
+To-night she scarcely felt the full pain of this. It was almost a
+relief, in the midst of all the chaos, to have this settled line of
+action around which no doubt must linger. Yes, she would instantly break
+off her engagement. Now she turned her thoughts to her two former facts.
+Her father was guilty. Her father was dying. She, in an underhand way,
+for which even now she hated herself had discovered her father's
+long-buried crime. But she had not alone discovered it. Another had also
+gone to see that will in Somerset House; another with eyes far more
+practised than hers had read those fatal words. And that other, he could
+act. He would act; he would expose the guilty and dying old man, for he
+was _the other trustee_.
+
+Charlotte was very ignorant as to how the law would act with regard to
+such a crime as her father's. Doubtless there would be a public trial, a
+public disgrace. He would be dragged into the prisoner's dock; his old
+white head would be bowed low there, and he was a dying man.
+
+In the first shock and horror of finding that the father she had always
+almost worshipped could be guilty of such a terrible crime, a great rush
+of anger and almost hardness had steeled her heart against him; but now
+tenderer feelings came back. Pity, sad-eyed and gentle, knocked at her
+heart, and when she let in pity, love quickly resumed its throne. Yes;
+whatever his crime, whatever his former life, she loved that old man.
+That white-headed, broken-hearted man, so close to the grave, was her
+father, and she his only child. When she spoke to Sandy Wilson to-day
+she had felt no desire to save the guilty from his rightful fate. But
+now her feelings were different. A great cry arose in her heart on his
+behalf. Could she screen him? could she screen him from his fate? In her
+agony she rose and flung herself on her knees. "My God, help me; my God,
+don't forsake me; save my father. Save him, save him, save him."
+
+She felt a little calmer after this broken prayer, and something to do
+occurred to her with its instant power of tranquillizing. She would find
+out the doctor whom her father consulted. She would ask Uncle Jasper.
+She would make him tell her, and she would visit this man early in the
+morning, and, whatever the consequence, learn the exact truth from his
+lips. It would help her in her interview later on with Mr. Wilson.
+Beyond this little immediate course of action, there was no light
+whatever; but she felt so far calmed, that, about two o'clock, she lay
+down and sleep came to her--healthy and dreamless sleep, which was sent
+direct from God to put strength into the brave heart, to enable it to
+suffer and endure. Many weeks before Mr. Home had said to Charlotte
+Harman, "You must keep the Christ bright within you." Was His likeness
+to shine henceforth through all the rest of her life, in those frank
+eyes, that sweet face, that noble woman's heart, because of and through
+that great tribulation? We have heard tell of the white robes which they
+wear who go through it. Is it not worth while for so sacred a result to
+heat the furnace seven times?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE DOCTOR'S VERDICT.
+
+
+In her terrible anger and despair Charlotte had almost forgotten Uncle
+Jasper; but when she came down to breakfast the following morning and
+saw him there, for he had come to Prince's Gate early, and was standing
+with her father on the hearthrug, she suddenly remembered that he too
+must have been guilty; nay, worse, her father had never tried to deceive
+her, and Uncle Jasper had. She remembered the lame story he had told
+her about Mrs. Home; how fully she had believed that story, and how it
+had comforted her heart at the time! Now she saw clearly its many flaws,
+and wondered at her own blindness. Charlotte had always been considered
+an open creature--one so frank, so ingenuous, that her secrets, had she
+ever tried to have any, might be read like an open book; but last night
+she had learned to dissemble. She was glad when she entered the cheerful
+breakfast-room to find that she was able to put her hardly learned
+lesson in practice. Knowing what she did, she could yet go up and kiss
+her father, and allow her uncle to put his lips to her cheek. She
+certainly looked badly, but that was accounted for by the headache which
+she confessed still troubled her. She sat down opposite the tea-urn, and
+breakfast was got through in such a manner that Mr. Harman noticed
+nothing particular to be wrong. He always drove to the City now in his
+own private carriage, and after he had gone Charlotte turned to Jasper.
+
+"Uncle Jasper," she said, "you have deceived me."
+
+"Good heavens! how, Charlotte?" said the old uncle.
+
+"My father is _very_ ill. You have given me to understand that there was
+nothing of serious consequence the matter with him."
+
+Uncle Jasper heaved a slight but still audible sigh of relief. Was this
+all? These fears he might even yet quiet.
+
+"I have not deceived you, Charlotte," he said, "for I do not believe
+your father to be seriously ill."
+
+He fixed his keen gray eyes on her face as he spoke. She returned his
+gaze without shrinking.
+
+"Still you do think him ill?" she said.
+
+"Well, any one to look at him must admit that he is not what he was."
+
+"Just so, Uncle Jasper. So you have told me very many times, when you
+have feared my troubling him on certain matters. Now it has come to me
+from another source that he is very ill. My eyes have been opened, and I
+see the fact myself. I wish to learn the simple and exact truth. I wish
+to see the doctor he has consulted."
+
+"How do you know he has consulted any?"
+
+"Has he?"
+
+Uncle Jasper was silent for a moment. He felt in a difficulty. Did
+Charlotte know the worst, she might postpone her marriage, the last
+thing to be desired just now; and yet where had she got her information?
+It was awkward enough, though he felt a certain sense of relief in thus
+accounting for the change in her appearance since yesterday morning. He
+got up and approached her side softly.
+
+"My dear, I do own that your father is ill. I own, too, that I have, by
+his most express wish, made as light of the matter to you as I could.
+The fact is, Charlotte, he is anxious, very anxious, about himself. He
+thinks himself much worse than I believe him to be; but his strongest
+desire is, that now, on the eve of your marriage, you should not be
+alarmed on his account. I firmly believe you have no cause for any
+special fear. Ought you not to respect his wishes, and rest satisfied
+without seeking to know more than he and I tell you? I will swear,
+Charlotte, if that is any consolation to you, that I am not immediately
+anxious about your father."
+
+"You need not swear, Uncle Jasper. Your not being anxious does not
+prevent my being so. I am determined to find out the exact truth. If he
+thinks himself very ill he has, of course, consulted some medical man.
+If you will not tell me his name I will myself ask my father to do so
+to-night."
+
+"By so doing you will shock him, and the doctor does not wish him to be
+shocked."
+
+"Just so, Uncle Jasper, and you can spare him that by telling me what
+you know."
+
+"My dear niece, if you _will_ have it?"
+
+"I certainly am quite resolved, uncle."
+
+"Well, well, you approach this subject at your peril. If you _must_ see
+the doctor you must. Wilful woman over again. Would you like me to go
+with you?"
+
+"No, thank you; I prefer to go alone. What is the doctor's name?"
+
+"Sir George Anderson, of B---- Street."
+
+"I will go to him at once," said Charlotte.
+
+She left the room instantly, though she heard her uncle calling her
+back. Yes, she would go to Sir George at once. She pulled out her watch,
+ran upstairs, put on some out-door dress, and in ten minutes from the
+time she had learned the name of the great physician was in a hansom
+driving to his house. This rapid action was a relief to her. Presently
+she arrived at her destination. Yes, the doctor was at home. He was
+engaged for the present with another patient, but if Charlotte liked to
+wait he would see her in her turn. Certainly she would wait. She gave
+her card to the man who admitted her, and was shown into a room, very
+dark and dismal, where three or four patients were already enduring a
+time of suspense waiting for their interviews. Charlotte, knowing
+nothing of illness, knew, if possible, still less of doctors' rooms. A
+sense of added depression came over her as she seated herself on the
+nearest chair, and glanced, from the weary and suffering faces of those
+who waited anxiously for their doom, to the periodicals and newspapers
+piled on the table. A gentleman seated not far off handed her the last
+number of the _Illustrated London News_. She took it, turning the pages
+mechanically. To her dying day she never got over the dislike to that
+special paper which that half hour created.
+
+One by one the patients' names were called by the grave footman as he
+came to summon them. One by one they went away, and at last, at last,
+Charlotte's turn came. She had entered into conversation with a little
+girl of about sixteen, who appeared to be in consumption, and the little
+girl had praised the great physician in such terms that Charlotte felt
+more than ever that against his opinion there could be no appeal. And
+now at last she was in the great man's presence, and, healthy girl that
+she was, her heart beat so loud, and her face grew so white, that the
+practised eyes of the doctor might have been pardoned for mistaking her
+for a _bona-fide_ patient.
+
+"What are you suffering from?" he asked of her.
+
+"It is not myself, Sir George," she said, then making a great effort to
+control her voice--"I have come about my father--my father is one of
+your patients. His name is Harman."
+
+Sir George turned to a large book at his side, opened it at a certain
+page, read quietly for a moment, then closing it, fixed his keen eyes on
+the young lady.
+
+"You are right," he said, "your father, Mr. Harman, is one of my
+patients. He came to see me no later than last week."
+
+"Sir," said Charlotte, and her voice grew steadier and braver as she
+spoke, "I am in perfect health, and my father is ill. I have come here
+to-day to learn from your lips the exact truth as to his case."
+
+"The exact truth?" said the doctor. "Does your father know you have come
+here, Miss--Miss Harman?"
+
+"He does not, Sir George. My father is a widower, and I am his only
+child. He has endeavored to keep this thing from me, and hitherto has
+partially succeeded. Yesterday, through another source, I learned that
+he is very seriously ill. I have come to you to know the truth. You will
+tell it to me, will you not?"
+
+"I certainly _can_ tell it to you."
+
+"And you will?"
+
+"Well, the fact is, Miss Harman, he is anxious that you should not know.
+I am scarcely prepared to fathom your strength of character. Any shock
+will be of serious consequence to him. How can I tell how you will act
+when you know all?"
+
+"You are preparing me for the worst now, Sir George. I solemnly promise
+you in no way to use my knowledge so as to give my father the slightest
+shock."
+
+"I believe you," answered the doctor. "A brave woman can do wonders.
+Women are unselfish; they can hide their own feelings to comfort and
+succor another. Miss Harman, I am sorry for you, I have bad news for
+you."
+
+"I know it, Sir George. My father is very ill."
+
+"Your father is as seriously ill as a man can be to be alive; in short,
+he is--dying."
+
+"Is there no hope?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Must he die soon?" asked Charlotte, after a brief pause.
+
+"That depends. His malady is of such a nature that any sudden shock, any
+sudden grief will probably kill him instantly. If his mind is kept
+perfectly calm, and all shocks are kept from him, he may live for many
+months."
+
+"Oh! terrible!" cried Charlotte.
+
+She covered her face. When she raised it at last it looked quite haggard
+and old.
+
+"Sir George," she said, "I do not doubt that in your position as a
+doctor you have come across some secrets. I am going to confide in you,
+to confide in you to a certain measure."
+
+"Your confidence shall be sacred, my dear young lady."
+
+"Yesterday, Sir George, I learned something, something which concerns my
+father. It concerns him most nearly and most painfully. It relates to an
+old and buried wrong. This wrong relates to others; it relates to those
+now living most nearly and most painfully."
+
+"Is it a money matter?" asked the doctor.
+
+"It is a money matter. My father alone can set it right. I mean that
+during his lifetime it cannot possibly in any way be set right without
+his knowledge. Almost all my life, he has kept this thing a secret from
+me and--and--from the world. For three and twenty years it has lain in a
+grave. If he is told now, and the wrong cannot be repaired without his
+knowledge, it will come on him as a--disgrace. The question I ask of you
+is this: can he bear the disgrace?"
+
+"And my answer to you, Miss Harman, is, that in his state of health the
+knowledge you speak of will instantly kill him."
+
+"Then--then--God help me! what am I to do? Can the wrong never be
+righted?"
+
+"My dear young lady, I am sincerely sorry for you. I cannot enter into
+the moral question, I can only state a fact. As your father's physician
+I forbid you to tell him."
+
+"You forbid me to tell him?" said Charlotte. She got up and pulled down
+her veil. "Thank you," she said, holding out her hand. "I have that to
+go on--as my father's physician you forbid him to know?"
+
+"I forbid it absolutely. Such a knowledge would cause instant death."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+PUZZLED.
+
+
+The old Australian Alexander Wilson, had left his niece, Charlotte Home,
+after his first interview with her, in a very disturbed state of mind.
+More disturbed indeed was he than by the news of his sister's death. He
+was a rich man now, having been successful in the land of his
+banishment, and having returned to his native land the possessor of a
+moderate fortune. He had never married, and he meant to live with Daisy
+and share his wealth with her. But in these day-dreams he had only
+thought of his money as giving some added comforts to his rich little
+sister, enabling her to have a house in London for the season, and,
+while living in the country, to add more horses to her establishment and
+more conservatories to build and tend. His money should add to her
+luxuries and, consequently, to her comforts. He had never heard of this
+unforgotten sister for three and twenty years, the strange dislike to
+write home having grown upon him as time went on but though he knew
+nothing about her, he many a time in his own wild and solitary life
+pictured her as he saw her last. Daisy never grew old to him. Death and
+Daisy were not connected. Daisy in his imagination was always young,
+always girlish always fresh and beautiful. He saw her as he saw her last
+in her beautiful country home standing by her rich husband's side,
+looking more like his daughter than his wife. No, Sandy never dreamed
+that Daisy would or could die, but in thinking of her he believed her to
+be a widow. That husband, so old, when he went away, must be dead.
+
+On his arrival in England, Sandy went down into Hertfortshire. He
+visited the place where he had last seen his sister. It was in the hands
+of strangers--sold long ago. No one even remembered the name of Harman.
+Then he met little Daisy Home, and learned quite by accident that his
+Daisy was dead, and that the pretty child who reminded him of her was
+her grandchild. He went to visit Charlotte Home, and there made a fresh
+discovery. Had his Daisy been alive she would have wanted far more from
+his well-filled purse than horses and carriages. She would have needed
+not the luxuries of life, but the necessities. He had imagined her rich,
+while she had died in poverty. She had died poor, and her child, her
+only child, bore evident marks of having met face to face with the
+sorest of all want, that which attacks the gently born. Her face, still
+young, but sadly thin and worn, the very look in her eyes told this fact
+to Sandy.
+
+Yes; his pretty Daisy, whom he had imagined so rich, so bountifully
+provided for, had died a very poor and struggling woman. Doubtless this
+sad and dreadful fact had shortened her days. Doubtless but for this
+monstrous injustice she would be alive now, ready to welcome her
+long-lost brother back to his native land.
+
+All that night Sandy Wilson lay awake. He was a hale and hearty man, and
+seldom knew what it was to toss for any time on his pillow; but so
+shocked was he, that this night no repose would visit him. An injustice
+had been done, a fraud committed, and it remained for him to find out
+the evil thing, to drag it to the light, to set the wronged right once
+more. Charlotte Home was not at all the character he could best
+understand. She was not in the least like her mother. She told the tale
+of her wrongs with a strange and manifest reluctance. She believed that
+a fraud had been committed. She was fully persuaded that not her
+long-dead father but her living half-brothers were the guilty parties.
+In this belief Sandy most absolutely shared. He longed to drag these
+villains into the glaring light of justice, to expose them and their
+disgraceful secret to the shameful light of day. But in this longing he
+saw plainly that Charlotte did not share. He was puzzled, scarcely
+pleased that this was so. How differently little Daisy would have acted
+had she been alive. Dear little innocent Daisy, who all alone could do
+nothing, would in his strong presence have grown so brave and fearless.
+She would have put the case absolutely and once for all into his hands.
+Now this her daughter did not seem disposed to do. She said to him, with
+most manifest anxiety, "You will do nothing without me. You will do
+nothing until we meet again."
+
+This he had promised readily enough, for what _could_ he do in the short
+hours which must elapse between now and their next meeting? As he was
+dressing, however, on the following morning, a sudden idea did occur to
+him, and on this idea he resolved to act before he saw Charlotte at six
+o'clock in the evening. He would go to Somerset House and see Mr.
+Harman's will. What Daisy first, and now Charlotte, had never thought of
+doing during all these years he would do that very day. Thus he would
+gain certain and definite information. With this information it would be
+comparatively easy to know best how to act.
+
+He went to Somerset House. He saw the will; he saw the greatness of the
+robbery committed so many years ago; he saw and he felt a wild kind of
+almost savage delight in the fact that he could quickly and easily set
+the wrong right, for he was one of the trustees. He saw all this, and
+yet--and yet--he went away a very unhappy and perplexed man, for he had
+seen something else--he had seen a woman's agony and despair. Sandy
+Wilson possessed the very softest soul that had ever been put into a big
+body. He never could bear to see even a dog in pain. How then could he
+look at the face of this girl which, all in a moment, under his very
+eyes, had been blanched with agony? He could not bear it. He forgot his
+fierce longing for revenge, he forgot his niece Charlotte's wrongs, in
+this sudden and passionate desire to succor the other Charlotte, the
+daughter of the bad man who had robbed his own sister, his own niece; he
+became positively anxious that Miss Harman should not commit herself;
+he felt a nervous fear as each word dropped from her lips; he saw that
+she spoke in the extremity of despair. How could he stop the words which
+told too much? He was relieved when the thought occurred to him to ask
+her to meet him again--again when they both were calmer. She had
+consented, and he found himself advising her, as he would have advised
+his own dear daughter had he been lucky enough to have possessed one. He
+promised her that nothing, nothing should be done until they met again,
+and so afraid was he that in his interview that evening with his niece,
+Mrs. Home, he might be tempted to drop some word which might betray ever
+so little that other Charlotte, that instead of going to Tremin's Road
+as he had intended, he wrote a note excusing himself and putting off his
+promised visit until the following evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+CHARLOTTE'S PLEA.
+
+
+When at last the time drew near for him to bend his steps in the
+direction of Somerset House he had by no means made up his mind how to
+act. His sympathies were still with Miss Harman. Her face had haunted
+him all night long; but he felt that every sense of justice, every sense
+of right, called upon him to befriend Mrs. Home. His dearly loved dead
+sister seemed to call to him from her grave and to ask him to rescue
+those belonging to her, to give again to these wronged ones what was
+rightfully theirs. In any case, seeing the wrong as he so plainly did,
+he would have felt called upon to take his sister's part in the matter.
+But as circumstances now stood, even had Mrs. Home been no relation to
+him whatever, he still must have acted for her and her alone. For was he
+not the _other trustee_? and did not the very law of the land of his
+birth demand that he should see that the terms of the will were carried
+out?
+
+He arrived at the square of Somerset House, and found Miss Harman
+waiting for him.
+
+She came up to him at once and held out her hand. His quick eye
+detected at a glance that she was now quite calm and collected, that
+whatever she might have done in the first agony of her despair
+yesterday, to-day she would do nothing to betray herself. Strange to
+say, he liked her far less well in this mood than he had done yesterday,
+and his heart and inclination veered round again to his wronged niece
+and her children with a sense of pleasure and almost triumph.
+
+They began to walk up and down, and Miss Harman, finding that her
+companion was silent, was the first to speak.
+
+"You asked me to meet you here to-day. What do you want to say to me?"
+
+Good heavens! was she going to ride the high horse over him in this
+style? Sandy's small eyes almost flashed as he turned to look at her.
+
+"A monstrous wrong has been done, Miss Harman," he answered. "I have
+come to talk about that."
+
+"I know," replied Charlotte. "I have thought it all out. I know exactly
+what has been done. My grandfather died and left a sum of twelve
+hundred a year to my--to his wife. He left other moneys to my father
+and his brother. My father and his brother, my uncle, disregarded the
+claims of the widow and the orphan child. They appropriated the
+money--they--_stole it_--giving to my grandfather's widow a small sum
+during her life, which small sum they did not even allow to be retained
+by her child."
+
+"That is pretty much the case, young lady. You have read the will with
+tolerable accuracy."
+
+"I do not know in the least how the deed was done," continued Charlotte.
+"How such a crime could be committed and yet lie hidden all these years
+remains a terrible and mysterious thing to me. But that it was done, I
+can but use my own eyes in reading my grandfather's will to see."
+
+"It was done easily enough, Miss Harman. They thought the other trustee
+was dead. Your father and his brother were false to their trust, and
+they never reckoned that Sandy Wilson would come back all alive and
+blooming one fine morning--Sandy, whose duty it is to see this great
+wrong put right."
+
+"Yes, it is your duty," said Charlotte; and now, again, she grew very
+white; her eyes sought the ground and she was silent.
+
+"It is my most plain duty," repeated Wilson, shuffling with his great
+feet as he walked by her side.
+
+"I should like to know what steps you mean to take," continued
+Charlotte, suddenly raising her eyes to his face.
+
+"Steps! Good gracious! young lady, I have not had time to go into the
+law of the thing. Besides, I promised to do nothing until we met again.
+But one thing is plain enough, and obvious enough--my niece, that young
+woman who might have been rich, but who is so poor--that young woman
+must come in for her own again. It is three-and-twenty years since her
+father died. She must receive from your father that money with all back
+interest for the last three and twenty years. That means a goodish bit
+of money I can tell you."
+
+"I have no doubt it does," replied Charlotte. "Mrs. Home shall have it
+all."
+
+"Well, I hope so, young lady, and soon, too. It seems to me she has had
+her share of poverty."
+
+"She has had, as you say, her share of that evil. Mr. Wilson," again
+raising her eyes to his face, "I know Mrs. Home."
+
+"You know her? You know my niece Charlotte personally? She did not tell
+me that."
+
+"Yes, I know her. I should like to see her now."
+
+"You would?--I am surprised! Why?"
+
+"That I might go down on my knees to her."
+
+"Well, good gracious! young lady, I supposed you might feel sorry, but I
+did not know you would humble yourself to that extent. It was not _your_
+sin."
+
+"Hush! It was my father's sin. I am his child. I would go lower than my
+knees--I would lie on the ground that she might walk over me, if the
+better in that position I might plead for mercy."
+
+"For mercy? Ay, that's all very well, but Charlotte must have her
+rights. Sandy Wilson must see to that."
+
+"She shall have her rights! And yet I would see her if I could, and if I
+saw her I would go on my knees and plead for mercy."
+
+"I don't understand you, Miss Harman."
+
+"I do not suppose you do. Will you have patience with me while I explain
+myself?"
+
+"I have come here to talk to you and to listen to you," said Wilson.
+
+"Sir, I must tell you of my father, that man whom you (and I do not
+wonder) consider so bad--so low! When I read that will yesterday--when I
+saw with my own eyes what a fraud had been committed, what a great,
+great evil had been done, I felt in my first misery that I almost hated
+my father! I said to myself, 'Let him be punished!' I would have helped
+you then to bring him to punishment. I think you saw that?"
+
+"I did, Miss Harman. I can see as far through a stone wall as most
+people. I saw that you were a bit stunned, and I thought it but fair
+that you should have time to calm down."
+
+"You were kind to me. You acted as a good man and a gentleman. Then I
+scarcely cared what happened to my father; now I do."
+
+"Ay, ay, young lady, natural feelings must return. I am very sorry for
+you."
+
+"Mr. Wilson, I hope to make you yet more sorry. I must tell you more.
+When I saw you yesterday I knew that my father was ill--I knew that he
+was in appearance an old man, a broken down man, a very unhappy man; but
+since I saw you yesterday I have learned that he is a dying man--that
+old man against whom I hardened my heart so yesterday is going fast to
+judgment. The knowledge of this was kept from me, for my father so loved
+me, so guarded me all my life that he could not bear that even a pin's
+point of sorrow should rest upon me. After seeing you yesterday, and
+leaving you, I visited some poor people who, not knowing that the truth
+was hidden from me, spoke of it as a well known fact. I went away from
+them with my eyes opened. I only wondered they had been closed so long.
+I went away, and this morning I did more. I visited one of the greatest
+and cleverest doctors in London. This doctor my father, unknown to me,
+had for some time consulted. I asked him for his candid opinion on my
+father's case. He gave it to me. Nothing can save my father. My father
+must die! But he told me more; he said that the nature of his complaint
+was such that any shock must instantly kill him. He said without that
+shock he may live for months; not many months, but still for a few.
+Hearing this, I took the doctor still further into my confidence. I told
+him that a wrong had been committed--that during my father's lifetime
+that wrong could not be set right without his knowledge. I said that he
+must know something which would disgrace him. His answer was this: 'As
+his medical man, I forbid him to know; such a knowledge will cause
+certain and instant death.'"
+
+Charlotte paused. Wilson, now deeply interested, even appalled, was
+gazing at her earnestly.
+
+"I know Charlotte Home," continued Miss Harman; "and, as I said just
+now, I would see her now. Yes, she has needed money; she has longed for
+money; she has been cruelly wronged--most cruelly treated! Still, I
+think, if I pleaded long enough and hard enough, she would have mercy;
+she would not hurry that old man to so swift a judgment; she would spare
+him for those few, few months to which his life is now limited. It is
+for those months I plead. He is a dying man. I want nothing to be done
+during those months. Afterwards--afterwards I will promise, if necessary
+sign any legal paper you bring to me, that all that should have been
+hers shall be Charlotte Home's--I restore it all! Oh, how swiftly and
+how gladly! All I plead for are those few months."
+
+Wilson was silent.
+
+Charlotte suddenly looking at him almost lost her self-control.
+
+"Must I go down on my knees to you, sir? I will if it is necessary. I
+will here--even here do so, if it is necessary."
+
+"It is not, it is not, my dear Miss Harman. I believe you; from my soul
+I pity you! I will do what I can. I can't promise anything without my
+niece's permission; but I am to see her this evening."
+
+"Oh, if you plead with her, she will have mercy; for I know her--I am
+sure of her! Oh! how can I thank you?--how can I thank you both?"
+
+Here some tears rose to Charlotte's eyes, and rolled fast and heavily
+down her cheeks. She put up her handkerchief to wipe them away.
+
+"You asked me to cry yesterday, but I could not; now I believe I shall
+be able," she said with almost a smile. "God bless you!"
+
+Before Wilson could get in another word she had left him and, hurrying
+through the square, was lost to sight.
+
+Wilson gazed after her retreating form; then he went into Somerset
+House, and once more long and carefully studied Mr. Harman's will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+NO WEDDING ON THE TWENTIETH.
+
+
+Charlotte was quite right in saying that now she could cry; a great
+tension had been removed, an immediate agony lightened. From the time
+she had left the doctor's presence until she had met Sandy Wilson, most
+intolerable had been her feelings. She would sink all pride when she saw
+him; for her father's sake, she would plead for mercy; but knowing
+nothing of the character of the man, how could she tell that she would
+be successful? How could she tell that he might not harden his heart
+against her plea? When she left him, however, she knew that her cause
+was won. Charlotte Home was to be the arbitrator of her fate; she had
+never in all her life seen such a hunger for money in any eyes as she
+had done in Charlotte's, and yet she felt a moral certainty that with
+Charlotte she was safe. In the immediate relief of this she could cry,
+and those tears were delicious to her. Returning from her drive, and in
+the solitude of her own room, she indulged in them, weeping on until no
+more tears would flow. They took the maddening pressure of heart and
+brain, and after them she felt strong and even calm. She had washed her
+face and smoothed her hair, and though she could not at once remove all
+trace of the storm through which she had just passed, she still looked
+better than she had done at breakfast that morning, when a tap came to
+her door, and Ward, her maid, waited outside.
+
+"If you please, Miss Harman, the dressmaker has called again. Will you
+have the wedding dress fitted now?"
+
+At the same instant and before Charlotte could reply, a footman appeared
+at the head of the stairs--"Mr. Hinton had arrived and was waiting for
+Miss Harman, in her own sitting-room."
+
+"Say, I will be with him directly," she answered to the man, then she
+turned to Ward. "I will send you with a message to the dressmaker this
+evening; tell her I am engaged now."
+
+The two messengers left, and Charlotte turned back into her room. She
+had to go through another fire. Well! the sooner it was over the better.
+She scarcely would give herself time for any thought as she ran quickly
+down the stairs and along the familiar corridor, and in a moment found
+herself in Hinton's presence. They had not met since yesterday morning,
+when they had parted in apparent coldness; but Hinton had long forgotten
+it, and now, when he saw her face, a great terror of pity and love came
+over him.
+
+"My darling! my own darling!" he said. He came up to her and put his
+arms round her. "Charlotte, what is it? You are in trouble? Tell me."
+
+Ah! how sweet it was to feel the pressure of his arms, to lay her head
+on his breast. She was silent for quite a minute, saying to herself, "It
+is for the last time."
+
+"You are in great trouble, Charlotte? Charlotte, what is it?" questioned
+her lover.
+
+"Yes, I am in great trouble," she said then, raising her head and
+looking at him. Her eyes were clear and frank and open as of old, and
+yet at that moment she meant to deceive him; she would not tell him the
+real reason which induced her to break off her engagement. She would
+shelter her father in the eyes of the man she loved, at any cost.
+
+"You are in great trouble," he repeated, seeing that she paused.
+
+"Yes, John--for myself--for my father--for--for you. Dear John, we
+cannot be married on the twentieth, we must part."
+
+"Charlotte!" he stepped back a pace or two in his astonishment, and her
+arms fell heavily to her sides. "Charlotte!" he repeated; he had failed
+to understand her. He gave a short laugh.
+
+She began to tremble when she heard him laugh, and seeing a chair near,
+she sunk into it. "Yes, John, we must part," she repeated.
+
+He went down on his knees then by her side, and looked into her face.
+"My poor darling, you are really not well; you are in trouble, and don't
+know what you are saying. Tell me all your trouble, Charlotte, but don't
+mind those other words. It is impossible that you and I can part. Have
+we not plighted our troth before God? We cannot take that back.
+Therefore we cannot part."
+
+"In heart we may be one, but outwardly we must part," she repeated, and
+then she began to cry feebly, for she was all unstrung. Hinton's words
+were too much for her.
+
+"Tell me all," he said then, very tenderly.
+
+"John, a dark thing was kept from me, but I have discovered it. My
+father is dying. How can I marry on the twentieth, when my father is
+dying?"
+
+Hinton instantly felt a sense of relief. Was this all the meaning of
+this great trouble? This objection meant, at the most, postponement,
+scarcely that, when Charlotte knew all.
+
+"How did you learn that about your father?" he said.
+
+"I went to see some poor people yesterday, and they told me; but that
+was not enough. To-day I visited the great doctor. My father has seen
+Sir George Anderson; he told me all. My father is a dying man. John, can
+you ask me to marry when my father is dying?"
+
+"I could not, Charlotte, if it were not his own wish."
+
+"His own wish?" she repeated.
+
+"Yes! some time ago he told me of this; he said the one great thing he
+longed for was to see you and me--you and me, my own Charlotte--husband
+and wife before he died."
+
+"Why did he keep his state of health as a secret from me?"
+
+"I begged of him to tell you, but he wanted you to be his own bright
+Charlotte to the end."
+
+Then Hinton told her of that first interview he had with her father. He
+told it well, but she hardly listened. Must she tell him the truth after
+all? No! she would not. During her father's lifetime she would shield
+him at any cost. Afterwards, ah! afterwards all the world would know.
+
+When Hinton had ceased speaking, she laid her hand on his arm.
+"Nevertheless, my darling, I cannot marry next week. I know you will
+fail to understand me. I know my father will fail to understand me. That
+is hard--the hardest part, but I am doing right. Some day you will
+acknowledge that. With my father dying I cannot stand up in white and
+call myself a bride. My marriage-day was to have been the entrance into
+Paradise to me. With a funeral so near, and so certain, it cannot be
+that. John--John--I--cannot--I cannot. We must not marry next week."
+
+"You put it off, then? You deny your dying father his dearest wish? That
+is not like you, Charlotte."
+
+"No, it is unlike me. Everything, always, again, will be unlike me. If
+you put it so, I deny my father his dearest wish."
+
+"Charlotte, I fail to understand you. You will not marry during your
+father's lifetime. But it may be very quiet--very--very quiet, I can
+manage that; and you need not leave him, you can still be altogether his
+daughter, and yet make him happy by letting him feel that you are also
+my wife; that I have the right to shield you, the right to love and
+comfort you. Come, Charlotte! come, my darling! we won't have any
+outward festivity, any outward rejoicing. This is but natural, this can
+be managed, and yet we may have that which is above and beyond it
+all--one another. We may be one in our sorrow instead of our joy."
+
+"Oh! if it could be," she sobbed; and now again she laid her head on his
+shoulder.
+
+"It shall be, Charlotte; we will marry like that on the twentieth. I
+will manage it with your father."
+
+"No John! no, my dearest, my best beloved, I cannot be your wife. Loving
+you as I never--never--loved you before, I give you up; it is worse than
+the agony of death to me. But I give you up."
+
+"You postpone our marriage during your father's lifetime?"
+
+"I postpone it--I do more--I break it off. Oh! John, don't look at me
+like that; pity me--pity me, my heart will break."
+
+But he had pushed her a little away from him. Pale as death he rose to
+his feet. "Charlotte! you are deceiving me; you have another reason for
+this?"
+
+"If you will have it so," she said.
+
+"You are keeping a secret from me."
+
+"I do not say so, but you are likely enough to think this," she
+repeated.
+
+"Can you deny it?"
+
+"I will not try, I know we must part."
+
+"If this is so, we must. A secret between husband and wife is fatal."
+
+"It would be, but I admit nothing, we cannot be husband and wife."
+
+"Never, Charlotte?"
+
+"Never!" she said.
+
+Hinton thought for a moment, and then he came up and again took her
+hand. "Lottie, tell me that secret; trust me; I know there is a secret,
+tell it to me, all of it, let me decide whether it must part us."
+
+"I cannot, my darling--my darling--I can say nothing, explain nothing,
+except that you and I must part."
+
+"If that is so, we must," he said.
+
+He was pained, shocked, and angry, beyond words. He left the room and
+the house without even another look.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+"I LOVE HIM," SHE ANSWERED.
+
+
+That evening Charlotte came softly into her father's study and sat down
+by his side. She had not appeared at dinner-time, sending another
+excuse. She was not very well, she said; she would see her father later
+in the evening. But as she could not eat, she did not care to come to
+dinner. She would like to see her father quite alone afterwards.
+Charlotte had worded this verbal message with great care, for she wished
+to prepare her father for something of extra importance. Even with the
+tenderest watching it was impossible to avoid disturbing him a little,
+and she wished to prepare him for the very slight but unavoidable shock
+she must give. Jasper dined at Prince's Gate as usual. But after dinner
+he went away. And Charlotte, when she knew this, instantly went down to
+her father. She was now perfectly calm. For the time being had forgotten
+herself absolutely. Nothing gives outward composure like
+self-forgetfulness, like putting yourself in your fellow-man's place.
+Charlotte had done this when she stepped up to her old father's side.
+She had dressed herself, too, with special thought for him. There was a
+muslin frock, quite clear and simple, which he had loved. It was a soft
+Indian fabric, and clung to her fine figure in graceful folds. She had
+made Ward iron it out, and had put it on. Of late she had considered it
+too girlish, but to-night she appeared in it knowing it would please the
+eyes for which it was worn.
+
+Mr. Harman was chilly and sat by the fire. As usual the room was softly
+but abundantly lit by candles. Charlotte loved light, and, as a rule,
+hated to talk to any one without looking at that person fully. But
+to-night an opposite motive caused her to put out one by one all the
+candles.
+
+"Does not the room look cosy with only the firelight?" she said. And
+then she sat down on a low stool at her father's feet.
+
+"You are better now, my love. Tell me you are better," he said, taking
+her hand in his.
+
+"I am well enough to sit and talk to you, father," she said.
+
+"But what ailed you, Lottie? You could not come to dinner either
+yesterday or to-day; and I remember you looked ill this morning. What is
+wrong?"
+
+"I felt troubled, and that has brought on a headache. But don't let us
+talk about me. I mean, I suppose we must after a little, but not at
+first."
+
+"Whom shall we talk about first? Who is more important? Is it Hinton?
+You cannot get _me_ to think that Charlotte."
+
+"You are more important. I want to talk about you."
+
+Now she got hold of his hand, and, turning round, gazed firmly into his
+face.
+
+"Father, you have troubled me. You have caused my headache."
+
+Instantly a startled look came into his eyes; and she, reading him
+now--as, alas! she knew how to do but too well--hastened to soothe it.
+
+"You wanted to send me away, to make me less your own, if that were
+possible. Father, I have come here to-night to tell you that I am not
+going away--that I am all your own, even to the end."
+
+"My own to the end? Yes, you must always be that. But what do you mean?"
+
+She felt the hand she held trembling, and hastened to add,--
+
+"Why did you keep the truth from me? Why did you try to deceive me, your
+nearest and dearest, as to your state of health? But I know it all now.
+I am not going away from you."
+
+"You mean--you mean, Charlotte, you will not marry Hinton next week?"
+
+"No, father."
+
+"Have you told him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Charlotte, do you know the worst about me?"
+
+"I know all about you. I went to see Sir George Anderson this morning. I
+forced from him the opinion he has already given to you. He says that I
+cannot keep you long. But while I can, we will never part."
+
+Mr. Harman's hand had now ceased to tremble. It lay warm and quiet in
+his daughter's clasp. After a time he said--
+
+"Put your arms round me darling."
+
+She rose to her feet, clasped her hands round his neck, and laid her
+head on his shoulder. In this position he kissed first her bright hair,
+then her cheek and brow.
+
+"But I want my little girl to leave me," he said. "Illness need not make
+me selfish. You can still be my one only dear daughter, and yet be
+Hinton's wife."
+
+"I am your only dear daughter," she repeated. "Never mind about my being
+any man's wife." She tried to smile as she resumed her seat at his feet.
+
+Mr. Harman saw the attempt at a smile, and it instantly strengthened him
+to proceed.
+
+"Charlotte, I am not sorry that you know that which I had not courage
+either to tell you or to cause another to tell you. I am--yes, I am
+dying. Some day before long I must leave you, my darling. I must go away
+and return no more. But before I die I want to see you Hinton's wife. It
+will make me happier to see this, for you love him, and he can make you
+happy. You do love him, Charlotte?"
+
+"Yes, I love him," she answered.
+
+"Then we will not postpone the marriage. My child shall marry the man
+she loves, and have the strength of his love in the dark days that must
+follow; and in one week you will be back with me, no less my child
+because you are Hinton's wife."
+
+"Father, I cannot."
+
+"Not if I wish it, dear--if I have set my heart on it?"
+
+"I cannot," she repeated.
+
+She felt driven to her wits' end, and pressed her hands to her face.
+
+"Charlotte, what is the meaning of this? There is more here than meets
+the eye. Have you and Hinton quarrelled?"
+
+"No, except over this. And even over this it takes two to make a
+quarrel. I cannot marry next week; I have told him so. He is vexed, and
+you--you are vexed. Must I break my heart and leave you? You have always
+given me my own way; give it now. Don't send me away from you. It would
+break my heart to marry and leave you now."
+
+"Is this indeed so, Charlotte?" he said. "Would you with your whole
+heart rather put it off?"
+
+"With my whole, whole heart, I would rather," she said.
+
+"I will not urge it. I cannot; and yet it destroys a hope which I
+thought might cheer me on my dying bed."
+
+"Never mind the hope, father; you will have me. I shall not spend that
+week away from you."
+
+"No, that week did seem long to look forward to."
+
+"Ah! you are glad after all that I am to be with you," she said. "You
+will let me nurse you and care for you. You will not force yourself to
+do more than you are able. Now that I know all, I can take such care of
+you, and the thought of that will make me happier by and by."
+
+"It is a relief that you know the worst," said Mr. Harman, but he did
+not smile or look contented; he, as well as Hinton, felt that there was
+more in this strange desire of Charlotte's than met the eye.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+"YOU DON'T WANT MONEY?"
+
+
+Sandy Wilson having again very carefully read Mr. Harman's will, felt
+much puzzled how to act. He was an honest, upright, practical man
+himself. The greatness of the crime committed quite startled him. He had
+no sympathy for the wicked men who had done the deed, and he had the
+very keenest sympathy for those against whom the deed was done. His
+little orphan and widowed sister and her baby child were the wronged
+ones. The men who had wronged her he had never seen. He said to himself
+that he had no sympathy, no sympathy whatever for Mr. Harman. What if he
+was a dying man, was that fact to screen him? Was he to be allowed to go
+down to his grave in peace, his gray head appearing to be to him a crown
+of glory, honored by the world, cheered for his great success in life?
+Was all this to be allowed to continue when he was worthy not of
+applause but of hisses, of the world's most bitter opprobrium?
+
+And yet Sandy felt that, little or indeed no pity as he had for this
+most wicked man, even if Charlotte had not come to him and pleaded with
+eyes, voice, and manner he could scarcely have exposed Mr. Harman. He
+could scarcely, after hearing that great doctor's verdict, have gone up
+to the old man and said that which would hurry him without an instant's
+time for repentance, to judgment.
+
+Alexander Wilson believed most fully in a judgment to come. When he
+thought of it now, a certain sense of relief came over him. He need not
+trouble so sorely; he might leave this sinner to his God. It is to be
+feared that he thought more of God's justice than of His loving mercy
+and forgiveness, as he decided to leave John Harman in His hands.
+
+That evening at six o'clock he was to be again with Charlotte Home. For
+Charlotte Harman's sake, he had denied himself that pleasure the night
+before; but this evening the solitary man might enjoy the keen pleasure
+of being with his very own. Mrs. Home was his nearest living
+relation--the child of his own loved sister. He did not know yet whether
+he could love her at all as he had loved his little Daisy; but he felt
+quite sure that her children would twine themselves round his heart; for
+already the remembrance of Daisy Home was causing it to beat high with
+pleasure.
+
+As the hour approached for his visit, he loaded himself with presents
+not only for the children, but for the whole family. He said to himself
+with much delight, that however much Mr. Harman's will might be tied up
+for the present, yet Sandy Wilson's purse was open. He had far less idea
+than Charlotte Harman what children really liked, but he loaded himself
+with toys, cakes, and sweeties; and for his special pet Daisy over and
+above the other two he bought the very largest doll that a Regent Street
+shop could furnish him with. This doll was as heavy as a baby, and by no
+means so beautiful to look at as its smaller companions. But Sandy was
+no judge in such matters.
+
+With his presents for the adults of the party he was more fortunate. For
+his niece he purchased a black silk, which in softness, lustre, and
+quality could not be surpassed; for Mr. Home he bought two dozen very
+old port; for Anne, a bright blue merino dress.
+
+These goods were packed into a four-wheeler, and, punctually at six
+o'clock, that well-laden cab drew up at 10, Tremins Road. Three eager
+pairs of eyes watched the unpacking, for the three pretty children,
+dressed in their best, were in the dining-room; Mr. Home was also
+present, and Charlotte had laid her tea-table with several unwonted
+dainties in honor of her uncle's visit. Anne, the little maid, was
+fluttering about; that well-laden cab had raised her spirits and her
+hopes. She flew in and out, helping the cabby to bring the numerous
+parcels into the hall.
+
+"Ah! Annie, my girl, here's something for you," said Uncle Sandy,
+tossing her dress to her. After which, it is to be feared, Anne went off
+her head for a little bit.
+
+The children, headed by their mother, came into the little hall to meet
+and welcome their uncle. He entered the dining-room with Daisy riding on
+his shoulder. Then before tea could even be thought of, the presents
+must be discussed. The cakes, the sweeties, the toys were opened out;
+the children scampered about, laughed, shouted, and kissed the old
+Australian. Never in all his life had Uncle Sandy felt so happy.
+
+Over an hour passed in this way, then the mother's firm voice was heard.
+The little heads were raised obediently. Good-night kisses were given,
+and Harold, Daisy, and little Angus were led off to their nursery by the
+highly flushed and excited Anne.
+
+The tea which followed and the quiet talk were nearly as pleasant, and
+Uncle Sandy so enjoyed himself, that for a time he completely forgot old
+Harman's will, his own half promise, Charlotte Harman's despair.
+
+It was all brought back to him, however, and by the Homes themselves.
+The tea things had been removed, the gas was lit, the curtains drawn,
+and Charlotte Home had insisted on her old uncle seating himself in the
+one easy-chair which the room possessed. She herself stood on the
+hearthrug, and glancing for a moment at her husband she spoke.
+
+"Uncle Sandy, it is so good to have you back again, and Angus and I are
+so truly glad to welcome my dear mother's brother to our home, that we
+think it hard to have to touch on anything the least gloomy to-night.
+Just a word or two will be sufficient, and then we must drop the subject
+for ever."
+
+Uncle Sandy raised his wrinkled old face.
+
+"Ah," he said. "If there's anything unpleasant, have it cut by all
+means--out and over--that's my own motto."
+
+"We spoke the other night," continued Charlotte, "about my dear mother.
+I told you that she was poor--that she had to do with poverty, from the
+hour of my father's death until the end of her own life. It is all over
+for her now, she is at rest. If plenty of money could be found for her
+she would not need it. When I told you the story you expressed a doubt
+that all was not right; you said it was absolutely impossible that my
+father could have left my mother nothing; you said that either the will
+was tampered with or not acted on. Well, Uncle Sandy, I agree with you.
+I had long felt that something was not right."
+
+"Ay, ay, my girl; I said before, you had a brain in your head and a head
+on your shoulders. Trust Uncle Sandy not to know a clever woman when he
+sees her."
+
+"Well, uncle, I can say all the rest in a very few words. You said you
+could investigate the matter; that you could discover whether any foul
+play had been committed. I asked you not to do so until I saw you again;
+I now ask you not to do so at all; to let the whole matter rest always.
+In this I have my husband's sanction and wish."
+
+"Yes, Lottie has my full approval in this matter," said Mr. Home, coming
+forward and laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. "We don't want
+money, we would rather let the matter rest."
+
+"You don't want money!" said Uncle Sandy, gazing hard from the ethereal
+worn-looking man, to the woman, tall and thin, in her rusty dress, with
+every mark of poverty showing in thin cheek, in careworn eyes, in
+labor-stained hands. "You don't want money!" he repeated. "Niece
+Charlotte, I retract what I said of you--I thought you were not quite a
+fool. As to you, Home, I don't pretend to understand you. You don't want
+money?"
+
+Mr. Home smiled. Charlotte bent down and kissed her old uncle's brow.
+
+"Nevertheless, you will do what we wish, even though you don't
+understand," she said.
+
+Uncle Sandy took her hand.
+
+"Sit down near me, Niece Charlotte," he said. "And as to you, Home, you
+have a long story to hear. After you have heard it, it will be time
+enough to discuss your proposition. The fact is, Charlotte, I disobeyed
+you in part. You asked me to do nothing in this matter until we met
+again. I did nothing to compromise you; but, nevertheless, I was not
+idle, I wanted to set my own mind at rest. There was an easy way of
+doing this which I knew of, and which I wondered had not occurred to
+you. Charlotte, I went yesterday to Somerset House; doubtless, you know
+nothing of what took me there. I can soon enlighten you. In a certain
+part of that vast pile, all wills are obliged to be kept. Anyone who
+likes may go there, and, by paying the sum of one shilling, read any
+will they desire. I did so. I went to Somerset House and I saw your
+father's will."
+
+"Yes," said Charlotte. Whatever her previous resolution, she no doubt
+felt keenly excited now. "Yes," she repeated, "you read my father's
+will."
+
+"I read it. I read it in a hurry yesterday; to-day I saw it again and
+read it carefully. There is no flaw in it; it is a will that must stand,
+that cannot be disputed. Charlotte, you were right in your forebodings.
+Niece Charlotte, you and your mother, before you, were basely robbed,
+cruelly wronged; your dead father was just and upright; your living
+brothers are villains; your father left, absolutely to your mother
+first, and to you at her death, the sum of twelve hundred a year. He
+left to you both a large enough sum of money to realize that large
+yearly income. You were robbed of it. Do you know how?"
+
+"No," said Charlotte. She said that one little word almost in a whisper.
+Her face was deadly pale.
+
+"That money was left in your father's will in trust; it was confided to
+the care of three men, whose solemn duty it was to realize it for your
+mother first, afterwards for you and your children. Those men were
+called trustees; two of them, Charlotte, were your half-brothers, John
+and Jasper Harman; the other was your mother's only living brother,
+Sandy Wilson. These trustees were false to you: two of them by simply
+ignoring the trust and taking the money to themselves; the other, by
+pretending to be dead when he ought to have been in England attending to
+his duty. The Harmans, the other trustees, so fully believed me to be
+dead that they thought their sin would never be found out. But they
+reckoned without their host, for Sandy has returned, and the missing
+trustee can act now. Better late than never--eh, Niece Charlotte?"
+
+"My poor mother!" said Charlotte, "my poor, poor mother!"
+
+She covered her face with her hands. The suddenness and greatness of the
+crime done had agitated her. She was very much upset. Her husband came
+again very near and put his hand on her shoulder. His face, too, was
+troubled.
+
+"It was a terrible sin," he said, "a terrible sin to lie on these men's
+breasts for three and twenty years. God help these sinners to
+repentance!"
+
+"Yes, God help them," repeated Uncle Sandy, "and also those they have
+wronged. But now look up, Charlotte, for I have not told you all. A man
+never sins for himself alone; if he did it would not so greatly matter,
+for God and the pangs of an evil conscience would make it impossible for
+him to get off scot free; but--I found it out in the bush, where, I can
+tell you, I met rough folks enough--the innocent are dragged down with
+the guilty. Now this is the case here. In exposing the guilty the
+innocent must suffer. I don't mean you, my dear, nor my poor little
+wronged Daisy. In both your cases the time for suffering, I trust, is
+quite at an end, but there is another victim." Here Uncle Sandy paused,
+and Charlotte, having recovered her composure, stood upright on the
+hearthrug ready to listen. "When I went to Somerset House yesterday, I
+had, in order to obtain a sight of Mr. Harman's will, to go through a
+little ceremony. It is not necessary to go into it. I had to get certain
+papers, and take orders to certain rooms. All this was the little form
+imposed on me by the Government for my curiosity. At last I was told to
+go to a room, called the reading room, and asked to wait there until the
+will was brought to me. It was a small room, and I sat down prepared to
+wait patiently enough. There were about half-a-dozen people in the room
+besides myself, some reading wills, others waiting until they were
+brought. One woman sat at the table exactly opposite to me. She was the
+only woman in the room at the time, and perhaps that fact made me first
+notice her; but when I looked once, I could not have been old Sandy
+Wilson without wanting to look again. I have a weakness for fine women,
+and this woman was fine, in the sense that makes you feel that she is
+lovable. She was young, eager-looking. I have no doubt her features were
+handsome, but it was her open, almost childlike expression which
+attracted most. She was essentially a fine creature, and yet there was a
+peculiar childish innocence about her, that made old Sandy long to
+protect her on the spot. I was looking at her, and hoping she would not
+notice it and think old Sandy Wilson a bore, when a man came into the
+room and said something to the clerk at the desk. The clerk turned to me
+and said, 'The will of the name of Harman is being read at this moment
+by some one else in the room.' Instantly this girl looked up, her eyes
+met mine, her face grew all one blaze of color, though she was a pale
+enough lass the moment before, and a frightened expression came into her
+eyes. She looked down again at once, and went on reading in a hurried,
+puzzled way, as if she was scarcely taking in much. Of course I knew she
+had the will, and I did not want to hurry or confuse her, so I
+pretended to turn my attention to something else. It must have been
+quite a couple of minutes before I looked again, and then--I confess
+that I am not easily startled, but I did have to smother an
+exclamation--the poor girl must have discovered the baseness and the
+fraud in those two minutes. Had she been any other but the plucky lass
+she is, she would have been in a dead faint on the floor, for I never,
+never in all my pretty vast experience, saw a living face so white. I
+could not help looking at her then, for I was completely fascinated. She
+went on reading for half a minute longer; then she raised her eyes and
+gazed straight and full at me. She had big, open gray eyes, and a moment
+before, they were full of innocence and trust like a child's, now there
+was a wild anger and despair in them. She was quite quiet however, and
+no one else in the room noticed her. She pushed the will across the
+table to me and said, "That is Mr. Harman's will," then she put on her
+gloves quite slowly and drew down her veil, and left the room as
+sedately and quietly as you please. I just glanced my eye over the will.
+I took in the right place and saw the shameful truth. I was horrified
+enough, but I could not wait to read it all. I gave the will back
+intending to go to it another time, for I felt I must follow that girl
+at any cost. I came up to her in Somerset House square. I did not care
+what she thought; I must speak to her; I did. Poor lass! I think she was
+quite stunned. She did not resent the liberty old Sandy had taken. When
+I asked her to wait and let me talk to her she turned at once--I have
+not lived in the bush so long without being, I pride myself, sharp
+enough in reading character. I saw the girl, proud girl enough at
+ordinary times, was in that state of despair which makes people do
+desperate things. She was defiant, and told more than I expected. She
+was Miss Harman--Charlotte Harman, by the way, she said. Yes; her father
+had stolen that money; would I like to see him? he lived in such a
+place; his name was so-and-so. Yes; she was his only child. Her manner
+was so reckless, so defiant, and yet so full of absolute misery, that I
+could do nothing but pity her from my very heart. I forgot you, Niece
+Lottie, and your rights, and everything but this fine creature stricken
+so low through another's sins. I said, 'Hush, you shall say no more
+to-day. You are stunned, you are shocked, you must have time to think; I
+won't remember a thing you say about your father now. Go home and come
+back again to-morrow,' I said; 'sleep over it, and I will sleep over it,
+and I will meet you here to-morrow, when you are more calm.' She agreed
+to this and went away. I felt a little compunction for my own softness
+during that evening and night, Niece Charlotte, I felt that I was not
+quite true to you; but then you had not seen her face, poor brave young
+thing, poor young thing!"
+
+Here Uncle Sandy paused and looked hard from his niece to her husband.
+Charlotte's eyes were full of tears, Mr. Home was smiling at him. There
+was something peculiar in this man's rare smiles which turned them into
+blessings. They were far more eloquent than words, for they were fed
+from some illumination of strong approval within. Uncle Sandy, without
+understanding, felt a warm glow instantly kindling in his heart.
+
+Charlotte said, "Go on," in a broken voice.
+
+"To-day, at the appointed hour, I met her again," proceeded the
+Australian. "She was changed, she was composed enough now, she was on
+her guard, she did not win my sympathy so much as in her despair. She
+was quite open, however, as to the nature of the crime committed, and
+told me she knew well what a sin her father had been guilty of. Suddenly
+she startled me by saying that she knew you, Charlotte. She said she
+wished she could see you now. I asked her why. She said, 'That I might
+go down on my knees to her.' I was surprised at such words coming from
+so proud a creature. I said so. She repeated that she would go down on
+her knees that she might the better plead for mercy. I was beginning to
+harden my old heart at that, and to think badly of her, when she stopped
+me, by telling me a strange and sad thing. She said that she had
+discovered something, something very terrible, between that hour and
+yesterday. Her father had been ill for some time, but the worst had been
+kept from her. She said yesterday that a poor person let her know quite
+accidentally that he was not only ill but dying. She went alone that
+morning to consult a doctor, one of those first-rate doctors whose word
+is law. Mr. Harman, it seemed, unknown to her, was one of this man's
+patients. He told her that he was hopelessly ill; that he could only
+live for a few months, and that any shock might end his days in a
+moment. She then told this doctor in confidence something of what she
+had discovered yesterday. He said, 'As his medical man, I forbid you to
+tell to your father this discovery you have made; if you do so he will
+die instantly.' Miss Harman told me this strange tale, and then she
+began to plead with me. She begged of me to show mercy; not to do
+anything in this matter during the few months which still remained of
+her father's life. Afterwards, she promised to restore all, and more
+than all of what had been stolen. I hesitated; I scarcely knew how to
+proceed. She saw it and exclaimed, 'Do you want me to go on my knees to
+you? I will this moment, and here.' Then I said I could do nothing
+without consulting you, I could do nothing without your consent.
+Instantly the poor thing's whole face changed--I never saw such a change
+from despair to relief. She held out her hand to me; she said she was
+safe; she said she knew you; and that with you she was safe. She said
+she never saw any one in her life seem to want money so badly as you;
+but for all that, with you she was quite safe. She looked so thankful.
+'I can cry now,' she said as she went away." Uncle Sandy paused again,
+and again looked at his niece and her husband. "I told her that I would
+come to you to-night," he said, "that I would plead her cause, and I
+have, have I not?"
+
+"Well and nobly," answered Mrs. Home. "Angus, think of her trusting me!
+I am so glad she could trust me. Indeed she is safe with us."
+
+"How soon can you go to her in the morning, Lottie?" asked the curate.
+
+"With the first dawn I should like to go, I only wish I could fly to her
+now. Oh, Angus! what she must suffer; and next Tuesday is to be her
+wedding-day. How my heart does ache for her! But I am glad she trusts
+me."
+
+Here Mrs. Home become so excited that a great flood of tears came into
+her eyes. She must cry them away in private. She left the room, and the
+curate, sitting down, told to Uncle Sandy how Charlotte Harman had saved
+little Harold's life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+LOVE BEFORE GOLD.
+
+
+For the first time in all her life, Mrs. Home laid her head on her
+pillow with the knowledge that she was a rich woman. Those good things
+which money can buy could be hers; her husband need want no more; her
+children might be so trained, so nurtured, so carefully tended that
+their beauty, their beauty both physical and moral, would be seen in
+clearest lustre. How often she had dreamed of the possibility of such a
+time arriving, and now at last it had come. Ever since her dying mother
+had told her own true history, she had dwelt upon this possible moment,
+dwelt upon it with many murmurings, many heart frettings. Could it be
+realized, she would be the happiest of women. Then she had decided to
+give it all up, to put the golden dream quite out of her life and,
+behold! she had scarcely done so before it had come true, the dream was
+a reality, the riches lay at her feet. In no way through her
+interference had this come about. Yes, but in the moment of her victory
+the woman who had so longed for money was very miserable; like Dead Sea
+apples was the taste of this eagerly desired fruit. She was enriched
+through another's anguish and despair, through the wrecking of another's
+happiness, and that other had saved the life of her child. Only one
+thing comforted Charlotte Home during the long hours of that weary
+night; Charlotte Harman had said.--
+
+"With her I am safe; dearly as she loves money, with her I am quite
+safe."
+
+Mrs. Home thought the slow moments would never fly until she was with
+the sister friend, who in her own bitter humiliation and shame could
+trust her. In the morning, she and her husband had a talk together. Then
+hurrying through her household duties, she started at a still very early
+hour for Prince's Gate. She arrived there before ten o'clock, and as she
+mounted the steps and pulled the ponderous bell she could not help
+thinking of her last visit; she had felt sore and jealous then, to-day
+she was bowed down by a sense of unworthiness and humility. Then, too,
+she had gone to visit this rich and prosperous young woman dressed in
+her very best, for she said to herself that whatever her poverty, she
+would look every inch the lady; she looked every inch the lady to-day,
+though she was in her old and faded merino. But that had now come to her
+which made her forget the very existence of dress. The grand footman,
+however, who answered her modest summons, being obtuse and uneducated,
+saw only the shabby dress; he thought she was a distressed workwoman, he
+had forgotten that she had ever come there before. When she asked for
+Miss Harman, he hesitated and was uncertain whether she could see his
+young lady; finally looking at her again, he decided to trust her so
+far as to allow her to wait in the hall while he went to inquire.
+Charlotte gave her name, Mrs. Home, and he went away. When he returned
+there was a change in his manner. Had he begun to recognize the lady
+under the shabby dress; or had Charlotte Harman said anything? He took
+Mrs. Home up to the pretty room she had seen before, and left her there,
+saying that Miss Harman would be with her in few moments. The room
+looked just as of old. Charlotte, as she waited, remembered that she had
+been jealous of this pretty room. It was as pretty to-day, bright with
+flowers, gay with sunshine; the same love-birds were in the same cage,
+the same canary sang in the same window, the same parrot swung lazily
+from the same perch. Over the mantelpiece hung the portrait in oils of
+the pretty baby, who yet was not so pretty as hers. Charlotte remembered
+how she had longed for these pretty things for her children, but all
+desire for them had left her now. There was the rustling of a silk dress
+heard in the passage, and Charlotte Harman carelessly, but richly
+attired, came in. There was, even in their outward appearance, the full
+contrast between the rich and the poor observable at this moment, for
+Charlotte Harman, too, had absolutely forgotten her dress, and had
+allowed Ward to put on what she chose. When they were about to reverse
+positions, this rich and this poor woman stood side by side in marked
+contrast. Charlotte Harman looked proud and cold; in the moment when she
+came to plead, she held her head high. Charlotte Home, who was to grant
+the boon, came up timidly, almost humbly. She took the hands of this
+girl whom she loved, held them firmly, then gathering sudden courage,
+there burst from her lips just the last words she had meant at this
+moment to say.
+
+"How much I love you! how much I love you!"
+
+As these fervent, passionate words were almost flung at her, Charlotte
+Harman's eyes began suddenly to dilate. After a moment she said under
+her breath, in a startled kind of whisper?
+
+"You know all?"
+
+"I know everything."
+
+"Then you--you will save my father?"
+
+"Absolutely. You need fear nothing from me or mine; in this we are but
+quits. Did not you save Harold?"
+
+"Ah," said Charlotte Harman; she took no notice of her friend and guest,
+she sat down on the nearest chair and covered her face. When she raised
+her head, Mrs. Home was kneeling by her side.
+
+"Charlotte," said Miss Harman--there was a change in her, the proud look
+and bearing were gone--"Charlotte," she said, "you and I are one age,
+but you are a mother; may I lay my head on your breast just for a
+moment?"
+
+"Lay it there, my darling. As you have got into my heart of hearts, so
+would I comfort you."
+
+"Ah, Charlotte, how my heart has beat! but your love is like a cool hand
+laid upon it, it is growing quiet."
+
+"Charlotte, you are right in reminding me that I am a mother. I must
+treat you as I would my little Daisy. Daisy trusts me absolutely and has
+no fear; you must trust me altogether, and fear nothing."
+
+"I do. I fear nothing when I am with you. Charlotte, next Tuesday was to
+have been my wedding-day."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"But it is all on an end now; I broke off my engagement yesterday. And
+yet, how much I love him! Charlotte, don't look at me so pityingly."
+
+"Was I doing so? I was wondering if you slept last night."
+
+"Slept! No, people don't sleep when their hearts beat as hard as mine
+did, but I am better now."
+
+"Then, Charlotte, I must prescribe for you, as a mother. For the next
+two hours you are my child and shall obey me; we have a great deal to
+say to each other; but first of all, before we say a single word, you
+must lie on this sofa, and I will hold your hand. You shall try and
+sleep."
+
+"But can you spare the time from your children?"
+
+"You are my child now; as long as you want me I will stay with you. See,
+I am going to draw down the blinds, and I will lock the door; you must
+not be disturbed."
+
+It was thus that these two spent the morning. When Charlotte Harman
+awoke some hours later, quiet and refreshed, they had a long, long talk.
+That talk drew their hearts still closer together; it was plain that
+such a paltry thing as money could not divide these friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+THE FATE OF A LETTER.
+
+
+Hinton had left the Harmans' house, after his strange interview with
+Charlotte, with a stunned feeling. It is not too much to say of this
+young man that he utterly failed to realize what had befallen him. He
+walked like one in a dream, and when he reached his lodgings in Jermyn
+Street, and sat down at last by his hearth, he thought of himself in a
+queer way, as if he were some one else; a trouble had come to some one
+else; that some one was a friend of his so he was called on to pity him.
+Gradually, however, it dawned upon him that the friend was unpleasantly
+close, that the some one else reigned as lord of his bosom. It was
+he--he himself he was called on to pity. It was on his hitherto so
+prosperous, young head that the storm had burst. Next Tuesday was to
+have been his wedding-day. There was to be no wedding. On next Tuesday
+he was to have won a bride, a wife; that other one dearer than himself
+was to give herself to him absolutely. In addition to this he was to
+obtain fortune: and fortune was to lead to far dearer, far nobler fame.
+But now all this was at an end; Tuesday was to pass as any other
+day--gray, neutral-tinted, indifferent, it was to go over his head. And
+why? This was what caused the sharpest sting of the anguish. There
+seemed no reason for it all. Charlotte's excuse was a poor one; it had
+not the ring of the true metal about it. Unaccustomed to deceive, she
+had played her part badly. She had given an excuse; but it was no
+excuse. In this Hinton was not blinded, even for a moment. His
+Charlotte! There, seemed a flaw in the perfect creature. His Charlotte
+had a second time turned away her confidence from him. Yes, here was the
+sting; in her trouble she would not let him comfort her. What was the
+matter? What was the mystery? What was the hidden wrong?
+
+Hinton roused himself now. As thought and clearness of judgment came
+more vividly back to him, his anger grew and his pity lessened. His mind
+was brought to bear upon a secret, for there _was_ a hidden secret. His
+remembrance travelled back to all that had happened since the day their
+marriage was fixed--since the day when he first saw a troubled look on
+Charlotte's face--and she had told him, though unwillingly, that queer
+story of Mrs. Home's. Yes, of course, he knew there was a mystery--a
+strange and dark mystery; like a coward he had turned away from
+investigating it. He had seen Uncle Jasper's nervous fear; he had seen
+Mrs. Home's poverty; he had witnessed Mr. Harman's ill-concealed
+disquietude--all this he had seen, all this he had known. But for
+Charlotte's sake, he had shut his eyes; Charlotte's sake he had
+forbidden his brain to think or his hands to work.--
+
+And now--now--ah! light was dawning. Charlotte had fathomed what he had
+feared to look at. Charlotte had seen the dread reality. The secret was
+disgraceful. Nothing else could so have changed his one love. Nothing
+but disgrace, the disgrace of the one nearest to her, could bring that
+look to her face. Scarcely had he thought this before a memory came to
+him. He started to his feet as it came back. Charlotte had said, "Before
+our wedding-day I will read my grandfather's will." Suppose she had done
+so, and her grandfather's will had been--what? Hinton began to see
+reason now in her unaccountable determination not to see Webster. She
+had doubtless resolved on that very day to go to Somerset House and read
+that fatal document. Having made up her mind she would not swerve from
+her purpose. Then, though she was firm in her determination, her face
+had been bright, her brow unfurrowed, she had still been his own dear
+and happy Charlotte. He had not seen her again until she knew all. She
+knew all, and her heart and spirit were alike broken. As this fact
+became clear to Hinton, a sense of relief and peace came over him; he
+began once more to understand the woman he loved. Beside the darkness of
+misunderstanding _her_, all other misunderstandings seemed light. She
+was still his love, his life; she was still true to herself, to the
+beautiful ideal he had enthroned in his heart of hearts. Poor darling!
+she would suffer; but he must escape. Loving him as deeply, as devotedly
+as ever, she yet would give him up, rather than that he should share in
+the downfall of her house. Ah! she did not know him. She could be great;
+but so also could he. Charlotte should see that her love was no light
+thing for any man to relinquish: she would find that it weighed heavier
+in the balance than riches, than fame; that disgrace even could not
+crush it down. Knowing all, he would go to her; she should not be alone
+in her great, great trouble; she should find out in her hour of need the
+kind of man whose heart she had won. His depression left him as he came
+to this resolve, and he scarcely spent even an anxious night. On the
+next day, however, he did not go to Charlotte; but about noon he sat
+down and wrote her the following letter:--
+
+     MY DARLING:
+
+     You gave me up yesterday. I was--I don't mind telling you this
+     now--stunned, surprised, pained. Since then, however, I have
+     thought much; all my thought has been about you. Thought sometimes
+     leads to light, and light has come to me. Charlotte, a contract
+     entered into by two takes two to undo. I refuse to undo this
+     contract. Charlotte, I refuse to give you up. You are my promised
+     wife; our banns have been read twice in church already. Have you
+     forgotten this? In the eyes of both God and man you are almost
+     mine. To break off this engagement, unless I, too, wished it, would
+     be, whatever your motive, a _sin_. Charlotte, the time has come,
+     when we may ruin all the happiness of both our lives, unless very
+     plain words pass between us. I use very plain words when I tell you
+     that I most absolutely refuse to give you up. That being so,
+     _whatever_ your motive, you are committing a sin in refusing to
+     give yourself to me. My darling, it is you I want, not your
+     money--you--not--not--But I will add no more, except one thing.
+     Charlotte, I went this morning to Somerset House, and I _read your
+     grandfather's will_.
+
+     Now, what hour shall I come to you? Any hour you name I will fly
+     to you. It is impossible for you to refuse what I demand as a
+     right. But know that, if you do refuse, I will come
+     notwithstanding.
+
+     Yours ever,
+     JOHN HINTON.
+
+This letter, being directed, was quickly posted, and in due time reached
+its address at Prince's Gate.
+
+Then a strange thing happened to it. Jasper Harman, passing through the
+hall, saw the solitary letter waiting for his niece. It was his habit to
+examine every letter that came within his reach; he took up this one for
+no particular reason, but simply from the force of this long
+established habit. But having taken it in his hand, he knew the
+writing. The letter was from Hinton, and Charlotte had told him--had
+just told him--that her engagement with Hinton was broken off, that her
+wedding was not to be. Old Jasper was beset just now by a thousand
+fears, and Charlotte's manner and Charlotte's words had considerably
+added to his alarm. There was a mystery; Charlotte could not deny that
+fact. This letter might elucidate it--might throw light where so much
+was needed. Jasper Harman felt that the contents of Hinton's letter
+might do him good and ease his mind. Without giving himself an instant's
+time for reflection, he took the letter into the dining-room, and,
+opening it, read what was meant for another. He had scarcely done so
+before Charlotte unexpectedly entered the room. To save himself from
+discovery, when he heard her step, he dropped the letter into the fire.
+Thus Charlotte never got her lover's letter.
+
+Hinton, bravely as he had spoken, was, nevertheless, pained at her
+silence. After waiting for twenty-four hours he, however, resolved to be
+true to his word. He had said to Charlotte, "If you refuse what I demand
+as a right, nevertheless I shall exercise my right. I will come to you."
+But he went with a strange sinking of heart, and when he got to Prince's
+Gate and was not admitted he scarcely felt surprised.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+"THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS."
+
+
+It is one of those everlasting truths, which experience and life teach
+us every day, that sin brings its own punishment, virtue its own reward:
+peace, the great divine reward of conscience to the virtuous; misery and
+despair, and that constant apprehension which dreads discovery, and yet
+which in itself is worse than discovery, to the transgressors.
+
+"The way of transgressors is hard."
+
+That Bible text was proving itself once more now in the cases of two old
+men. John Harman was sinking into his grave in anguish at the thought of
+facing an angry God: Jasper Harman was preparing to fly from what, alas!
+he dreaded more, the faces of his angry fellow-creatures.
+
+Yes; it had come to this with Jasper Harman; England had become too hot
+to hold him; better fly while he could. Ever since the day Hinton had
+told him that he had really and in truth heard of the safe arrival of
+the other trustee, Jasper's days and nights had been like hell to him.
+In the morning, he had wondered would the evening find him still a free
+man; in the evening, he had trembled at what might befall him before the
+morning dawned. Unaccustomed to any mental anguish, his health began to
+give way; his heart beat irregularly, unevenly, he lost his appetite; at
+night he either had bad dreams or he could not sleep. This change began
+to tell upon his appearance; his hair grew thinner and whiter, he
+stooped as he walked, there was very little apparent difference now
+between him and John.
+
+He could not bear the Harmans' house, for there he might meet Hinton. He
+dreaded his office in the City, for there the other trustee might follow
+him and publicly expose him. He liked his club best; but even there he
+felt scarcely safe, some one might get an inkling of the tale, there was
+no saying how soon such a story, so strange, so disgraceful, pertaining
+to so well-known a house as that of Harman Brothers, might get bruited
+about. Thus it came to pass that there was no place where this wretched
+old man felt safe; it became more and more clear to him day by day that
+England was too hot to hold him. All these growing feelings culminated
+in a sudden accession of terror on the day that Charlotte, with her
+strangely changed face, had asked him the truth with regard to her
+father's case, when, with the persistence of almost despair, she had
+insisted on knowing the very worst; then had quickly followed the
+announcement that her marriage had been broken off by herself; that it
+was postponed, her father thought, simply for the short remaining span
+of his own life; but Charlotte had taken little pains to conceal from
+Uncle Jasper that she now never meant to marry Hinton. What was the
+reason of it all? Jasper Harman, too, as well as Hinton, was not
+deceived by the reason given. There was something more behind. What was
+that something more?
+
+In his terror and perplexity, Jasper opened Hinton's letter. One
+sentence in that letter, never meant for him, burnt into the unhappy man
+as the very fire of hell.
+
+"I went this morning to Somerset House, and I read your grandfather's
+will."
+
+Then Jasper's worst fears had come true; the discovery was made; the
+hidden sin brought to the light, the sinners would be dragged any moment
+to punishment.
+
+Jasper must leave England that very night. Never again could he enter
+his brother's house. He must fly; he must fly at once and in secret, for
+it would never do to take any one into his confidence. Jasper Harman had
+a hard and evil heart; he was naturally cold and unloving; but he had
+one affection, he did care for his brother. In mortal terror as he was,
+he could not leave that dying brother without bidding him good-bye.
+
+John Harman had not gone to the City that day, and when Charlotte left
+the room, Jasper, first glancing at the grate to make sure that Hinton's
+letter was all reduced to ashes, stole, in his usual soft and gliding
+fashion, to John's study. He was pleased to see his brother there, and
+alone.
+
+"You are early back from the City, Jasper," said the elder brother.
+
+"Yes; there was nothing to keep me this afternoon, so I did not stay."
+
+The two old men exchanged a few more commonplaces. They were now
+standing by the hearth. Suddenly John Harman, uttering a half-suppressed
+groan, resumed his seat.
+
+"It is odd," he said, "how the insidious something which men call Death
+seems to grow nearer to me day by day. Now, as we stood together, I felt
+just a touch of the cold hand; the touch was but a feather weight, but
+any instant it will come down like a giant on its prey. It is terrible
+to stand as I do, looking into the face of Death; I mean it is terrible
+for one like me."
+
+"You are getting morbid, John," said Jasper; "you always were given to
+look on the dismals. If you must die, as I suppose and fear you must,
+why don't you rouse yourself and enjoy life while you may?"
+
+To this John Harman made no answer. After a moment or two of silence,
+during which Jasper watched him nervously, he said;--
+
+"As you have come back so early from the City, can you give me two hours
+now? I have a great deal I want to say to you."
+
+"About the past?" questioned Jasper.
+
+"About the past."
+
+Jasper Harman paused and hesitated; he knew well that he should never
+see his brother again; that this was his last request. But dare he stay?
+Two hours were very precious, and the avenger might even now be at the
+door. No; he could not waste time so precious in listening to an old,
+old tale.
+
+"Will two hours this evening do equally well, John?"
+
+"Yes, if you prefer it. I generally give the evening to Charlotte; but
+this evening, if it suits you better."
+
+"I will go now, then," said Jasper.
+
+"Charlotte has told you of her resolve?"
+
+"Yes, and I have spoken to her; but she is an obstinate minx."
+
+"Do not call her so; it is because of her love for me. I am sorry that
+she will not marry at once; but it is not, after all, a long
+postponement and it is I own, a relief, not to have to conceal my state
+of health from her."
+
+"It is useless arguing with a woman," said Jasper. "Well, good-bye,
+John."
+
+"Good-bye," said the elder Harman, in some surprise that Jasper's hand
+was held out to him.
+
+Jasper's keen eyes looked hard into John's for a moment. He wrung the
+thin hand and left the room. He had left for ever the one human being he
+loved, and even in his throat was a lump caused by something else than
+fear. But in the street and well outside that luxurious home, his love
+sank out of sight and his fear returned; he must get out of England that
+very night, and he had much to do.
+
+He pulled out his watch. Yes, there was still time. Hailing a passing
+hansom he jumped into it, and drove to his bank. There, to the
+astonishment of the cashier, he drew all the money he kept there. This
+amounted to some thousands. Jasper buttoned the precious notes into a
+pocket-book. Then he went to his lodgings and began the task of tearing
+up letters and papers which he feared might betray him. Hitherto, all
+through his life he had kept these things precious; but now they all
+went, even to his mother's portrait and the few letters she had written
+to him when a boy at school. Even he sighed as he cast these treasures
+into the fire and watched them being reduced to ashes; but though they
+had gone with him from place to place in Australia, and he had hoped
+never to part from them, he must give them up now, for, innocent as they
+looked, they might appeal against him. He must give up all the past,
+name and all, for was he not flying from the avengers? flying because of
+his sin? Oh! surely the way of transgressors was hard!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+CHARLOTTE HARMAN'S COMFORT.
+
+
+Jasper Harman did not come to his brother's house that night, but about
+the time he might be expected to arrive there came a note from him
+instead. It was plausibly written, and gave a plausible excuse for his
+absence. He told John of sudden tidings with regard to some foreign
+business. These tidings were really true. Jasper said that a
+confidential clerk had gone to the foreign port where they dealt to
+inquire into this special matter, but that he thought it best, as the
+stakes at issue were large, to go also himself, to inquire personally.
+He would not be long away, &c. &c. He would write when to expect his
+return. It was a letter so cleverly put together, as to cause no alarm
+to any one. John Harman read it, folded it up, and told Charlotte that
+they need not expect Jasper in Prince's Gate for at least a week. The
+week passed, and though Jasper had neither come nor written, there was
+no anxiety felt on his account. In the mean time affairs had outwardly
+calmed down in Prince's Gate. The agitation, which had been felt even by
+the humblest servant in the establishment had ceased. Everything had
+returned to its accustomed groove. The nine days' wonder of that put off
+wedding had ceased to be a wonder. It still, it is true, gave zest to
+conversation in the servants' hall, but upstairs it was never mentioned.
+The even routine of daily life had resumed its sway, and things looked
+something as they did before, except that Mr. Harman grew to all eyes
+perceptibly weaker, that Charlotte was very grave and pale and quiet,
+that old Uncle Jasper was no longer in and out of the house, and that
+John Hinton never came near it. The luxurious house in Prince's Gate was
+unquestionably very dull; but otherwise no one could guess that there
+was anything specially amiss there.
+
+On a certain morning, Charlotte got up, put on her walking things, and
+went out. She had not been out of doors for a week, and a sudden longing
+to be alone in the fresh outer world came over her too strongly to be
+rejected. She called a hansom and once more drove to her favorite
+Regent's Park. The park was now in all the full beauty and glory of its
+spring dress, and Charlotte sat down under the green and pleasant shade
+of a wide spreading oak-tree. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed
+straight before her. She had lived through one storm, but she knew that
+another was before her. The sky overhead was still gray and lowering;
+there was scarcely even peace in this brief lull in the tempest. In the
+first sudden fierceness of the storm she had acted nobly and bravely,
+but now that the excitement was past, there was coming to her a certain
+hardening of heart, and she was beginning to doubt the goodness of God.
+At first, most truly she had scarcely thought of herself at all, but it
+was impossible as the days went on for her not to make a moan over her
+own altered life. The path before her looked very dark, and Charlotte's
+feet had hitherto been unaccustomed to gloom. She was looking forward to
+the death, the inevitable and certainly approaching death of her father.
+That was bad, that was dreadful; but bad and dreadful as it would be to
+say good-bye to the old man, what must follow would be worse; however
+she might love him, however tenderly she might treat him, during his few
+remaining days or weeks of life, when all was over and he could return
+no more to receive men's praise or blame, then she must disgrace him,
+she must hold him up for the world's scorn. It would be impossible even
+to hope that the story would not be known, and once known it would heap
+dishonor on the old head she loved. For Charlotte, though she saw the
+sin, though the sin itself was most terrible and horrible to her, was
+still near enough to Christ in her nature to forgive the sinner. She had
+suffered; oh, how bitterly through this man! but none the less for this
+reason did she love him. But there was another cause for her heartache;
+and this was more personal. Hinton and she were parted. That was right.
+Any other course for her to have pursued would have been most distinctly
+wrong. But none the less did her heart ache and feel very sore; for how
+easily had Hinton acquiesced in her decision! She did not even know of
+his visit to the house. That letter, which would have been, whatever its
+result, like balm to her wounded spirit, had never reached her. Hinton
+was most plainly satisfied that they should meet no more. Doubtless it
+was best, doubtless in the end it would prove the least hard course; but
+none the less did hot tears fall now; none the less heavy was her
+heart. She was wiping away a tear or two, and thinking these very sad
+thoughts, when a clear little voice in her ear startled her.
+
+"My pretty lady!" said the sweet voice, and looking round Charlotte saw
+little Harold Home standing by her side. Charlotte had not seen Harold
+since his illness. He had grown taller and thinner than of old, but his
+loving eyes were fixed on her face, and now his small brown hands beat
+impatiently upon her knees.
+
+"Daisy and Angus are just round the corner," he whispered. "Let us play
+a game of hide and seek, shall we?"
+
+He pulled her hand as he spoke, and Charlotte got up to humor him at
+once. They went quickly round to the other side of the great oak-tree,
+Harold sitting down on the grass pulled Charlotte to his side.
+
+"Ah! don't speak," he said, and he put his arms round her neck.
+
+She found the feel of the little arms strangely comforting, and when a
+moment or two afterwards the others discovered them and came close with
+peals of merry laughter, she yielded at once to Harold's eager request.
+
+"May they go for a walk for half an hour, and may I stay with you,
+pretty lady?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, stooping down to kiss him.
+
+Anne promised to return at the right time, and Charlotte and Harold were
+alone. The boy, nestling close to her side, began to chatter
+confidentially.
+
+"I'm _so_ glad I came across you," he said; "you looked very dull when I
+came up, and it must be nice for you to have me to talk to, and 'tis
+very nice for me too, for I am fond of you."
+
+"I am glad of that, Harold," said Charlotte.
+
+"But I don't think you are quite such a pretty lady as you were,"
+continued the boy, raising his eyes to her face and examining her
+critically. "Mr. Hinton and I used to think you were perfectly lovely!
+You were so _bright_--yes, bright is the word. Something like a dear
+pretty cherry, or like my little canary when he's singing his very, very
+best. But you ain't a bit like my canary to-day; you have no sing in you
+to-day; ain't you happy, my pretty lady?"
+
+"I have had some trouble since I saw you last, Harold," said Charlotte.
+
+"Dear, dear!" sighed Harold, "everybody seems to have lots of trouble. I
+wonder why. No; I don't think Mr. Hinton would think you pretty to-day.
+But," as a sudden thought and memory came over him--"I suppose you are
+married by this time? Aren't you married to my Mr. Hinton by this time?"
+
+"No, dear," answered Charlotte.
+
+"But why?" questioned the inquisitive boy.
+
+"I am afraid I cannot tell you that, Harold."
+
+Harold was silent for about half a minute. He was sitting down on the
+grass close to Charlotte, and his head was leaning against her shoulder.
+After a moment he continued with a sigh,--
+
+"I guess _he's_ very sorry. He and I used to talk about you so at night
+when I had the fever. I knew then he was fond of you, nearly as fond as
+I am myself."
+
+"I am glad little Harold Home loves me," said Charlotte, soothed by the
+pretty boy's talk, and again she stooped down to kiss him.
+
+"But everybody does," said the boy. "There's father and mother, and my
+Mr. Hinton and me, myself, and above all, the blessed Jesus."
+
+A strange feeling, half pleasure, half surprise, came over Charlotte.
+
+"How do you know about that last?" she whispered.
+
+"Of course I know," replied Harold. "I know quite well. I heard father
+and mother say it; I heard them say it quite plainly one day; 'She's one
+of those blessed ones whom Jesus Christ loves very much.' Oh dear! I
+wish the children weren't back so dreadfully soon."
+
+Yes, the children and Anne had returned, and Harold had to say good-bye,
+and Charlotte herself had to retrace her steps homewards. But her walk
+had not been for nothing, and there was a new peace, a new quiet, and a
+new hope in her heart. The fact was, she just simply, without doubt or
+difficulty, believed the child. Little Harold Home had brought her some
+news. The news was strange, new, and wonderful; she did not doubt it.
+Faithful, and therefore full of faith, was this simple and upright
+nature. There was no difficulty in her believing a fact. What Harold
+said was a fact. She was one of those whom Jesus loved. Straight did
+this troubled soul fly to the God of consolation. Her religion, from
+being a dead thing, began to live. She was not friendless, she was not
+alone, she had a friend who, knowing absolutely all, still loved. At
+that moment Charlotte Harman put her hand into the hand of Christ.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+THE CHILDREN'S ATTIC.
+
+
+It was one thing for Alexander Wilson to agree to let matters alone for
+the present, and by so doing to oblige both Charlotte Home and Charlotte
+Harman, but it was quite another thing for him to see his niece, his own
+Daisy's child, suffering from poverty. Sandy had been accustomed to
+roughing it in the Australian bush. He had known what it was to go many
+hours without food, and when that food could be obtained it was most
+generally of the coarsest and commonest quality. He had known, too, what
+the cold of lying asleep in the open air meant. All that an ordinary man
+could endure had Sandy pulled through in his efforts to make a fortune.
+He had never grumbled at these hardships, they had passed over him
+lightly. He would, he considered, have been less than man to have
+complained. But nevertheless, when he entered the Home's house, and took
+possession of the poorly-furnished bedroom, and sat down day after day
+to the not too abundant meals; when he saw pretty little Daisy cry
+because her mother could not give her just what was most nourishing for
+her breakfast, and Harold, still pale and thin, having to do without the
+beef-tea which the doctor had ordered for him; when Sandy saw these
+things his heart waxed hot, and a great grumbling fit took possession of
+his kindly, genial soul. This grumbling fit reached its culminating
+point, when one day--mother, children, and maid all out--he stole up
+softly to the children's nursery. This small attic room, close to the
+roof, low, insufficiently ventilated, was altogether too much for Sandy.
+The time had come for him to act, and he was never the man to shirk
+action in any way. Charlotte Harman was all very well; that dying father
+of hers, whom he pronounced a most atrocious sinner, and took pleasure
+in so thinking him, he also was well enough, but everything could not
+give way to them. Though for the present Mr. Harman's money could not be
+touched for the Home's relief, yet Sandy's own purse was open, and that
+purse, he flattered himself, was somewhat comfortably lined. Yes, he
+must do something, and at once. Having examined with marked disgust the
+children's attic, he marched down the street. Tremins Road was long and
+narrow, but leading out of it was a row of fine new houses. These houses
+were about double the size of number ten, were nicely finished, and
+though many of them were already taken, two or three had boards up,
+announcing that they were still to let. Sandy saw the agent's name on
+the board, and went off straight to consult with him. The result of this
+consultation was that in half an hour he and the agent were all over the
+new house. Sandy went down to the basement, and thought himself
+particularly knowing in poking his nose into corners, in examining the
+construction of the kitchen-range, and expecting a copper for washing
+purposes to be put up in the scullery. Upstairs he selected a large and
+bright room, the windows of which commanded a peep of distant country.
+Here his pretty little Pet Daisy might play happily, and get back her
+rosy cheeks, and sleep well at night without coming downstairs
+heavy-eyed to breakfast. Finally he took the house on the spot, and
+ordered in paperers and painters for the following Monday.
+
+He was asked if he would like to choose the papers. "Certainly," he
+replied, inwardly resolving that the nursery should be covered with
+pictures. He appointed an hour on Monday for his selections. This day
+was Saturday. He then went to the landlord of No. 10, Tremins Road, and
+made an arrangement for the remainder of the Homes' lease. This
+arrangement cost him some money, but he reflected again with
+satisfaction that his purse was well lined. So far he had conducted his
+plans without difficulty. But his next step was not so easy; without
+saying a word to either Charlotte or her husband, he had deprived them
+of one home, while providing them with another. No doubt the new home
+was vastly superior to the old. But still it came into his mind that
+they might consider his action in the light of a liberty; in short, that
+this very peculiar and unworldly couple might be capable of taking huff
+and might refuse to go at his bidding. Sandy set his wits to work over
+this problem, and finally he concocted a scheme. He must come round this
+pair by guile. He thought and thought, and in the evening when her
+husband was out he had a long talk with his niece. By a few judiciously
+chosen words he contrived to frighten Charlotte about her husband's
+health. He remarked that he looked ill, worn, very much older than his
+years. He said, with a sigh, that when a man like Home broke down he
+never got up again. He was undermining his constitution. When had he had
+a change?
+
+"Never once since we were married," answered the wife with tears in her
+eyes.
+
+Sandy shook his head very sadly and gravely over this, and after a
+moment of reflection brought out his scheme.
+
+Easter was now over, there was no special press of parish work. Surely
+Homes' Rector would give him a holiday, and allow him to get away from
+Monday to Saturday night? Why not run away to Margate for those six
+days, and take his wife and three children with him? No, they need take
+no maid, for he, Uncle Sandy, having proposed this plan must be
+answerable for the expense. He would put them all up at a good hotel,
+and Anne could stay at home to take care of him. Of course to this
+scheme there were many objections raised. But, finally, the old
+Australian overruled them each and all. The short leave was granted by
+the Rector. The rooms at the hotel which commanded the best sea-view
+were taken by Sandy, and the Homes left 10 Tremins Road, little guessing
+that they were not to return there. When he had seen father, mother, and
+three happy little children off by an early train, Sandy returned
+quickly to Tremins Road. There he called Anne to him, and unfolded to
+the trembling and astonished girl his scheme.
+
+"We have to be in the new house as snug as snug by Saturday night, my
+girl," he said in conclusion. "We have to bring away what is worth
+moving of this furniture, and it must all be clean and fresh, for a
+clean new house. And, look here, Anne, you can't do all the work; do you
+happen to know of a good, hard-working girl, who would come and help
+you, and stay altogether if Mrs. Home happened to like her, just a
+second like yourself, my lass?"
+
+"Oh, please, sir, please, sir," answered Anne, "there's my own sister,
+she's older nor me, and more knowing. She's real 'andy, and please, sir,
+she'd like it real awful well."
+
+"Engage her by all means," said Wilson, "go at once for her. See; where
+does she live? I will pay the cab fare."
+
+"Oh, was anything so exactly like the _Family Herald_," thought Anne as
+she drove away.
+
+Uncle Sandy then went to a large West End furniture shop, and chose some
+sensible and nice furniture. The drawing-room alone he left untouched,
+for he could not pretend to understand how such a room should be rigged
+out--that must be Charlotte's province. But the nice large dining-room,
+the bedrooms, the stairs and hall, were made as sweet and gay and pretty
+as the West End shopman, who had good taste and to whom Uncle Sandy gave
+carte blanche, could devise. Finally, on Saturday, he went to a
+florist's and from there filled the windows with flowers, and Anne had
+orders to abundantly supply the larder and store-room; and now at last,
+directions being given for tea, the old man went off to meet his niece,
+her husband and her children, to conduct them to their new home.
+
+"Oh, we did have such a time," said Harold, as, brown as a berry, he
+looked up at his old great-uncle. "Didn't we, Daisy?" he added,
+appealing to his small sister, who clung to his hand.
+
+"Ess, but we 'onted 'oo, Uncle 'Andy," said the small thing, looking
+audaciously into his face, which she well knew this speech would please.
+
+"You're just a dear, little, darling duck," said Sandy, taking her in
+his arms and giving her a squeeze. But even Daisy could not quite
+monopolize him at this moment. All the success of his scheme depended on
+the next half-hour, and as they all drove back to Kentish Town, Sandy on
+the box-seat of the cab, and the father, mother, and three children
+inside, his heart beat so loud and hard, that he had to quiet it with
+some sharp inward admonitions.
+
+"Sandy Wilson, you old fool!" he said to himself more than once; "you
+have not been through the hardships of the Australian bush to be afraid
+of a moment like this. Keep yourself quiet; I'm ashamed of you."
+
+At last they drew up at the address Sandy had privately given. How
+beautiful the new house looked! The hall door stood open, and Anne's
+smiling face was seen on the threshold. The children raised a shout at
+sight of her and the flowers, which were so gay in the windows. Mr. Home
+in a puzzled kind of way was putting out his head to tell the cabby that
+he had made a mistake, and that he must just turn the corner. Charlotte
+was feeling a queer little sensation of surprise, when Uncle Sandy, with
+a face almost purple with emotion, flung open the door of the cab, took
+Daisy in his arms, and mounting her with an easy swing on to his
+shoulder said to Charlotte,--
+
+"Welcome, in the name of your dear, dead mother, Daisy Wilson, to your
+new home, Niece Lottie."
+
+The children raised a fresh shout.
+
+"Oh, come, Daisy," said Harold; she struggled to the ground and the two
+rushed in. Anne came down and took the baby, and Mr. and Mrs. Home had
+no help for it but to follow in a blind kind of way. Uncle Sandy pushed
+his niece down into one of the hall chairs.
+
+"There!" he said; "don't, for Heaven's sake, you two unpractical,
+unworldly people, begin to be angry with me. That place in Tremins Road
+was fairly breaking my heart, and I could not stand it, and
+'tis--well--I do believe 'tis let, and you _can't_ go back to it, and
+this house is yours, Niece Charlotte, and the furniture. As to the rent,
+I'll be answerable for that, and you won't refuse your own mother's
+brother. The fact was, that attic where the children slept was too much
+for me, so I had to do something. Forgive me if I practised a little bit
+of deception on you both. Now, I'm off to an hotel to-night, but
+to-morrow, if you're not too angry with your mother's brother, I'm
+coming back for good. Kept a fine room for myself, I can tell you. Anne
+shall show it to you. Trust Sandy Wilson to see to his own comforts. Now
+good-bye, and God bless you both."
+
+Away he rushed before either of the astonished pair had time to get in a
+word.
+
+"But I do think they'll forgive the liberty the old man took with them,"
+were his last waking thoughts as he closed his eyes that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+HE WEPT.
+
+
+Mr. Harman was beginning to take the outward circumstances of his life
+with great quietness. What, three months before, would have caused both
+trouble and distress, now, was received with equanimity. The fact was,
+he felt himself day by day getting so near eternity, that the things of
+time, always so disproportionately large to our worldly minds, were
+assuming to him their true proportions.
+
+John Harman was being led by a dark road of terrible mental suffering to
+his God; already he was drawing near, and the shadow of that forgiveness
+which would yet encircle him in its perfect rest and peace was at hand.
+
+Days, and even weeks, went by, and there was no news of Jasper. John
+Harman would once have been sorely perplexed, but now he received the
+fact of his brothers absence with a strange quietness, even apathy.
+Charlotte's postponed marriage, a little time back, would have also
+fretted him, but believing surely that she would be happy after his
+death, he did not now trouble; and he could not help owning to himself
+that the presence of his dearly loved daughter was a comfort too great
+to be lightly dispensed with. He was too much absorbed with himself to
+notice the strangeness of Hinton's absence, and he did not perceive, as
+he otherwise would have done, that Charlotte's face was growing thin and
+pale, and that there was a subdued, almost crushed manner about the
+hitherto spirited creature, which not even his present state of health
+could altogether account for.
+
+Yes, John Harman lived his self-absorbed life, going day by day a little
+further into the valley of the shadow of death. The valley he was
+entering looked very dark indeed to the old man, for the sin of his
+youth was still unforgiven, and he could not see even a glimpse of the
+Good Shepherd's rod and staff. Still he was searching day and night for
+some road of peace and forgiveness; he wanted the Redeemer of all the
+world to lay His hand upon his bowed old head. The mistake he was still
+making was this--he would not take God's way of peace, he must find his
+own.
+
+One evening, after Charlotte had left him, he sat for a long time in his
+study lost in thought. After a time he rose and took down once more from
+the shelf the Bible which he had opened some time before; then it had
+given him the reverse of comfort, and he scarcely, as he removed it from
+the place where he had pushed it far back out of sight, knew why he
+again touched it. He did, however, take it in his hand, and return with
+it to his chair. He drew the chair up to the table and laid the old
+Bible upon it. He opened it haphazard; he was not a man who had ever
+studied or loved the Bible; he was not acquainted with all its contents
+and the story on which his eyes rested came almost with the freshness of
+novelty.
+
+"Two men went up into the Temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the
+other a publican.
+
+"The publican would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but
+smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me, a sinner.
+
+"I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the
+other."
+
+John Harman read the story twice.
+
+"This man went down to his house justified rather than the other."
+
+The other! he fasted, and gave alms, and thanked God that he was not as
+this publican--this publican, who was a sinner.
+
+But the Bible words were clear enough and plain enough. He, the sinner,
+was justified.
+
+John Harman covered his face with his hands. Suddenly he fell on his
+knees.
+
+"God be merciful to me a sinner," he said.
+
+He said the few words twice aloud, in great anguish of spirit, and as he
+prayed he wept.
+
+Afterwards he turned over the Bible pages again. This time he read the
+story of Zacchæus.
+
+"If I have taken anything from any man, I restore him fourfold."
+
+It was very late when Mr. Harman at last went to bed, but he slept
+better that night than he had done for years. He was beginning to see
+the possible end.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+HOME'S SERMON.
+
+
+It was impossible for the Homes to refuse Uncle Sandy's kindness. Their
+natural pride and independence of character could not stand in the way
+of so graciously and gracefully offered a gift. When the old man came to
+see them the next day, he was received with all the love and gratitude
+he deserved. If he could give well, Charlotte and her husband knew how
+to receive well. He now told his niece plainly that he had come to pass
+the remainder of his days with her and hers; and father, mother, and
+children welcomed him with delight.
+
+Charlotte was now a very happy woman. The new and pretty house was
+delightful to her. She began to understand what it was not to have to
+look twice at a pound, for Uncle Sandy's purse was for ever at her
+command. When she went with her old uncle to choose the furniture for
+the new drawing room, she laughed so merrily and seemed so gay that
+Uncle Sandy informed her that she had already lost five years of her
+age. Harold and Daisy used to look into her face at this time, and say
+to one another, "Isn't our mother pretty?" For, indeed, the peace in her
+heart, and the little unexpected glow of worldly prosperity which had
+come into her life, had wonderfully softened and beautified her face.
+Her eyes, when she looked at her children's blooming faces, were often
+bright as stars. At all times now they were serene and happy. She had
+one little cross, however, one small shadow in her happy time. She
+wanted to be much--daily, if possible--with Charlotte Harman. Her heart
+yearned over Charlotte, and she would have almost neglected her children
+to give her one ray of comfort just now. But Charlotte herself had
+forbidden this daily intercourse.
+
+"I love you, Charlotte," she had said, "and I know that you love me. But
+at present we must not meet. I cannot leave my father to go to see you,
+and you must not come here, for I cannot risk the chance of seeing you.
+He may question me, and I shall not be able to answer his questions. No,
+Charlotte, we must not meet."
+
+Charlotte Home felt much regret at this. Failing Charlotte Harman, she
+turned her attention to Hinton. She was fully resolved that no stone
+should remain unturned by her to enable those two yet to marry, and she
+thought she might best effect her object by seeing the young man. She
+wrote to him, asking him to call, telling him that she had much of
+importance to tell him; but both from his private address and also from
+his chambers the letters were, in due course of time, returned. Hinton
+was not in town, and had left no clue to his whereabouts. Thus she was
+cut off from helping, in any way, those who were in great darkness, and
+this fact was an undoubted sorrow to her. Yes, Mrs. Home was full of
+pity for Charlotte, full of pity for Charlotte's lover. But it is to be
+feared that both she and Uncle Sandy retained a strong sense of
+indignation towards the one who had caused the anguish--towards the one,
+therefore, on whom the heaviest share of the punishment fell. Very
+terrible was it for Charlotte, very terrible for Hinton. But were they
+asked to tell their true feeling towards old John Harman, they might
+have whispered, "Serve him right." There was one, however, besides his
+daughter, whose warmest sympathies, whose most earnest and passionate
+prayers were beginning day by day and night by night, to centre more and
+more round the suffering and guilty man, and that one was the curate,
+Home. Angus Home had never seen John Harman, but his sin and his
+condition were ever before him. He was a dying man, and--he was a
+sinner. With strong tears and lamentation did this man cry to God for
+his fellow man. His tears and his prayers brought love for the sinner.
+Angus Home would have gladly died to bring John Harman back to God.
+
+One Saturday night he sat up late over his sermon. He was not an
+eloquent preacher, but so earnest was his nature, so intense his
+realization of God's love and of the things unseen, that it was
+impossible for his words not to be winged with the rare power of
+earnestness. He was neither gifted with language nor with imagination;
+but he could tell plain truths in such a way that his hearers often
+trembled as they listened. At such times he looked like an avenging
+angel. For the man, when he felt called on to rebuke sin, was very
+jealous for his God. Then, again, he could whisper comfort; he could
+bring down Heaven, and looked, when he spoke of the land which is very
+far off, as though even now, and even here, his eyes were seeing the
+King in His beauty. Nevertheless, so little was that real power of his
+understood, so much better were empty words gracefully strung together
+preferred, that Home was seldom asked to preach in the large parish
+church. His congregation were generally the very poorest of his flock.
+These very poor folks learned to love their pastor, and for them he
+would very gladly spend and be spent. He was to preach to-morrow in a
+small iron building to these poor people. He now sat up late to prepare
+his sermon. He found himself, however, sadly out of tune for this work.
+He took his Bible in hand and turned page after page; he could find no
+suitable text; he could fix his attention on no particular line of
+argument. He unlocked a drawer, and took from thence a pile of old
+sermons; should he use one of these? He looked through and through his
+store. None pleased, none satisfied him. Finally, overcome by a sudden
+feeling, he forgot his sermon of to-morrow. He pushed his manuscripts
+aside, and fell on his knees. He was in terror about the soul of John
+Harman, and he prayed for him in groans that seemed almost as though
+they must rend the heavens in their pleadings for a reply. "Lord, spare
+the man. Lord, hear me; hear me when I plead with Thee. It was for
+sinners such as he Thou didst die. Oh, spare! oh, save!--save this great
+sinner. Give me his soul, Lord. Lord, give me his soul to bring to Thee
+in Heaven." He went up to bed in the early hours of the May morning
+quite exhausted. He had absolutely forgotten his sermon. He had not
+prepared a word for his congregation for the next day. Before he went to
+church he remembered this. There was no help for it now. He could but
+put two of his already prepared sermons in his pocket and set out. He
+was to read the service as well as to preach the sermon. There were
+about sixty poor people present. Charlotte and the children went to the
+parish church. There was not a really well-dressed person in all his
+congregation. He had just finished reading the Absolution when a slight
+stir near the door attracted his attention. He raised his eyes to see
+the verger leading up the centre aisle an old man with bowed head and
+silver hair, accompanied by a young woman. The young woman Home
+recognized at a glance. She was Charlotte Harman; the old man then was
+her father. He did not ask himself why they had come here or how, but
+instantly he said to his own heart, with a great throb of ecstatic joy,
+"God has heard my prayer; that soul is to be mine." When he mounted the
+pulpit stairs he had absolutely forgotten his written sermons. For the
+first time he stood before his congregation without any outward aid of
+written words, or even notes. He certainly did not need them, for his
+heart was full. Out of that heart, burning with love so intense as to be
+almost divine, he spoke. I don't think he used any text, but he told
+from beginning to end the old, old tale of the Prodigal Son. He told it
+as, it seemed to his congregation, that wonderful story had never been
+told since the Redeemer Himself had first uttered the words. He
+described the far country, the country where God was not; and the people
+were afraid and could scarcely draw their breath. Then he told of the
+Father's forgiveness and the Father's welcome home; and the
+congregation, men and women alike, hid their faces and wept. Added to
+his earnestness God had given to him the great gift of eloquence to-day.
+The people said afterwards they scarcely knew their pastor. There was
+not a dry eye in his church that morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+A SINNER.
+
+
+Home went back to his new and pretty house and sat down with his wife
+and children, and waited. He would not even tell Charlotte of these
+unlooked-for additions to his small congregation. When she asked him if
+he had got on well, if his sermon had been a difficulty, he had
+answered, with a light in his eyes, that God had been with him. After
+this the wife only took his hand and pressed it. She need question no
+further: but even she wondered at the happy look on his face.
+
+He had two more services for that day, and also schools to attend, and
+through all his duties, which seemed to come without effort or
+annoyance, he still waited. He knew as well as if an angel had told him
+that he should see more of Mr. Harman. Had he been less assured of this
+he would have taken some steps himself to secure a meeting; he would
+have gone to the daughter, he would have done he knew not what. But
+having this firm assurance, he did not take any steps; he believed what
+God wished him to do was quietly to wait.
+
+When he went out on Monday morning he left word with his wife where he
+might be found without trouble or delay, if wanted.
+
+"Is any one ill in the congregation?" she inquired.
+
+"Some one is ill, but not in the congregation," he answered.
+
+He came home, however, late on Monday night, to find that no one had
+sent, no one in particular had inquired for him. Still his faith was not
+at all shaken; he still knew that Harman's soul was to be given to him,
+and believing that he would like to see him, he felt that he should yet
+be summoned to his side.
+
+On Tuesday morning prayers were to be read in the little iron church.
+Never full even on Sundays, this one weekday service was very miserably
+attended. Home did not often take it, the duty generally devolving on
+the youngest curate in the place. He was hurrying past to-day, having
+many sick and poor to attend to, when he met young Davenport--a curate
+only just ordained.
+
+"I am glad I met you," said the young man, coming up at once and
+addressing the older clergyman with a troubled face. "There would not
+have been time to have gone round to your place. See, I have had a
+telegram; my father is ill. I want to catch a train at twelve o'clock to
+go and see him; I cannot if I take this service. Will it be possible for
+you to do the duty this morning?"
+
+"Perfectly possible," answered Home heartily. "Go off at once, my dear
+fellow; I will see to things for you until you return."
+
+The young man was duly grateful, and hurried away at once, and Home
+entered the little building. The moment he did so he saw the reason of
+it all. Mr. Harman was in the church; he was in the church and alone.
+His daughter was not with him. There was no sermon that day, and the
+short morning prayers were quickly over. The half-dozen poor who had
+come in went out again; but Mr. Harman did not stir. Home took off his
+surplice, and hurried down the church. He meant now to speak to Mr.
+Harman, if Mr. Harman did not speak to him; but he saw that he would
+speak. As he approached the pew the white-headed old man rose slowly and
+came to meet him.
+
+"Sir, I should like to say a few words to you."
+
+"As many as you please, my dear sir; I am quite at your service."
+
+Home now entered the pew and sat down.
+
+"Shall we talk here or in the vestry?" he inquired, after a moment's
+silence.
+
+"I thought perhaps you would come to my house later on," said Mr.
+Harman. "I have a long story to tell you; I can tell it best at home. I
+am very ill, or I would come to you. May I expect you this evening?"
+
+"I will certainly come," answered Home. "What is your address?"
+
+Mr. Harman gave it. Then, after a pause, he added--
+
+"I seek you as a minister."
+
+"And I come to you as a servant of God," replied the curate, now fixing
+his eyes on his companion.
+
+Mr. Harman's gaze did not quail before that steady look. With an
+unutterable sadness he returned it fully. Then he said,
+
+"I came here on Sunday."
+
+"I saw you," answered Home.
+
+"Ah! can it be possible that you preached to me?"
+
+"To you, if you think so. I spoke to every sinner in the congregation."
+
+"You spoke of a land where God is not; you described the terrible
+country well."
+
+"An arid land?" answered Home.
+
+"Ay, a thirsty land."
+
+"Those that find it so generally find also that they are being led back
+to a land where God is."
+
+"You believe, then, in the forgiveness of sin?"
+
+"If I did not I should go mad."
+
+"My good sir, you are not much of a sinner."
+
+"I am a sinner, sir; and if I were not--if I dared to lift up my eyes to
+a holy, a righteous God, and say, 'I am pure'--I yet, if I did not
+believe as fully as I am now sitting by your side in the perfect
+forgiveness of sin, I yet should go mad; for I have seen other men's
+sins and other men's despair; I should lose my reason for their sakes,
+if not for my own."
+
+"Should you, indeed? You see now before you a despairing man and a dying
+man."
+
+"And a sinner?" questioned Home.
+
+"Ay, ay, God knows, a sinner."
+
+"Then I see also before me a man whose despair can be changed to peace,
+and his sin forgiven. What hour shall I call upon you this evening?"
+
+Mr. Harman named the hour. Then he rose feebly; Home gave him his arm
+and conducted him to his carriage; afterwards he re-entered the church
+to pray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+A HIDDEN SIN.
+
+
+Nine o' clock in the evening was the hour named by Mr. Harman, and
+punctually at that hour Home arrived at Prince's Gate. He was a man who
+had never been known to be late for an appointment; for in little things
+even, this singular man was faithful to the very letter of the trust.
+This nice observance of his passed word, in a great measure counteracted
+his otherwise unpractical nature. Home was known by all his
+acquaintances to be a most dependable man.
+
+Mr. Harman had told Charlotte that he was expecting a friend to visit
+him. He said he should like to see that friend alone; but, contrary to
+his wont, he did not mention his name. This cannot be wondered at, for
+Mr. Harman knew of no connection between the Homes and Charlotte. He had
+chosen this man of God, above his fellow-men, because he had been
+haunted and impressed by his sermon, but he scarcely himself even knew
+his name. It so happened, however, that Charlotte saw Mr. Home entering
+her father's study. It is not too much to say that the sight nearly took
+her breath away, and that she felt very considerable disquietude.
+
+"Sit here," said Mr. Harman to his guest.
+
+The room had been comfortably prepared, and when Home entered Mr. Harman
+got up and locked the door; then, sitting down opposite to Home, and
+leaning a little forward, he began at once without preface or preamble.
+
+"I want to tell you without reservation the story of my life."
+
+"I have come to listen," answered Home.
+
+"It is the story of a sin."
+
+Home bent his head.
+
+"It is the story of a successfully hidden sin--a sin hidden from all the
+world for three and twenty years."
+
+"A crushing weight such a sin must have been," answered the clergyman.
+"But will you just tell me all from the beginning?"
+
+"I will tell you all from the beginning. A hidden sin is, as you say,
+heavy enough to crush a man into hell. But I will make no more preface.
+Sir, I had the misfortune to lose a very noble mother when I was young.
+When I was ten years old, and my brother (I have one brother) was eight,
+our mother died! We were but children, you will say; but I don't, even
+now that I am a dying, sinful old man, forget my mother. She taught us
+to pray and to shun sin. She also surrounded us with such high and holy
+thoughts--she so gave us the perfection of all pure mother love, that we
+must have been less than human not to be good boys during her lifetime.
+I remember even now the look in her eyes when I refused on any childish
+occasion to follow the good, and then chose the evil. I have a
+daughter--one beloved daughter, something like my mother. I have seen
+the same high and honorable light in her eyes, but never since in any
+others. Well, my mother died, and Jasper and I had only her memory to
+keep us right. We used to talk about her often, and often fretted for
+her as, I suppose, few little boys before or since have fretted for a
+mother. After her death we were sent to school. Our father even then was
+a rich man: he was a self-made man; he started a business in a small way
+in the City, but small beginnings often make great endings, and the
+little business grew, and grew, and success and wealth came almost
+without effort. Jasper and I never knew what poverty meant. I loved
+learning better than my brother did, and at the age of eighteen, when
+Jasper went into our father's business, I was sent to Oxford. At
+twenty-two I had taken my degree, and done so, not perhaps brilliantly,
+but with some honor. Any profession was now open to me, and my father
+gave me full permission to choose any walk in life I chose; at the same
+time he made a proposal. He was no longer so young as he had been; he
+had made his fortune; he believed that Jasper's aptitude for business
+excelled his own. If we would become partners in the firm which he had
+made, and which was already rising into considerable eminence, he would
+retire altogether. We young men should work the business in our own way.
+He was confident we should rise to immense wealth. While making this
+proposal our father said that he would not give up his business to
+Jasper alone. If both his sons accepted it, then he would be willing to
+retire, taking with him a considerable sum of money, but still leaving
+affairs both unencumbered and flourishing. 'You are my heirs
+eventually.' he said to us both; 'and now I give you a week to decide.'
+At the end of the allotted time we accepted the offer. This was
+principally Jasper's doing, for at that time I knew nothing of business,
+and had thought of a profession. Afterwards I liked the counting-house,
+and became as absorbed as others in the all-engrossing accumulation of
+wealth. Our father had taken a very large sum of money out of the
+business, and it was impossible for us not to feel for a time a
+considerable strain; but Jasper's skill and talent were simply
+wonderful, and success attended all our efforts.
+
+"Two years after I joined the business, I married my Charlotte's mother.
+I was a wealthy man even then. Though of no birth in particular, I was
+considered gentlemanly. I had acquired that outward polish which a
+university education gives; I was also good-looking. With my money, good
+looks, and education, I was considered a match for the proud and very
+poor daughter of an old Irish baronet. She had no money; she had nothing
+but her beautiful face, her high and honorable spirit, her blue blood.
+You will say, 'Enough!' Ay, it was more than enough. She made me the
+best, the truest of wives. I never loved another woman. She was a little
+bit extravagant. She had never known wealth until she became my wife,
+and wealth, in the most innocent way in the world, was delightful to
+her. While Jasper saved, I was tempted to live largely. I took an
+expensive house--there was no earthly good thing I would not have given
+to her. She loved me; but, as I said, she was proud. Pride in birth and
+position was perhaps her only fault. I was perfect in her eyes, but she
+took a dislike to Jasper. This I could have borne, but it pained me when
+I saw her turning away from my old father. I dearly loved and respected
+my father, and I wanted Constance to love him, but she never could be
+got to care for him. It was at that time, that that thing happened which
+was the beginning of all the after darkness and misery.
+
+"My father, finding my proud young wife not exactly to his taste, came
+less and less to our house. Finally, he bought an old estate in
+Hertfordshire, and then one day the news reached us that he had engaged
+himself to a very young girl, and that he would marry at once. There was
+nothing wrong in this marriage, but Jasper and I chose to consider it a
+sin. We had never forgotten our mother, and we thought it a dishonor to
+her. We forgot our father's loneliness. In short, we were unreasonable
+and behaved as unreasonably as unreasonable men will on such occasions.
+Hot and angry words passed between our father and ourselves. We neither
+liked our father's marriage nor his choice. Of course, we were scarcely
+likely to turn the old man from his purpose, but we refused to have
+anything to do with his young wife. Under such circumstances we had an
+open quarrel. Our father married, and we did not see him for years. I
+was unhappy at this, for I loved my father. Before his second marriage,
+he always spent from Saturday to Monday at our house, and though my own
+wife not caring for him greatly marred our pleasure, yet now that the
+visits had absolutely ceased I missed them--I missed the gray head and
+the shrewd, old, kindly face; and often, very often, I almost resolved
+to run down into Hertfordshire and make up my quarrel. I did not do so,
+however; and as the years went on, I grew afraid to mention my father's
+name to either my wife or brother. Jasper and I were at this time deeply
+absorbed in speculation; our business was growing and growing; each
+thing we embarked in turned out well; we were beginning quite to recover
+from the strain which our father's removal of so large a sum of money
+had caused. Jasper was a better man of business than I was. Jasper,
+though the junior partner, took the lead in all plans. He proposed that
+an Australian branch of our business should be opened. It was done, and
+succeeded well.
+
+"About this time we heard that a little son had arrived at the Hermitage
+in Hertfordshire. He did not live long. We saw his birth announced in
+_The Times_. It may have been some months later, though, looking back on
+it, it seems but a few days, that the birth was followed by the death. A
+year or two passed away, and my wife and I were made happy by the
+arrival of our first child. The child was a daughter. We called her
+Charlotte, after my much-loved mother. Time went on, until one day a
+telegram was put into my hand summoning my brother and myself to our
+father's deathbed. The telegram was sent by the young wife. I rushed off
+at once; Jasper followed by the next train.
+
+"The hale old man had broken up very suddenly at last, and the doctor
+said he had but a few days to live. During those few days, Jasper and I
+scarcely left his bedside; we were reconciled fully and completely, and
+he died at last murmuring my own mother's name and holding our hands.
+
+"It was during this visit that I saw the little wife for the first time.
+She was a commonplace little thing, but pretty and very young; it was
+impossible to dislike the gentle creature. She was overpowered with
+grief at her husband's death. It was impossible not to be kind to her,
+not to comfort her. There was one child, a girl of about the age of my
+own little Charlotte. This child had also been named Charlotte. She was
+a pale, dark-eyed child, with a certain strange look of my mother about
+her. She was not a particle like her own. My father loved this little
+creature, and several times during those last days of his he spoke of
+her to me.
+
+"'I have called her after your own mother,' he said. 'I love my second
+wife; but the Charlotte of my youth can never be forgotten. I have
+called the child Charlotte; you have called your daughter Charlotte.
+Good! let the two be friends.'
+
+"I promised readily enough, and I felt pity and interest for the little
+forlorn creature. I also, as I said, intended to be good to the mother,
+who seemed to me to be incapable of standing alone.
+
+"Immediately after my father's death and before the funeral, I was
+summoned hastily to town. My wife was dangerously ill. A little dead
+baby had come into the world, and for a time her life was despaired of;
+eventually she got better; but for the next few days I lived and thought
+only for her. I turned over all business cares to Jasper. I was unable
+even to attend our father's funeral. I never day or night left
+Constance's bedside. I loved this woman most devotedly, most
+passionately. During all those days when her life hung in the balance,
+my time seemed one long prayer to God. 'Spare her, spare her precious
+life at any cost, at any cost.' Those were the words, forever on my
+lips. The prayer was heard; I had my wife again. For a short time she
+was restored to me. I have often thought since, was even that precious
+life worth the price I paid for it?"
+
+Here Mr. Harman paused. Some moisture had gathered on his brow; he took
+out his handkerchief to wipe it away. A glass of water stood by his
+side; he drank a little.
+
+"I am approaching the sin," he said addressing the clergyman. "The
+successfully buried sin is about to rise from its grave; pardon me if I
+shrink from the awful sight."
+
+"God will strengthen you, my dear sir," answered Home. "By your
+confession, you are struggling back into the right path. What do I say?
+Rather you are being led back by God himself. Take courage. Lean upon
+the Almighty arm. Your sin will shrink in dimensions as you view it; for
+between you and it will come forgiveness."
+
+Mr. Harman smiled faintly, After another short pause, he continued.
+
+"On the day on which my dear wife was pronounced out of danger, Jasper
+sent for me. My brother and I had ever been friends, though in no one
+particular were we alike. During the awful struggle through which I had
+just passed. I forgot both him and my father. Now I remembered him and
+my father's death, and our own business cares. A thousand memories came
+back to me. When he sent for me I left my wife's bedside and went down
+to him. I was feeling weak and low, for I had not been in bed for many
+nights, and a kind of reaction had set in. I was in a kind of state when
+a man's nerves can be shaken, and his whole moral equilibrium upset. I
+do not offer this as an excuse for what followed. There is no excuse for
+the dark sin; but I do believe enough about myself to say that what I
+then yielded to, I should have been proof against at a stronger physical
+moment. I entered my private sitting-room to find Jasper pacing up and
+down like a wild creature. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair tossed. He
+was a calm and cheerful person generally. At this instant, he looked
+like one half bereft of reason. 'Good heavens! what is wrong?' I said. I
+was startled out of myself by his state of perturbation.
+
+"'We are ruined; that is what is wrong,' answered Jasper.
+
+"He then entered into particulars with which I need not trouble you. A
+great house, one of the greatest and largest houses in the City, had
+come to absolute grief; it was bankrupt. In its fall many other houses,
+ours amongst them, must sink.
+
+"I saw it all quite plainly. I sat down quiet and stunned; while Jasper
+raved and swore and paced up and down the room, I sat still. Yes we
+were, beggars, nothing could save the house which our father had made
+with such pride and care.
+
+"After a time I left Jasper and returned to my wife's room. On the way I
+entered the nursery and paid my pretty little Charlotte a visit. She
+climbed on my knee and kissed me, and all the time I kept saying to
+myself, 'The child is a beggar, I can give her no comforts; we are
+absolutely in want.' It was the beginning of the winter then, and the
+weather was bitterly cold. The doctor met me on the threshold of my
+wife's room; he said to me, 'As soon as ever she is better, you must
+either take or send her out of England. She may recover abroad; but to
+winter in this climate, in her present state, would certainly kill her.'
+How bitter I felt; for was I not a beggar? How could I take my wife
+away? I sat down again in the darkened room and thought over the past.
+Hitherto the wealth, which was so easily won, seemed of comparatively
+small importance. It was easy with a full purse to wish, then to obtain.
+I had often wondered at Constance's love for all the pretty things with
+which I delighted to surround her, her almost childish pleasure in the
+riches which had come to her. She always said to me at such times:
+
+"'But I have known such poverty; I hate poverty, and I love, I love the
+pretty things of life.'
+
+"This very night, as I sat by her bedside, she opened her lovely eyes
+and looked at me and said:
+
+"'John, I have had such a dream so vivid, so, so terrible. I thought we
+were poor again--poorer than I ever was even with my father; so poor,
+John, that I was hungry, and you could give me nothing to eat. I begged
+you to give me food. There was a loaf in a shop window, such a nice
+crisp loaf; and I was starving. When you said you had no money, I begged
+of you to steal that loaf. You would not, you would not, and at last I
+lay down to die. Oh! John, say it was a dream.'
+
+"'Of course it was only a dream, my darling!' I answered, and I kissed
+her and soothed her, though all the time my heart felt like lead.
+
+"That evening Jasper sent for me again. His manner now was changed. The
+wildness and despair had left it. He was his old, cool, collected self.
+He was in the sort of mood when he always had an ascendency over me--the
+sort of mood when he showed that wonderful business faculty for which I
+could not but admire him.
+
+"'Sit down, John,' he said, 'I have a great deal to say to you. There is
+a plan in my head. If you will agree to act with me in it, we may yet be
+saved.'
+
+"Thinking of my Constance lying so ill upstairs, my heart leaped up at
+these words.
+
+"'What is your plan?' I said. 'I can stay with you for some time. I can
+listen as long as you like.'
+
+"'You hate poverty?' said Jasper.
+
+"'Yes,' I said, thinking of Constance, 'I hate it.'
+
+"'If you will consent to my scheme; if you will consent before you leave
+this room, we need not sink with Cooper, Cooper and Bennett.'
+
+"'I will listen to you,' I said.
+
+"'You have always been so absorbed lately in your wife,' continued
+Jasper, 'that you have, I really believe, forgotten our father's death:
+his funeral was last Thursday. Of course you could not attend it. After
+the funeral I read the will.'
+
+"'Yes,' I said, 'I had really forgotten my father's will. He left us
+money?' I said. 'I am glad; it will keep us from absolute want.
+Constance need not be hungry after all.'
+
+"My brother looked at me.
+
+"'A little money has been left to us,' he said, 'but so little that it
+must go with the rest. In the general crash those few thousands must
+also go. John, you remember when our father took that very large sum out
+of the business, he promised that we should be his heirs. It was a loan
+for his lifetime.'
+
+"'He had not married then,' I said.
+
+"'No,' answered Jasper, 'he had not married. Now that he has married he
+has forgotten all but this second wife. He has left her, with the
+exception of a few thousands, the whole of that fine property. In short,
+he has left her a sum of money which is to realize an income of twelve
+hundred a year.'
+
+"'Yes,' I said, wearily.
+
+"Jasper looked at me very hard. I returned his gaze.
+
+"'That money, if left to us, would save the firm. _Quite absolutely save
+the firm in this present crisis_,' he said, slowly and emphatically.
+
+"'Yes,' I said again. I was so innocent, so far from what I since
+became, at that moment, that I did not in the least understand my
+brother. 'The money is not ours,' I said, seeing that his eyes were
+still fixed on me with a greedy intense light.
+
+"'If my father were alive now,' said Jasper, rising to his feet and
+coming to my side, 'if my father were alive now, he would break his
+heart, to see the business which he made with such pride and skill, come
+to absolute grief. If my father were still alive; if that crash had come
+but a fortnight ago, he would say, 'Save the firm at any cost.'
+
+"'But he is dead,' I said, 'we cannot save the firm. What do you mean,
+Jasper? I confess I cannot see to what you are driving.'
+
+"'John,' said my brother, 'you are stupid. If our father could speak to
+us now, he would say, 'Take the money, all the money I have left, and
+save the firm of Harman Brothers.'
+
+"'You mean,' I said, 'you mean that we--we are to _steal_ that money,
+the money left to the widow, and the fatherless?'
+
+"I understood the meaning now. I staggered to my feet. I could have
+felled my brother to the ground. He was my brother, my only brother; but
+at that moment, so true were my heart's instincts to the good and
+right, that I loathed him. Before however, I could say a word, or utter
+a reproach, a message came to me from my wife. I was wanted in my wife's
+room instantly, she was excited, she was worse. I flew away without a
+word.
+
+"'Come back again, I will wait for you here,' called after me my
+brother.
+
+"I entered Constance's room. I think she was a little delirious. She was
+still talking about money, about being hungry and having no money to buy
+bread. Perhaps a presentiment of _the_ evil news had come to her. I had
+to soothe, to assure her that all she desired should be hers. I even
+took my purse out and put it into her burning hand. At last she believed
+me; she fell asleep with her hand in mine. I dared not stir from her;
+and all the time as I sat far into the night, I thought over Jasper's
+words. They were terrible words, but I could not get them out of my
+head, they were burning like fire into my brain. At last Constance
+awoke; she was better, and I could leave her. It was now almost morning.
+I went to my study, for I could not sleep. To my surprise, Jasper was
+still there. It was six hours since I had left him, but he had not
+stirred.
+
+"'John,' he said, seeing that I shrank from him, 'you must hear me out.
+Call my plan by as ugly a name as you like, no other plan will save the
+firm. John, will you hear me speak?'
+
+"'Yes, I will hear you,' I said. I sank down on the sofa. My head was
+reeling. Right and wrong seemed confused. I said to myself, My brain is
+so confused with grief and perplexity that it is no matter what Jasper
+says just now, for I shall not understand him. But I found to my
+surprise, almost to my horror, that I understood with startling
+clearness every word. This was Jasper's plan. There were three trustees
+to the will; I was one, my brother Jasper another, a third was a man by
+the name of Alexander Wilson. He was brother to my father's second wife.
+This Alexander Wilson I had never seen. Jasper had seen him once. He
+described him to me as a tall and powerful man with red hair. 'He is the
+other trustee,' said my brother, 'and he is dead.'
+
+"'Dead!' I said, starting.
+
+"'Yes, he is without doubt dead; here is an account of his death.'
+
+"Jasper then opened an Australian paper and showed me the name, also
+the full account of a man who answered in all particulars to the
+Alexander Wilson named as a third trustee. Jasper then proceeded to
+unfold yet further his scheme.
+
+"That trustee being dead, we were absolute masters of the situation, we
+could appropriate that money. The widow knew nothing yet of her
+husband's will; she need never know. The sum meant for her was, under
+existing circumstances, much too large. She should not want, she should
+have abundance. But we too should not want. Were our father living he
+would ask us to do this. We should save ourselves and the great house of
+Harman Brothers. In short, to put the thing in plain language, we
+should, by stealing the widow's money, save ourselves. By being
+faithless to our most solemn trust, we could keep the filthy lucre. I
+will not say how I struggled. I did struggle for a day; in the evening I
+yielded. I don't excuse myself in the very least. In the evening I fell
+as basely as a man could fall. I believe in my fall I sank even lower
+than Jasper. I said to him, 'I cannot bear poverty, it will kill
+Constance, and Constance must not die; but you must manage everything. I
+can go into no details; I can never, never as long as I live, see that
+widow and child. You must see them, you must settle enough, abundance on
+them, but never mention their names to me. I can do the deed, but the
+victims must be dead to me.'
+
+"To all this Jasper promised readily enough. He promised and acted. All
+went, outwardly, smoothly and well; there was no hitch, no outward flaw,
+no difficulty, the firm was saved; none but we two knew how nearly it
+had been engulfed in hopeless shipwreck. It recovered itself by means of
+that stolen money, and flew lightly once again over the waters of
+prosperity. Yes, our house was saved, and from that hour my happiness
+fled. I had money, money in abundance and to spare; but I never knew
+another hour, day or night, of peace. I had done the deed to save my
+wife, but I found that, though God would give me that cursed wealth, He
+yet would take away my idol for whom I had sacrificed my soul. Constance
+only grew well enough to leave England. We wintered abroad, and at
+Cannes, surrounded by all that base money could supply, she closed her
+eyes. I returned home a widower, and the most wretched man on the face
+of the earth. Soon after, the Australian branch of our business growing
+and growing, Jasper found it well to visit that country. He did so, and
+stayed away many years. Soon after he landed, he wrote to tell me that
+he had seen the grave of Alexander Wilson; that he had made many
+inquiries about him, and that now there was not the least shadow of
+doubt that the other trustee was dead. He said that our last fears of
+discovery might now rest.
+
+"Years went by, and we grew richer and richer; all we put our hands to
+prospered. Money seemed to grow for us on every tree. I could give my
+one child all that wealth could suggest. She grew up unsullied by what
+was eating into me as a canker. She was beautiful alike in mind and
+body; she was and is the one pure and lovely thing left to me. She
+became engaged to a good and honorable man. He had, it is true, neither
+money nor position, but I had learned, through all these long years of
+pain, to value such things at their true worth. Charlotte should marry
+where her heart was. I gave her leave to engage herself to Hinton.
+Shortly after that engagement, Jasper, my brother, returned from
+Australia. His presence, reminding me, as it did, day and night, of my
+crime, but added to my misery of soul. I was surprised, too, to see how
+easily what was dragging me to the very gate of hell seemed to rest on
+him. I could never discover, narrowly as I watched him, that he was
+anything but a happy man. One evening, after spending some hours in his
+presence, I fainted away quite suddenly. I was alone when this fainting
+fit overtook me. I believe I was unconscious for many hours. The next
+day I went to consult a doctor. Then and there, in that great
+physician's consulting-room, I learned that I am the victim of an
+incurable complaint; a complaint that must end my life, must end it
+soon, and suddenly. In short, the doctor said to me, not in words, but
+by look, by manner, by significant hand pressure, and that silent
+sympathy which speaks a terrible fact. 'Prepare to meet thy God.' Since
+the morning I left the doctor's presence I have been trying to prepare;
+but between God and me stands my sin. I cannot get a glimpse of God. I
+wait, and wait, but I only see the awful sin of my youth. In short, sir,
+I am in the far country where God is not."
+
+"To die so would be terrible," said Mr. Home.
+
+"To die so will be terrible, sir; in, short, it will be hell."
+
+"Do not put it in the future tense, Mr. Harman, for you that day is
+past."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that even now, though you know it not, you are no longer in the
+far country. You are the prodigal son if you like, but you are on the
+road back to the Father. You are on the homeward road, and the Father is
+looking out for you. When you come to die you will not be alone, the
+hand of God will hold yours, and the smile of a forgiving God will say
+to you, as the blessed Jesus said once to a poor sinful woman, who yet
+was not _half_ as great a sinner as you are, 'Thy sins, which are many,
+are forgiven thee.'"
+
+"You believe then in the greatness of my sin?"
+
+"I believe, I _know_ that your sin was enormous; but so also is your
+repentance."
+
+"God knows I repent," answered Mr. Harman.
+
+"Yes; when you asked me to visit you, and when you poured out that story
+in my ears, your long repentance and anguish of heart were beginning to
+find vent."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you will make reparation."
+
+"Ay, indeed I am more than willing. Zacchæus restored fourfold."
+
+"Yes, the road for you, straight to the bosom of the Father, is very
+prickly and full of sharp thorns. You have held a high character for
+honor and respectability. You have a child who loves you, who has
+thought you perfect. You must step down from your high pedestal. You
+must renounce the place you have held in your child's heart. In short,
+you must let your only child, and also the cold, censorious world, see
+you as God has seen you for so long."
+
+"I don't mind the world, but--my child--my only child," said Mr. Harman,
+and now he put up his trembling hands and covered his face. "That is a
+very hard road," he said after a pause.
+
+"There is no other back to the Father," answered the clergyman.
+
+"Well, I will take it then, for I _must_ get back to Him. You are a man
+of God. I put myself in your hands. What am I to do?"
+
+"You put yourself not into my hands, sir, but into the loving and
+merciful hands of my Lord Christ. The course before you is plain. You
+must find out those you have robbed; you must restore all, and ask these
+wronged ones' forgiveness. When they forgive, the peace of God will
+shine into your heart."
+
+"You mean the widow and the child. But I do not know anything of them; I
+have shut my eyes to their fate."
+
+"The widow is dead, but the child lives; I happen to know her; I can
+bring her to you."
+
+"Can you? How soon?"
+
+"In an hour and a half from now if you like. I should wish you to rest
+in that peace I spoke of before morning. Shall I bring her to-night?"
+
+"Yes, I will see her; but first, first, will you pray with me?"
+
+Mr. Home knelt down at once. The gray-headed and sinful man knelt by his
+side. Then the clergyman hurried away to fetch his wife.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+THE PRINCE OF PEACE.
+
+
+It was very nearly midnight when Mr. Home, entering the sitting-room
+where his wife waited up for him, asked her to come with him at once.
+
+"There is a hansom at the door," he said, "put on your bonnet and come.
+I will tell you all as we drive along; come at once, we have not a
+moment to lose."
+
+Charlotte Home, accustomed as Home's wife to imperative demands, only
+thought of a night's nursing of some specially poor patient. She rose
+without a word, and in two minutes they were driving, as fast as a fleet
+horse could take them to Prince's Gate.
+
+"Charlotte," said her husband, taking her hand, "God has heard my
+prayer, God has given me the man's soul."
+
+"Whose soul, my dearest?"
+
+"The soul of John Harman. Charlotte, I have prayed as I never prayed
+before in all my life for that guilty and troubled sinner's soul. I have
+been in an agony for it; it has seemed to me at times that for this lost
+and suffering brother I could lay down my very life. On Sunday last I
+went to conduct service in the small iron church. I tried the night
+before to prepare a sermon; no thought would come to me. I tried at last
+to look up an old one; no old sermon would commend itself. Finally I
+dropped all thought of the morrow's sermon and spent the greater part of
+the night in prayer. My prayer was for this sinner, and it seemed to me,
+that as I struggled and pleaded, God the Father and God the Son drew
+nigh. I went to bed with a wonderfully close sense of their presence. At
+morning prayers the next day, Miss Harman and her father entered the
+church. You may well look at me in surprise, Charlotte, but when I saw
+them I felt quiet enough; I only knew that God had sent them. For the
+first time in my life I preached without note or written help. I felt,
+however, at no loss for words; my theme was the Prodigal Son. I thought
+only of Mr. Harman; I went home and continued to pray for him. On
+Tuesday morning--that is, this morning--he was again at the church.
+After the prayers were over he waited to speak to me: he asked me to
+visit him at his own house this evening. I went there; I have been with
+him all the evening; he told me his life story, the bitter story of his
+fall. I am now come for you, for he must confess to you--you are the
+wronged one."
+
+"I am going to see John Harman, my half-brother who has wronged me?"
+said Mrs. Home; "I am going to him now without preparation? Oh! Angus, I
+cannot, not to-night, not to-night."
+
+"Yes, dear, it must be to-night; if there is any hardness left in your
+heart it will melt when you see this sinner, whom God has forgiven."
+
+"Angus, you are all tenderness and love to him; I cannot aspire to your
+nature, I cannot. To this man, who has caused such misery and sin, I
+feel hard. Charlotte I pity, Charlotte I love; but this man, this man
+who deliberately could rob my dead mother! It is against human nature to
+feel very sorry for him."
+
+"You mean to tell me, Charlotte, that you refuse to forgive him?"
+
+"No; eventually you will conquer me; but just now, I confess, my heart
+is not full of pity."
+
+Mr. Home thought for a moment. He was pained by his wife's want of
+sympathy. Then he reflected that she had not seen Mr. Harman. It was
+plain, however, that they must not meet until her spirit towards him had
+changed.
+
+"Do not stop at Prince's Gate," he called out to the cabby, "drive on
+until I ask you to stop."
+
+During the drive that followed, he told his wife Mr. Harman's story. He
+told it well, for when he had finished, Charlotte turned to him eyes
+which had shed some tears.
+
+"Does Charlotte know of this?" she said.
+
+"I do not think so. Will you come to Mr. Harman now?"
+
+"Yes. I will come on one condition!"
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That I may see Charlotte afterwards."
+
+"I am sure that can be managed."
+
+Then Mr. Home desired the cabby to stop at Prince's Gate. A
+sleepy-looking servant waited up for them. He manifested no surprise at
+sight of the lady and gentleman at such an hour. Mr. Home took his
+wife's hand, and the servant led them straight to his master's study.
+
+"I have told her the story," said Mr. Home; "she is your father's child,
+she comes to----" Here the clergyman paused and looked at his wife, he
+wanted the word "forgive" to come from her own lips. Mrs. Home had grown
+white to her very lips. Now instead of replying, she fell upon her knees
+and covered her face.
+
+"Charlotte," said Mr. Harman, "can you do what this clergyman wants? Can
+you forgive the sin?" There was no answer; Mrs. Home was sobbing aloud.
+"I have robbed you, I have robbed you most cruelly. My dying father
+asked me to be good to you; I have been worse than cruel. You see before
+you an old, old man, as great a sinner as can be found on God's earth.
+Can you forgive me? Dare I ask it? At last, at last I make full
+reparation; I repent me, in dust and ashes; I repent, and I restore all
+fourfold." But here Charlotte Home had risen suddenly to her feet. She
+came up close to Mr. Harman, and taking his hand raised it to her lips.
+
+"My husband has told me all. I, I quite forgive you," she said.
+
+Mr. Harman glanced at the clergyman. "Your husband?" he said.
+
+"Yes; she is my wife," answered Mr. Home. "Sir, you heard my wife say
+that she quite forgives. You may go to rest to-night, with a very
+peaceful heart; the peace of God which passes all understanding may
+encompass your pillow to-night. It is late and you have gone through
+much, may I go with you to your room? There will be many explanations
+yet to make; but though a clergyman, I am also in some measure a
+physician. I see you can go through no more emotion to-night, rest
+satisfied that all explanations can wait till to-morrow."
+
+"I will go with you," answered Mr. Harman, "but may I first thank your
+wife?" Charlotte Home's bonnet had fallen off as she knelt on the floor,
+now suddenly a withered and trembling hand was placed on her head. "God
+bless you! Even from a sinner like me, such words from a full heart must
+be heard."
+
+"Ay," said Mr. Home, in a loud, exultant voice, "the Prince of peace and
+forgiveness has come into this house to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+CHARLOTTE'S ROOM.
+
+
+Mr. Home and Mr. Harman went away together, and Charlotte was left alone
+in the study. By the profound stillness which now reigned in the house
+she guessed that every one had gone to bed. The servant who had admitted
+them at so late an hour had looked sleepy as he had done so. Doubtless
+Mr. Harman had desired him not to wait longer. Charlotte felt there was
+no use in ringing a bell. She scarcely knew her way about this great
+house. Nevertheless she must find Charlotte; she could not wait until
+the morning to throw her arms round her neck. She took one of the
+candles from the mantelpiece and began her tour through the silent
+house. She felt strangely timid as she commenced this midnight
+pilgrimage. The softly-carpeted stairs echoed back no footfall; she
+passed door after door. At last she recognized Charlotte's own private
+sitting-room, she had been there two or three times, but had never seen
+the room where her friend slept. A corridor, however, ran directly from
+this sitting-room, and Charlotte saw a closed door at the further end.
+"That must be the room," she said to herself, and she went straight
+towards it. The door was closed, but Charlotte heard a faint sound
+within. Instantly on hearing it she knocked lightly, but distinctly.
+There was a quick sound of hurried and surprised feet, and Charlotte
+Harman opened the door. Her eyes were heavy and red, as though she had
+been weeping. Her face was pale. She had not begun to undress.
+
+"Charlotte; Charlotte Home!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what is wrong? My
+father!"
+
+"Nothing is wrong, dear Charlotte, dear, dear Charlotte; but may I come
+in? I have a great deal to tell you."
+
+"Oh, I shall be glad! but how astonished I am to see you. I could not
+sleep. Yes, come in, you shall keep me company. Charlotte, you have been
+crying. Charlotte, there _is_ something wrong."
+
+"You may well be surprised to see me here," said Mrs. Home, "but,
+strange as it may seem, things are more right than wrong. My husband
+came first, then he brought me."
+
+"Yes, I saw Mr. Home early in the evening. I saw him go into my father's
+study. When he went away I went there myself; but the door was locked,
+and my father called out from within, 'Not to-night, my child; don't sit
+up for me, come to me in the morning, I would rather be alone to-night.'
+He never before refused to see me to say good-night. I went to my room.
+I could not rest. Everything seems very dark. I have been crying, and
+now you have come. Oh, Charlotte! what is the meaning of it all?"
+
+"The meaning is good, Charlotte; but good or bad, you have to thank
+yourself for it. Why did you take your father to my husband's church on
+Sunday?"
+
+"He came to me on Sunday morning," answered Miss Harman. "He said he
+would like to go to church with me. He never did go to church with
+me--never, for many months. I asked him where he would go. He said he
+would leave it to me. Then it flashed across me that he did not know Mr.
+Home, also that I had never heard Mr. Home preach. I resolved to go to
+his church. We drove to Kentish Town. I made a few inquiries. I found
+out the little church where your husband told the people of his
+congregation how best to live, how best to die. Ah, Charlotte! he _did_
+preach to us. What a man he is!"
+
+"He realizes the absolute daily presence of God more perfectly than any
+man I ever met," answered the wife. "My dear, it was God himself led you
+to my husband's church on Sunday. Your father went there again to-day.
+After the service he stopped to speak to Angus. He asked him to come to
+him this evening. This evening he told my husband all; all the story of
+his sin, his repentance. Angus heard all, and when it was over he sent
+for me. I saw your father. Charlotte, your father may have been a
+sinner, but with such sinners, as he was once, the New Jerusalem will be
+filled by and by. Ah! thank God for the peace I saw on his face before I
+left him. Do you know that he put his hand on my head and blessed me.
+Angus is with him now, and I have come to you."
+
+"My father has told all!" said Charlotte Harman. Her face could scarcely
+grow any whiter. She made no further exclamation, but sat quiet.
+Charlotte Home, having told her story, watched her face. Suddenly, with
+tears springing to her eyes, she turned to the wife and mother who stood
+by her side.
+
+"Charlotte, how hard my heart has been! I have passed through some
+dreadful weeks. Oh! how heavy was my burden, how heavy was my heart! My
+heart was growing very hard; but the hardness has gone now. Now,
+Charlotte, I believe, I believe fully what your little Harold said to me
+some weeks ago."
+
+"What did he say to you, dearest?"
+
+"He said that Jesus Christ loved me very much. Yes, I believe Jesus does
+love me very much. Oh, Charlotte! do you know that I am tired and
+rested, and I want to sleep altogether. Will you lie down beside me? You
+will not leave me to-night?"
+
+"No, darling; I will not leave you to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+HOW SANDY WILSON SPEAKS OUT HIS MIND.
+
+
+Early in the morning, the father and daughter met. Not very many words
+passed between them. Mr. Harman knew that Mrs. Home had told Charlotte
+all. Now, coming to his side, she put her arms about him, and knelt,
+looking into his face.
+
+"Charlotte, you know what I have been," he said.
+
+"Father, I know what you are now," she answered.
+
+After these few words, she would scarcely allow him to speak again, for
+he was very weak, too weak to leave his bed; but later on, in the course
+of the day, they had a long talk together, and Charlotte told her father
+of her own suffering during the past weeks. There was no longer need of
+concealment between them, and Charlotte made none. It was a very few
+days later that two trustees of the late Mr. Harman's will saw each
+other for the first time.
+
+Sandy Wilson had often looked forward to the moment when he could speak
+out his mind as to the enormity of the crime committed by Mr. Harman.
+Hitherto, this worthy man had felt that in this respect circumstances
+had been hard on him. _His_ Daisy, his pretty little gentle sister, had
+been treated as hardly, as cruelly, as woman could be treated, and yet
+the robber--for was he not just a common robber?--had got off scot free;
+he was to get off scot free to the very end; he was to be let die in
+peace; and afterwards, his innocent child, his only daughter, must bear
+the brunt of his misdeeds. She must be put to grief and shame, while he,
+the one on whose head the real sin lay, escaped. Sandy felt that it
+would have been some slight relief to his wounded feelings if he could
+find some one to whom he could thoroughly and heartily abuse Mr. Harman.
+But even this satisfaction was denied him. Mr. Home was a man who would
+listen to abuse of none; and even Charlotte, though her eyes did flash
+when his name was mentioned, even she was simply silent, and to all the
+rest of the world Sandy must keep the thing a secret.
+
+There was no doubt whatever that when, the day after Mr. Harman's
+confession, the Homes came to Uncle Sandy and told him, not only all,
+but also that at any moment he might receive a summons to visit Mr.
+Harman, he felt a sense of exultation; also that his exultation was
+caused, not by the fact that his niece would now get back her own, for
+he had supplied her immediate need for money, but by the joyful sense
+that at last, at last, he, Sandy, could speak out his full mind. He
+could show this bad man, about whom every one was so strangely, so
+absurdly silent, what _he_ thought of his conduct to his dear little
+sister. He went away to Prince's Gate, when at last the summons came,
+bristling over with a quite delightful sense of power. How well he would
+speak! how cleverly he would insert the arrow of remorse into that cruel
+heart! As he entered the house he was met by Miss Harman. She held out
+her hand to him without a word, and led him to the door of her father's
+study. Her eyes, however, as she looked at him for a moment, were
+eloquent. Those eyes of hers had exercised a power over him in Somerset
+House; they were full of pleading now. He went into Mr. Harman's
+presence softened, a little confused, and with his many excellent, to
+the point, and scathing remarks running riot in his brain.
+
+Thus it came to pass that Sandy said no word of reproach to the
+broken-down man who greeted him. Nay, far from reproaching, he felt
+himself sharing in the universal pity. Where God's hand was smiting
+hard, how could man dare to raise his puny arm?
+
+The two trustees, meeting for the first time after all these years,
+talked long over that neglected, that unfulfilled trust, and steps were
+put in train to restore to Charlotte Home what had for so many years
+been held back from her. This large sum, with all back interest, would
+make the once poor Charlotte very rich indeed. There would still be,
+after all was settled, something left for Charlotte Harman, but the
+positions of the two were now virtually reversed.
+
+"There is one thing which still puzzles me," said Mr. Harman before they
+parted. "Leaving my terrible share in this matter alone, my brother and
+I could never have carried out our scheme if you had not been supposed
+to be dead. How is it you gave no sign of your existence for three and
+twenty years? My brother even wrote me word from Australia that he had
+himself stood on your grave."
+
+"He stood on the grave of Sandy Wilson, but never on mine," answered the
+other trustee. "There was a fellow bearing my name, who was with me in
+the Bush. He was the same age. He was like me too in general outline;
+big, with red hair and all that kind of thing. His name was put into the
+papers, and I remember wondering if the news would reach home, and if my
+little Daisy--bless her!--would think it was me. I was frightfully poor
+at the time, I had scarcely sixpence to bless myself with, and somehow,
+your father, sir, though he did eventually trust me, as circumstances
+proved, yet he gave me to understand that in marrying the sister he by
+no means intended to take the brother to his bosom. I said to myself, 'A
+poor lost dog like Sandy may as well appear to be dead to those at home.
+I love no one in England but my little Daisy, and she does not need me,
+she has abundance without me.' So I ceased to write. I had gone to a
+part of the country where even an English paper reached us but once or
+twice a year. I heard nothing of the old home; and by degrees I got out
+of the habit of writing. I was satisfied to be considered dead. I did
+wrong, I confess."
+
+"By coming back, by proclaiming your existence, you could have exposed
+me years ago," said Mr. Harman; "how I dreaded exposure; how little I
+knew, when it did come, that it would fall lightly in comparison
+with----"
+
+"What?" asked Wilson.
+
+"The awful frown of God's displeasure. Man, to be shut away from God
+through your own sin is to be in hell. I have dwelt there for three and
+twenty years. Until two nights ago, I have known no peace; now, I know
+God can forgive even such a sin as mine."
+
+"I believe you have suffered, Mr. Harman," answered Wilson. "For the
+matter of that, we are all poor sinners. God have mercy upon us all!"
+
+"Amen," said Mr. Harman.
+
+And that was all the reproof Sandy ever found in his heart to give to
+his fellow trustee.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+MRS. HOME'S DREAM.
+
+
+Still, there was a weight on Charlotte Home's mind. Much had been given
+to her, so much that she could scarcely believe herself to be the same
+woman, who a few short months ago had pawned her engagement ring to buy
+her little son a pair of shoes. She was now wealthy beyond her wildest
+dreams; she was wealthy not only in money but in friends. Charlotte
+Harman was her almost daily companion. Charlotte Harman clung to her
+with an almost passionate love. Uncle Sandy, too, had made himself, by
+his cheerfulness, his generosity, his kindness of nature, a warm place
+in her affections; and Mr. Harman saw her more than once, and she found
+that she could love even Mr. Harman. Then--how well, how beautiful her
+children looked! How nice it was to see them surrounded by those good
+things of life which, despise them as some people will, still add charms
+to those who possess them! Above all, how happy her dear husband was!
+Angus Home's face was like the sun itself, during the days which
+followed Mr. Harman's confession. This sunshine with him had nothing to
+say to the altered and improved circumstances of his life; but it had a
+great deal to say to the altered circumstances of his mind. God had
+most signally, most remarkably, heard his prayer. He had given to him
+the soul for which he pleaded. Through all eternity that suffering, and
+once so sinful, soul was safe. Mr. Home rejoiced over that redeemed soul
+as one who finds great spoil. Added love to God filled his grateful
+heart; his faith in God became more and more, day by day, a mighty
+power. Thus Charlotte Home was surrounded by as much sunshine as often
+visits a human being in this mortal life; yet still this unreasonable
+woman was discontented. The fact was, success had made her bold. She had
+obtained what her heart had pined for. She wanted another little drop of
+bliss to complete her overflowing cup. Charlotte Home was unselfish in
+her joy. There was a shadow on another's brow. She wanted that shadow to
+depart; in short, she wanted Hinton and Charlotte to meet; not only to
+meet, but as quickly as possible to marry. Charlotte's heart was still
+with this lover whom she had given up, and who seemed to have forsaken
+her. Mrs. Home saw this, though on the subject of Hinton Charlotte still
+refused to speak. She said once, and only once, to her friend:
+
+"We have parted, we have most absolutely parted. There is no use now
+looking back on the past; he must never share my disgrace. Yes, my dear
+and beloved father has repented nobly: but the disgrace remains. He must
+never share it. He sees the wisdom of this himself, so we will not speak
+of him, dear Charlotte; I can bear it best so."
+
+This little speech was made with great firmness; but there was a
+strained look about the lips, and a sorrow about the eyes which Mrs.
+Home understood very well. She must not speak, but no one could prevent
+her acting. She resolved to leave no stone unturned to bring these two
+together again. In doing this she would act for the good of two whom she
+loved, for Hinton was also very dear to her. She could never forget
+those nights when he sat by the bed of her almost dying child. She could
+never forget the prompt interference which saved that child's life. She
+had learned enough of his character, during those few weeks which they
+had spent together, to feel sure that no disgrace such as Charlotte
+feared would influence him to cause her pain. It is true she could not
+in any measure account for his absence and his silence; but she was
+quite wise enough and quite clever enough to believe that both could be
+satisfactorily accounted for. She could, however, do nothing without
+seeing Hinton. How could she see him? She had written to his chambers,
+she had written to his lodgings; from both addresses had the letters
+been returned. She thought of advertising. She lay awake at night trying
+to devise some scheme. At last one night she had a dream; so far
+curious, in that it conducted her to the desired end. She dreamt that
+Hinton came to Waterloo station, not to remain in London, but to pass
+through to another part of England. There was nothing more in her dream;
+nevertheless, she resolved to go to that station on the next day. Her
+dream had not even pointed to any particular hour. She looked in
+_Bradshaw_, saw when a great express from the south was due, and started
+off on what might truly be called a wild-goose chase.
+
+Nevertheless, instinct, if nothing higher, had guided Charlotte Home;
+for the first person she saw stepping out of a carriage of this very
+train was Hinton. She saw Hinton, he also saw her.
+
+"You must come with me," she said, going up to him and laying her hand
+on his arm. "You must come with me, and at once, for God has sent me to
+you."
+
+"But I cannot," he answered, "I am catching another train at Euston. I
+am going on special business to Scotland. It is important. I cannot put
+it off. I am ever so sorry; but I must jump into a cab at once." He held
+out his hand as he spoke.
+
+Mrs. Home glanced into his face. His face was changed; it was pale and
+worn. There was a hard look about both eyes and mouth, which both
+altered and considerably spoiled his expression.
+
+"I will not keep you if you still wish to go, after hearing my story,"
+answered Mrs. Home; "but there will be room for two in your hansom. You
+do not object to my driving with you to Euston?"
+
+Hinton could not say he objected to this, though in his heart he felt
+both annoyed and surprised.
+
+As they were driving along, Mrs. Home said,--
+
+"Have you heard anything lately of Mr. Harman?"
+
+To this Hinton replied, "I have not; and pardon me, Mr. Harman does not
+interest me."
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Home, "he interests me very much. He--he told my husband
+a strange tale--a tale about himself."
+
+"Did he confess his guilt? I know that he is a very sinful man."
+
+"He has been a great sinner, but he has repented. He has confessed that
+early and terrible sin of his youth. He has not only confessed, but he
+is taking steps to make full reparation."
+
+"Indeed! then you will come into your rights? Let me congratulate you."
+
+"You knew of his sin? You knew what his sin was Mr. Hinton?"
+
+"Yes, I knew."
+
+"Charlotte had hoped to keep that disgrace from you."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"She gave you another reason for breaking off her engagement?"
+
+"Yes, a weak and futile one. She could not expect me to believe it. I
+did what she had but done before me. I went to Somerset House and saw
+that will which has been so greatly abused."
+
+"She never knew that."
+
+"Pardon me, she did."
+
+"I fear I must be rude enough to contradict you. She said most
+distinctly that you were fully satisfied with the reasons she had given
+for breaking off the engagement, that perhaps you might never now learn
+what her father had done."
+
+Hinton looked at his companion in some perplexity.
+
+"But I wrote to her," he said. "I wrote a letter which, it seemed to me,
+any woman who had a spark even of kindness would have answered. In that
+letter, I told her that I held her to her promise; that I knew all; that
+even if she did not write to me I would call and try to see her. She
+never replied to my letter, and when, after waiting for twenty-four
+hours, I went to the house, she absolutely refused to see me."
+
+"She never knew you called," answered Mrs. Home, "and she never got your
+letter."
+
+"Good heavens! how do you know?"
+
+"I know her too well; but I will ask her directly."
+
+Hinton was silent.
+
+After a short pause, Mrs. Home broke out passionately,--
+
+"How dare you insinuate doubts of so noble a creature?"
+
+"I could only believe facts."
+
+"Has a letter never gone astray? Has a letter never failed to reach the
+hands it was meant for? Mr. Hinton, I am ashamed of you."
+
+"If you can prove that she never got it?"
+
+"I know she never got it. She is changed; her heart is half broken. But
+I will prove it. I will go to her at once. Are you still going to
+Scotland?"
+
+"I need not go until I hear from you. You have astonished me greatly."
+
+"Then drive to my house. Ah! you do not know our new address; it is ----;
+wait for me there, I will be with you in an hour or so."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+JOHN.
+
+
+Hinton went to Mrs. Home's house. The children were out, Mr. Home was
+not visible. Anne, now converted into a neat parlor-maid, received him
+with broad grins of pleasure. She ushered him into the pretty,
+newly-furnished drawing-room, and asked him to wait for her mistress.
+
+"Missis 'ull be back afore long," she said, lingering a little to
+readjust the blinds, and half hoping, half expecting, Hinton to make
+some surprised and approving remark on the changed circumstances of the
+Homes' surroundings.
+
+He made none, however; and Anne, with a slight sigh, left him alone.
+When she did so he rose to his feet and began to pace quickly up and
+down the room. After a time, half an hour or so, he pulled out his
+watch. Yes, he had already lost that express to the north. A good piece
+of business would probably be also lost. But what matter! beyond
+ascertaining the fact that he had missed his train, he did not give the
+affair another thought. To tell the truth, his mind was agitated, his
+heart was full; hope once more peeped upon the horizon of his being. A
+month ago--for it was quite a month ago now--he had received as sharp
+and cruel a shock as falls on most men. Fortune, love, and trust had all
+been dashed from the lips which were already so close to the charmed cup
+that its very flavor was apparent. The cup had never reached the lips
+of Hinton. Fortune was gone, love was gone; worst of all, yes, hardest
+of all, trust was gone. The ideal he had worshipped was but an ideal.
+The Charlotte he had loved was unworthy. She had rejected him, and
+cruelly. His letter was unanswered. He himself was refused admittance.
+Then his pride had risen in revolt. If she could so treat him, he would
+sue no longer. If she could so easily give him up, he would bow to her
+decision. She was not the Charlotte of his love and his dream. But what
+matter! Other men had come to an ideal and found it but a clay idol. He
+would recover: he would not let his heart break. He found, however, that
+he could not stay in London. An uncle of his, his only living near
+relation, was a solicitor in the south of England. Hinton went to visit
+his uncle. He received him warmly and kindly. He not only promised him
+work, but kept his word. Hinton took chambers in a fashionable part of
+the town, and already was not idle. But he was a changed man. That
+shattered trust was making his spirit very hard. The cynical part of him
+was being fostered. Mrs. Home, when she looked into his face, was quite
+right in saying to herself that his expression had not improved. Now,
+however, again, as he paced up and down, soft thoughts were visiting
+him. For what doubts, what blessed doubts had Mrs. Home not insinuated?
+How irregularly his heart beat; how human he felt once more! Ah! what
+sound was that? A cab had drawn up at the door. Hinton flew to the
+window; he saw the soft fawn shade of a lady's dress, he could not see
+the lady. Of course, it was Mrs. Home returning. What news did she
+bring? How he longed to fly to meet her! He did not do so, however; his
+feet felt leaden weighted. He leant against the window, with his back to
+the door. His heart beat harder and harder; he clenched his hands hard.
+There was a quick step running up the stairs, a quick and springing
+step. The drawing-room door was opened and then shut. He heard the
+rustle of soft drapery, then a hand was laid on his arm. The touch of
+that hand made him tremble violently. He turned his head, and--not
+Charlotte Home--but _his_ Charlotte, beautiful and true, stood by his
+side. Their eyes met.
+
+"John!" she said.
+
+"My own, my darling!" he answered.
+
+In an instant they were clasped in each other's arms. That swift
+glance, which each had given the other, had told all.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"John, I never got your letter."
+
+"No!"
+
+"John, you doubted me."
+
+"I did, I confess it; I confess it bitterly. But not now, not after one
+glance into your eyes."
+
+"John, what did you say in that letter?"
+
+"That I held you to your sacred promise; that I refused to give you up."
+
+"But--but--you did not know my true reason. You did not know
+why--why----"
+
+"Yes, I knew all. Before I wrote that letter I went to Somerset house. I
+read your grandfather's will."
+
+"Ah! did you--did you indeed? Oh! what a dreadful time I have gone
+through."
+
+"Yes, but it is over now. Mrs. Home told me how your father had
+repented. The sin is forgiven. The agony is past. What God forgets don't
+let us remember. Lottie, cease to think of it. It is at an end, and so
+are our troubles. I am with you again. Oh! how nearly I had lost you."
+
+Charlotte's head was on her lover's shoulder. His arm was round her.
+"Charlotte, I repeat what I said in that letter which never reached you.
+I refuse to absolve you from your promise. I refuse to give you up. Do
+you hear? I refuse to give you up."
+
+"But, John, I am poor now."
+
+"Poor or rich, you are yourself, and you are mine. Charlotte, do you
+hear me? If you hear me answer me. Tell me that you are mine."
+
+"I am yours, John," she said simply, and she raised her lips to kiss
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM.
+
+
+A month after--just one month after, there was a very quiet wedding; a
+wedding performed in the little church at Kentish Town. The ceremony was
+thought by the few who witnessed it to be, even for that obscure part, a
+very poor one. There were no bridesmaids, or white dresses, or, indeed,
+white favors in any form. The bride wore the plainest gray travelling
+suit. She was given away by her gray-headed father; Charlotte Home stood
+close behind her; Mr. Home married the couple, and Uncle Sandy acted as
+best man. Surely no tamer ending could come to what was once meant to be
+such a brilliant affair. Immediately after the ceremony, the bride and
+bridegroom went away for two days and Mrs. Home went back to Prince's
+Gate with Mr. Harman, for she had promised Charlotte to take care of her
+father until her return.
+
+Many changes were contemplated. The grand house in Prince's gate was to
+be given up, and the Hintons were to live in that large southern town
+where Hinton was already obtaining a young barrister's great
+ambition--briefs. Mr. Harman, while he lived, was to find his home with
+his son and daughter.
+
+Mr. Harman was now a peaceful and happy man, and so improved was his
+health--so had the state of his mind affected his body, that though he
+could never hope for cure of his malady, yet Sir George Anderson assured
+him that with care he might live for a very much longer time than he had
+thought possible a few months before. Thus death stood back, not
+altogether thrust aside, but biding its time.
+
+On the morning of Charlotte's wedding-day there arrived a letter from
+Jasper.
+
+"So you have told all?" he said to his brother. "Well, be it so. From
+the time I knew the other trustee was not dead and had reached England,
+I felt that discovery was at hand. No, thank you; I shall never come
+back to England. If you can bear poverty and public disgrace, I cannot.
+I have some savings of my own, and on these I can live during my
+remaining days. Good-bye--we shall never meet again on earth! I repent,
+do you say, of my share? Yes, the business turned out badly in the end.
+What a heap of money those Homes will come in for! Stolen goods don't
+prosper with a man! So it seems. Well, I shall stay out of England."
+
+Jasper was true to his word. Not one of those who knew him in this tale
+ever heard of him again.
+
+Yes, the Homes were now very rich; but both Mr. and Mrs. Home were
+faithful stewards of what was lent them from the Lord. Nor did the
+Hintons miss what was taken from them. It is surely enough to say of
+Charlotte and her husband that they were very happy.
+
+But as sin, however repented of, must yet reap its own reward, so in
+this instance the great house of Harman Brothers ceased to exist. To pay
+that unfulfilled trust the business had to be sold. It passed into the
+hands of strangers, and was continued under another name. No one now
+remembers even its existence.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of How It All Came Round, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: How It All Came Round
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: November 28, 2007 [EBook #23653]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW IT ALL CAME ROUND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire, D Alexander and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1>HOW IT ALL CAME ROUND</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">Mrs. L. T. MEADE</span></h2>
+
+<h4>AUTHOR OF "GIRLS OF THE TRUE BLUE," "WILD KITTY,"</h4>
+
+<h4>"A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE," ETC., ETC.</h4>
+
+<h4>NEW YORK</h4>
+
+<h4>HURST &amp; COMPANY</h4>
+
+<h4>PUBLISHERS</h4>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+    <a id="meade"></a>
+    <img src="images/meade.jpg" width="260" height="400"
+       alt=""
+       title="" />
+    <p class="center">MRS. L. T. MEADE.</p>
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<p>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER_I. The Rich Charlotte.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. The Poor Charlotte.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. The Story.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. Two Ways Of Looking At It.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. Love In A Diamond.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. In Prince's Gate.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. It Interests Her.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. The Woman By The Hearth.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. Charlotte Cannot Bear The Dark.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. John And Jasper Harman.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. "A Pet Day."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. Four Months Hence.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. His First Brief.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. Lodgings In Kentish Town.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. Mr. Harman's Confidence.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. "Vengeance Is Mine."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. Happiness Not Justice.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. "Sugar And Spice And All That's Nice."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. "The Pretty Lady."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. Two Charlottes.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. A Friend In Need.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. Empty Purses.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. "Thy Will Be Done."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. "You Kept A Secret From Me."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. They Recall Too Much.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. Had He Seen A Ghost?</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. The Children's Great-uncle.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. Cut Off With A Shilling.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. "Something Better For The Children Than Money."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. She Could Not Postpone Her Engagement.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. Where Had The Money Cares Vanished To?</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. Jasper's Terror.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. The Reading Of The Will.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. Trustees.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. Dan's Wife.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. An Old Wedding-ring.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. Three Facts.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. The Doctor's Verdict.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. Puzzled.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. Charlotte's Plea.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. No Wedding On The Twentieth.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII. "I Love Him," She Answered.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII. "You Don't Want Money?"</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV. Love Before Gold.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV. The Fate Of A Letter.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI. "The Way Of Transgressors."</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII. Charlotte Harman's Comfort.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII. The Children's Attic.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">CHAPTER XLIX. He Wept.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_L">CHAPTER L. Home's Sermon.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LI">CHAPTER LI. A Sinner.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LII">CHAPTER LII. A Hidden Sin.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">CHAPTER LIII. The Prince Of Peace.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">CHAPTER LIV. Charlotte's Room.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LV">CHAPTER LV. How Sandy Wilson Speaks Out His Mind.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">CHAPTER LVI. Mrs. Home's Dream.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">CHAPTER LVII. John.</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">CHAPTER LVIII. Bride And Bridegroom.</a><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+
+<h3>THE RICH CHARLOTTE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The room had three occupants, two were men, the third a woman. The men
+were middle-aged and gray-haired, the woman on the contrary was in the
+prime of youth; she was finely made, and well proportioned. Her face was
+perhaps rather too pale, but the eyes and brow were noble, and the
+sensitive mouth showed indications of heart as well as intellect.</p>
+
+<p>The girl, or rather young woman, for she was past five and twenty, sat
+by the fire, a book on her knee. The two men had drawn chairs close to a
+table. The elder of these men bore such an unmistakable likeness to the
+girl, that even the most casual observer must have guessed the
+relationship which existed between them. He was a handsome man,
+handsomer even than his daughter, but the same individualities marked
+both faces. While, however, in the woman all was a profound serenity and
+calm, the man had some anxious lines round the mouth, and some
+expression, now coming, now going, in the fine gray eyes, which
+betokened a long-felt anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>The other and younger man was shrewd-looking and commonplace; but a very
+close observer of human nature might have said, "He may be commonplace,
+but do not feel too certain; he simply possesses one of those faces
+which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> express nothing, from which not the cleverest detective in
+Scotland Yard could extract any secret."</p>
+
+<p>He was a man with plenty to say, and much humor, and at the moment this
+story opens he was laughing merrily and in a heart-whole way, and his
+older and graver companion listened with evident enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>The room in which the three sat bore evidence of wealth. It was a
+library, and handsome books lay on the tables, and rare old folios could
+have been found by those who cared to look within the carefully locked
+bookcases. Some manuscripts were scattered about, and by the girl's
+side, on a small table, lay several carefully revised proofs, and even
+now she was bending earnestly over a book of reference.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Jasper," said the elder man, when the younger paused for an
+instant in his eager flow of words, "we have talked long enough about
+that fine land you have just come from, for even Australian adventures
+can keep&mdash;I am interested in something nearer home. What do you say to
+Charlotte there? She was but a baby when you saw her last."</p>
+
+<p>"She was five years old," replied Jasper. "A saucy little imp, bless
+you! just the kind that would be sure to grow into a fine woman. But to
+tell the truth I don't much care to look at her, for she makes me feel
+uncommonly old and shaky."</p>
+
+<p>"You gave me twenty years to grow into a woman, uncle," answered the
+pleasant voice of Charlotte Harman. "I could not choose but make good
+use of the time."</p>
+
+<p>"So you have, lass&mdash;so you have; I have been growing old and you have
+been growing beautiful; such is life; but never mind, your turn will
+come."</p>
+
+<p>"But not for a long, long time, Lottie my pet," interrupted the father.
+"You need not mind your uncle Jasper. These little speeches were always
+his way. And I'll tell you something else, Jasper; that girl of mine has
+a head worth owning on her shoulders, a head she knows how to use. You
+will not believe me when I say that she writes in this magazine and
+this, and she is getting a book ready for the press; ay, and there's
+another thing. Shall I tell it, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father; it is no secret," replied Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"It is this, brother Jasper; you have come home in time for a wedding.
+My girl is going to leave me. I shall miss her, for she is womanly in
+the best sense of the word, and she is my only one; but there is a
+comfort&mdash;the man she is to marry is worthy of her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And there is another comfort, father," said Charlotte; "that though I
+hope to be married, yet I never mean to leave you. You know that well, I
+have often told you so," and here this grave young girl came over and
+kissed her father's forehead.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled back at her, all the care leaving his eyes as he did so. Uncle
+Jasper had sprung impatiently to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"As to the lass being married," he said, "that's nothing; all women
+marry, or if they don't they ought to. But what was that you said, John,
+about writing, writing in a printed book? You were joking surely, man?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I was not," answered the father. "Go and show your uncle Jasper
+that last article of yours, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, heaven preserve us! no," said uncle Jasper, backing a pace or two.
+"I'm willing with all my heart to believe it, if you swear it, but not
+the article. Don't for heaven's sake, confront me with the article."</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing uncommon in my writing for magazines, Uncle Jasper; a
+great many girls do write now. I have three friends myself who&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper's red face had grown positively pathetic in its agitation.
+"What a place England must have become!" he interrupted with a groan.
+"Well, lass, I'll believe you, but I have one request to make. Tell me
+what you like about your wedding; go into all the raptures you care for
+over your wedding dress, and even over the lucky individual for whom you
+will wear it; tell me twenty times a day that he's perfection, that you
+and you alone have found the eighth wonder of the world, but for the
+love of heaven leave out about the books! The other will be hard to
+bear, but I'll endeavor to swallow it&mdash;but the books, oh! heaven
+preserve us&mdash;leave out about the printed books. Don't mention the
+unlucky magazines for which you write. Don't breathe to me the thoughts
+with which you fill them. Oh, if there's an awful creature under the sun
+'tis a blue-stocking, and to think I should have come back from England
+to find such a horror in the person of my own niece!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE POOR CHARLOTTE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>While this light and playful scene was being enacted in a wealthy house
+in Prince's Gate, and Charlotte Harman and her father laughed merrily
+over the Australian uncle's horror of authors and their works, another
+Charlotte was going through a very different part, in a different place
+in the great world's centre.</p>
+
+<p>There could scarcely be a greater contrast than between the small and
+very shabby house in Kentish Town and the luxurious mansion in
+Kensington. The parlor of this house, for the drawing-rooms were let to
+lodgers, was occupied by one woman. She sat by a little shabbily covered
+table, writing. The whole appearance of the room was shabby: the
+furniture, the carpet, the dingy window panes, the tiny pretence of a
+fire in the grate. It was not exactly a dirty room, but it lacked all
+brightness and freshness. The chimney did not draw well, and now and
+then a great gust of smoke would come down, causing the busy writer to
+start and rub her smarting eyes. She was a young woman, as young as
+Charlotte Harman, with a slight figure and very pale face. There were
+possibilities of beauty in the face. But the possibilities had come to
+nothing; the features were too pinched, too underfed, the eyes, in
+themselves dark and heavily fringed, too often dimmed by tears. It was a
+very cold day, and sleet was beginning to fall, and the smoking chimney
+had a vindictive way of smoking more than ever, but the young woman
+wrote on rapidly, as though for bare life. Each page as she finished it,
+was flung on one side; some few fell on the floor, but she did not stop
+even to pick them up.</p>
+
+<p>The short winter daylight had quite faded, and she had stood up to light
+the gas, when the room door was pushed slightly ajar, and one of those
+little maids-of-all-work, so commonly seen in London, put in her untidy
+head.</p>
+
+<p>"Ef you please, 'em, Harold's been and hurt Daisy, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> they is
+quarreling h'ever so, and I think as baby's a deal worse, 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go up to them, Anne, and you may stay down and lay the cloth for
+tea&mdash;I expect your master in early to-night."</p>
+
+<p>She put her writing materials hastily away, and with a light, quick step
+ran upstairs. She entered a room which in its size and general
+shabbiness might better have been called an attic, and found herself in
+the presence of three small children. The two elder ran to meet her with
+outstretched arms and glad cries. The baby sat up in his cot and gazed
+hard at his mother with flushed cheeks and round eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She took the baby in her arms and sat down in a low rocking-chair close
+to the fire. Harold and Daisy went on their little knees in front of
+her. Now that mother had come their quarrel was quite over, and the poor
+baby ceased to fret.</p>
+
+<p>Seated thus, with her little children about her there was no doubt at
+all that Charlotte Home had a pleasant face; the care vanished from her
+eyes as she looked into the innocent eyes of her babies, and as she
+nursed the seven-months-old infant she began crooning a sweet old song
+in a true, delicious voice, to which the other two listened with
+delight:&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"In the days when we went gipsying,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A long time ago."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"What's gipsying, mother?" asked Harold, aged six.</p>
+
+<p>"Something like picnicking, darling. People who live in the country, or
+who are rich,"&mdash;here Mrs. Home sighed&mdash;"often, in the bright summer
+weather, take their dinner or their tea, and they go out into the woods
+or the green fields and eat there. I have been to gypsy teas; they are
+great fun. We lit a fire and boiled the kettle over it, and made the
+tea; it was just the same tea as we had at home, but somehow it tasted
+much better out-of-doors."</p>
+
+<p>"Was that some time ago, mother?" asked little Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>"It would seem a long, long time to you, darling; but it was not so many
+years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," asked Harold, "why aren't we rich, or why don't we live in the
+country?"</p>
+
+<p>A dark cloud, caused by some deeper emotion than the mere fact of being
+poor, passed over the mother's face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We cannot live in the country," she said, "because your father has a
+curacy in this part of London. Your father is a brave man, and he must
+not desert his post."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why aren't we rich?" persisted the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Because&mdash;because&mdash;I cannot answer you that, Harold; and now I must run
+downstairs again. Father is coming in earlier than usual to-night, and
+you and Daisy may come down for a little bit after tea&mdash;that is, if you
+promise to be very good children now, and not to quarrel. See, baby has
+dropped asleep; who will sit by him and keep him from waking until Anne
+comes back?"</p>
+
+<p>"I, mother," said Harold, and, "I, mother," said Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>"That is best," said the gentle-voiced mother; "you both shall keep him
+very quiet and safe; Harold shall sit on this side of his little cot and
+Daisy at the other."</p>
+
+<p>Both children placed themselves, mute as mice, by the baby's side, with
+the proud look of being trusted on their little faces. The mother kissed
+them and flew downstairs. There was no time for quiet or leisurely
+movement in that little house; in the dingy parlor, the gas had now been
+lighted, and the fire burned better and brighter, and Anne with most
+praiseworthy efforts, was endeavoring to make some toast, which, alas!
+she only succeeded in burning. Mrs. Home took the toasting-fork out of
+her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Anne, that will do nicely: I will finish the toast. Now please
+run away, and take Miss Mitchell's dinner up to her; she is to have a
+little pie to-night and some baked potatoes; they are all waiting, and
+hot in the oven, and then please go back to the children."</p>
+
+<p>Anne, a really good-tempered little maid-of-all-work, vanished, and Mrs.
+Home made some fresh toast, which she set, brown, hot, and crisp, in the
+china toast-rack. She then boiled a new-laid egg, and had hardly
+finished these final preparations before the rattle of the latch-key was
+heard in the hall-door, and her husband came in. He was a tall man, with
+a face so colorless that hers looked almost rosy by contrast; his voice,
+however, had a certain ring about it, which betokened that most rare and
+happy gift to its possessor, a brave and courageous heart. The way in
+which he now said, "Ah, Lottie!" and stooped down and kissed her, had a
+good sound, and the wife's eyes sparkled as she sat down by the
+tea-tray.</p>
+
+<p>"Must you go out again to-night, Angus?" she said presently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear. Poor Mrs. Swift is really dying at last. I promised to
+look in on her again."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, poor soul! has it really come? And what will those four children
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>"We must get them into an Orphanage; Petterick has interest. I shall
+speak to him. Lottie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Beat up that fresh egg I saw you putting into the cupboard when I came
+in; beat it up, and add a little milk and a teaspoonful of brandy. I
+want to take it round with me to little Alice. That child has never left
+her mother's side for two whole days and nights, and I believe has
+scarcely tasted a morsel; I fear she will sink when all is over."</p>
+
+<p>Lottie rose at once and prepared the mixture, placing it, when ready, in
+a little basket, which her husband seldom went out without; but as she
+put it in his hand she could not refrain from saying&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I was keeping that egg for your breakfast, Angus; I do grudge it a
+little bit."</p>
+
+<p>"And to eat it when little Alice wanted it so sorely would choke me,
+wife," replied the husband; and then buttoning his thin overcoat tightly
+about him, he went out into the night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE STORY.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The children were at last in bed, the drawing-room lodger had finished
+her dinner, the welcome time of lull in the day's occupations had come,
+and Mrs. Home sat by the dining-room fire. A large basket, filled with
+little garments ready for mending, lay on the floor at her feet, and her
+working materials were close by; but, for a wonder, the busy fingers
+were idle. In vain Daisy's frock pleaded for that great rent made
+yesterday, and Harold's socks showed themselves most disreputably out at
+heels. Charlotte Home neither put on her thimble nor threaded her
+needle; she sat gazing into the fire, lost in reverie. It was not a very
+happy or peaceful reverie, to judge from the many changes on her
+expressive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> face. The words, "Shall I, or shall I not?" came often to
+her lips. Many things seemed to tear her judgment in divers ways; most
+of all the look in her little son's eyes when he asked that eager,
+impatient question, "mother, why aren't we rich?" but other and older
+voices than little Harold's said to her, and they spoke pleadingly
+enough, "Leave this thing alone; God knows what is best for you. As you
+have gone on all these years, so continue, not troubling about what you
+cannot understand, but trusting to him."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot; I am so tired sometimes," sighed the poor young wife.</p>
+
+<p>She was still undetermined when her husband returned. There was a great
+contrast in their faces&mdash;a greater almost in their voices, in the tone
+of her dispirited, "Well, Angus," and his almost triumphant answer,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lottie, that hard fight has ended bravely. Thank God!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! then the poor soul has gone," said the wife, moving her husband's
+chair into the warmest corner.</p>
+
+<p>"She has truly gone; I saw her breathe her last. But there is no need to
+apply the word 'poor' to her; she has done with all that. You know what
+a weakly, troubled creature she always was, how temptation and doubt
+seemed to wrap her round like a mist, and prevent her seeing any of the
+shining of the blue sky. Well, it all passed away at the last, and there
+was nothing but a steadfast looking into the very face of her Lord. He
+came for her, and she just stretched out her arms and went to Him. Thank
+God for being privileged to witness such a death; it makes life far more
+easy."</p>
+
+<p>A little weariness had crept perceptibly into the brave voice of the
+minister as he said these last words. His wife laid her hand
+sympathizingly on his. They sat silent for a few moments, then he spoke
+on a different subject,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How is baby to-night, Lottie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Better, I think; his tooth is through at last. He will have rest now
+for a bit, poor little darling."</p>
+
+<p>"We must be careful to keep him from catching another cold. And how is
+Anne getting on?"</p>
+
+<p>"As well as we can expect from such an ignorant little mite. And oh!
+Angus, the nursery is such a cold, draughty room, and I do&mdash;I do wish we
+were rich."</p>
+
+<p>The last words were tumbled out with a great irrepressible burst of
+tears.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why, my Lottie, what has come to you?" said her husband, touched and
+alarmed by this rare show of feeling "What is it, dear? You wish we were
+rich, so do not I; I am quite content. I go among so very much poorer
+people than myself, Lottie, that it always seems to me I have far more
+than my fair share of life's good things; but, at any rate my Lottie,
+crying won't make us rich, so don't waste your strength over it."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't help it sometimes, Angus; it goes to my heart to see you
+shivering in such a great-coat as you have just taken off, and then I
+know you want better food, and wine; you are so tired this moment you
+can scarcely speak. What a lot of good some port wine would do you!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what a lot of good, wishing for it will do me! Come Lottie, be
+sensible; we must not begin to repine for what we have not got, and
+cannot get. Let us think of our mercies."</p>
+
+<p>"You make me ashamed of myself, Angus. But these thoughts don't come to
+me for nothing; the fact is&mdash;yes, I will tell you at last, I have long
+been making up my mind. The truth is, Angus, I can't look at the
+children&mdash;I can't look at you and see you all suffering, and hold my
+peace any longer. We are poor, very&mdash;very&mdash;dreadfully poor, but we ought
+to be rich."</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie!"</p>
+
+<p>Such a speech, so uttered, would have called for reproof from Angus
+Home, had it passed the lips of another. But he knew the woman he had
+married too well not to believe there was reason in her words.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry you have kept a secret from me," he said. "What is this
+mystery, Lottie?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was my mother, Angus. She begged of me to keep it to myself, and she
+only told me when she was dying. But may I just tell you all from the
+very beginning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear. If it is a romance, it will just soothe me, for though I am,
+I own, tired, I could not sleep for a long time to come."</p>
+
+<p>"First, Angus, I must confess to a little bit of deceit I practised on
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Lottie!" said her husband playfully, "no wonder you cried, with
+such a heavy burden on your soul; but confess your sins, wife."</p>
+
+<p>"You know how it has always fretted me, our being poor," said Charlotte.
+"Your income is only just sufficient to put bread into our mouths, and,
+indeed, we sometimes want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> even that. I have often lain awake at night
+wondering how I could make a little money, and this winter, when it set
+in so very severe, set my thoughts harder to work on this great problem
+than ever. The children did want so much, Angus&mdash;new boots, and little
+warm dresses&mdash;and so&mdash;and so&mdash;one day about a month ago, Mrs. Lisle, who
+reads and writes so much, called, and I was very low, and she was kind
+and sympathizing; somehow, at last out it all came, I did so wish to
+earn money. She asked me if I could write a good clear hand, a hand
+easily read. I showed her what I could do, and she was good enough to
+call it excellent. She said no more then, but the next day she came
+early. She brought me a MS. written by a friend of hers; very illegible
+it was. She would not tell me the name of her friend, but she said she
+was a lady very desirous of seeing herself in print. If I would copy
+this illegible writing in my own good clear hand, the lady would give me
+five pounds. I thought of the children's boots and their winter dresses,
+and I toiled over it. I confess now that it was weary work, and tired me
+more than I cared to own. I finished it to-day; this evening, just
+before you came home, that task was done; but this morning I did
+something else. You know Miss Mitchell is always kind enough to let me
+see the <i>Times</i>. This morning Anne brought it down as usual, and, as I
+ran my eyes over it I was struck by an advertisement, 'A young lady
+living at Kensington wished for the services of an amanuensis, for so
+many hours daily. Remuneration good.' I could not help it, Angus, my
+heart seemed to leap into my mouth. Then and there I put on my bonnet,
+and with a specimen of my handwriting in my pocket, went off to answer
+the advertisement in person. The house was in Prince's Gate, Kensington:
+the name of the young lady who had advertised for my services was
+Harman."</p>
+
+<p>"Harman! how strange, wife! your own name before you married."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear; but such a different person from me, so rich, while I am so
+poor; so very, very beautiful, and graceful, and gracious: she may have
+been a year or so younger than I, she was not much. She had a thoughtful
+face, a noble face. I could have drawn tears from her eyes had I
+described the little children, but I did not. It was delightful to look
+upon her calm. Not for worlds would I disturb it; and, Angus, I found
+out another thing&mdash;her name was not only Harman, but Charlotte Harman."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt at all that the other Charlotte was excited now, the
+color had come into her cheeks, her eyes sparkled. Her husband watched
+her with undisguised surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"I made a good thing of it Angus," she continued. "I am to go to
+Prince's Gate every morning, I am to be there at ten, and give my
+services till one o'clock. I am then to have lunch with the young lady,
+and for all this, and the enjoyment of a good dinner into the bargain, I
+am to receive thirty shillings a week. Does not it sound too good to be
+true?"</p>
+
+<p>"And that is how we are to be rich, Lottie. Well, go on and prosper. I
+know what an active little woman you are and how impossible it is for
+you to let the grass grow under your feet. I do not object to your
+trying this thing, if it is not too much for your strength, and if you
+can safely leave the children."</p>
+
+<p>"I have thought of the children, Angus; this is so much for their real
+interest, that it would be a pity to throw it away. But, as you say,
+they must not be neglected. I shall ask that little Alice Martin to come
+in to look after them until I am back every day; she will be glad to
+earn half-a-crown a week."</p>
+
+<p>"As much in proportion, as your thirty shillings is to you&mdash;eh, Lottie?
+See how rich we are in reality."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home sighed, and the bright look left her face. Her husband
+perceived the change.</p>
+
+<p>"That is not all you have got to tell me," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is only leading up to what I want to tell you. It is what has
+set me thinking so hard all day that I can keep it to myself no longer.
+Angus, prepare for a surprise; that beautiful young lady, who bears the
+same name I bore before I was married&mdash;is&mdash;is&mdash;she is my near relation."</p>
+
+<p>"Your near relation, Charlotte? But I never knew you had any near
+relations."</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear, I never told you; my mother thought it best that you should
+not know. She only spoke to me of them when she was dying. She was sorry
+afterwards that she had even done that; she begged of me, unless great
+necessity arose, not to say anything to you. It is only because it seems
+to me the necessity has really come that I speak of what gave my mother
+such pain to mention."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, you have wealthy relations. I don't know that it matters
+very greatly. But go on."</p>
+
+<p>"There is more than that, Angus, but I will try to tell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> you all. You
+know how poor I was when you found me, and gave me your love and
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"We were both poor, Lottie; so much so that we thought two hundred a
+year, which was what we had to begin housekeeping on, quite riches."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Angus; well, I had been poor all my life, I could never do what
+rich girls did, I was so accustomed to wearing shabby dresses, and
+eating plain food, and doing without the amusements which seem to come
+naturally into the lives of most young girls, that I had ceased to miss
+them. I was sent to a rather good school, and had lessons in music and
+painting, and I sometimes wondered how my mother had money even to give
+me these. Then I met you, and we were married. It was just after our
+little Harold was born that my mother died."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you went down into Hertfordshire; you were away for six weeks."</p>
+
+<p>"I took Harold with me; mother was so proud of him. Whenever she had an
+easy moment, she used to like to have him placed on her knee. She told
+me then that she had a little son older than I, who died, and that our
+Harold reminded her of him. One night, I remember so well, I was sitting
+up with her. She had been going through great pain, but towards the
+morning she was easier. She was more inclined, however, to talk than to
+sleep. She began again speaking about the likeness between our Harold
+and my little brother who died.</p>
+
+<p>"'I shall give you little Edgar's christening robe for Harold,' she
+said. 'I never could bear to part with it before but I don't mind his
+having it. Open my wardrobe, Charlotte, and you will find it folded away
+in a blue paper, in the small wooden box.'</p>
+
+<p>"I did so, and took out a costly thing, yellow, it is true, with age,
+but half covered with most valuable lace.</p>
+
+<p>"'Why, mother,' I exclaimed, 'how did you ever get such a valuable dress
+as this? Why, this lace would be cheap at a guinea a yard!'</p>
+
+<p>"'It cost a great deal more than that,' replied mother, stroking down
+the soft lace and muslin with her thin fingers; 'but we were rich then,
+Lottie.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Rich!' I said, 'rich! I never, never thought that you and I had
+anything to say to money, mother.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You don't remember your father, child?'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'No, mother,' I said; 'how could I? I was only two years old when he
+died.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mother was silent after that, and I think she went into a doze, but my
+curiosity and wonder were excited, and I could not help seeking to know
+more.</p>
+
+<p>"'I never knew that we were rich,' I said again the next day. 'Why did
+you never tell me before? The next best thing to enjoying riches would
+be to hear about them.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I did not want to make you discontented, Lottie. I thought what you
+had never known or thought of you would never miss. I feared, my dear,
+to make you discontented.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But I have thought of money,' I owned, 'I have thought of it lately a
+great deal. When I look at Angus I long to get him every luxury, and I
+want my little Harold to grow up surrounded by those things which help
+to develop a fine and refined character.</p>
+
+<p>"'But they don't, Lottie; they don't indeed,' answered my dear dying
+mother. 'Riches bring a snare&mdash;they debase the character, they don't
+ennoble it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Mother,' I said, 'I see plainly that you are well acquainted with this
+subject. You will tell me, mother, what you know?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' replied my mother; 'it won't do you the least good; but as I
+have said so much to you I may as well tell the rest.'</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Angus, my mother told me the following story; it is not very
+long.</p>
+
+<p>"She was an orphan and a governess when my father found her and married
+her&mdash;she was my father's second wife. She was much younger than he&mdash;he
+had grown-up sons&mdash;two grown-up sons at the time of his marriage; and
+they were very deeply offended at his thinking of a second marriage. So
+indignant were they that my father and they came to quite an open
+quarrel, and mother said that during the five years that my father lived
+she never saw either of her stepsons until just at the close. She was
+very happy as my father's wife; he loved her dearly, and as he had
+plenty of money she wanted for nothing. My father was an old man, as I
+have said, and he was tired of fuss, and also of much society; so though
+they were so rich mother lived rather a lonely life&mdash;in a large and
+beautiful place in Hertfordshire. She said the place was called the
+Hermitage, and was one of the largest and best in the neighborhood. At
+last my father fell ill, very ill, and the doctors said he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> must die.
+Then for the first time there came hastening back to the Hermitage the
+two elder sons&mdash;their names were John and Jasper&mdash;the eldest John, my
+mother said, was very handsome, and very kind and courteous to her. He
+was a married man, and he told mother that he had a little daughter much
+about my age, who was also called Charlotte. My father and his two sons
+seemed quite reconciled in these last days, and they spent most of their
+time with him. On the evening, however, before he died, he had mother
+and me with him alone. I sat on the bed, a little baby child of two, and
+my father held mother's hand. He told mother how much he loved her, and
+he spoke a very little about money matters.</p>
+
+<p>"'John will make it all right for you, Daisy,' he said. 'John knows all
+about my wishes with regard to you and little Charlotte. I should like
+this little Charlotte and his to be friends; they are both called after
+my own mother, the best woman I ever met. You will bring up little
+Charlotte with every comfort and refinement, dear wife.'</p>
+
+<p>"The next day my father died, and John and Jasper went to London. They
+did not even wait for the funeral, though Jasper came back for it. John,
+he told mother, was kept by the sudden dangerous illness of his wife.
+Jasper said that John felt our father's death most dreadfully. Mother
+had liked John, who was always very civil to her, but she could not bear
+Jasper: she said he seemed a cleverer man than his brother, but she
+never could get over a feeling of distrust towards him. The will was
+never read to my mother, but Jasper came back again from London to tell
+her of its contents, and then judge of her surprise&mdash;her name was not
+even mentioned, neither her name nor mine. She had been married without
+settlements, and every farthing of all my father's great wealth was left
+to his two sons, John and Jasper. Jasper expressed great surprise; he
+even said it was a monstrously unfair thing of his father to do, and
+that certainly he and his brother would try to rectify it in a measure.
+He then went back to London, and mother was left alone in the great
+empty house. She said she felt quite stunned, and was just then in such
+grief for my father that she scarcely heeded the fact that she was left
+penniless. Two days afterwards a lawyer from London came down to see
+her. He came with a message from her two stepsons. They were much
+concerned for her, and they were willing to help her. They would allow
+her, between them, as long as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> she lived the interest on three thousand
+pounds&mdash;on one condition. The condition was this: she was never to claim
+the very least relationship with them; she was to bring up her daughter
+as a stranger to them. They had never approved of their father's
+marrying her; they would allow her the money on condition that all
+connection between them be completely dropped. The day it was renewed by
+either mother or daughter, on that day the interest on the three
+thousand pounds would cease to be paid. My mother was too young, too
+completely inexperienced, and too bowed down with grief, to make the
+least objection. Only one faint protest did she make. 'My husband said,'
+she faltered, 'on the very last day of his life, he said that he wished
+my little Charlotte and that other Charlotte in London to be friends.'
+But the lawyer only shook his head. On this point his clients were firm.
+'All communication between the families must cease.'</p>
+
+<p>"That is the story, Angus," continued Charlotte Home, suddenly changing
+her voice, and allowing her eyes, which had been lowered during her
+brief recital, to rise to her husband's face. "My dear mother died a day
+or two afterwards. She died regretting having to own even what she did,
+and begging me not to think unkindly of my father, and not to unsettle
+your mind by telling you what could do no good whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"'I do not think unkindly of my father, mother,' I answered, 'and I will
+not trouble my husband's mind, at least, not yet, never, perhaps, unless
+fitting opportunity arises. But I know what I think, mother&mdash;what,
+indeed, I know. That was not my father's real will; my brothers John and
+Jasper have cheated you. Of this I am very sure.'</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, though she was so weak and dying, got quite a color into her
+cheeks when I said this. 'No, no,' she said, 'don't harbor such a
+thought in your heart&mdash;my darling, my darling. Indeed it is utterly
+impossible. It was a real, real will. I heard it read, and your
+brothers, they were gentlemen. Don't let so base a thought of them dwell
+in your heart. It is, I know it is, impossible.'</p>
+
+<p>"I said no more to trouble my dear mother and shortly afterwards she
+died. That is six years ago."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+<h3>TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT IT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>After the story was finished the husband and wife sat for a long time
+side by side, in absolute silence. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on the
+glowing embers in the fire; the wife's reflected back both the lights
+and the shadows; they were troubled eyes, troubled with possible joy,
+troubled also with the dark feelings of anger. The husband's, on the
+contrary, were calm and steady. No strong hope was visiting them, but
+despair, even disquietude, seemed miles away. Presently the wife's small
+nervous fingers were stretched out to meet her husband's, his closed
+over them, he turned his head, met her anxious face, smiled and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"So it seems on the cards that you might have been rich, Lottie. Well,
+it was unjust of your father not to have made some provision for your
+mother and you, but&mdash;but&mdash;he has long been dead, the whole thing is
+over. Let it pass."</p>
+
+<p>"Angus! do you know what I should like?" asked his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"No. What?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to meet those two men, John and Jasper Harman, face to
+face, and ask them without the least preamble or preparation, what they
+have done with my father's real will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Lottie, you must get this strange idea out of your head. It is not
+right of you to harbor such thoughts of any men."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to look so hard at them," continued Charlotte, scarcely
+heeding her husband's words. "I know their eyes would flinch, they would
+be startled, they would betray themselves. Angus, I can't help it, the
+conviction that is over me is too strong to be silenced. For years, ever
+since my mother told me that story, I have felt that we have been
+wronged, nay, robbed of our own. But when I entered that house to-day
+and found myself face with my half-brother's daughter, when I found
+myself in the house that I had been forbidden to enter, I felt&mdash;I knew,
+that a great wrong had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> been committed. My father! Why should I think
+ill of my father, Angus? Is it likely that he would have made no
+provision for my mother whom he loved, or for me? Is it likely that he
+would have left everything he possessed to the two sons with whom he had
+so bitterly quarrelled, that for years they had not even met? Is it
+likely? Angus, you are a just man, and you will own to the truth. Is it
+likely, that with his almost dying breath, he should have assured my
+mother that all was settled that she could bring me up well, in comfort
+and luxury, that Charlotte Harman and I should be friends? No, Angus! I
+believe my father; he was a good and just man always; and, even if he
+was not, dying men don't tell lies."</p>
+
+<p>"I grant that it seems unlikely, Lottie; but then, on the other hand,
+what do you accuse these men of? Why, of no less a crime than forging a
+will, of suppressing the real will, and bringing forward one of their
+own manufacture. Why, my dear wife, such an act of villainy would be not
+only difficult, but, I should say, impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know <i>how</i> it was done, Angus, but something was done, of that
+I am sure, and what that thing was I shall live, please God, to find
+out."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you&mdash;you, a clergyman's wife&mdash;the wife of a man who lives to
+proclaim peace on earth, good-will to men, you go into your brother's
+house as a spy!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home colored. Her husband had risen from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not do that," he said; "I am your husband, and I forbid it.
+You can only go to the Harmans, if they are indeed the near relations
+you believe them to be, on one condition."</p>
+
+<p>"And that?" said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"That you see not only Mr. Harman's daughter, but Mr. Harman himself;
+that you tell him exactly who you are.... If, after hearing your story,
+he allows you to work for his daughter, you can do so without again
+alluding to the relationship. If they wish it dropped, drop it, Lottie;
+work for them as you would for any other strangers, doing your best work
+bravely and well. But begin openly. Above all things thinking no evil in
+your heart of them."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I cannot go on these conditions, Angus, for I cannot feel charity
+in my heart towards Mr. Harman. It seemed such a good thing this
+morning. But I must give it up."</p>
+
+<p>"And something else will come in it's place, never fear;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> but I did not
+know until to-night that my Lottie so pined for riches."</p>
+
+<p>"Angus, I do&mdash;I do&mdash;I want Harold to go to a good school, Daisy to be
+educated, little Angus to get what is necessary for his health, and
+above all, you, my dearest, my dearest, to have a warm overcoat, and
+port wine: the overcoat when you are cold, the port wine when you are
+tired. Think of having these luxuries, not only for yourself, but to
+give away to your poor, Angus, and I am sure we ought to have them."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Lottie! you are a witch, you try to tempt me, and all these things
+sound very pleasant. But don't dream of what we haven't, let us live for
+the many, many things we have."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+<h3>LOVE IN A DIAMOND.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The next day Angus Home went out early as usual, about his many parish
+duties; this was it was true, neither a feast nor a fast day, nor had he
+to attend a morning service, but he had long ago constituted himself
+chief visitor among the sick and poorest of his flock, and such work
+occupied him from morning to night. Perhaps in a nature naturally
+inclined to asceticism, this daily mingling with the very poor and the
+very suffering, had helped to keep down all ambitions for earthly good
+things, whether those good things came in the guise of riches or honors;
+but though unambitious and very humble, never pushing himself forward,
+doing always the work that men who considered themselves more fastidious
+would shun, never allowing his voice to be heard where he believed wiser
+men than he might speak, Mr. Home was neither morbid nor unhappy; one of
+his greatest characteristics was an utter absence of all
+self-consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>The fact was, the man, though he had a wife whom he loved, and children
+very dear to him, had grown accustomed to hold life lightly; to him life
+was in very truth a pilgrimage, a school, a morning which should usher
+in the great day of the future. His mental and spiritual eyes were fixed
+expectantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> and longingly on that day; and in connection with it, it
+would be wrong to say that he was without ambition, for he had a very
+earnest and burning desire, not only for rank but for kingship by and
+by: he wanted to be crowned with the crown of righteousness.</p>
+
+<p>Angus Home knew well that to wear that crown in all its lustre in the
+future, it must begin to fit his head down here; and he also knew that
+those who put on such crowns on earth, find them, as their great and
+blessed Master did before them, made of thorns.</p>
+
+<p>It is no wonder then that the man with so simple a faith, so Christ-like
+a spirit, should not be greatly concerned by his wife's story of the
+night before. He did not absolutely forget it, for he pondered over it
+as he wended his way to the attic where the orphan Swifts lived. He felt
+sorry for Lottie as he thought of it, and he hoped she would soon cease
+to have such uncharitable ideas of her half-brothers; he himself could
+not even entertain the notion that any fraud had been committed; he felt
+rather shocked that his Lottie should dwell on so base a thing.</p>
+
+<p>There is no doubt that this saint-like man could be a tiny bit
+provoking; and so his wife felt when he left her without again alluding
+to their last night's talk. After all it is wives and mothers who feel
+the sharpest stings of poverty. Charlotte had known what to be poor
+meant all her life, as a child, as a young girl, as a wife, as a mother,
+but she had been brave enough about it, indifferent enough to it, until
+the children came; but from the day her mother's story was told her, and
+she knew how close the wings of earthly comfort had swept her by,
+discontent came into her heart. Discontent came in and grew with the
+birth of each fresh little one. She might have made her children so
+comfortable, she could do so little with them; they were pretty children
+too. It went to her heart to see their beauty disfigured in ugly
+clothes; she used to look the other way with a great jealous pang, when
+she saw children not nearly so beautiful as hers, yet looked at and
+admired because of their bright fresh colors and dainty little
+surroundings. But poverty brought worse stings than these. The small
+house in Kentish Town was hot and stifling in the months of July and
+August; the children grew pale and pined for the fresh country air which
+could not be given to them; Lottie herself grew weak and languid, and
+her husband's pale face seemed to grow more ethereal day by day. At all
+such times as these did Charlotte<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> Home's mind and thoughts refer back
+to her mother's story, and again and again the idea returned that a
+great, great wrong had been done.</p>
+
+<p>In the winter when this story opens, poverty came very close to the
+little household. They were, it is true, quite out of debt, but they
+were only so because the food was kept so scanty, the fires so low,
+dress so very insufficient to keep at a distance the winter's bitter
+cold; they were only out of debt because the mother slaved from morning
+to night, and the father ate less and less, having, it is to be feared,
+less and less appetite to eat.</p>
+
+<p>Then the wife and mother grew desperate, money must be brought in&mdash;how
+could it be done? The doctor called and said that baby Angus would die
+if he had not more milk&mdash;he must have what is called in London
+baby-milk, and plenty of it. Such milk in Kentish Town meant money.
+Lottie resolved that baby Angus should not die. In answering an
+advertisement which she hoped would give her employment, she
+accidentally found herself in her own half-brother's house. There was
+the wealth which had belonged to her father; there were the riches to
+which she was surely born. How delicious were those soft carpets; how
+nice those cushioned seats; how pleasant those glowing fires; what an
+air of refinement breathed over everything; how grand it was to be
+served by those noiseless and well-trained servants; how great a thing
+was wealth, after all!</p>
+
+<p>She thought all this before she saw Charlotte Harman. Then the gracious
+face, the noble bearing, the kindly and sweet manner of this girl of her
+own age, this girl who might have been her dearest friend, who was so
+nearly related to her, filled her with sudden bitterness; she believed
+herself immeasurably inferior to Miss Harman, and yet she knew that she
+might have been such another. She left the house with a mingled feeling
+of relief and bitterness. She was earning present money. What might she
+not discover to benefit her husband and children by and by?</p>
+
+<p>In the evening, unable to keep her thoughts to herself, she told them
+and her story for the first time to her husband. Instantly he tore the
+veil from her eyes. Was she, his wife, to go to her own brother's house
+as a spy? No! a thousand times no! No wealth, however needed, would be
+worth purchasing at such a price. If Charlotte could not banish from her
+mind these unworthy thoughts, she must give up so excellent a means of
+earning money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Poor Charlotte! The thoughts her husband considered so mean, so untrue,
+so unworthy, had become by this time part of her very being. Oh! must
+the children suffer because unrighteous men enjoyed what was rightfully
+theirs?</p>
+
+<p>For the first time, the very first time in all her life, she felt
+discontented with her Angus. If only he were a little more everyday, a
+little more practical; if only he would go to the bottom of this
+mystery, and set her mind at rest!</p>
+
+<p>She went about her morning duties in a state of mental friction and
+aggravation, and, as often happens, on this very morning when she seemed
+least able to bear it, came the proverbial last straw. Anne, the little
+maid, put in her head at the parlor door.</p>
+
+<p>"Ef you please, 'em, is Harold to wear 'em shoes again? There's holes
+through and through of 'em, and it's most desp'rate sloppy out of doors
+this mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home took the little worn-out shoes in her hand; she saw at a
+glance that they were quite past mending.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave them here, Anne," she said. "You are right, he cannot wear these
+again. I will go out at once and buy him another pair."</p>
+
+<p>The small maid disappeared, and Charlotte put her hand into her pocket.
+She drew out her purse with a sinking heart. Was there money enough in
+it to buy the necessary food for the day's consumption, and also to get
+new shoes for Harold? A glance showed her but too swiftly there was not.
+She never went on credit for anything&mdash;the shoes must wait, and Harold
+remain a prisoner in the house that day. She went slowly up to the
+nursery: Daisy and baby could go out and Harold should come down to the
+parlor to her.</p>
+
+<p>But one glance at her boy's pale face caused her heart to sink. He was a
+handsome boy&mdash;she thought him aristocratic, fit to be the son of a
+prince&mdash;but to-day he was deadly pale, with that washy look which
+children who pine for fresh air so often get. He was standing in rather
+a moping attitude by the tiny window; but at sight of his mother he flew
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, Anne says I'm to have new shoes. Have you got them? I am so
+glad."</p>
+
+<p>No, she could not disappoint her boy. A sudden idea darted through her
+brain. She would ask Miss Mitchell, the drawing-room boarder, to lend
+her the three-and-sixpence which the little shoes would cost. It was the
+first time she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> had ever borrowed, and her pride rose in revolt at even
+naming the paltry sum&mdash;but, for the sake of her boy's pale face?</p>
+
+<p>"I am going out to buy the shoes," she said, stooping down to kiss the
+sweet upturned brow; and she flew downstairs and tapped at the
+drawing-room door.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Mitchell was a lady of about fifty; she had been with them now for
+nearly a year, and what she paid for the drawing-room and best bedroom
+behind it, quite covered the rent of the shabby little house. Miss
+Mitchell was Charlotte Home's grand standby; she was a very
+uninteresting person, neither giving nor looking for sympathy, never
+concerning herself about the family in whose house she lived. But then,
+on the other hand, she was easily pleased; she never grumbled, she paid
+her rent like clockwork. She now startled Lottie by coming instantly
+forward and telling her that it was her intention to leave after the
+usual notice; she found the baby's fretful cries too troublesome, for
+her room was under the nursery; this was one reason. Another, perhaps
+the most truthful one, was, that her favorite curate in St. Martin's
+Church over the way, had received promotion to another and more
+fashionable church, and she would like to move to where she could still
+be under his ministry. Charlotte bowed; there was nothing for it but to
+accept the fact that her comfortable lodger must go. Where could she
+find a second Miss Mitchell, and how could she possibly now ask for the
+loan of three and sixpence?</p>
+
+<p>She left the room. Where was the money to come from to buy Harold's
+shoes? for that little pleading face must not be disappointed. This care
+was, for the moment, more pressing than the loss of Miss Mitchell. How
+should she get the money for her boy? She pressed her hand to her brow
+to think out this problem. As she did so, a ring she wore on her
+wedding-finger flashed; it was her engagement ring, a plain gold band,
+only differing from the wedding-ring, which it now guarded, in that it
+possessed one small, very small diamond. The diamond was perhaps the
+smallest that could be purchased, but it was pure of its kind, and the
+tiny gem now flashed a loving fire into her eyes, as though it would
+speak if it could in answer to her inquiry. Yes, if she sold this ring,
+the money would be forthcoming. It was precious, it symbolized much to
+her; she had no other to act as guard; but it was not so precious as the
+blue eyes of her first-born. Her resolve was scarcely conceived before
+it was put in practice. She hastened out with the ring; a jeweller
+lived<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> not far away; he gave her fifteen shillings, and Charlotte,
+feeling quite rich, bought the little shoes and hurried home.</p>
+
+<p>As she almost flew along the sloppy streets a fresh thought came to her.
+Yes! she must certainly decline that very excellent situation with Miss
+Harman. That sorely wanted thirty shillings a week must be given up,
+there was no question about that. Bitter were her pangs of heart as she
+relinquished the precious money, but it would be impossible for her to
+go to her brother's house in the only spirit in which her husband would
+allow her to go. Yes; she must give it up. When the children were at
+last fairly started on their walk she would sit down and write to Miss
+Harman. But why should she write? She stood still as the thought came to
+her to go to Miss Harman in person; to tell her from her own lips that
+she must not visit that house, or see her daily. She might or might not
+tell her who she really was; she would leave that to circumstances; but
+she would at least once more see her brother's house and look into the
+eyes of her brother's child. It would be a short, soon-lived-through
+excitement. Still she was in that mood when to sit still in inactivity
+was impossible; the visit would lead to nothing, but still she would pay
+it; afterwards would be time enough to think of finding some one to
+replace Miss Mitchell, of trying to buy again her engagement ring, of
+purchasing warm clothes for her little ones.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN PRINCE'S GATE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Having arranged her household matters, been informed of another pair of
+boots which could not last many days longer, seen to the children's
+dinner, and finally started the little group fairly off for their walk
+with Anne, Charlotte ran upstairs, put on her neat though thin and worn
+black silk, her best jacket and bonnet and set off to Kensington to see
+Miss Harman.</p>
+
+<p>She reached the grand house in Prince's Gate about twelve o'clock. The
+day had indeed long begun for her, but she reflected rather bitterly
+that most likely Miss Harman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> had but just concluded her breakfast. She
+found, however, that she had much wronged this energetic young lady.
+Breakfast had been over with some hours ago, and when Mrs. Home asked
+for her, the footman who answered her modest summons said that Miss
+Harman was out, but had left directions that if a lady called she was to
+be asked to wait.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was taken up to Miss Harman's own private sitting room, where,
+after stirring the fire, and furnishing her with that morning's <i>Times</i>,
+the servant left her alone.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home was glad of this. She drew her comfortable easy chair to the
+fire, placed her feet upon the neat brass rail, closed her eyes, and
+tried to fancy herself alone. Had her father lived, such comforts as
+these would have been matters of everyday occurrence to her. Common as
+the air she breathed would this grateful warmth be then to her thin
+limbs, this delicious easy chair to her aching back. Had her father
+lived, or had justice been done, in either case would soft ease have
+been her portion. She started from her reclining position and looked
+round the room. A parrot swung lazily on his perch in one of the
+windows. Two canaries sang in a gilded cage in the other. How Harold and
+Daisy would love these birds! Just over her head was a very beautifully
+executed portrait in oils of a little child, most likely Miss Harman in
+her infancy. Ah, yes, but baby Angus at home was more beautiful. A
+portrait of him would attract more admiration than did that of the proud
+daughter of all this wealth. Tears started unbidden to the poor
+perplexed mother's eyes. It was hard to sit quiet with this burning pain
+at her heart. Just then the door was opened and an elderly gentleman
+with silver hair came in. He bowed, distantly to the stranger sitting by
+his hearth, took up a book he had come to seek, and withdrew. Mrs. Home
+had barely time to realize that this elderly man must really be the
+brother who had supplanted her, when a sound of feet, of voices, of
+pleasant laughter, drew near. The room door was again opened, and
+Charlotte Harman, accompanied by two gentlemen, came in. The elder of
+the two men was short and rather stout, with hair that had once been
+red, but was now sandy, keen, deep-set eyes, and a shrewd, rather
+pleasant face. Miss Harman addressed him as Uncle Jasper, and they
+continued firing gay badinage at one another for a moment without
+perceiving Mrs. Home's presence. The younger man was tall and
+square-shouldered, with a rather rugged face of some power. He might
+have been about thirty. He entered the room by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> Miss Harman's side, and
+stood by her now with a certain air of proprietorship.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Mrs. Home," said the young lady, quickly discovering her visitor
+and coming forward and shaking hands with her at once, "I expected you.
+I hope you have not waited long, John," turning to the young man, "will
+you come back at four? Mrs. Home and I have some little matters to talk
+over, and I daresay her time is precious. I shall be quite ready to go
+out with you at four. Uncle Jasper, my father is in the library; will
+you take him this book from me?"</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper, who had been peering with all his might out of his
+short-sighted eyes at the visitor, now answered with a laugh, "We are
+politely dismissed, eh? Hinton," and taking the arm of the younger man
+they left the room.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+<h3>IT INTERESTS HER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"And now, Mrs Home, we will have some lunch together up here, and then
+afterwards we can talk and quite finish all our arrangements," said the
+rich Charlotte, looking with her frank and pleasant eyes at the poor
+one. She rang a bell as she spoke, and before Mrs. Home had time to
+reply, a tempting little meal was ordered to be served without delay.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been with my publishers this morning," said Miss Harman. "They
+are good enough to say they believe my tale promises well, but they want
+it completed by the first of March, to come out with the best spring
+books. Don't you think we may get it done? It is the middle of January
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay it may be done," answered Mrs. Home, rising, and speaking in
+a tremulous voice. "I have no doubt you will work hard and have it
+ready&mdash;but&mdash;but&mdash;I regret it much, I have come to-day to say I cannot
+take the situation you have so kindly offered me."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" said Miss Harman, "why?" Some color came into her cheeks as
+she added, "I don't understand you.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> I thought you had promised. I
+thought it was all arranged yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>Her tone was a little haughty, but how well she used it; how keenly Mrs.
+Home felt the loss of what she was resigning.</p>
+
+<p>"I did promise you," she said; "I feel you have a right to blame me. It
+is a considerable loss to me resigning your situation, but my husband
+has asked me to do so. I must obey my husband, must I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! yes, of course. But why should he object. He is a clergyman, is he
+not? Is he too proud&mdash;I would tell no one. All in this house should
+consider you simply as a friend. Our writing would be just a secret
+between you and me. Your husband will give in when you tell him that."</p>
+
+<p>"He is not in the least proud, Miss Harman&mdash;not proud I mean in that
+false way."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am not giving you money enough&mdash;of course thirty shillings seems
+too little; I will gladly raise it to two pounds a week, and if this
+book succeeds, you shall have more for helping me with the next."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home felt her heart beating. How much she needed, how keenly she
+longed for that easily earned money. "I must not think of it," she said,
+however, shaking her head. "I confess I want money, but I must earn it
+elsewhere. I cannot come here. My husband will only allow me to do so on
+a certain condition. I cannot even tell you the condition&mdash;certainly I
+cannot fulfil it, therefore I cannot come."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but that is exciting. <i>Do</i> tell it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"If I did you would be the first to say I must never come to this house
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"I am quite sure you wrong me there. I may as well own that I have taken
+a fancy to you. I am a spoiled child, and I always have my own way. My
+present way is to have you here in this snug room for two or three hours
+daily&mdash;you and I working in secret over something grand. I always get my
+way so your conditions must melt into air. Now, what are they?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dare I tell her?" thought Mrs. Home. Aloud she said, "The conditions
+are these:&mdash;I must tell you a story, a story about myself&mdash;and&mdash;and
+others."</p>
+
+<p>"And I love stories, especially when they happen in real life."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Harman, don't tempt me. I want to tell you, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> I had better not;
+you had better let me go away. You are very happy now, are you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"What a strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! Yes, I am happy."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't like my story. It is possible you may not be happy after you
+have heard it."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a very unlikely possibility. How can the tale of an absolute
+stranger affect my happiness?" These words were said eagerly&mdash;a little
+bit defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Home's face had now become so grave, and there was such an
+eager, almost frightened look in her eyes, that her companion's too
+changed. After all what was this tale? A myth, doubtless; but she would
+hear it now.</p>
+
+<p>"I accept the risk of my happiness being imperiled," she said. "I choose
+to hear the tale&mdash;I am ready."</p>
+
+<p>"But I may not choose to tell," said the other Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"I would make you. You have begun&mdash;begun in such a way that you <i>must</i>
+finish."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that so?" replied Mrs. Home. The light was growing more and more
+eager in her eyes. She said to herself, "The die is cast." There rose up
+before her a vision of her children&mdash;of her husband's thin face. Her
+voice trembled.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Harman&mdash;I will speak&mdash;you won't interrupt me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but lunch is on the table. You must eat something first."</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I cannot with that story in prospect; to eat would choke
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"What a queer tale it must be!" said the other Charlotte. "Well, so be
+it." She seated herself in a chair at a little distance from Mrs. Home,
+fixed her gaze on the glowing fire, and said, "I am ready. I won't
+interrupt you."</p>
+
+<p>The poor Charlotte, too, looked at the fire. During the entire telling
+of the tale neither of these young women glanced at the other.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my own story," began Mrs. Home: then she paused, and continued,
+"My father died when I was two years old. During my father's lifetime I,
+who am now so poor, had all the comforts that you must have had, Miss
+Harman, in your childhood. He died, leaving my mother, who was both
+young and pretty, nothing. She was his second wife, for five years she
+had enjoyed all that his wealth could purchase for her. He died, leaving
+her absolutely penniless. My mother was, as I have said, a second wife.
+My father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> had two grown-up sons. These sons had quarrelled with him at
+the time of his marrying my young mother; they came to see him and were
+reconciled on his deathbed. He left to these sons every penny of his
+great wealth. The sons expressed surprise when the will was read. They
+even blamed my father for so completely forgetting his wife and youngest
+child. They offered to make some atonement for him. During my mother's
+lifetime they settled on her three thousand pounds; I mean the interest,
+at five per cent., on that sum. It was to return to them at her death,
+it was not to descend to me, and my mother must only enjoy it on one
+condition. The condition was, that all communication must cease between
+my father's family and hers. On the day she renewed it the money would
+cease to be paid. My mother was young, a widow, and alone; she accepted
+the conditions, and the money was faithfully paid to her until the day
+of her death. I was too young to remember my father, and I only heard
+this story about him on my mother's deathbed; then for the first time I
+learned that we might have been rich, that we were in a measure meant to
+enjoy the good things which money can buy. My mother had educated me
+well, and you may be quite sure that with an income of one hundred and
+fifty pounds a year this could only be done by practising the strictest
+economy. I was accustomed to doing without the pretty dresses and nice
+things which came as natural to other girls as the air they breathed. In
+my girlhood, I did not miss these things; but at the time of my mother's
+death, at the time the story first reached my ears, I was married, and
+my eldest child was born. A poor man had made me, a poor girl his wife,
+and, Miss Harman, let me tell you, that wives and mothers do long for
+money. The longing with them is scarcely selfish, it is for the beings
+dearer than themselves. There is a pain beyond words in denying your
+little child what you know is for that child's good, but yet which you
+cannot give because of your empty purse; there is a pain in seeing your
+husband shivering in too thin a coat on bitter winter nights. You know
+nothing of such things&mdash;may you never know them; but they have gone
+quite through my heart, quite, quite through it. Well, that is my story;
+not much, you will say, after all. I might have been rich, I am poor,
+that is my story."</p>
+
+<p>"It interests me," said Miss Harman, drawing a long breath, "it
+interests me greatly; but you will pardon my expressing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> my real
+feelings: I think your father was a cruel and unjust man."</p>
+
+<p>"I think my brothers, my half-brothers, were cruel and unjust. I don't
+believe that was my father's real will."</p>
+
+<p>"What! you believe there was foul play? This is interesting&mdash;if so, if
+you can prove it, you may be righted yet. Are your half-brothers
+living?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"And you think you have proof that you and your mother were unjustly
+treated?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no proof, no proof whatever, Miss Harman, I have only
+suspicions."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! you will tell me what they are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Even they amount to very little, and yet I feel them to be certainties.
+On the night before my father died he told my mother that she and I
+would be comfortably off; he also said that he wished that I and his
+son's little daughter, that other Charlotte he called her, should grow
+up together as sisters. My father was a good man, his mind was not
+wandering at all, why should he on his deathbed have said this if he
+knew that he had made such an unjust will, if he knew that he had left
+my mother and her little child without a sixpence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Harman slowly and thoughtfully, "it looks strange."</p>
+
+<p>After this for a few moments both these young women were silent. Mrs.
+Home's eyes again sought the fire, she had told her story, the
+excitement was over, and a dull despair came back over her face.
+Charlotte Harman, on the contrary, was deep in that fine speculation
+which seeks to succor the oppressed, her grey eyes glowed, and a faint
+color came in to her cheeks. After a time she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I should like to help you to get your rights. You saw that gentleman
+who left the room just now, that younger gentleman, I am to be his wife
+before long&mdash;he is a lawyer, may I tell him your tale?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, not for worlds." Here Mrs. Home in her excitement rose to her
+feet. "I have told the story, forget it now, let it die."</p>
+
+<p>"What a very strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! I must say I cannot
+understand you."</p>
+
+<p>"You will never understand me. But it does not matter, we are not likely
+to meet again. I saw you for the first time yesterday. I love you, I
+thank you. You are a rich and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> prosperous young lady, you won't be too
+proud to accept my thanks and my love. Now good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you are not going in that fashion. I do not see why you should go
+at all; you have told me your story, it only proves that you want money
+very much, there is nothing at all to prevent your becoming my
+amanuensis."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot, I must not. Let me go."</p>
+
+<p>"But why? I do not understand."</p>
+
+<p>"You will never understand. I can only repeat that I must not come
+here."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home could look proud when she liked. It was now Miss Harman's turn
+to become the suppliant; with a softness of manner which in so
+noble-looking a girl was simply bewitching, she said gently&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You confess that you love me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home's eyes filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I do I am going away," she said.</p>
+
+<p>She had just revealed by this little speech a trifle too much, the
+trifle reflected a light too vivid to Charlotte Harman's mind, her face
+became crimson.</p>
+
+<p>"I will know the truth," she said, "I will&mdash;I must. This story&mdash;you say
+it is about you; is it all about you? has it anything to say to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, don't ask me&mdash;good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"I stand between you and the door until you speak. How old are you, Mrs.
+Home?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am twenty-five."</p>
+
+<p>"That is my age. Who was that Charlotte your dying father wished you to
+be a sister to?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"You cannot&mdash;but you must. I will know. Was it&mdash;but impossible! it
+cannot be&mdash;am <i>I</i> that Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home covered her face with two trembling hands. The other woman,
+with her superior intellect, had discovered the secret she had feebly
+tried to guard. There was a pause and a dead silence. That silence told
+all that was necessary to Charlotte Harman. After a time she said
+gently, but all the fibre and tune had left her voice,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I must think over your story, it is a very, very strange tale. You are
+right, you cannot come here; good-bye."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WOMAN BY THE HEARTH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Home went back to the small house in Kentish Town, and Miss Harman
+sat on by her comfortable fire. The dainty lunch was brought in and laid
+on the table, the young lady did not touch it. The soft-voiced,
+soft-footed servant brought in some letters on a silver salver. They
+looked tempting letters, thick and bulgy. Charlotte Harman turned her
+head to glance at them but she left them unopened by her side. She had
+come in very hungry, from her visit to the publishers, and these letters
+which now lay so close had been looked forward to with some impatience,
+but now she could neither eat nor read. At last a pretty little
+timepiece which stood on a shelf over her head struck four, and a clock
+from a neighboring church re-echoed the sound. Almost at the same
+instant there came a tap at her room door.</p>
+
+<p>"That is John," said Charlotte. She shivered a little. Her face had
+changed a good deal, but she rose from her seat and came forward to meet
+her lover.</p>
+
+<p>"Ready, Charlotte?" he said, laying his two hands on her shoulders; then
+looking into her face he started back in some alarm. "My dear, my
+dearest, something has happened; what is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>This young woman was the very embodiment of truth. She did not dream of
+saying, "Nothing is the matter." She looked up bravely into the eyes she
+loved best in the world and answered,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"A good deal is the matter, John. I am very much vexed and&mdash;and
+troubled."</p>
+
+<p>"You will tell me all about it; you will let me help you?" said the
+lover, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, John dear, but not to-night. I want to think to-night. I want to
+know more. To-morrow you shall hear; certainly to-morrow. No, I will not
+go out with you. Is my father in? Is Uncle Jasper in?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Your father is out, and your uncle is going. I left him buttoning on
+his great-coat in the hall."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I must see Uncle Jasper; forgive me, I must see him for a minute."</p>
+
+<p>She flew downstairs, leaving John Hinton standing alone, a little
+puzzled and a little vexed. Breathless she arrived in the hall to find
+her uncle descending the steps; she rushed after him and laid her hand
+on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Jasper, I want you. Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hoity-toity," said the old gentleman, turning round in some surprise,
+and even dismay when he caught sight of her face. "I am going to the
+club, child. What next. I sent Hinton up to you. What more do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want you. I have a story to tell you and a question to ask you. You
+must come back."</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie, I said I would have nothing to do with those books of yours,
+and I won't. I hate novels, and I hate novelists. Forgive me, child. I
+don't hate you; but if your father and John Hinton between them mean to
+spoil a fine woman by encouraging her to become that monster of nature,
+a blue-stocking, I won't help them, and that's flat. There now. Let me
+go."</p>
+
+<p>"It is no fiction I want to ask you, Uncle Jasper. It is a true tale,
+one I have just heard. It concerns me and you and my father. It has
+pained me very much, but I believe it can be cleared up. I would rather
+ask you than my father about it, at least at first; but either of you
+can answer what I want to know; so if you will not listen to me I can
+speak to my father after dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper had one of those faces which reveal nothing, and it
+revealed nothing now. But the keen eyes looked hard into the open gray
+eyes of the girl who stood by his side.</p>
+
+<p>"What thread out of that tangled skein has she got into her head?" he
+whispered to himself. Aloud he said, "I will come back to dinner,
+Charlotte, and afterwards you shall take me up to your little snuggery.
+If you are in trouble, my dear, you had better confide in me than in
+your father. He does not&mdash;does not look very strong."</p>
+
+<p>Then he walked down the street; but when he reached his club he did not
+enter it. He walked on and on. He puzzling, not so much over his niece's
+strange words as over something else. Who was that woman who sat by
+Charlotte's hearth that day?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHARLOTTE CANNOT BEAR THE DARK.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The elder Mr. Harman had retired to his study, and Charlotte and her
+uncle sat side by side in that young lady's own private apartment. The
+room looked snug and sheltered, and the subdued light from a Queen's
+reading-lamp, and from the glowing embers of a half burned-out fire,
+were very pleasant. Uncle Jasper was leaning back in an armchair, but
+Charlotte stood on the hearthrug. Soft and faint as the light was, it
+revealed burning cheeks and shining eyes; but the old face these tokens
+of excitement appealed to remained completely in shadow.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte had told the story she had heard that day, and during its
+whole recital her uncle had sat motionless, making no comment either by
+word or exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home's tale had been put into skilful hands. It was well told&mdash;all
+the better because the speaker so earnestly hoped that its existence
+might turn out a myth&mdash;that the phantom so suddenly conjured up might
+depart as quickly as it had arrived. At last the story came to a
+conclusion. There was a pause, and Charlotte said,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Uncle Jasper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Lottie?" he answered. And now he roused himself, and bent a
+little forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the story true, Uncle Jasper?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is certainly true, Charlotte, that my father and your grandfather
+married again."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"It is also highly probable that this young woman is the daughter of
+that marriage. When I saw her in this room to-day I was puzzled by an
+intangible likeness in her. This accounts for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why&mdash;&mdash;" began Charlotte, and then she stopped. There was a whole
+world of bitterness in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, child," said her uncle. He pointed to a footstool at his
+feet. Whenever he came into this room Charlotte had occupied this
+footstool, and he wanted her to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> it now, but she would not; she
+still kept her place on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot sit," she said. "I am excited&mdash;greatly excited. This looks to
+me in the light of a wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Who do you think has committed the wrong, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>Before she answered, Charlotte Harman lit a pair of candles which stood
+on the mantelshelf.</p>
+
+<p>"There, now," she said with a sigh of relief, "I can see your face. It
+is dreadful to speak to any one in the dark. Uncle Jasper, if I had so
+near a relation living all these years why was I never told of it? I
+have over and over again longed for a sister, and it seems I had one or
+one who might have been to me a sister. Why was I kept in ignorance of
+her very existence?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are like all women&mdash;unreasonable, Lottie. I am glad to find you so
+human, my dear; so human, and&mdash;and&mdash;womanly. You jump to conclusions
+without hearing reasons. Now I will give you the reasons. But I do wish
+you would sit down."</p>
+
+<p>"I will sit here," said Charlotte, and she drew a chair near the table.
+The room abounded in easy-chairs of all sizes and descriptions, but she
+chose one hard and made of cane, and she sat upright upon it, her hands
+folded on her lap. "Now, Uncle Jasper," she said, "I am ready to hear
+your reasons."</p>
+
+<p>"They go a good way back, my dear, and I am not clever at telling a
+story; but I will do my best. Your grandfather made his money in trade;
+he made a good business, and he put your father and me both into it. It
+is unnecessary to go into particulars about our special business; it was
+small at first, but we extended it until it became the great firm of
+which your father is the present head. We both, your father and I,
+showed even more aptitude for this life of mercantile success than our
+father did, and he, perceiving this, retired while scarcely an old man.
+He made us over the entire business he had made, taking, however, from
+it, for his own private use, a large sum of money. On the interest of
+this money he would live, promising, however, to return it to us at his
+death. The money taken out of the business rather crippled us, and we
+begged of him to allow us to pay him the interest, and to let the
+capital remain at our disposal; but he wished to be completely his own
+master, and he bought a place in Hertfordshire out of part of the
+money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> It was a year or two after, that he met his second wife and
+married her. I don't pretend," continued Uncle Jasper, "that we liked
+this marriage or our stepmother. We were young fellows then, and we
+thought our father had done us an injustice. The girl he had chosen was
+an insipid little thing, with just a pretty face, and nothing whatever
+else. She was not quite a lady. We saw her, and came to the conclusion
+that she was common&mdash;most unsuited to our father. We also remembered our
+own mother; and most young men feel pain at seeing any one put into her
+place.</p>
+
+<p>"We expostulated with our father. He was a fiery old man, and hot words
+passed between us. I won't repeat what we all said, my dear, or how
+bitter John and I felt when we rode away from the old place our father
+had just purchased. One thing he said as we were going off.</p>
+
+<p>"'My marrying again won't make any money difference to you two fellows,
+and I suppose I may please myself.'"</p>
+
+<p>"I think my grandfather was very unjust," said Charlotte, but
+nevertheless a look of relief stole over her face.</p>
+
+<p>"We went back to our business, my dear, and our father married; and when
+we wrote to him he did not answer our letters. After a time we heard a
+son had been born, and then, shortly after the birth of this child, the
+news reached us, that a lawyer had been summoned down to the manor-house
+in Hertfordshire. We supposed that our father was making provision for
+the child; and it seemed to us fair enough. Then we saw the child's
+death in the <i>Times</i>, and shortly after the news also came to us that
+the same lawyer had gone down again to see our father.</p>
+
+<p>"After this, a few years went by, and we, busy with our own life, gave
+little heed to the old man, who seemed to have forgotten us. Suddenly we
+were summoned to his deathbed. John, your father, my dear, had always
+been his favorite. On his deathbed he seemed to have returned to the old
+times, when John was a little fellow. He liked to have him by his side;
+in short, he could not bear to have him out of his sight. He appeared to
+have forgotten the poor, common little wife he had married, and to live
+his early days over again. He died quite reconciled to us both, and we
+held his hand as he breathed his last.</p>
+
+<p>"To our surprise, my dear, we found that he had left us every penny of
+his fortune. The wife and baby girl were left totally unprovided for. We
+were amazed! We thought it unjust. We instantly resolved to make
+provision for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> and her baby. We did so. She never wanted to the day
+of her death."</p>
+
+<p>"She did not starve," interrupted Charlotte, "but you shut her out, her
+and her child, from yourselves, and from me. Why did you do this?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, you would scarcely speak in that tone to your father, and it
+was his wish as well as mine&mdash;indeed, far more his wish than mine. I was
+on the eve of going to Australia, to carry on a branch of our trade
+there; but he was remaining at home. He was not very long married. You
+don't remember your mother, Charlotte. Ah! what a fine young creature
+she was, but proud&mdash;proud of her high birth&mdash;of a thousand things. It
+would have been intolerable to her to associate with one like my
+stepmother. Your father was particular about his wife and child. He
+judged it best to keep these undesirable relations apart. I, for one,
+can scarcely blame him."</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>will</i> not blame my father," said Charlotte. Again that look of
+relief had stolen over her face. The healthy tint, which was scarcely
+color, had returned to her cheek; and the tension of her attitude was
+also withdrawn, for she changed her seat, taking possession now of her
+favorite easy-chair. "But I like Charlotte Home," she said after a
+pause. "She is&mdash;whatever her mother may have been&mdash;quite a lady. I think
+it is hard that when she is so nearly related to me she should be so
+poor and I so rich. I will speak to my father. He asked me only this
+morning what I should like as a wedding present. I know what I shall
+like. He will give that three thousand pounds to Charlotte Home. The
+money her mother had for her life she shall have for ever. I know my
+father won't refuse me."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's eyes were on the ground, and she did not see the dark
+expression which for a moment passed over Jasper Harman's face. Before
+he answered her he poked the fire into a vigorous flame.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a generous girl, Lottie," he said then. "I admire your spirit.
+But it is plain, my dear, that money has come as easily to you as the
+very air you breathe, or you would not speak of three thousand pounds in
+a manner so light as almost to take one's breath away. But
+suppose&mdash;suppose the money could be given, there is another difficulty.
+To get that money for Mrs. Home, who, by the way, has her husband to
+provide for her, you must tell this tale to your father&mdash;you must not do
+that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" asked Charlotte, opening her eyes wide in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Simply because he is ill, and the doctors have forbidden him to be in
+the least agitated."</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Jasper&mdash;I know he is not well, but I did not hear this; and
+why&mdash;why should what I have to say agitate him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because he cannot bear any allusion to the past. He loved his father;
+he cannot dwell on those years when they were estranged. My dear,"
+continued old Uncle Jasper. "I am glad you came with this tale to me&mdash;it
+would have done your father harm. The doctors hope soon to make him much
+better, but at present he must hear nothing likely to give rise to
+gloomy thoughts; wait until he is better, my dear. And if you want help
+for this Mrs. Home, you must appeal to me. Promise me that, Lottie."</p>
+
+<p>"I will promise, certainly, not to injure my father, but I confess you
+puzzle me."</p>
+
+<p>"I am truly sorry, my dear. I will think over your tale, but now I must
+go to John. Will you come with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks; I would rather stay here."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we shall not meet again, for in an hour I am off to my club.
+Good-night, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>And Charlotte could not help noticing how soft and catlike were the
+footsteps of the old Australian uncle as he stole away.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2>
+
+<h3>JOHN AND JASPER HARMAN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jaspar Harman was sixty years old at this time, but the days of his
+pilgrimage had passed lightly over him, neither impairing his frame nor
+his vigor. At sixty years of age he could think as clearly, sleep as
+comfortably, eat as well&mdash;nay, even walk as far as he did thirty years
+ago. His life in the Antipodes seemed to have agreed with him. It is
+true his hair was turning gray, and his shrewd face had many wrinkles on
+it, but these seemed more the effects of climate than of years. He
+looked like a man whom no heart-trouble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> had ever touched and in this
+doubtless lay the secret of his perpetual youth. Care might sweep him
+very close, but it could not enter an unwelcome guest, to sit on the
+hearth of his holy of holies; into the innermost shrine of his being it
+could scarcely find room to enter. His was the kind of nature to whom
+remorse even for a sin committed must be almost unknown. His affections
+were not his strong point. Most decidedly his intellect overbalanced his
+heart. But without an undue preponderance of heart he was good-natured;
+he would pat a chubby little cheek, if he passed it in the street, and
+he would talk in a genial and hearty way to those beneath him in life.
+In business matters he was considered very shrewd and hard, but those
+who had no such dealings with him pronounced him a kindly soul. His
+smile was genial; his manner frank and pleasant. He had one trick,
+however, which no servant could bear&mdash;his step was as soft as a cat's;
+he must be on your heels before you had the faintest clue to his
+approach.</p>
+
+<p>In this stealthy way he now left his niece's room, stole down the
+thickly carpeted stairs, crept across a tiled hall, and entered the
+apartment where his elder brother waited for him.</p>
+
+<p>John Harman was only one year Jasper's senior, but there looked a much
+greater difference between them. Jasper was young for his years; John
+was old; nay, more&mdash;he was very old. In youth he must have been a
+handsome man; in age for every one spoke of him as aged, he was handsome
+still. He was tall, over six feet; his hair was silver-white; his eyes
+very deep set, very dark. Their expression was penetrating, kind, but
+sad. His mouth was firm, but had some lines round it which puzzled you.
+His smile, which was rare and seldom seen, was a wintry one. You would
+rather John Harman did not smile at you; you felt miserable afterwards.
+All who knew him said instinctively that John Harman had known some
+great trouble. Most people attributed it to the death of his wife, but,
+as this happened twenty years ago, others shook their heads and felt
+puzzled. Whatever the sorrow, however, which so perpetually clouded the
+fine old face, the nature of the man was so essentially noble that he
+was universally loved and respected.</p>
+
+<p>John Harmon was writing a letter when his brother entered. He pushed
+aside his writing materials, however, and raised his head with a sigh of
+relief. In Jasper's presence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> there was always one element of comfort.
+He need cover over no anxieties; his old face looked almost sharp as he
+wheeled his chair round to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you are not interrupting me," he began. "This letter can keep; it
+is not a business one. I never transact business at home." Then he
+added, as Jasper sank into the opposite chair, "You have been having a
+long chat with the child. I am glad she is getting fond of you."</p>
+
+<p>"She is a fine girl," said Jasper; "a fine, generous girl. I like her,
+even though she does dabble in literature; and I like Hinton too. When
+are they to be married, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"When Hinton gets his first brief&mdash;not before," answered John Harman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, he's a clever chap; I don't see why you should wait for
+that&mdash;he's safe to get on. If I were you, I'd like to see my girl
+comfortably settled. One can never tell what may happen!"</p>
+
+<p>"What may happen!" repeated the elder Harman. "Do you allude now to the
+doctor's verdict on myself. I did not wish Charlotte acquainted with
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! my dear fellow, there's nothing to alarm our girl in that
+quarter. I'd lay my own life you have many long years before you. No,
+Charlotte knows you are not well, and that is all she need ever know. I
+was not alluding to your health, but to the fact that that fine young
+woman upstairs is, just to use a vulgar phrase, eating her own head off
+for want of something better to do. She is dabbling in print. Of course,
+her book must fail. She is full of all kinds of chimerical expedients.
+Why, this very evening she was propounding the most preposterous scheme
+to me, as generous as it was nonsensical. No, no, my dear fellow, even
+to you I won't betray confidence. The girl is an enthusiast. Now
+enthusiasts are always morbid and unhappy unless they can find vent for
+their energies. Why don't you give her the natural and healthy vents
+supplied by wifehood and motherhood? Why do you wait for Hinton's first
+brief to make them happy? You have money enough to make them happy at
+once."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, Jasper&mdash;it is not that. It is just that I want the young man
+not to be altogether dependent on his wife. I am fonder of Hinton than
+of any other creature in the world except my own child. For his sake I
+ask for his short delay to their marriage. On the day he brings me news
+of that brief I take the first steps to settle on Charlotte a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> thousand
+a year during my lifetime. I make arrangements that her eldest son
+inherits the business, and I make further provision for any other
+children she may have."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear fellow, all that sounds very nice; and if Hinton was not
+quite the man he is I should say, 'Wait for the brief.' But I believe
+that having a wife will only make him seek that said brief all the
+harder. I see success before that future son-in-law of yours."</p>
+
+<p>"And you are a shrewd observer of character, Jasper," answered his
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>Neither of the men spoke for some time after this, and presently Jasper
+rose to go. He had all but reached the door when he turned back.</p>
+
+<p>"You will be in good time in the city to-morrow, John."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, of course. Not that there is anything very special going on. Why
+do you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only that we must give an answer to that question of the trusteeship to
+the Rutherford orphans. I know you object to the charge, still it seems
+a pity for the sake of a sentiment."</p>
+
+<p>Instantly John Harman, who had been crouching over the fire, rose to his
+full height. His deep-set eyes flashed, his voice trembled with some
+hardly suppressed anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"Jasper!" he said suddenly and sharply; then he added, "you have but one
+answer to that question from me&mdash;never, never, as long as I live, shall
+our firm become trustees for even sixpence worth. You know my feelings
+on that point, Jasper, and they shall never change."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a fool for your pains, then," muttered Jasper, but he closed
+the door rather hastily behind him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+
+<h3>"A PET DAY."</h3>
+
+
+<p>At breakfast the next morning Charlotte Harman was in almost wild
+spirits. Her movements were generally rather sedate, as befitted one so
+tall, so finely proportioned, so dignified. To-day her step seemed set
+to some hidden rhythmic measure; her eyes laughed; her gracious, kindly
+mouth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> was wreathed in perpetual smiles. Her father, on the contrary,
+looked more bent, more careworn, more aged even than usual. Looking,
+however, into her eyes for light, his own brightened. As he ate his
+frugal breakfast of coffee and dry toast he spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, your Uncle Jasper came to me last night with a proposal on
+your behalf."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, father," answered Charlotte. She looked up expectantly. She
+thought of Mrs. Home. Her uncle had told the tale after all, and her
+dear and generous father would refuse her nothing. She should have the
+great joy of giving three thousand pounds to that poor mother for the
+use of her little children.</p>
+
+<p>The next words, however, uttered by Mr. Harman caused these dreams to be
+dispelled by others more golden. The most generous woman must at times
+think first of herself. Charlotte was very generous; but her father's
+next words brought dimples into very prominent play in each cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling, Jasper thinks me very cruel to postpone your marriage. I
+will not postpone it. You and Hinton may fix the day. I will take that
+brief of his on trust."</p>
+
+<p>No woman likes an indefinite engagement, and Charlotte was not the
+exception to prove this rule.</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest father," she said, "I am very happy at this. I will tell John.
+He is coming over this morning. But you know my conditions? No wedding
+day for me unless my father agrees to live with me afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"Settle it as you please, dear child. I don't think there would be much
+sunshine left for me if you were away from me. And now I suppose you
+will be very busy. You have <i>carte blanche</i> for the trousseau, but your
+book? will you have time to write it, Charlotte? And that young woman
+whom I saw in your room yesterday, is she the amanuensis whom you told
+me about?"</p>
+
+<p>"She is the lady whom I hoped to have secured, father, but she is not
+coming."</p>
+
+<p>"Not coming! I rather liked her look, she seemed quite a lady. Did you
+offer her too small remuneration? Not that that would be your way, but
+you do not perhaps know what such labor is worth."</p>
+
+<p>"It was not that, dear father. I offered her what she herself considered
+a very handsome sum. It was not that. She is very poor; very, very poor
+and she has three little children. I never saw such a hungry look in any
+eyes as she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> had, when she spoke of what money would be to her. But she
+gave me a reason&mdash;a reason which I am not at liberty to tell to you,
+which makes it impossible for her to come here."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's cheeks were burning now, and something in her tone caused
+her father to gaze at her attentively. It was not his way, however, to
+press for any confidence not voluntarily offered. He rose from his seat
+with a slight sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear," he said, "you must look for some one else. We can't talk
+over matters to-night. Ask Hinton to stay and dine. There; I must be
+off, I am very late as it is."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman kissed his daughter and she went out as usual to button on
+his great-coat and see him down the street. She had performed this
+office for him ever since&mdash;a little mite of four years old&mdash;she had
+tried to take her dead mother's place. The child, the growing girl, the
+young woman, had all in turns stood on those steps, and watched that
+figure walking away. But never until to-day had she noticed how aged and
+bent it had grown. For the first time the possibility visited her heart
+that there might be such a thing for her in the future as life without
+her father.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper had said he was not well; no, he did not look well. Her
+eyes filled with tears as she closed the hall door and re-entered the
+house. But her own prospects were too golden just now to permit her to
+dwell as long, or as anxiously, as she otherwise would have done, on so
+gloomy an aspect of her father's case.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte Harman was twenty-five years of age; but, except when her
+mother died, death had never come near her young life. She could
+scarcely remember her mother, and, with this one exception, death and
+sickness were things unknown. She has heard of them of course; but the
+grim practical knowledge, the standing face to face with the foe, were
+not her experience. She was the kind of woman who could develop into the
+most tender nurse, into the wisest, best, and most helpful guide,
+through those same dark roads of sickness and death, but the training
+for this was all to come. No wonder that in her inexperience she should
+soon cease to dwell on her father's bent figure and drawn, white face. A
+reaction was over her, and she must yield to it.</p>
+
+<p>As she returned to the comfortable breakfast-room, her eyes shone
+brighter through their momentary tears. She went over and stood by the
+hearth. She was a most industrious creature, having trained herself not
+to waste an instant; but to-day she must indulge in a happy reverie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>How dark had been those few hours after Mrs. Home had left her
+yesterday; how undefined, how dim, and yet how dark had been her
+suspicions! She did not know what to think, or whom to suspect; but she
+felt that, cost her what it might, she must fathom the truth, and that
+having once fathomed it, something might be revealed to her that would
+embitter and darken her whole life.</p>
+
+<p>And behold! she had done so. She had bravely grasped the phantom in both
+hands, and it had vanished into thin air. What she dreamed was not.
+There was no disgrace anywhere. A morbid young woman had conjured up a
+possible tale of wrong. There was no wrong. She, Mrs. Home, was to be
+pitied, and Charlotte would help her; but beyond this no dark or evil
+thing had come into her life.</p>
+
+<p>And now, what a great further good was in store for her! Her father had
+most unexpectedly withdrawn his opposition over the slight delay he had
+insisted upon to her marriage. Charlotte did not know until now how she
+had chafed at this delay; how she had longed to be the wife of the man
+she loved. She said, "Thank God!" under her breath, then ran upstairs to
+her own room.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's maid had the special care of this room. It was a sunshiny
+morning, and the warm spring air came in through the open window.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, leave it open," she said to the girl; "it seems as if spring had
+really come to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is winter still, madam, February is not yet over," replied the
+lady's maid. "Better let me shut it, Miss Harman, this is only a pet
+day."</p>
+
+<p>"I will enjoy it then, Ward," answered Miss Harman. "And now leave me,
+for I am very busy."</p>
+
+<p>The maid withdrew, and Charlotte seated herself by her writing table.
+She was engaged over a novel which Messrs. M&mdash;&mdash;, of &mdash;&mdash; Street, had
+pronounced really good; they would purchase the copyright, and they
+wanted the MS. by a given date. How eager she had felt about this
+yesterday; how determined not to let anything interfere with its
+completion! But to-day, she took up her pen as usual, read over the last
+page she had written, then sat quiet, waiting for inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>What was the matter with her? No thought came. As a rule thoughts flowed
+freely, proceeding fast from the brain to the pen, from the pen to the
+paper. But to-day? What ailed her to-day? The fact was, the most natural
+thing in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> the world had come to stop the flow of fiction. It was put out
+by a greater fire. The moon could shine brilliantly at night, but how
+sombre it looked beside the sun! The great sunshine of her own personal
+joy was flooding Charlotte's heart to-day, and the griefs and delights
+of the most attractive heroine in the world must sink into
+insignificance beside it. She sat waiting for about a quarter of an
+hour, then threw down her pen in disgust. She pulled out her watch.
+Hinton could not be with her before the afternoon. The morning was
+glorious. What had Ward, her maid, called the day?&mdash;"a pet day." Well,
+she would enjoy it; she would go out. She ran to her room, enveloped
+herself in some rich and becoming furs, and went into the street. She
+walked on a little way, rather undecided where to turn her steps. In an
+instant she could have found herself in Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park;
+but, just because they were so easy of access, they proved unattractive.
+She must wander farther afield. She beckoned to a passing hansom.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to go somewhere where I shall have green grass and trees," she
+said to the cabby. "No, it must not be Hyde Park, somewhere farther
+off."</p>
+
+<p>"There's the Regent's," replied the man. "I'll drive yer there and back
+wid pleasure, my lady."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go to Regent's Park," said Charlotte. She made up her mind, as
+she was swiftly bowled along, that she would walk back. She was just in
+that condition of suppressed excitement, when a walk would be the most
+delightful safety-valve in the world.</p>
+
+<p>In half an hour she found herself in Regent's Park and, having dismissed
+her cab, wandered about amongst the trees. The whole place was flooded
+with sunshine. There were no flowers visible; the season had been too
+bad, and the year was yet too young; but for all that, nature seemed to
+be awake and listening.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte walked about until she felt tired, then she sat down on one of
+the many seats to rest until it was time to return home. Children were
+running about everywhere. Charlotte loved children. Many an afternoon
+had she gone into Kensington Gardens for the mere and sole purpose of
+watching them. Here were children, too, as many as there, but of a
+different class. Not quite so aristocratic, not quite so exclusively
+belonging to the world of rank and fashion. The children in Regent's
+Park were certainly quite as well dressed; but there was just some
+little indescribable thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> missing in them, which the little creatures,
+whom Charlotte Harman was most accustomed to notice, possessed.</p>
+
+<p>She was commenting on this, in that vague and slight way one does when
+all their deepest thoughts are elsewhere, when a man came near and
+shared her seat. He was a tall man, very slight, very thin. Charlotte,
+just glancing at him took in this much also, that he was a clergyman. He
+sat down to rest, evidently doing so from great fatigue. Selfish in her
+happiness, Charlotte presently returned to her golden dreams. The
+children came on fast, group after group; some pale and thin, some rosy
+and healthy; a few scantily clothed, a few overladen with finery. They
+laughed and scampered past her. For, be the circumstances what they
+might, all the little hearts seemed full of mirth and sweet content. At
+last a very small nurse appeared, wheeling a perambulator, while two
+children ran by her side. These children were dressed neatly, but with
+no attempt at fashion. The baby in the shabby perambulator was very
+beautiful. The little group were walking past rather more slowly than
+most of the other groups, for the older boy and girl looked decidedly
+tired, when suddenly they all stopped; the servant girl opened her mouth
+until it remained fixed in the form of a round O; the baby raised its
+arms and crowed; the elder boy and girl uttered a glad shout and ran
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, father, you here?" said the boy. "You here?" echoed the girl,
+and the whole cavalcade drew up in front of Charlotte and the thin
+clergyman. The boy in an instant was on his father's knee, and the girl,
+helping herself mightily by Charlotte's dress, had got on the bench.</p>
+
+<p>The baby seeing this began to cry. The small nurse seemed incapable of
+action, and Charlotte herself had to come to the rescue. She lifted the
+little seven months old creature out of its carriage, and placed it in
+its father's arms.</p>
+
+<p>He raised his eyes gratefully to her face and placed his arm round the
+baby.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I'm falling," said the girl. "This seat is so slippy, may I sit on
+your knee?"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Charlotte to take this
+strange, shabbily dressed little girl into her embrace.</p>
+
+<p>The child began to stroke down and admire her soft furs.</p>
+
+<p>"Aren't they lovely?" she said. "Oh, Harold, look! Feel 'em, Harold;
+they're like pussies."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Harold, absorbed with his father, turned his full blue eyes round
+gravely and fixed them not on the furs, but on the strange lady's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," he said in a slow, solemn tone, "may I kiss that pretty lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear boy, no, no. I am ashamed of you. Now run away, children; go on
+with your walk. Nurse, take baby."</p>
+
+<p>The children were evidently accustomed to implicit obedience. They went
+without a word.</p>
+
+<p>"But I will kiss Harold first," said Charlotte Harman, and she stooped
+down and pressed her lips to the soft round cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said the clergyman. Again he looked into her face and
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>The smile on his careworn face reminded Charlotte of the smile on St.
+Stephen's face, when he was dying. It was unearthly, angelic; but it was
+also very fleeting. Presently he added in a grave tone,&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You have evidently the great gift of attracting the heart of a little
+child. Pardon me if I add a hope that you may never lose it."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that possible?" asked Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; when you lose the child spirit, the power will go."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! then I hope it never will," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"It never will if you keep the Christ bright within you," he answered.
+Then he raised his hat to her, smiled again, and walked away.</p>
+
+<p>He was a strange man, and Charlotte felt attracted as well as repelled.
+She was proud, and at another time and from other lips such words would
+have been received with disdain. But this queer, shadowy-looking
+clergyman looked like an unearthly visitant. She watched his rather weak
+footsteps, as he walked quietly away in the northern direction through
+the park. Then she got up and prepared to return home. But this little
+incident had sobered her. She was not unhappy; but she now felt very
+grave. The child spirit! She must keep it alive, and the Christ must
+dwell bright within her.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's temperament was naturally religious. Her nature was so frank
+and noble that she could not but drink in the good as readily as the
+flower receives the dew; but she had come to this present fulness of her
+youthful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> vigor without one trial being sent to test the gold. She
+entered the house after her long walk to find Hinton waiting for her.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+
+<h3>FOUR MONTHS HENCE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton had gone away the day before rather disturbed by Charlotte's
+manner. He had found her, for the first time since their betrothal, in
+trouble. Wishing to comfort, she had repelled him. He was a strong man,
+as strong in his own way as Charlotte was in hers, and this power of
+standing alone scarcely pleased him in her. His was the kind of nature
+which would be supposed to take for its other half one soft and
+clinging. Contrary to the established rule, however, he had won this
+proud and stately Charlotte. She thought him perfection: he was anything
+but that. But he had good points, there was nothing mean or base about
+him. There were no secrets hidden away in his life. His was an honorable
+and manly nature. But he had one little fault, running like a canker
+through the otherwise healthy fruit of his heart. While Charlotte was
+frank and open as the day, he was reserved; not only reserved, but
+suspicious. All the men who knew Hinton said what a capital lawyer he
+would make; he had all the qualities necessary to insure success in his
+profession. Above all things in the world secrets oppressed, irritated,
+and yet interested him. Once having heard of any little possible
+mystery, he could not rest until it was solved.</p>
+
+<p>This had been his character from a boy. His own brothers and sisters had
+confided in him, not because they found him particularly sympathetic, or
+particularly clever, not because they loved him so much, but simply
+because they could not help themselves. John would have found out all
+the small childish matter without their aid; it was better, safer to
+take him into confidence. Then, to do him justice, he was true as steel;
+for though he must discover, he would scorn to betray.</p>
+
+<p>On the white, untroubled sheet of Charlotte Harmon's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> heart no secrets
+yet had been written. Consequently, though she had been engaged for many
+months to John Hinton, she had never found out this peculiarity about
+him. Those qualities of openness and frankness, so impossible to his own
+nature, had attracted him most of all to this beautiful young woman.
+Never until yesterday had there been breath or thought of concealment
+about her. But then&mdash;then he had found her in trouble. Full of sympathy
+he had drawn near to comfort, and she had repelled him. She had heard of
+something which troubled her, which troubled her to such an extent that
+the very expression of her bright face had changed, and yet this
+something was to be a secret from him&mdash;true, only until the following
+day, but a whole twenty-four hours seemed like for ever to Hinton in his
+impatience. Before he could even expostulate with her she had run off,
+doubtless to confide her care to another. Perhaps the best way to
+express John Hinton's feelings would be to say that he was very cross as
+he returned to his chambers in Lincoln's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>All that evening, through his dreams all that night, all the following
+morning as he tried to engage himself over his law books, he pondered on
+Charlotte's secret. Such pondering must in a nature like his excite
+apprehension. He arrived on the next day at the house in Prince's Gate
+with his mind full of gloomy forebodings. His face was so grave that it
+scarcely cleared up at the sight of the bright one raised to meet it. He
+was full of the secret of yesterday; Charlotte, in all the joy of the
+secret of to-day, had already forgotten it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I have had such a walk!" she exclaimed; "and a little bit of an
+adventure&mdash;a pretty adventure; and now I am starving. Come into the
+dining-room and have some lunch."</p>
+
+<p>"You look very well," answered her lover, "and I left you so miserable
+yesterday!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday!" repeated Charlotte; she had forgotten yesterday. "Oh, yes,
+I had heard something very disagreeable: but when I looked into the
+matter, it turned out to be nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"You will tell me all about it, dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know, John. I would of course if there was anything to
+tell; but do come and have some lunch, I cannot even mention something
+else much more important until I have had some lunch."</p>
+
+<p>John Hinton frowned. Even that allusion to something much more important
+did not satisfy him. He must know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> this other thing. What! spend
+twenty-four hours of misery, and not learn what it was all about in the
+end! Charlotte's happiness, however, could not but prove infectious, and
+the two made merry over their meal, and not until they found themselves
+in Charlotte's own special sanctum did Hinton resume his grave manner.
+Then he began at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Charlotte, you will tell me why you looked so grave and scared
+yesterday. I have been miserable enough thinking of it ever since. I
+don't understand why you did not confide in me at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear John," she said&mdash;she saw now that he had been really hurt&mdash;"I
+would not give you pain for worlds, my dearest. Yes, I was much
+perplexed, I was even very unhappy for the time. A horrid doubt had been
+put into my head, but it turned out nothing, nothing whatever. Let us
+forget it, dear John; I have something much more important to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, afterwards, but you will tell me this, even though it did turn out
+of no consequence."</p>
+
+<p>"Please, John dear, I would rather not. I was assailed by a most
+unworthy suspicion. It turned out nothing, nothing at all. I would
+rather, seeing it was all a myth, you never knew of it."</p>
+
+<p>"And I would rather know, Charlotte; the myth shall be dismissed from
+mind, too, but I would rather be in your full confidence."</p>
+
+<p>"My full confidence?" she repeated; the expression pained her. She
+looked hard at Hinton; his words were very quietly spoken, but there was
+a cloud on his brow. "You shall certainly have my full confidence," she
+said after that brief pause; "which will you hear first, what gave me
+pain yesterday, or what brings me joy to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"What gave you pain yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>There is no doubt she had hoped he would have made the latter choice,
+but seeing he did not she submitted at once, sitting, not as was her
+wont close to his side, but on a chair opposite. Hinton sat with his
+back to the light, but it fell full on Charlotte, and he could see every
+line of her innocent and noble face as she told her tale. Having got to
+tell it, she did so in few but simple words; Mrs. Home's story coming of
+a necessity first, her Uncle Jasper's explanation last. When the whole
+tale was told, she paused, then said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You see there was nothing in it."</p>
+
+<p>"I see," answered Hinton. This was his first remark. He had not
+interrupted the progress of the narrative by a single<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> observation; then
+he added, "But I think, if even your father does not feel disposed to
+help her, that we, you and I, Charlotte, ought to do something for Mrs.
+Home."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, John dear, how you delight me! How good and noble you are! Yes, my
+heart aches for that poor mother; yes, we will help her. You and I, how
+very delightful it will be!"</p>
+
+<p>Now she came close to her lover and kissed him, and he returned her
+embrace.</p>
+
+<p>"You will never have a secret again from me, my darling?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I never, never had one," she answered, for it was impossible for her to
+understand that this brief delay in her confidence could be considered a
+secret. "Now for my other news," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Now for your other news," he repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"John, what is the thing you desire most in the world?"</p>
+
+<p>Of course this young man being sincerely attached to this young woman,
+answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"John, you always said you did not like Uncle Jasper, but see what a
+good turn he has done us&mdash;he has persuaded my father to allow us to
+marry at once."</p>
+
+<p>"What, without my brief?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, without your brief; my dear father told me this morning that we
+may fix the day whenever we like. He says he will stand in the way no
+longer. He is quite sure of that brief, we need not wait to be happy for
+it, we may fix our wedding-day, John, and you are to dine here this
+evening and have a talk with my father afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton's face had grown red. He was a lover, and an attached one; but so
+diverse were the feelings stirred within him, that for the moment he
+felt more excited than elated.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is very good," he said, "he gives us leave to fix the day.
+Very well, that is your province, my Lottie; when shall it be?"</p>
+
+<p>"This is the twentieth of February, our wedding-day shall be on the
+twentieth of June," she replied.</p>
+
+<p>"That is four months hence," he said. In spite of himself there was a
+sound of relief in his tone. "Very well, Charlotte; yes, I will come and
+dine this evening. But now I am late for an appointment; we will have a
+long talk after dinner."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>HIS FIRST BRIEF.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton, when he left Charlotte, went straight back to his chambers. He
+had no particular work to hurry him there; indeed, when he left that
+morning he had done so with the full intention of spending the entire
+afternoon with his betrothed. He was, as has been said, although a
+clever, yet certainly at present a briefless young barrister.
+Nevertheless, had twenty briefs awaited his immediate attention, he
+could not have more rapidly hurried back as he now did. When he entered
+his rooms he locked the outer door. Then he threw himself on a chair,
+drew the chair to his writing table, pushed his hands through his thick
+hair, and staring hard at a blank sheet of paper which lay before him
+began to think out a problem. His might scarcely have been called a
+passionate nature, but it was one capable of a very deep, very real
+attachment. This attachment had been formed for Charlotte Harman. Their
+engagement had already lasted nearly a year, and now with her own lips
+she had told him that it might end, that the end, the one happy end to
+all engagements, was in sight. With comfort, nay, with affluence, with
+the full consent of all her friends, they might become man and wife.
+John Hinton most undoubtedly loved this woman, and yet now as he
+reviewed the whole position the one pleasure he could deduct for his own
+reflection was in the fact that there was four months' reprieve.
+Charlotte had herself postponed their wedding-day for four months.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton was a proud man. When, a year ago, he had gone to Mr. Harman and
+asked him for his daughter, Mr. Harman had responded with the very
+natural question, "What means have you to support her with?"</p>
+
+<p>Hinton had answered that he had two hundred a year&mdash;and&mdash;his profession.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you making in your profession?" asked the father.</p>
+
+<p>"Not anything&mdash;yet," answered the young man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was a tone of defiance and withal of hope thrown into that "yet"
+which might have repelled some men, but pleased Mr. Harman. He paused to
+consider. He might have got a much, much better match for Charlotte from
+a temporal standpoint. Hinton was of no family in particular; he had no
+money worthy of the name. He was simply an honest fellow, fairly
+good-looking, and with the heart of a gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>"You are doubtless aware," replied Mr. Harman, "that my daughter will
+inherit a very large fortune. She has been sought for in marriage before
+now, and by men who could give something to meet what she brings, both
+with regard to money and position."</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard of Mr. S.'s proposal," answered Hinton. "I know he is
+rich, and the son of Lord &mdash;&mdash;; but that is nothing, for she does not
+love him."</p>
+
+<p>"And you believe she loves you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly she loves me."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Mr. Harman smiled, then after a little more thought,
+for he was much taken with Hinton, he came to terms.</p>
+
+<p>He must not have Charlotte while he had nothing to support her with.
+Pooh! that two hundred a year was nothing to a girl brought up like his
+daughter. For Hinton's own sake it would not be good for him to live on
+his wife's money; but when he obtained his first brief then they might
+marry.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton was profuse in thanks. He only made on his part one
+stipulation&mdash;that brief, which was to obtain for him his bride, was in
+no way to come to him through Mr. Harman's influence. He must win it by
+his own individual exertion.</p>
+
+<p>Mr Harman smiled and grew a trifle red. In his business capacity he
+could have put twenty briefs in this young fellow's way, and in his
+inmost heart he had resolved to do so; but he liked him all the better
+for this one proviso, and promised readily enough.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton had no business connections of his own. He had no influential
+personal friends, and his future father-in-law felt bound in honor to
+leave him altogether to his own resources. A year had nearly passed
+since the engagement, and the brief which was to win him Charlotte was
+as far away as ever. But now she told him that this one embargo to their
+happiness had been withdrawn. They might marry, and the brief would
+follow after. Hinton knew well what it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> all meant. The rich city
+merchant could then put work in his way. Work would quickly pour in to
+the man so closely connected with rich John Harman. Yes. As he sat by
+his table in his small shabbily furnished room, he knew that his fortune
+was made. He would obtain Charlotte and Charlotte's wealth; and if he
+but chose to use his golden opportunities, fame too might be his
+portion. He was a keen and ardent politician, and a seat in the House
+might easily follow all the other good things which seemed following in
+his track. Yes; but he was a proud man, and he did not like it. He had
+not the heart to tell Charlotte to-day, as she looked at him with all
+the love she had so freely given shining in her sweet and tender face,
+that he would not accept such terms, that the original bargain must yet
+abide in force. He could not say to this young woman when she came to
+him, "I do not want you." But none the less, as he now sat by his
+writing-table, was he resolved that unless his brief was won before the
+twentieth of June it should bring no wedding-day to him. This was why he
+rejoiced in the four months' reprieve. But this was by no means his only
+perplexity. Had it been, so stung to renewed action was his sense of
+pride and independence, that he would have gone at once to seek, perhaps
+to obtain work; but something else was lying like wormwood against his
+heart. That story of Mrs. Home's! That explanation of Jasper Harman's!
+The story was a queer one; the explanation, while satisfying the
+inexperienced girl, failed to meet the requirements of the acute lawyer.
+Hinton saw flaws in Jasper's narrative, where Charlotte saw none. The
+one great talent of his life, if it could be called a talent, was coming
+fiercely into play as he sat now and thought about it all. He had
+pre-eminently the gift of discovering secrets. He was rooting up many
+things from the deep grave of the hidden past now. That look of care on
+Mr. Harman's face, how often it had puzzled him! He had never liked
+Jasper; indefinite had been his antipathy hitherto, but it was taking
+definite form now. There <i>was</i> a secret in the past of that most
+respectable firm, and he, John Hinton, would give himself no rest until
+he had laid it bare. No wedding-day could come to him and Charlotte
+until his mind was at rest on this point. It was against his interest to
+ferret out this hidden thing, but that fact weighed as nothing with him.
+It would bring pain to the woman he loved; it might ruin her father; but
+the pain and the ruin would be inflicted unsparingly by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> his righteous
+young hand, which knew nothing yet of mercy but was all for justice, and
+justice untempered with mercy is a terrible weapon. This Hinton was yet
+to learn.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>LODGINGS IN KENTISH TOWN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>After a time, restless from the complexity of his musings, Hinton went
+out. He had promised to return to the Harmans for dinner, but their hour
+for dinner was eight o'clock, and it still wanted nearly three hours of
+that time. As Charlotte had done before that day, he found himself in
+the close neighborhood of Regent's Park. He would have gone into the
+park, but that he knew that the hour of closing the gates at this early
+period of the year must be close at hand; he walked, therefore, by the
+side of the park, rather aimlessly it is true, not greatly caring,
+provided he kept moving, in what direction his footsteps took him.</p>
+
+<p>At last he found himself on the broad tram line which leads to the
+suburb of Kentish Town. It was by no means an interesting neighborhood.
+But Hinton, soon lost in his private and anxious musings, went on. At
+last he left the public thoroughfare and turned down a private road.
+There were no shops here, nor much traffic. He felt a sense of relief at
+leaving the roar and bustle behind him. This road on which he had now
+entered was flanked at each side by a small class of dwelling-houses,
+some shabby and dirty, some bright and neat; all, however, were
+poor-looking. It was quite dusk by this time, and the gas had been
+already lit. This fact, perhaps, was the reason which drew Hinton's
+much-preoccupied attention to a trivial circumstance.</p>
+
+<p>In one of these small houses a young woman, who had previously lit the
+gas, stepped to the window and proceeded to paste a card to the pane.
+There was a gas lamp also directly underneath, and Hinton, raising his
+eyes, saw very distinctly, not only the little act, but also the words
+on the card. They were the very common words&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Apartments to Let</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Inquire within.</span></span><br />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Hinton suddenly drew up short on the pavement. He did not live in his
+chambers, and it occurred to him that here he would be within a walk of
+Regent's Park. In short, that these shabby-looking little lodgings might
+suit him for the next few uncertain months. As suddenly as he had
+stopped, and the thought had come to him, he ran up the steps and rang
+the bell. In a moment or two a little servant-maid opened the door. She
+was neither a clean nor a tidy-looking maid, and Hinton, fastidious on
+such matters, took in this fact at a glance. Nevertheless the desire to
+find for himself a habitation in this shabby little house did not leave
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw a card up in your window. You have rooms to let," he said to the
+little maid.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, indeed, please, sir," answered the servant with a broad and
+delighted grin. "'Tis h'our drawing-rooms, please, sir; and ef you'll
+please jest come inter the 'all I'll run and tell missis."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton did so; and in another moment the maid, returning, asked him to
+step this way.</p>
+
+<p>This way led him into a dingy little parlor, and face to face with a
+young woman who, pale, self-possessed, and ladylike, rose to meet him.
+Hinton felt the color rising to his face at sight of her. He also
+experienced a curious and sudden constriction of his heart, and an
+overawed sense of some special Providence leading him here. For he had
+seen this young woman before. She was Charlotte Home. In his swift
+glance, however, he saw that she did not recognize him. His resolve was
+taken on the instant. However uncomfortable the rooms she had to offer,
+they should be his. His interest in this Mrs. Home became intensified to
+a degree that was painful. He knew that he was about to pursue a course
+which would be to his own detriment, but he felt it impossible now to
+turn aside. In a quiet voice, and utterly unconscious of this tumult in
+his breast, she asked him to be seated, and they began to discuss the
+accommodation she could offer.</p>
+
+<p>Her back and front drawing-rooms would be vacant in a week. Yes,
+certainly; Mr. Hinton could see them. She rang the bell as she spoke,
+and the maid appearing, took Hinton up stairs. The rooms were even
+smaller and shabbier than he had believed possible. Nevertheless, when
+he came downstairs he found no fault with anything, and agreed to the
+terms asked, namely, one guinea a week. He noticed a tremor in the
+young, brave voice which asked for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> this remuneration, and he longed to
+make the one guinea two, but this was impossible. Before he left he had
+taken Mrs. Home's drawing-rooms for a month, and had arranged to come
+into possession of his new quarters that day week.</p>
+
+<p>Looking at his watch when he left the house, he found that time had gone
+faster than he had any idea of. He had now barely an hour to jump into a
+cab, go to his present most comfortable lodgings, change his morning
+dress, and reach the Harmans in time for eight o'clock dinner. Little
+more than these sixty minutes elapsed from the time he left the shabby
+house in Kentish Town before he found himself in the luxurious abode of
+wealth, and every refinement, in Prince's Gate. He ran up to the
+drawing-room, to find Charlotte waiting for him alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Jasper will dine with us, John," she said, "but my father is not
+well."</p>
+
+<p>"Not well!" echoed Hinton. Her face only expressed slight concern, and
+his reflected it in a lesser degree.</p>
+
+<p>"He is very tired," she said, "and he looks badly. But I hope there is
+not much the matter. He will see you after dinner. But he could not eat,
+so I have begged of him to lie down; he will be all right after a little
+rest."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton made no further remark, and Uncle Jasper then coming in, and
+dinner being announced, they all went downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper and Charlotte were merry enough, but Hinton could not get
+over a sense of depression, which not even the presence of the woman he
+loved could disperse. He was not sorry when the message came for him to
+go to Mr. Harman. Charlotte smiled as he rose.</p>
+
+<p>"You will find me in the drawing-room whenever you like to come there,"
+she said to him.</p>
+
+<p>He left the room suppressing the sigh. Charlotte, however, did not hear
+or notice it. Still, with that light of love and happiness crowning her
+bright face, she turned to the old Australian uncle.</p>
+
+<p>"I will pour you out your next glass of port, and stay with you for a
+few moments, for I have something to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that, my dear?" asked the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Something you have had to do with, dear old uncle. My wedding-day is
+fixed."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my dear," he said, "there's nothing like having the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> day clear in
+one's head. And when is it to be, my pretty lass?"</p>
+
+<p>"The twentieth of June, Uncle Jasper. Just four months from to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Four months off!" repeated Uncle Jasper. "Well, I don't call that very
+close at hand. When I spoke to your father last night&mdash;for you know I
+did speak to him, Charlotte&mdash;he seemed quite inclined to put no obstacle
+in the way of your speedy marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"Nor did he, Uncle Jasper. You don't understand. He said we might marry
+at once if we liked. It was I who said the twentieth of June."</p>
+
+<p>"You, child!&mdash;and&mdash;and did Hinton, knowing your father had withdrawn all
+opposition, did Hinton allow you to put off his happiness for four whole
+months?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was my own choice," said Charlotte. "Four months do not seem to me
+too long to prepare."</p>
+
+<p>"They would seem a very long time to me if I were the man who was to
+marry you, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte looked grave at this. Her uncle seemed to impute blame to her
+lover. Being absolutely certain of his devotion, she scorned to defend
+it. She rose from the table.</p>
+
+<p>"You will find me in the drawing-room, Uncle Jasper."</p>
+
+<p>"One word, Charlotte, before you go," said her uncle. "No, child, I am
+not going to the drawing-room. You two lovers may have it to yourselves.
+But&mdash;but&mdash;you remember our talk of last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Charlotte, pausing, and coming back a little way into
+the room. "Did you say anything to my father? Will he help Mrs. Home?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt he will, my dear. Your father and I will both do
+something. He is a very just man, is your father. He was a good deal
+upset by this reference to his early days, and to his quarrel with his
+own father. I believe, between you and me, that it was that which made
+him ill this evening. But, Charlotte, you leave Mrs. Home to us. I will
+mention her case again when your father is more fit to bear the subject.
+What I wanted to say now, my dear, is this, that I think it would best
+please the dear old man if&mdash;if you told nothing of this strange tale,
+not even to Hinton, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Uncle Jasper?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, my dear child? The reason seems to me obvious enough. It is a
+story of the past. It relates to an old and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> painful quarrel. It is all
+over years ago. And then you could not tell one side of the tale without
+the other. Mrs. Home, poor thing, not personally knowing your father as
+one of the best and noblest of men, imputes very grave blame to him.
+Don't you think such a tale, so false, so wrong, had better be buried in
+oblivion?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Home was most unjust in her ignorance," repeated Charlotte. "But,
+uncle, you are too late in your warning, for I told John the whole story
+already to-day."</p>
+
+<p>Not a muscle of Uncle Jasper's face changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, child, I should have said that to you last night. After all, it
+is natural. Hinton won't let it go farther, and no harm is done."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, John does not speak of my most sacred things," answered
+Charlotte proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, of course he doesn't. I am sorry you told him; but as you say,
+he is one with yourself. No harm is done. No, thank you, my dear, no
+more wine now. I am going off to my club."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. HARMAN'S CONFIDENCE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>All through dinner, Hinton had felt that strange sense of depression
+stealing upon him. He was a man capable of putting a very great
+restraint upon his feelings, and he so behaved during the long and weary
+meal as to rouse no suspicions, either in Charlotte's breast or in the
+far sharper one of the Australian uncle. But, nevertheless, so
+distressing was the growing sense of coming calamity, that he felt the
+gay laugh of his betrothed almost distressing, and was truly relieved
+when he had to change it for the gravity of her father. As he went from
+the dining-room to Mr. Harman's study, he reflected with pleasure that
+his future father-in-law was always grave, that never in all the months
+of their rather frequent intercourse had he seen him even once indulge
+in what could be called real gayety of heart. Though this fact rather
+coupled with his own suspicions, still he felt a momentary<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> relief in
+having to deal to-night with one who treated life from its sombre
+standpoint.</p>
+
+<p>He entered the comfortable study. Mr. Harman was sunk down in an
+armchair, a cup of untasted coffee stood by his side; the moment he
+heard Hinton's step, however, he rose and going forward, took the young
+man's hand and wrung it warmly.</p>
+
+<p>The room was lit by candles, but there were plenty of them, and Hinton
+almost started when he perceived how ill the old man looked.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte has told you what I want you for to-night, eh, Hinton?" said
+Mr. Harman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; Charlotte has told me," answered John Hinton. Then he sat down
+opposite his future father-in-law, who had resumed his armchair by the
+fire. Standing up, Mr. Harman looked ill, but sunk into his chair, with
+his bent, white head, and drawn, anxious face, and hands worn to
+emaciation, he looked twenty times worse. There seemed nearly a lifetime
+between him and that blithe-looking Jasper, whom Hinton had left with
+Charlotte in the dining-room. Mr. Harman, sitting by his fire, with
+firelight and candlelight shining full upon him, looked a very old man
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to see you so unwell, sir. You certainly don't look at all
+the thing," began Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"I am not well&mdash;not at all well. I don't want Charlotte to know. But
+there need be no disguises between you and me; of course I show it; but
+we will come to that presently. First, about your own affairs. Lottie
+has told you what I want you for to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has, Mr. Harman. She says that you have been good and generous
+enough to say you will take away the one slight embargo you made to our
+marriage&mdash;that we may become man and wife before I bring you news of
+that brief."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Hinton: that is what I said to her this morning: I repeat the same
+to you to-night. You may fix your wedding-day when you like&mdash;I dare say
+you have fixed it."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte has named the twentieth of next June, sir; but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The twentieth of June! that is four months away. I did not want her to
+put it off as far as that. However, women, even the most sensible, have
+such an idea of the time it takes to get a trousseau. The twentieth of
+June! You can make it sooner, can't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Four months is not such a long time, sir. We have a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> house to get, and
+furniture to buy. Four months will be necessary to make these
+arrangements."</p>
+
+<p>"No, they won't; for you have no such arrangements to make. You are to
+come and live here when you marry. This will be your house when you
+marry, and I shall be your guest. I can give you Charlotte Hinton; but I
+cannot do without her myself."</p>
+
+<p>"But this house means a very, very large income, Mr. Harman. Is it
+prudent that we should begin like this? For my part I should much rather
+do on less."</p>
+
+<p>"You may sell the house if you fancy, and take a smaller one; or go more
+into the country. I only make one proviso&mdash;that while I live, I live
+with my only daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"And with your son, too, Mr. Harman," said Hinton, just letting his hand
+touch for an instant the wrinkled hand which lay on Mr. Harman's knee.</p>
+
+<p>The old man smiled one of those queer, sad smiles which Hinton had often
+in vain tried to fathom. Responding to the touch of the vigorous young
+hand, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have always liked you, Hinton. I believe, in giving you my dear
+child, I give her to one who will make her happy."</p>
+
+<p>"Happy! yes, I shall certainly try to make her happy," answered Hinton,
+with a sparkle in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"And that is the main thing; better than wealth, or position, or
+anything else on God's earth. Happiness comes with goodness, you know,
+my dear fellow; no bad man was ever happy. If you and Charlotte get this
+precious thing into your lives you must both be good. Don't let the evil
+touch you ever so slightly. If you do, happiness flies."</p>
+
+<p>"I quite believe you," answered Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, about money matters. I am, as you know, very rich. I shall settle
+plenty of means upon my daughter; but it will be better for you to enter
+into all these matters with my solicitor. When can you meet him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whenever convenient to you and to him, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"I will arrange it for you, and let you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Harman, may I say a word for myself?" suddenly asked the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly. Have I been so garrulous as to keep you from speaking?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all, sir; you have been more than generous. You have been
+showing me the rose-color from your point of view. Now it is not all
+rose-color."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I was coming to that; it is by no means all rose-color. Well, say your
+say first."</p>
+
+<p>"You are a very rich man, and you are giving me your daughter; so
+endowing her, that any man in the world would say I had drawn a prize in
+money, if in nothing else."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear you must bear that," he said. "I do not see that you can support
+Charlotte without some assistance from me."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly could not do so. I have exactly two hundred a year, and
+that, as you were pleased to observed before, would be, to one brought
+up as Charlotte has been, little short of beggary."</p>
+
+<p>"To Charlotte it certainly would be almost beggary."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Harman, I have some pride in me. I am a barrister by profession.
+Some barristers get high in their profession."</p>
+
+<p>"Undoubtedly <i>some</i> do."</p>
+
+<p>"Those who are brilliant do," continued Hinton. "I have abilities,
+whether they are brilliant or not, time will show. Mr. Harman, I should
+like to bring you news of that brief before we are married."</p>
+
+<p>"I can throw you in the way of getting plenty of briefs when you are my
+son-in-law. I promise you, you will no longer be a barrister with
+nothing to do."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; but I want this before my marriage."</p>
+
+<p>"My influence can give it to you before."</p>
+
+<p>"But that was against our agreement, Mr. Harman. I want to find that
+brief which is to do so much for me without your help."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. Find it before the twentieth of June."</p>
+
+<p>After this the two men were silent for several moments. John Hinton,
+though in no measure comforted, felt it impossible to say more just
+then, and Mr. Harman, with a face full of care, kept gazing into the
+fire. John Hinton might have watched that face with interest, had he not
+been otherwise occupied. After this short silence Mr. Harman spoke
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"You think me very unselfish in all this; perhaps even my conduct
+surprises you."</p>
+
+<p>"I confess it rather does," answered Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you oblige me by saying how?"</p>
+
+<p>"For one thing, you give so much and expect so little."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, so it appears at first sight; but I told you it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> not all
+rose-color; I am coming to that part. Your pride has been roused&mdash;I can
+soothe it."</p>
+
+<p>"I love Charlotte too much to feel any pride in the matter," replied
+Hinton, with some heat.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't doubt your affection, my good fellow; and I put against it an
+equal amount on Charlotte's part; also a noble and beautiful woman, and
+plenty of money, with money's attendant mercies. I fear even your
+affection is outweighed in that balance."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing can outweigh affection," replied Hinton boldly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman smiled, and this time stretching out his own hand he touched
+the young man's.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, my dear boy; and because I am so well aware of this, I
+give my one girl to a man who is a gentleman, and who loves her. I ask
+for nothing else in Charlotte's husband, but I am anxious for you to be
+her husband at once."</p>
+
+<p>"And that is what puzzles me," said Hinton: "you have a sudden reason
+for this hurry. We are both young; we can wait; there is no hardship in
+waiting."</p>
+
+<p>"There would be a hardship to me in your waiting longer now. You are
+quite right in saying I have a sudden reason; this time last night I had
+no special thought of hurrying on Charlotte's marriage. Her uncle
+proposed it; I considered his reasoning good&mdash;so good, that I gave
+Charlotte permission this morning to fix with you the time for the
+wedding. But even then delay would have troubled me but little; now it
+does; now even these four short months trouble me sorely."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" asked Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"Why? You mentioned my health, and observed that I looked ill; I said I
+would come to that presently. I am ill; I look very ill. I have seen
+physicians. To-day I went to see Sir George Anderson; he told me,
+without any preamble, the truth. My dear fellow, I want you to be my
+child's protector in a time of trouble, for I am a dying man."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton had never come face to face with death in his life before. He
+started forward now and clasped his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Dying!" he repeated, in a tone of unbelief and consternation.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; you don't see it, for I am going about. I shall go about much as
+usual to the very last. Your idea of dying men is that they stay in bed
+and get weak, and have a living<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> death long before the last great mercy
+comes. That will not be my case. I shall be as you see me now to the
+very last moment; then some day, or perhaps some night, you will come
+into this room, or into another room, it does not a bit matter where,
+and find me dead."</p>
+
+<p>"And must this come soon?" repeated Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"It may not come for some months; it may stay away for a year; but again
+it may come to-night or to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" repeated Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Hinton, you are right, in the contemplation of such a solemn
+and terrible event, to mention the name of your Creator. He is a good
+God, but His very goodness makes Him terrible. He is a God who will see
+justice done; who will by no means cleanse the guilty. I am going into
+His presence&mdash;a sinful old man. Well, I bow to His decree. But enough of
+this; you see my reasons for wishing for an early marriage for my
+child."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Harman, I am deeply, deeply pained and shocked. May I know the
+nature of your malady?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is unnecessary to discuss it, and does no good; suffice it to know
+that I carry a disease within me which by its very nature must end both
+soon and suddenly; also that there is no cure for the disease."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you telling me all this as a secret?"</p>
+
+<p>"As a most solemn and sacred secret. My brother suspects something of
+it, but no one, no one in all the world knows the full and solemn truth
+but yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then Charlotte is not to be told?"</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte! Charlotte! It is for her sake I have confided to you all
+this, that you may guard her from such a knowledge."</p>
+
+<p>John Hinton was silent for a moment or two; if he disliked Charlotte
+having a secret from him much more did he protest against the knowledge
+which now was forced upon him being kept from her. He saw that Mr.
+Harman was firmly set on keeping his child in the dark; he disapproved,
+but he hardly dared, so much did he fear to agitate the old man, to make
+any vigorous stand against a decree which seemed to him both cruel and
+unjust. He must say something, however, so he began gently&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I will respect your most sacred confidence, Mr. Harman; without your
+leave no word from me shall convey this knowledge to Charlotte; but
+pardon me if I say a word. You know your own child very well, but I also
+know Charlotte;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> she has lived, for all her talent and her five and
+twenty years, the sheltered life of a child hitherto&mdash;but that is
+nothing; she is a noble woman, she has a noble woman's heart; in
+trouble, such a nature as hers could rise and prove itself great. Don't
+you suppose, when by and by the end really comes, she will blame me, and
+even perhaps, you, sir, for keeping this knowledge from her."</p>
+
+<p>"She will never blame her old father. She will see, bless her, that I
+did it in love; you will tell her that, be sure you tell her that, when
+the time comes; please God, you will be her husband then, and you will
+have the right to comfort her."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to have the right to comfort her, I hope to be her husband;
+still, I think you are mistaken, though I can urge the matter no
+further."</p>
+
+<p>"No, for you cannot see it with my eyes; that child and I have lived the
+most unbroken life of peace and happiness together; neither storm nor
+cloud has visited us in one another. The shadow of death must not
+embitter our last few months; she must be my bright girl to the very
+last. Some day, if you and she ever have a daughter, you will understand
+my feelings&mdash;at least in part you will understand it."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot understand it now, but I can at least respect it," answered
+the young man.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>"VENGEANCE IS MINE."</h3>
+
+
+<p>When Hinton at last left him, Mr. Harman sat on for a long time by his
+study fire. The fire burnt low but he did not replenish it, neither did
+he touch the cold coffee which still remained on his table. After an
+hour or so of musings, during which the old face seemed each moment to
+grow more sad and careworn, he stretched out his hand to ring his bell.</p>
+
+<p>Almost instantly was the summons answered&mdash;a tall footman stood before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Dennis, has Mr. Jasper left?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. He said he was going to his club. I can have him fetched,
+sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not do so. After Mr. Hinton leaves, ask Miss Harman to come here."</p>
+
+<p>The footman answered softly in the affirmative and withdrew, and Mr.
+Harman still sat on alone. He had enough to think about. For the first
+time to-day death had come and stared him in the face; very close indeed
+his own death was looking at him. He was a brave man, but the sight of
+the cold, grim thing, brought so close, so inevitably near, was scarcely
+to be endured with equanimity. After a time, rising from his seat, he
+went to a bookcase and took down, not a treatise on medicine or
+philosophy, but an old Bible.</p>
+
+<p>"Dying men are said to find comfort here," he said faintly to himself.
+He put one of the candles on the table and opened the book. It was an
+old Bible, but John Harman was not very well acquainted with its
+contents.</p>
+
+<p>"They tell me there is much comfort here," he said to himself. He turned
+the old and yellow leaves.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Vengeance is mine. I will repay.</i>" These were the words on which his
+eyes fell.</p>
+
+<p>Comfort! He closed the book with a groan and returned it to the
+bookshelf. But in returning it he chose the highest shelf of all and
+pushed it far back and well out of sight.</p>
+
+<p>He had scarcely done so before a light quick step was heard at the door,
+and Charlotte, her eyes and cheeks both bright, entered.</p>
+
+<p>"My dearest, my darling," he said. He came to meet her, and folded her
+in his arms. He was a dying man, and a sin-laden one, but not the less
+sweet was that young embrace, that smooth cheek, those bright, happy
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"You are better, father; you look better," said his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been rather weak and low all the evening, Lottie; but I am much
+better for seeing you. Come here and sit at my feet, my dear love."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very happy this evening," said Charlotte, seating herself on her
+father's footstool, and laying her hand on his knee.</p>
+
+<p>"I can guess the reason, my child; your wedding-day is fixed."</p>
+
+<p>"This morning, father, I said it should be the twentieth of June; John
+seemed quite satisfied, and four months were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> not a bit too long for our
+preparations; but to-night he has changed his mind; he wants our wedding
+to be in April. I have not given in&mdash;not yet. Two months seem so short."</p>
+
+<p>"You will have plenty of time to prepare in two months, dear; and April
+is a nice time of year. If I were you, I would not oppose Hinton."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte smiled. She knew in her heart of hearts she should not oppose
+him. But being a true woman, she laid hold of a futile excuse.</p>
+
+<p>"My book will not be finished. I like to do well what I do at all."</p>
+
+<p>Her father was very proud of this coming book; but now, patting her
+hand, he said softly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The book can keep. Put it out of your head for the present; you can get
+it done later."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I shall leave you two months sooner, father; does that not weigh
+with you at all?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are only going for your honeymoon, darling; and the sooner you go
+the sooner you will return."</p>
+
+<p>"Vanquished on all points," said Charlotte, smiling radiantly, and then
+she sat still, looking into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Long, long afterwards, through much of sorrow&mdash;nay, even of
+tribulation&mdash;did her thoughts wander back to that golden evening of her
+life.</p>
+
+<p>"You remind me of my own mother to-night," said her father presently.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte and her father had many times spoken of this dead mother. Now
+she said softly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I want, I pray, I long to make as good a wife as you tell me she did."</p>
+
+<p>"With praying, longing, and striving, it will come Charlotte. That was
+how she succeeded."</p>
+
+<p>"And there is another thing," continued Charlotte, suddenly changing her
+position and raising her bright eyes to her old father's face. "You had
+a good wife and I had a good mother. If ever I die, as my own mother
+died, and leave behind me a little child, as she did, I pray that my
+John may be as good a father to it as you have been to me."</p>
+
+<p>But in answer to this little burst of daughterly love, a strange thing
+happened. Mr. Harman grew very white, so white that he gasped for
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Water, a little water," he said, feebly; and when Charlotte had brought
+it to him and he raised it to his lips, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> the color and power to
+breathe had come back again, he said slowly and with great pain,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Never, never pray that your husband may be like me, Charlotte. To be
+worthy of you at all, he must be a much better and a very different
+man."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>HAPPINESS NOT JUSTICE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton left Mr. Harman's house in a very perplexed frame of mind. It
+seemed to him that in that one short day as much had happened to him as
+in all the course of his previous life, but the very force of the
+thoughts, the emotions, the hopes, the fears, which had visited him,
+made him, strong, young and vigorous as he was, so utterly weary, that
+when he reached his rooms he felt that he must let tired-out nature have
+its way&mdash;he threw himself on his bed and slept the sleep of the young
+and healthy until the morning.</p>
+
+<p>It was February weather, February unusually mild and genial, and the pet
+day of yesterday was followed by another as soft and sweet and mild.
+When Hinton awoke from his refreshing slumbers, the day was so well and
+thoroughly risen that a gleam of sunshine lay across his bed. He started
+up to discover a corresponding glow in his heart. What was causing this
+glow? In a moment he remembered, and the gleam of heart sunshine grew
+brighter with the knowledge. The fact was, happiness was standing by the
+young man's side, holding out two radiant hands, and saying, "Take me,
+take me to your heart of hearts, for I have come to dwell with you."
+Hinton rose, dressed hastily, and went into his sitting-room. All the
+gloom which had so oppressed him yesterday had vanished. He could not
+resist the outward sunshine, nor the heart-glow which had come to him.
+He stepped lightly, and whistled some gay airs. He ate his breakfast
+with appetite, then threw himself into an easy-chair which stood near
+the window; he need not go to his chambers for at least an hour, he
+might give himself this time to think.</p>
+
+<p>Again happiness stepped up close and showed her beautiful face. Should
+he take her; should he receive the rare<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> and lovely thing and shut out
+that stern sense of justice, of relieving the oppressed, of seeing the
+wronged righted, which had been as his sheet-anchor yesterday, which had
+been more or less the sheet-anchor of his life. Here was his position.
+He was engaged to marry Charlotte Harman; he loved her with his whole
+heart; she loved him with her whole heart; she was a beautiful woman, a
+noble woman, a wealthy woman. With her as his wife, love, riches, power
+might all be his. What more could the warm, warm feelings of youth
+desire? what more could the ambitions of youth aspire to? Yesterday, it
+is true, he had felt some rising of that noble pride which scorns to
+receive so much and give so little. He had formed a wild, almost
+passionate determination to obtain his brief before he obtained his
+bride, but Mr. Harman had soothed that pride to sleep. There was indeed
+a grave and sad reason why this beautiful and innocent woman whom he had
+won should receive all the full comfort his love and protection could
+give her as quickly as possible. Her father was dying, and she must not
+know of his approaching death. Her father wished to see her Hinton's
+wife as soon as possible. Hinton felt that this was reasonable, this was
+fair; for the sake of no pride, true or false, no hoped-for brief, could
+he any longer put off their wedding. Nay, far from this. Last night he
+had urged its being completed two months sooner than Charlotte herself
+had proposed. He saw by the brightness in Charlotte's eyes that, though
+she did not at once agree to this, her love for him was such that she
+would marry him in a week if he so willed it. He rejoiced in these
+symptoms of her great love, and the rejoicings of last night had risen
+in a fuller tide this morning. Yes, it was the rule of life, the one
+everlasting law, the old must suffer and die, the young must live and
+rejoice. Yes; Hinton felt very deep sympathy for Mr. Harman last night,
+but this morning, his happiness making him more self-absorbed than
+really selfish, he knew that the old man's dying and suffering state
+could not take one iota from his present delight.</p>
+
+<p>What then perplexed him? What made him stand aloof from the radiant
+guest, Happiness, for a brief half hour? That story of Charlotte's; it
+would come back to him; he wished now he had never heard it. For having
+heard he could not forget: he could not exorcise this grim Thing which
+stood side by side with Happiness in his sunny room. The fact was, his
+acute mind took in the true bearings of the case far more clearly than
+Charlotte had done. He felt<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> sure that Mrs. Home had been wronged. He
+felt equally sure that, if he looked into the case, it lay in his power
+to right her. Over and over he saw her pale, sad face, and he hoped it
+was not going to haunt him. The tale in his mind lay all in Mrs. Home's
+favor, all against John and Jasper Harman. Was it likely that their
+wealthy father would do anything so monstrously unjust as to leave all
+his money to his two eldest sons with whom he had previously quarrelled,
+and nothing, nothing at all to his young wife and infant daughter? It
+would be a meaningless piece of injustice, unlike all that he had
+gleaned of the previous character of the old man. As to John and Jasper,
+and their conduct in the affair, that too was difficult to fathom.
+Jasper had spent the greater portion of his life in Australia. Of his
+character Hinton knew little; that little he felt was repugnant to him.
+But John Harman&mdash;no man in the City bore a higher character for
+uprightness, for integrity, for honor. John Harman was respected and
+loved by all who knew him.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, yes: Hinton felt that all this was possible, but also he knew that
+never in their close intercourse had he been able to fathom John Harman.
+A shadow rested over the wealthy and prosperous merchant. Never until
+now had Hinton even approached the cause; but now, now it seemed to him
+that he was grappling with the impenetrable mystery, that face to face
+he was looking at the long and successfully hidden sin. Strong man as he
+was, he trembled as this fear came over him. Whatever the cause,
+whatever the sudden and swift temptation, he felt an ever-growing
+conviction that long ago John and Jasper Harman had robbed the widow and
+fatherless. Feeling this, being almost sure of this, how then should he
+act? He knew very well what he could do. He could go to Somerset House
+and see the will of old Mr. Harman. It was very unlikely that a forged
+will had been attempted. It was, he felt sure, far, far more probable
+that the real will was left untampered with, that the deed of injustice
+had been done in the hope that no one who knew anything about such
+matters would ever inquire into it.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton could go that very day and set his mind at rest. Why then did he
+hesitate? Ah! he knew but too well. Never and nearer came that shining
+form of Happiness. If he did this thing, and found his suspicions
+correct, as he feared much he should, if he then acted upon this
+knowledge and gave Mrs. Home her own again, happiness would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> fly from
+him, it might be for ever. To give Mrs. Home her rights he must cruelly
+expose a dying old man. Such a shock, coming now, would most probably
+kill John Harman. After bringing her father to such shame and dishonor,
+would Charlotte ever consent to be his wife? would she not indeed in
+very horror fly from his presence? What was Mrs. Home to him, that he
+should ruin his whole life for her sake, that he should give up wife,
+wealth, and fame? Nothing&mdash;a complete stranger. Why should he, for her
+sake, pain and make miserable those he loved, above all break the heart
+of the woman who was more precious to him than all the rest of the
+world? He felt he could not do this thing. He must take that bright
+winged happiness and let justice have her day when she could. Some other
+hand must inflict the blow, it could not be his hand. He was sorry now
+that he had taken Mrs. Home's lodgings. But after all what did it
+signify? He had taken them for a month, he could go there for that short
+period. His quickly approaching marriage would make it necessary for him
+to leave very soon after, and he would try amongst his many friends to
+find her a more permanent tenant, for though he had now quite made up
+his mind to let matters alone, his heart ached for this woman. Yes, he
+would, if possible, help her in little ways, though it would be
+impossible for his hand to be the one to give her her own again. Having
+come to this determination he went out.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"SUGAR AND SPICE AND ALL THAT'S NICE."</h3>
+
+
+<p>Perhaps for one day Charlotte Harman was selfish in her happiness. But
+when she awoke on the morning after her interview with her father, her
+finely balanced nature had quite recovered its equilibrium. She was a
+woman whom circumstances could make very noble; all her leanings were
+towards the good, she had hitherto been unassailed by temptation,
+untouched by care. All her life the beautiful and bright things of this
+world had been showered at her feet. She had the friends whom rich,
+amiable, and handsome girls usually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> make. She had the devotion of a
+most loving father. John Hinton met her and loved her. She responded to
+his love with her full heart. Another father might have objected to her
+giving herself to this man, who in the fashionable world's opinion was
+nothing. But Harman only insisted on a slight delay to their marriage,
+none whatever to their engagement, and now, after scarcely a year of
+waiting, the embargo was withdrawn, their wedding-day was fixed, was
+close at hand. The twentieth of April (Charlotte knew she should not
+oppose the twentieth of April) was not quite two months away. Very light
+was her heart when she awoke to this happy fact. Happiness, too, was
+standing by her bedside, and she made no scruple to press the radiant
+creature to her heart of hearts. But Charlotte's was too fine a nature
+to be spoiled by prosperity. Independent of her wealth, she must always
+have been a favorite. Her heart was frank and generous; she was
+thoughtful for others, she was most truly unselfish. Charlotte was a
+favorite with the servants; her maid worshipped her. She was a just
+creature, and had read too much on social reform to give away
+indiscriminately and without thought; but where her sense of justice was
+really satisfied, she could give with a royal hand, and there were many
+poor whom Ward, her maid, knew, who, rising up, called Miss Harman
+blessed.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte had taken a great interest in Mrs. Home. Her face attracted,
+her manner won, before ever her story touched the heart of this young
+woman. The greatest pain Charlotte had ever gone through in her life had
+followed the recital of Mrs. Home's tale, a terrible foreboding the
+awful shadow which points to wrong done, to sin committed by her best
+and dearest, had come near and touched her. Uncle Jasper, with his
+clever and experienced hand, had driven that shadow away, and in her
+first feeling of intense thankfulness and relief, she had almost
+disliked the woman who had come to her with so cruel a tale. All
+yesterday, in the midst of her own happiness, she had endeavored to shut
+Mrs. Home from her thoughts; but this morning, more calm herself, the
+remembrance of the poor, pale, and struggling mother rose up again fresh
+and vivid within her heart. It is true Mrs. Home believed a lie, a cruel
+and dreadful lie; but none the less for this was she to be pitied, none
+the less for this must she be helped. Mrs. Home was Charlotte's near
+relation, she could not suffer her to want. As she lay in bed, she
+reflected with great thankfulness that John Hinton had said, on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> hearing
+the tale, how manifestly it would be his and her duty to help this poor
+mother. Yes, by and by they would give her enough to raise her above all
+want, but Charlotte felt she could not wait for that distant time. She
+must succor Mrs. Home at once. Her father had said last night that, if
+she married in two months, there would be no time for her to finish her
+book. He was right; she must give up the book; she would devote this
+morning to Mrs. Home.</p>
+
+<p>She rose with her determination formed and went downstairs. As usual her
+father was waiting for her, as usual he came up and kissed her; and as
+they had done every morning for so many years, they sat down opposite
+each other to breakfast. Charlotte longed to speak to her father about
+Mrs. Home, but he looked, even to her inexperienced eyes, very ill and
+haggard, and she remembered her uncle's words and refrained from the
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem so feeble, father, had you not better go into town in the
+carriage this morning?" she asked, as he rose from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>To her surprise he assented, even confessed that he had already ordered
+the carriage. He had never to her knowledge done such a thing before,
+and little as she knew of real illness, nothing as she knew of danger
+and death, she felt a sharp pain at her heart as she watched him driving
+away. The pain, however, was but momentary, lost in the pressing
+interests of other thoughts. Before eleven o'clock she had started off
+to see Mrs. Home.</p>
+
+<p>Now it was by no means her intention to go to this newly found relation
+empty handed. Mrs. Home might or might not be willing to receive a gift
+of money, but Charlotte hoped so to be able to convey it to her as to
+save her pride from being too greatly hurt.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte had a small banking account of her own. She drove now straight
+to her bank in the city, and drawing fifty pounds in one note slipped it
+into her purse. From the bank she went to a children's West End shop.
+She there chose a lovely velvet frock for the fair-haired little Daisy,
+two embroidered white dresses for the baby; and going a little farther
+she bought a smart tailor suit for the eldest boy. After buying the
+pretty clothes she visited a toy shop, where she loaded herself with
+toys; then a cake shop to purchase cakes and other goodies; and having
+at last exhausted her resources; she desired the coachman to drive to
+Mrs. Home's address in Kentish Town. She arrived, after a drive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> of a
+little over half an hour, to find the lady whom she had come to seek,
+out. The dirty little maid stared with full round eyes at the beautiful
+young lady and at the handsome carriage, and declared she did not know
+when her missis would be in.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Charlotte felt foiled; but she was excited now&mdash;she could
+not go away, laden as she was with fairy gifts, without making some
+effort to dispense these blessings.</p>
+
+<p>"I am a relation of Mrs. Home's and I want to see the children. Are the
+children in?" she asked of the little maid.</p>
+
+<p>Rounder and rounder grew that small domestic's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"They can't be hout without me," she volunteered; "ain't I the nuss and
+maid-of-all work? Yes, the children is hin."</p>
+
+<p>Then she opened the dining-room door, and Charlotte, first flying to the
+carriage and returning laden with brown paper parcels, followed her into
+the little parlor.</p>
+
+<p>The maid, on the swift wings of excitement, flew upstairs. There was the
+quick patter of eager little feet, and in a very few moments the door
+was pushed open and a boy and girl entered. Charlotte recognized them at
+a glance. They were the very handsome little pair whose acquaintance she
+had made yesterday in Regent's Park. The girl hung back a trifle shyly,
+but the boy, just saying to his sister, "The pretty lady," came up, and
+raised his lips for a kiss.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think me rude?" he said; "you don't mind kissing me, do you."</p>
+
+<p>"I love to kiss you; I am your own cousin," said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"My own cousin! Then I may sit on your knee. Daisy, come here&mdash;the
+pretty lady is our own cousin."</p>
+
+<p>On hearing this, Daisy too advanced. Neither child had any idea what the
+word cousin meant, but it seemed to include proprietorship. They stroked
+Charlotte's furs, and both pairs of lips were raised again and again for
+many kisses. In the midst of this scene entered the little maid with the
+baby. Pretty as Daisy and Harold were, they were nothing to the baby;
+this baby of eight months had a most ethereal and lovely face.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you beauty! you darling!" said Charlotte, as she clasped the little
+creature in her arms, and the baby, too young to be shy, allowed her to
+kiss him repeatedly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What a lot of lumber!" said Daisy, touching the brown-paper parcels.</p>
+
+<p>This little child's speech brought Charlotte back to the fact of her
+cakes and toys. Giving baby to his small nurse, she opened her
+treasures. Daisy received her doll with a kind of awed rapture, Harold
+rattled his drum and blew his trumpet in a way most distracting to any
+weak nerves within reasonable distance, and the baby sucked some rather
+unwholesome sweets. No child thought of thanking their benefactor, but
+flushed cheeks, bright eyes, eager little voices, were thanks louder and
+more eloquent than words.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to see your mother; when will she be in?" asked Charlotte, after
+a little quiet had been restored.</p>
+
+<p>"Not all day," answered Harold. "Mother has gone with father to nurse a
+poor sick lady; she won't be back till quite night."</p>
+
+<p>"She said we were to be very good; we are, aren't we?" said Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, darling; you are quite perfect," replied the inexperienced
+Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Did our mother ask you to come and play with us and give us lovely
+things?" demanded Harold.</p>
+
+<p>"She does not know I am here, my dear little boy; but now, if you will
+show me where I can get a sheet of paper, I will just write your mother
+a little note."</p>
+
+<p>The paper was quickly found, and Charlotte sat down, a boy and girl on
+each side. It was not easy to say much under such circumstances, so the
+words in the little note were few.</p>
+
+<p>"You will give this to your mother when she comes in. See!&mdash;I will put
+it on the mantelpiece," she said to Harold; "and you must not touch
+these parcels until mother opens them herself. Yes; I will come again.
+Now, good-by." Her bonnet was decidedly crooked as she stepped into the
+carriage, her jacket was also much crumpled; but there was a very sweet
+feel of little arms still round her neck, and she touched her hair and
+cheeks with satisfaction, for they had been honored by many child
+kisses.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe she's just a fairy godmother," said Harold, as he watched the
+carriage rolling away.</p>
+
+<p>"I never seed the like in hall my born days," remarked the small
+maid-of-all-work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>"THE PRETTY LADY."</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Mother, mother, mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"And look!&mdash;oh, do look at what I have got!" were the words that greeted
+Mrs. Home, when, very tired, after a day of hard nursing with one of her
+husband's sick parishioners, she came back.</p>
+
+<p>The children ought to have been in bed, the baby fast asleep, the little
+parlor-table tidily laid for tea: instead of which, the baby wailed
+unceasingly up in the distant nursery, and Harold and Daisy, having
+nearly finished Charlotte's sweeties, and made themselves very
+uncomfortable by repeated attacks on the rich plum-cake, were now, with
+very flushed cheeks, alternately playing with their toys and poking
+their small fingers into the still unopened brown-paper parcels. They
+had positively refused to go up to the nursery, and, though the gas was
+lit and the blinds were pulled down, the spirit of disorder had most
+manifestly got into the little parlor.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, mother!&mdash;what <i>do</i> you think? The lovely lady!&mdash;the lady we met in
+the park yesterday!&mdash;she has been, and she brought us <i>lots</i> of
+things&mdash;toys, and sweeties, and cakes, and&mdash;oh, mother, do look!"</p>
+
+<p>Daisy presented her doll, and Harold blew some very shrill blasts from
+his trumpet right up into his mother's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear children," said Mrs. Home, "whom do you mean? where did you get
+all these things? who has come here? Why aren't you both in bed? It is
+long past your usual hour."</p>
+
+<p>This string of questions met with an unintelligible chorus of replies,
+in which the words "pretty lady," "Regent's Park," "father knew her,"
+"we <i>had</i> to sit up," so completely puzzled Mrs. Home, that had not her
+eyes suddenly rested on the little note waiting for her on the
+mantelpiece she would have been afraid her children had taken leave of
+their senses.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes; she told us to give you that," said Harold when he saw his
+mother take it up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I have said the note was very short. Charlotte Home read it in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother! what does she tell you, and what are in the other
+parcels? She said we weren't to open them until you came home. Oh, <i>do</i>
+tell us what she said, and let us see the rest of the pretty things!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do, do mother; we have been so patient 'bout it!" repeated little
+Daisy.</p>
+
+<p>Harold now ran for the largest of the parcels, and raised it for his
+mother to take. Both children clung to her skirts. Mrs. Home put the
+large parcel on a shelf out of reach, then she put aside the hot and
+eager little hands. At last she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"My little children must have some more patience, for mother can tell
+them nothing more to-night. Yes, yes, the lady is very pretty and very
+kind, but we can talk no more about anything until the morning. Now,
+Harold and Daisy, come upstairs at once."</p>
+
+<p>They were an obedient, well-trained little pair. They just looked at one
+another, and from each dimpled mouth came a short, impatient sigh; then
+they gave their hands to mother, and went gravely up to the nursery.
+Charlotte stayed with her children until they were undressed. She saw
+them comfortably washed, their baby prayers said, and each little head
+at rest on its pillow, then kissing the baby, who was also by this time
+fast asleep, she went softly downstairs.</p>
+
+<p>Anne, the little maid, was flying about, trying to get the tea ready and
+some order restored, but when she saw her mistress she could not refrain
+from standing still to pour out her excited tale.</p>
+
+<p>"Ef you please, 'em, it come on me hall on a 'eap. She come in that free
+and that bounteous, and seemed as if she could eat all the children up
+wid love; and she give 'em a lot, and left a lot more fur you, 'em. And
+when she wor goin' away she put half-a-crown in my hand. I never seed
+the like&mdash;never, 'em&mdash;never! She wor dressed as grand as Queen Victory
+herself, and she come in a carriage and two spanking hosses; and,
+please, 'em, I heard of her telling the children as she wos own cousin
+to you, 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know the young lady," replied Mrs. Home. "She is, as you say,
+very nice and kind. But now, Anne, we must not talk any more. Your
+master won't be in for an hour, but I shan't wait tea for him; we will
+have some fresh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> made later. Please bring me in a cup at once, for I am
+very tired."</p>
+
+<p>Anne gazed at her mistress in open-eyed astonishment. Any one&mdash;any one
+as poor as she well knew missis to be&mdash;who could take the fact of being
+cousin to so beautiful and rich a young lady with such coolness and
+apparent indifference quite passed Anne's powers of comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"It beats me holler&mdash;that it do!" she said to herself; then, with a
+start, she ran off to her kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home had taken her first cup of tea, and had even eaten a piece of
+bread and butter, before she again drew Charlotte Harman's little note
+out of her pocket. This is what her eyes had already briefly glanced
+over:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend and Sister</span>&mdash;for you must let me call you so&mdash;I have
+come to see you, and finding you out asked to see your children. I
+have lost my heart to your beautiful and lovely children. They are
+very sweet! Your baby is more like an angel than any earthly
+creature my eyes have ever rested on. Charlotte, I brought your
+children a few toys, and one or two other little things. You won't
+be too proud to accept them. When I bought them I did not love your
+children, but I loved you. You are my near kinswoman. You won't
+take away the pleasure I felt when I bought those things. Dear
+Sister Charlotte, when shall we meet again? Send me a line, and I
+will come to you at any time. Yours,</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<span class="smcap">Charlotte Harman.</span>"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It is to be regretted that Charlotte Home by no means received this
+sweet and loving little note in the spirit in which it was written. Her
+pale, thin face flushed, and her eyes burnt with an angry light. This
+burst of excited feeling was but the outcome of all she had undergone
+mentally since she had left Miss Harman's house a few days ago. She had
+said then, and truly, that she loved this young lady. The pride, the
+stately bearing, the very look of open frankness in Charlotte's eyes had
+warmed and touched her heart. She had not meant to tell to those ears,
+so unaccustomed to sin and shame, this tale of long-past wrong. It had
+been in a manner forced from her, and she had seen a flush of
+perplexity, then of horror, color the cheeks and fill the fine brave
+eyes. She had come away with her heart sympathies so moved by this girl,
+so touched, so shocked with what she herself had revealed, that she
+would almost rather, could her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> father's money now be hers, relinquish
+it, than cause any further pain or shame to Charlotte Harman.</p>
+
+<p>She came home and confided what she had done to her husband. It is not
+too much to say that he was displeased&mdash;that he was much hurt. The
+Charlotte who in her too eagerness for money could so act was scarcely
+the Charlotte he had pictured to himself as his wife. Charlotte was
+lowered in the eyes of the unworldly man. But just because her husband
+was so unworldly, so unpractical, Charlotte's own more everyday nature
+began to reassert itself. She had really done no harm. She had but told
+a tale of wrong. Those who committed the wrong were the ones to blame.
+She, the sufferer&mdash;who could put sin at her door? Her sympathy for
+Charlotte grew less, her sorrow for herself and her children more. She
+felt more sure than ever that injustice had been committed&mdash;that she and
+her mother had been robbed; she seemed to read the fact in Charlotte
+Harman's innocent eyes, Charlotte, in spite of herself, even though her
+own father was the one accused, believed her&mdash;agreed with her.</p>
+
+<p>All that night she spent in a sort of feverish dream, in which she saw
+herself wealthy, her husband happy, her children cared for as they ought
+to be. The ugly, ugly poverty of her life and her surroundings had all
+passed away like a dream that is told.</p>
+
+<p>She got up in a state of excitement and expectation, for what might not
+Charlotte Harman do for her? She would tell the tale to her father, and
+that father, seeing that his sin was found out, would restore her to her
+rights. Of course, this must be the natural consequence. Charlotte was
+not low and mean; she would see that she had her own again. Mrs. Home
+made no allowance for any subsequent event&mdash;for any influence other than
+her own being brought to bear on the young lady. All that day she
+watched the post; she watched for the possibility of a visit. Neither
+letter nor visit came, but Mrs. Home was not discouraged. That day was
+too soon to hear; she must wait with patience for the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>On the morrow her husband, who had almost forgotten her story, asked her
+to come and help him in the care of a sick woman at some distance away.
+Charlotte was a capital sick-nurse, and had often before given similar
+aid to Mr. Home in parish work.</p>
+
+<p>She went, spent her day away, and returned to find<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> that Charlotte had
+come&mdash;that so far her dream was true. Yes, but only so far, for
+Charlotte had come, not in shame, but in the plenitude of a generous
+benefactor. She had come laden with gifts, and had gone away with the
+hearts of the children and the little maid. Charlotte Home felt a great
+wave of anger and pain stealing over her heart. In her pain and
+disappointment she was unjust.</p>
+
+<p>"She is a coward after all. She dare not tell her father. She believes
+my tale, but she is not brave enough to see justice done to me and mine;
+so she tries to make up for it; she tries to salve her conscience and
+bribe me with gifts&mdash;gifts and flattery. I will have none of it. My
+rights&mdash;my true and just rights, or nothing! These parcels shall go back
+unopened to-morrow." She rose from her seat, and put them all tidily
+away on a side-table. She had scarcely done so before her husband's
+latch-key was heard in the hall-door. He came in with the weary look
+which was habitual to his thin face. "Oh, Angus, how badly you do want
+your tea!" said the poor wife. She was almost alarmed at her husband's
+pallor, and forgot Charlotte while attending to his comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"What are those parcels, Lottie?" he said, noticing the heaped-up things
+on the side-table.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind. Eat your supper first," she said to him.</p>
+
+<p>"I can eat, and yet know what is in them. They give quite a Christmas
+and festive character to the place. And what is that I see lying on that
+chair&mdash;a new doll for Daisy? Why, has my careful little woman been so
+extravagant as to buy the child another doll?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Home smiled as he spoke. His wife looked at him gravely. She picked
+up the very pretty doll and laid it with the other parcels on the
+side-table.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you about the parcels and the doll if you wish it," she
+answered. "Miss Harman called when I was out, and brought cakes, and
+sweeties, and toys to the children. She also brought those parcels. I do
+not know what they contain, for I have not opened them. And she left a
+note for me. I cannot help the sweeties and cakes, for Harold and Daisy
+have eaten them; but the toys and those parcels shall go back
+to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home looked very proud and defiant as she spoke. Her husband
+glanced at her face; then, with a slight sigh, he pushed his supper
+aside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, I am not hungry, dear. I am just a little overtired. May I see Miss
+Harman's note?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte put it at once into his hand.</p>
+
+<p>He read it carefully once&mdash;twice. His own spirit was very loving and
+Christ-like; consequently the real love and true human feeling in the
+little note touched him.</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie," he said, as he gave it back to his wife, "why do you want to
+pain that sweet creature?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home took the note, and flung it into the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" she said, an angry spot on each cheek. "She and hers have
+injured me and mine. I don't want gifts from her. I want my rights!"</p>
+
+<p>To this burst of excited feeling Mr. Home answered nothing. After a
+moment or two of silence he rang the bell, and when Anne appeared asked
+her to take away the tea-things. After this followed an hour of perfect
+quiet. Mrs. Home took out her great basket of mending. Mr. Home sat
+still, and apparently idle, by the fire. After a time he left the room
+to go for a moment to his own. Passing the nursery, he heard a little
+movement, and, entering softly, saw Harold sitting up in his little cot.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, is that you?" he called through the semi-light.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my boy. Is anything the matter? Why are you not asleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't, father dear; I'm so longing for to-morrow. I want to blow
+my new trumpet again, and to see the rest of the brown-paper parcels.
+Father, do come over to me for a moment."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Home came, and put his arm round the little neck.</p>
+
+<p>"Did mother tell you that <i>our</i> pretty lady came to-day, and brought
+such a splendid lot of things?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whose pretty lady, my boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ours</i>, father&mdash;the lady you, and I, and Daisy, and baby met in the
+park yesterday. You said it was rude to kiss her, and <i>she</i> did not
+mind. She gave me dozens and dozens of kisses to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"She was very kind to you," said Mr. Home. Then, bidding the child lie
+down and sleep, he left him and went on to his own room. He was going to
+his room with a purpose. That purpose was quickened into intensity by
+little Harold's words.</p>
+
+<p>That frank, fearless, sweet-looking girl was Miss Harman! That letter
+was, therefore, not to be wondered at. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> the kind of letter he
+would have expected such a woman to write. What was the matter with his
+Lottie?</p>
+
+<p>In his perplexity he knelt down; he remained upon his knees for about
+ten minutes, then he returned to the little parlor. The answer to his
+earnest prayer was given to him almost directly. His wife was no longer
+proud and cold. She looked up the moment he entered, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You are angry with me, Angus."</p>
+
+<p>"No, my darling," he answered, "not angry, but very sorry for you."</p>
+
+<p>"You must not be sorry for me. You have anxieties enough. I must not add
+to them. Not all the Miss Harmans that ever breathe shall bring a cloud
+between you and me. Angus, may I put out the gas and then sit close to
+you? You shall talk me out of this feeling, for I do feel bad."</p>
+
+<p>"I will talk all night if it makes you better, my own Lottie. Now, what
+is troubling you?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the first instance, you don't seem to believe this story about our
+money."</p>
+
+<p>"I neither believe it, nor the reverse&mdash;I simply don't let it trouble
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"But, Angus, that seems a little hard; for if the money was left to me
+by my father I ought to have it. Think what a difference it would make
+to us all&mdash;you, and me, and the children?"</p>
+
+<p>"We should be rich instead of poor. It would make that difference,
+certainly."</p>
+
+<p>"Angus, you talk as if this difference was nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing! It is not quite nothing; but I confess it does not weigh much
+with me."</p>
+
+<p>"If not for yourself, it might for the children's sakes; think what a
+difference money would make to our darlings."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear wife, you quite forgot when speaking so, that they are God's
+little children as well as ours. He has said that not a sparrow falls
+without His loving knowledge. Is it likely when that is so, that He will
+see His children and ours either gain or suffer from such a paltry thing
+as money?"</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will do nothing to get back our own?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean that I will go to law on the chance of our receiving some
+money which may have been left to us, certainly I will not. The fact is,
+Lottie&mdash;you may think me very eccentric&mdash;but I cannot move in this
+matter. It seems to me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> to be entirely God's matter, not ours. If Mr.
+Harman has committed the dreadful sin you impute to him, God must bring
+it home to him. Before that poor man who for years has hidden such a sin
+in his heart, and lived such a life before his fellow-men, is fit to go
+back to the arms of His father, he must suffer dreadfully. I pray, from
+my heart I pray, that if he committed the sin he may have the suffering,
+for there is no other road to the Father; but I cannot pray that this
+awful suffering may be sent to give us a better house, and our children
+finer clothes, and that richer food may be put on our table."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home was silent for a moment, then she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Angus, forgive me, I did not look at it in that light."</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dearest, and because I so pity her, if her father really is
+guilty, I do not want you unnecessarily to pain Miss Harman. You
+remember my telling you of that fine girl I met in Regent's Park
+yesterday, the girl who was so kind and nice to our children. I have
+just been up with Harold, and he tells me that your Miss Harman and his
+pretty lady are one and the same."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that really so?" answered Mrs. Home. "Yes. I know that Charlotte
+Harman is very attractive. Did I not tell you, Angus, that she had won
+my own heart? But I confess when I saw those gifts and read her note I
+felt angry. I thought after hearing my tale she should have done more.
+These presents seemed to me in the light of a bribe."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I know you are shocked. You cannot see the thing with my eyes; that
+is how they really looked to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, my dear wife, may I give you a piece of advice?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I am hungering for, Angus."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell the whole story, as frankly&mdash;more frankly than you have told it to
+me, to God to-night. Lay the whole matter in the loving hands of your
+Father, then, Charlotte; after so praying, if in the morning you still
+think Miss Harman was actuated by so mean a spirit, treat her as she
+deserves. With your own hands deal the punishment to her, send
+everything back."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home's face flushed very brightly, and she lowered her eyes to
+prevent her husband seeing the look of shame which filled them. The
+result of this conversation was the following note written the next
+morning to Miss Harman.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>I could not have thanked you last night for what you have done,
+but I can to-day. You have won my children's little hearts. Be
+thankful that you have made my dear little ones so happy. You ask
+to see me again, Miss Harman. I do not think I can come to you, and
+I don't ask you to come here. Still I will see you; name some
+afternoon to meet me in Regent's Park and I will be there.</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yours,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Charlotte Home.</span></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Thus the gifts were kept, and the mother tried to pray away a certain
+soreness which would remain notwithstanding all her husband's words. She
+was human after all, however, and Charlotte Harman might have been
+rewarded had she seen her face the following Sunday morning when she
+brought her pretty children down to their father to inspect them in
+their new clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Harold went to church that morning, with his mother, in a very
+picturesque hat; but no one suspected quite how much it was worth, not
+even those jealous mothers who saw it and remarked upon it, and wondered
+who had left Mrs. Home a legacy, for stowed carefully away under the
+lining was Charlotte Harman's bright, crisp, fifty-pound note.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+
+<h3>TWO CHARLOTTES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a week after; the very day, in fact, on which Hinton was to give
+up his present most comfortable quarters for the chances and changes of
+Mrs. Home's poor little dwelling. That anxious young wife and mother,
+having completed her usual morning duties, set off to Regent's Park to
+meet Miss Harman. It was nearly March now, and the days, even in the
+afternoon, were stretching, and though it was turning cold the feeling
+of coming spring was more decidedly getting into the air.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home had told her children that she was going to meet their pretty
+lady, and Harold had begged hard to come too. His mother would have
+taken him, but he had a cold,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> and looked heavy, so she started off for
+her long walk alone. Won by her husband's gentler and more Christ-like
+spirit, Mrs. Home had written to Miss Harman to propose this meeting;
+but in agreeing to an interview with her kinswoman she had effected a
+compromise with her own feelings. She would neither go to her nor ask
+her to come to the little house in Kentish Town. The fact was she wanted
+to meet this young woman on some neutral ground. There were certain
+unwritten, but still most stringent, laws of courtesy which each must
+observe in her own home to the other. Charlotte Home intended, as she
+went to meet Miss Harman on this day of early spring, that very plain
+words indeed should pass between them.</p>
+
+<p>By this it will be seen that she was still very far behind her husband,
+and that much of a sore and angry sensation was still lingering in her
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Harman will, of course, keep me waiting," she said to herself, as
+she entered the park, and walked quickly towards the certain part where
+they had agreed to meet. She gave a slight start therefore, when she saw
+that young woman slowly pacing up and down, with the very quiet and
+meditative air of one who had been doing so for some little time. Miss
+Harman was dressed with almost studied plainness and simplicity. All the
+rich furs which the children had admired were put away. When she saw
+Mrs. Home she quickened her slow steps into almost a run of welcome, and
+clasped her toil-worn and badly gloved hands in both her own.</p>
+
+<p>"How glad I am to see you! You did not hurry, I hope. You are quite out
+of breath. Why did you walk so fast?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did not walk fast until I saw you under the trees, Miss Harman. I
+thought I should have time enough, for I imagined I should have to wait
+for you."</p>
+
+<p>"What an unreasonable thing to suppose of me! I am the idle one, you the
+busy. No: I respect wives and mothers too much to treat them in that
+fashion." Miss Harman smiled as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home did not outwardly respond to the smile, though the gracious
+bearing, the loving, sweet face were beginning very slowly to effect a
+thaw, for some hard little ice lumps in her heart were melting. The
+immediate effect of this was, however, so strong a desire to cry that,
+to steel herself against these untimely tears, she became in manner
+harder than ever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And now what shall we do?" said Charlotte Harman. "The carriage is
+waiting for us at the next gate; shall we go for a drive, or shall we
+walk about here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather walk here," said Mrs. Home.</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. Charlotte, I am glad to see you. And how are your children?"</p>
+
+<p>"Harold has a cold. The other two are very well."</p>
+
+<p>"I never saw sweeter children in my life. And do you know I met your
+husband? He and your children both spoke to me in the park. It was the
+day before I came to your house. Mr. Home gave me a very short sermon to
+think over. I shall never forget it."</p>
+
+<p>"He saw you and liked you," answered Mrs. Home. "He told me of that
+meeting."</p>
+
+<p>"And I want another meeting. Such a man as that has never come into my
+life before. I want to see more of him. Charlotte, why did you propose
+that we should meet here? Why not in my house, or in yours? I wanted to
+come to you again. I was much disappointed when I got your note."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to have disappointed you; but I thought it best that we
+should meet here."</p>
+
+<p>"But why? I don't understand."</p>
+
+<p>"They say that rich people are obtuse. I did not want to see your
+riches, nor for you to behold the poverty of my land."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte!"</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't think me very hard, but I would rather you did not say
+Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"You would rather I did not say Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>Two large tears of surprise and pain filled Miss Harman's gray eyes. But
+such a great flood of weeping was so near the surface with the other
+woman that she dared not look at her.</p>
+
+<p>"I would rather you did not say Charlotte," she repeated, "for we call
+those whom we love and are friendly with by their Christian names."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you loved me. You said so. You can't take back your own
+words."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to. I do love you in my heart. I feel I could love you
+devotedly; but for all that we can never be friends."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Harman was silent for a moment or two, then she said slowly, but
+with growing passion in her voice, "Ah! you are thinking of that
+wretched money. I thought love ranked higher than gold all the world
+over."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"So it does, or appears to do, for those who all their lives have had
+plenty; but it is just possible, just possible, I say, that those who
+are poor, poor enough to know what hunger and cold mean, and have seen
+their dearest wanting the comforts that money can buy, it is possible
+that such people may prefer their money rights to the profession of
+empty love."</p>
+
+<p>"Empty love!" repeated Miss Harman. The words stung her. She was growing
+angry, and the anger became this stately creature well. With cheeks and
+eyes both glowing she turned to her companion. "If you and I are not to
+part at once, and never meet again, there must be very plain words
+between us. Shall I speak those words?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I came here that our words might be very plain," answered Mrs. Home.</p>
+
+<p>"They shall be," said Charlotte Harman.</p>
+
+<p>They were in a very quiet part of the park. Even the nurses and children
+were out of sight. Now they ceased walking, and turned and faced each
+other.</p>
+
+<p>They were both tall, and both the poor and the rich young woman had
+considerable dignity of bearing; but Charlotte Home was now the composed
+one. Charlotte Harman felt herself quivering with suppressed anger.
+Injustice was being dealt out to her, and injustice to the child of
+affluence and luxury was a new sensation.</p>
+
+<p>"You came to me the other day," she began, "I had never seen you before,
+never before in all my life ever heard your name. You, however, knew me,
+and you told me a story. It was a painful and very strange story. It
+made you not only my very nearest kin, but also made you the victim of a
+great wrong. The wrong was a large one, and the victim was to be pitied;
+but the sting of it all lay, to me, not in either of the facts, but in
+this, that you gave me to understand that he who had dealt you such a
+blow was&mdash;my father. My father, one of the most noble, upright, and
+righteous of men, you made out to me, to me, his only child, to be no
+better than a common thief. I did not turn you from my doors for your
+base words. I pitied you. In spite of myself I liked you; in spite of
+myself I <i>believed</i> you. You went away, and in the agony of mind which
+followed during the next few hours I could have gladly fled for ever
+from the sight of all the wide world. I had been the very happiest of
+women. You came. You went. I was one of the most miserable. I am engaged
+to be married, and the man I am engaged to came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> into the room. I felt
+guilty before him. I could not raise my eyes to his, for, again I tell
+you, I believed your tale, and my father's bitter shame was mine. I
+could not rest. Happen what would I must learn the truth at once. I have
+an uncle, my father's brother; he must know all. I sent my lover away
+and went to this uncle. I asked to have an interview with him, and in
+that interview I told him all you had told to me. He was not surprised.
+He acknowledged at once the true and real relationship between us; but
+he also explained away the base doubts you had put into my head. My
+father, my own beloved father, is all, and more than all, I have ever
+thought him. He would scorn to be unjust, to rob any one. You have been
+unfortunate; you have been treated cruelly; but the injustice, the
+cruelty have been penetrated by one long years now in his grave. In
+short, your father has been the wicked man, not mine."</p>
+
+<p>Here Mrs. Home tried to speak, but Miss Harman held up her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You must hear me out," she said. "I am convinced, but I do not expect
+you to be. After my uncle had done speaking, and I had time to realize
+all the relief those words of his had given me, I said, still an
+injustice has been done. We have no right to our wealth while she
+suffers from such poverty. Be my grandfather's will what it may, we must
+alter it. We must so act as if he had left money to his youngest child.
+My uncle agreed with me; perhaps not so fully as I could wish, still he
+did agree; but he made one proviso. My father is ill, I fear. I fear he
+is very ill. The one dark cloud hanging over his whole life lay in those
+years when he was estranged from his own father. To speak of you I must
+bring back those years to his memory. Any excitement is bad for him now.
+My uncle said, 'Wait until your father is better, then we will do
+something for Mrs. Home.' To this I agreed. Was I very unreasonable to
+agree to this delay for my father's sake?"</p>
+
+<p>Here Charlotte Harman paused and looked straight at her companion. Mrs.
+Home's full gaze met hers. Again, the innocent candor of the one pair of
+eyes appealed straight to the heart lying beneath the other. Unconvinced
+she was still. Still to her, her own story held good: but she was
+softened, and she held out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no unreasonableness in <i>you</i>, Charlotte," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Ah! then you will call me Charlotte?" said the other, her face glowing
+with delight.</p>
+
+<p>"I call you so now. I won't answer for the future."</p>
+
+<p>"We will accept the pleasant present. I don't fear the future. I shall
+win your whole heart yet. Now let us drop all disagreeables and talk
+about those we both love. Charlotte, what a baby you have got! Your baby
+must be an angel to you."</p>
+
+<p>"All my children are that to me. When I look at them I think God has
+sent to me three angels to dwell with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! what a happy thought, and what a happy woman. Then your husband, he
+must be like the archangel Gabriel, so just, so righteous, so noble. I
+love him already: but I think I should be a little afraid of him. He is
+so&mdash;so very unearthly. Now you, Mrs. Home, let me tell you, are very
+earthly, very human indeed."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home smiled, for this praise of her best beloved could not but be
+pleasant to her. She told Miss Harman a little more about her husband
+and her children, and Miss Harman listened with that appreciation which
+is the sweetest flattery in the world. After a time she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I am not going to marry any one the least bit unearthly, but I see you
+are a model wife, and I want to be likewise. For&mdash;did I not tell you?&mdash;I
+am to be married in exactly two months from now."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you really? Are you indeed?"</p>
+
+<p>Was it possible after this piece of confidence for these two young women
+not to be friends?</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte Home, though so poor, felt suddenly, in experience, in all
+true womanly knowledge, rich beside her companion. Charlotte Harman, for
+all her five and twenty years, was but a child beside this earnest wife
+and mother.</p>
+
+<p>They talked; the one relating her happy experience, the other listening,
+as though on her wedding-day she was certainly to step into the land of
+Beulah. It was the old, old story, repeated again, as those two paced up
+and down in the gray March afternoon. When at last they parted there was
+no need to say that they were friends.</p>
+
+<p>And yet as she hurried home the poor Charlotte could not help reflecting
+that whatever her cause she had done nothing for it. Charlotte Harman
+might be very sweet. It might be impossible not to admire her, to love
+her, to take her to her heart of hearts. But would that love bring back
+her just rights? would that help her children by and by?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> She reached
+her hall door to find her husband standing there.</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie, where have you been? I waited for you, for I did not like to go
+out and leave him. Harold is ill, and the doctor has just left."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A FRIEND IN NEED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>For many days after that interview in Regent's Park, it seemed that one
+of the three, who made the little house in Kentish Town so truly like
+heaven, was to be an angel indeed. Harold's supposed cold had turned to
+scarlet fever, and the doctor feared that Harold would die.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after her interview with Charlotte Harman, Mrs. Home went
+upstairs to learn from the grave lips of the medical man what ailed her
+boy, and what a hard fight for life or death he had before him. She was
+a brave woman, and whatever anguish might lie underneath, no tears
+filled her eyes as she looked at his flushed face. When the doctor had
+gone, she stole softly from the sick-room, and going to the drawing-room
+where Hinton was already in possession, she tapped at the door.</p>
+
+<p>To his "Come in," she entered at once, and said abruptly without
+preface,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I hope you have unpacked nothing. I must ask you to go away at once."</p>
+
+<p>She had her bonnet still on, and, but for the pallor of her face, she
+looked cold, even unmoved.</p>
+
+<p>"I have everything unpacked, and I don't want to go. Why should I?"
+demanded Hinton, in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"My eldest boy has scarlet fever. The other two will probably take it.
+You must on no account stay here; you must leave to-night if you wish to
+escape infection."</p>
+
+<p>In an instant Hinton was by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Your boy has scarlet fever?" he repeated. "I know something of scarlet
+fever. He must instantly be moved to an airy bedroom. The best bedroom
+in the house is mine. Your boy must sleep in my bedroom to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a good thought," said Mrs. Home. "Thank you for suggesting it&mdash;I
+will move him down at once; the bed is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> well aired, and the sheets are
+fresh and clean. I will have him moved whenever you can go."</p>
+
+<p>She was leaving the room when Hinton followed her.</p>
+
+<p>"I said nothing about going. I don't mean to. I can have a blanket and
+sleep on the sofa. I am not going away, Mrs. Home."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Hinton, have you no one you care for? Why do you run this risk."</p>
+
+<p>"I have some one I care for very much indeed; but I run no risk. I had
+scarlet fever long ago. In any case I have no fear of infection. Now I
+know your husband is out; let me go upstairs and help you bring down the
+little fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you," said the wife and mother. Her eyes were beautiful as
+she raised them to the face of this good Samaritan.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The little patient was moved to the large and comfortable room, and
+Hinton found himself in the position of good angel to this poor family.
+He had never supposed himself capable of taking such a post with regard
+to any one; but the thing seemed thrust upon him. An obvious duty had
+come into his life, and he never even for the briefest instant dreamed
+of shirking it. He was a man without physical fear. The hardships of
+life, the roughing of poverty were not worth a passing thought of
+annoyance; but there was one little act of self-denial which he must now
+exercise; and it is to be owned that he felt it with a heart-pang. He
+had never told Charlotte that he was going to live in the house with
+Mrs. Home. He had not meant to keep this fact a secret from her, but
+there was still a soreness over him when he thought of this young woman
+which prevented her name coming readily to his lips. On this first night
+in his new abode he sat down to write to his promised wife; but neither
+now did he give his address, nor tell his landlady's name. He had an
+obvious reason, however, now for his conduct.</p>
+
+<p>This was what Charlotte received from her lover on the following
+morning,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Darling</span>,&mdash;Such a strange thing has happened; but one which,
+thank God, as far as I am concerned, need not cause you the least
+alarm. I moved from my old lodgings to-day and went a little
+further into the country. I had just unpacked my belongings and was
+expecting some tea, for I was hot and thirsty, when my landlady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+came in and told me that her eldest child is taken very ill with
+scarlet fever. She has other children, and fears the infection will
+spread. She is a very poor woman, but is one of those who in their
+bearing and manner, you, Charlotte, would call noble. She wanted me
+to leave at once, but this, Charlotte, I could not do. I am staying
+here, and will give her what little help lies in my power. You know
+there is no fear for me, for I had the complaint long ago. But,
+dearest, there is just one thing that is hard. Until this little
+child is better, I must not see you. You have not had this fever,
+Charlotte, and for you, for my own sake, and your father's sake, I
+must run no risk. I will write to you every day, or as much oftener
+as you wish, for I can disinfect my paper; but I will not go to
+Prince's Gate at present."</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ever, my own true love,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Yours most faithfully,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"John Hinton."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>This letter was posted that very night, but Hinton did not put his new
+address on it; he meant Charlotte now for prudential reasons to write to
+his chambers. He returned to his lodgings, and for many weary and
+anxious nights to come shared their watch with Mr. and Mrs. Home. So
+quietly, so absolutely had this young man stepped into his office, that
+the father and mother did not think of refusing his services. He was a
+good nurse, as truly tender-hearted and brave men almost always are. The
+sick child liked his touch. The knowledge of his presence was pleasant.
+When nothing else soothed him, he would lie quiet if Hinton held his
+little hot hand in his.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, opening his bright feverish eyes, he fixed them full on
+Hinton's face and said slowly and earnestly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I did kiss that pretty lady."</p>
+
+<p>"He means a lady whom he met in the Park; a Miss Harman, who came here
+and brought him toys," explained Mrs. Home.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, isn't she a pretty lady?" repeated little Harold.</p>
+
+<p>"Very pretty," answered Hinton, bending low over him.</p>
+
+<p>The child smiled. It was a link between them. He again stole his hand
+into that of the young man. But as days wore on and the fever did not
+abate, the little life in that small frame began to grow feeble. From
+being an impossibility, it grew to be probable, then almost certain,
+that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> the little lad must die. Neither father nor mother seemed alive to
+the coming danger; but Hinton, loving less than they did, was not
+blinded. He had seen scarlet fever before, he knew something of its
+treatment; he doubted the proper course having ever been pursued here.
+One evening he followed the doctor from the sick-room.</p>
+
+<p>"The child is very ill," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"The child is so ill," answered the medical man, "that humanly speaking
+there is very little hope of his life."</p>
+
+<p>"Good sir!" exclaimed Hinton, shocked at his fears being put into such
+plain language. "Don't you see that those parents' lives are bound up in
+the child's, and they know nothing? Why have you told them nothing? Only
+to-night his mother thought him better."</p>
+
+<p>"The fever is nearly over, and in consequence the real danger beginning;
+but I dare not tell the mother, she would break down. The father is of
+different stuff, he would bear it. But there is time enough for the
+mother to know when all is over."</p>
+
+<p>"I call that cruel. Why don't you get in other advice?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir, they are very poor people. Think of the expense, and it
+would be of no use, no use whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"Leave the expense to me, and also the chance of its doing any good. I
+should never have an easy moment if I let that little lad die without
+having done all in my power. Two heads are better than one. Do you
+object to consulting with Dr. H&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"By no means, Mr. Hinton. He is a noted authority on such cases."</p>
+
+<p>"Then be here in an hour from now, doctor, and you shall meet him."</p>
+
+<p>Away flew Hinton, and within the specified time the great authority on
+such cases was standing by little Harold's bedside.</p>
+
+<p>"The fever is over, but the child is sinking from exhaustion. Give him a
+glass of champagne instantly," were the first directions given by the
+great man.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton returned with a bottle of the best his money could purchase in
+ten minutes.</p>
+
+<p>A tablespoonful was given to the child. He opened his eyes and seemed
+revived.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that is good. I will stay with the little fellow to-night," said
+Dr. H&mdash;&mdash;. "You, madam," he added, looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> at Mrs. Home, "are to go to
+bed. On no other condition do I stay."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton and Dr. H&mdash;&mdash; shared that night's watch between them, and in the
+morning the little life was pronounced safe.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>EMPTY PURSES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was not until Harold's life was really safe that his mother realized
+how very nearly he had been taken from her. But for Hinton's timely
+interposition, and the arrival of Doctor H&mdash;&mdash; at the critical moment,
+the face she so loved might have been cold and still now, and the spirit
+have returned to God who gave it.</p>
+
+<p>Looking at the little sleeper breathing in renewed health and life with
+each gentle inspiration, such a rush of gratitude and over-powering
+emotion came over Mrs. Home that she was obliged to follow Hinton into
+his sitting-room. There she suddenly went down on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you," she said. "God most abundantly bless you for what you
+have done for me and mine. You are, except my husband, the most truly
+Christian man I ever met."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't," said Hinton, moved and even shocked at her position. "I
+loved&mdash;I love the little lad. It is nothing, what we do for those we
+love."</p>
+
+<p>"No; it is, as you express it, nothing to save a mother's heart from
+worse than breaking," answered Charlotte Home. "If ever you marry and
+have a son of your own, you will begin to understand what you have done
+for me. You will be thankful then to think of this day."</p>
+
+<p>Then with a smile which an angel might have given him, the mother went
+away, and Hinton sat down to write to Charlotte. But he was much moved
+and excited by those earnest words of love and approval. He felt as
+though a laurel wreath had been placed on his head, and he wondered
+would his first brief, his first sense of legal triumph, be sweeter to
+him than the look in that mother's face this morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And it was so easily won," he said to himself. "For who but a brute
+under the circumstances could have acted otherwise?"</p>
+
+<p>In writing to Charlotte he told her all. It was a relief to pour out his
+heart to her, though of course he carefully kept back names.</p>
+
+<p>By return of post he received her answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I must do something for that mother. You will not let me come to her.
+But if I cannot and must not come, I can at least help with money. How
+much money shall I send you?"</p>
+
+<p>To this Hinton answered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"None. She is a proud woman. She would not accept it."</p>
+
+<p>As he put this second letter in the post, he felt that any money gift
+between these two Charlottes would be impossible. During little Harold's
+illness he had put away all thoughts of the possibility of Mrs. Home
+being entitled to any of his Charlotte's wealth. The near and likely
+approach of death had put far from his mind all ideas of money. But now,
+with the return of the usual routine of life in this small and humble
+house, came back to Hinton's mind the thoughts which had so sorely
+troubled him on the night on which Charlotte had told him Mrs. Home's
+story. For his own personal convenience and benefit he had put away
+these thoughts. He had decided that he could not move hand or foot in
+the matter. But in the very house with this woman, though he might so
+resolve not to act, he could not put the sense of the injustice done to
+her away from his heart. He pondered on it and grew uneasy as to the
+righteousness of his own conduct. As this uneasiness gathered strength,
+he even avoided Mrs. Home's presence. For the first time, too, in his
+life Hinton was beginning to realize what a very ugly thing
+poverty&mdash;particularly the poverty of the upper classes&mdash;really is. To
+make things easier for this family in their time of illness, he had
+insisted on having what meals he took in the house, in the room with Mr.
+and Mrs. Home. He would not, now that Harold was better, change this
+custom. But though he liked it, it brought him into direct contact with
+the small shifts necessary to make so slender a purse as their's cover
+their necessary expenses. Mr. Home noticed nothing; but Mrs. Home's thin
+face grew more and more worn, and Hinton's heart ached as he watched it.
+He felt more and more compunctions as to his own conduct.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> These
+feelings were to be quickened into activity by a very natural
+consequence which occurred just then.</p>
+
+<p>Little Harold's life was spared, and neither Daisy nor the baby had
+taken the fever. So far all was well. Doctor H&mdash;&mdash;, too, had ceased his
+visits, and the little invalid was left to the care of the first doctor
+who had been called in. Yes, up to a certain point Harold's progress
+towards recovery was all that could be satisfactory. But beyond that
+point he did not go. For a fortnight after the fever left him his
+progress towards recovery was rapid. Then came the sudden standstill.
+His appetite failed him, a cough came on, and a hectic flush in the pale
+little face. The child was pining for a change of air, and the father's
+and mother's purse had been already drained almost to emptiness by the
+expenses of the first illness. One day when Doctor Watson came and felt
+the feeble, too rapid pulse he looked grave. Mrs. Home followed him from
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>"What ails my boy, doctor? He is making no progress, none whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he sleep enough?" asked Doctor Watson suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Not well; he coughs and is restless."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I am sorry he has got that cough. How is his appetite?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does not fancy much food. He has quite turned against his beef-tea."</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Watson was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"What is wrong?" asked Mrs. Home, coming nearer and looking up into his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam, there is nothing to alarm yourself with. Your boy has gone
+through a most severe illness; the natural consequences must follow. He
+wants change. He will be fit to travel by easy stages in a week at
+latest. I should recommend Torquay. It is mild and shielded from the
+spring east winds. Take him to Torquay as soon as possible. Keep him
+there for a month, and he will return quite well."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I cannot?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! then&mdash;&mdash;" with an expressive shrug of the shoulders and raising of
+the brows, "my advice is to take him if possible. I don't like that
+cough."</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Watson turned away. He felt sorry enough, but he had more acute
+cases than little Harold Home's to trouble him, and he wisely resolved
+that to think about what could not be remedied, would but injure his own
+powers of working.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> Being a really kind-hearted man he said to himself,
+"I will make their bill as light as I can when I send it in." And then
+he forgot the poor curate's family until the time came round for his
+next visit. Meanwhile Mrs. Home stood still for a moment where he had
+left her, then went slowly to her own room.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother, I want you," called the weak, querulous voice of the
+sick child.</p>
+
+<p>"Coming in a moment, darling," she said. But for that one moment, she
+felt she must be alone.</p>
+
+<p>Locking her door she went down on her knees. Not a tear came to her
+eyes, not a word to her lips. There was an inward groan, expressing
+itself in some voiceless manner after this fashion,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"My God, my God, must I go through the fiery furnace?" Then smoothing
+her hair, and forcing a smile back to her lips, she went back to her
+little son.</p>
+
+<p>All that afternoon she sat with him, singing to him, telling him
+stories, playing with him. In the evening, however, she sought an
+opportunity to speak to her husband alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Angus, you know how nearly we lost our boy a week ago?"</p>
+
+<p>The curate paused, and looked at her earnestly, surprised at her look
+and manner.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dearest," he said. "But God was merciful."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Angus," she said; and now relief came to her, for as she spoke she
+began to weep. "You are good, you are brave, you could have let him go.
+But for me&mdash;for me&mdash;it would have killed me. I should have died or gone
+mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie dear&mdash;my darling, you are over-strung. The trial, the fiery
+trial, was not sent. Why dwell on what our loving Father has averted?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Angus! but has He&mdash;has He," then choking with pent-up emotion, she
+told what the doctor had said to-day, how necessary the expensive change
+was for the little life. "And we have no money," she said in conclusion,
+"our purse is very nearly empty."</p>
+
+<p>"Very nearly empty indeed," answered Angus Home.</p>
+
+<p>He was absolutely silent after this news, no longer attempting to
+comfort his wife.</p>
+
+<p>"Angus, God is cruel if for the sake of wanting a little money our boy
+must die."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't," said the curate&mdash;God was so precious to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> that these words
+smote on him even now with a sense of agony&mdash;"don't," he repeated, and
+he raised his hand as though to motion away an evil spirit.</p>
+
+<p>"He is cruel if He lets our boy die for want of money to save him,"
+repeated the mother in her desperation.</p>
+
+<p>"He won't do that, Lottie&mdash;He will never do that, there is not the least
+fear."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how are we to get the money?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know, I cannot think to-night. I will go up to Harold now."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and left the room with slow steps. As he mounted the stairs
+his back was so bent, his face so gray and careworn, that though
+scarcely forty he looked like an old man.</p>
+
+<p>This was Harold's one precious hour with his father, and the little
+fellow was sitting up in bed and expecting him.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," he said, noticing the anxious look on his face, which was
+generally as serene and peaceful as the summer sea, "what is the matter?
+You are ill; are you going to have the scarlet fever too?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear, dear boy. I am quite well, quite well at least in body. I
+have a care on my mind that makes me look a little sad, but don't notice
+it, Harold, it will pass."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You</i> have a care on your mind!" said Harold in a tone of surprise. "I
+know mother often, often has, but I did not think you had cares,
+father."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I help it, boy, sometimes?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you gave your cares to God. I don't understand a bit how you
+manage it, but I remember quite well your telling mother that you gave
+your cares away to God."</p>
+
+<p>The father turning round suddenly, stooped down and kissed the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, my son, for reminding me. Yes, I will give this care too to
+God, it shall not trouble me."</p>
+
+<p>Then the two began to talk, and the son's little wasted hand was held in
+the father's. The father's face had recovered its serenity, and the
+little son, though he coughed continually, looked happy.</p>
+
+<p>"Father," he said suddenly, "there's just one thing I'm sorry for."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that, my boy?"</p>
+
+<p>"There were a whole lot of other things, father; about my never having
+gone to live in the country, and those gypsy teas that mother told me
+of. You light a fire outside, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> know, father, and boil the kettle on
+it, and have your tea in the woods and the fields. It must be just
+delicious. I was sorry about that, for I've never been to one, never
+<i>even</i> to one all my life long; and then there's the pretty lady&mdash;I do
+want to see my pretty lady once again. I was sorry about those things
+all day, but not now. 'Tisn't any of those things makes me so sorry
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you sorry, Harold?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I'm just a little bit jealous about Jesus. You see there's
+always such a lot of us little children dying and going to heaven, and
+He can't come for us all, so He has to send angels. Now I don't want an
+angel, I want Him to come for me Himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps He will, Harold," said his father, "perhaps Jesus will be so
+very loving to His little lamb that He will find time to come for him
+Himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father! when you are giving Him your new care to-night, will you
+just ask Him not to be so dreadfully busy, but to try and come Himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Harold," said the father.</p>
+
+<p>After this promise little Harold went to sleep very happily.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"THY WILL BE DONE."</h3>
+
+
+<p>"You always give your cares to God," little Harold had said to his
+father.</p>
+
+<p>That father, on his knees with his head bowed between his hands, and a
+tempest of agony, of entreaty in his heart, found suddenly that he could
+not give this care away to God. For a moment, when the boy had spoken,
+he had believed that this was possible, but when little Harold had
+himself spoken so quietly of dying and going to Jesus, the father's
+heart rose suddenly in the fiercest rebellion. No; if it meant the
+slaying of his first-born he could not so quietly lay it in the hands of
+God and say, "Thy will be done." This unearthly man, who had always
+lived with a kind of heaven-sent radiance round his path, found himself
+suddenly human<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> after all. His earthly arms clung tightly round the
+earthly form of his pretty little lad and would not unclasp themselves.
+It was to this man who had so serenely and for many years walked in the
+sunshine of God's presence, with nothing to hide his glory from his
+eyes, as though he had come up to a high, a blank, an utterly
+impenetrable wall, which shut away all the divine radiance. He could
+neither climb this wall, nor could he see one glimpse of God at the dark
+side where he found himself. In an agony this brave heart tried to pray,
+but his voice would not rise above his chamber, would not indeed even
+ascend to his lips. He found himself suddenly voiceless and dumb, dead
+despair stealing over him. He did not, however, rise from his knees, and
+in this position his wife found him when, late that night, she came up
+to bed. She had been crying so hard and so long that by very force of
+those tears her heart was lighter, and her husband, when he raised his
+eyes, hollow from the terrible struggle within, to her face, looked now
+the most miserable of the two. The mute appeal in his eyes smote on the
+wife's loving heart, instantly she came over and knelt by his side.</p>
+
+<p>"You must come to bed, Angus dear. I have arranged with Mr. Hinton, and
+he will sit up with our little lad for the next few hours."</p>
+
+<p>"I could not sleep, Lottie," answered the husband. "God is coming to
+take away our child and I can't say, 'Thy will be done.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You can't!" repeated the wife, and now her lips fell apart and she
+gazed at her husband.</p>
+
+<p>"No Lottie; you called God cruel downstairs, and now He looks cruel to
+me. I can't give Him my first-born. I can't say 'Thy will be done;' but
+oh!" continued the wretched man, "this is horrible, this is blasphemous.
+Oh! has God indeed forsaken me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, no!" suddenly almost shrieked the wife; "no, no!" she repeated;
+and now she had flung her arms round her husband and was straining him
+to her heart. "Oh, my darling! my beloved! you were never, never, never,
+so near to me, so dear to me, as now. God does not want you to say that,
+Angus. Angus, it is <i>not</i> God's will that our child should die, it is
+Satan's will, not God's. God is love, and it can't be love to torture
+us, and tear our darling away from us like that. The will of God is
+righteousness, and love, and happiness; not darkness, and death, and
+misery. Oh, Angus! let us both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> kneel here and say, 'Thy will be done,'
+for I believe the will of God will be to save the child."</p>
+
+<p>A great faith had suddenly come to this woman. She lifted her voice, and
+a torrent of eloquent words, of passionate utterances, rent the air and
+went up to God from that little room, and the husband stole his hand
+into the wife's as she prayed. After this they both slept, and Lottie's
+heart was lighter than it had ever been in all her life before.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning this lightness, almost gayety of heart, was still
+there. For the time she had really changed places with her husband; for,
+believing that the end would be good, she felt strong to endure.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Home went downstairs to find Hinton regarding them
+anxiously. He had not spent a long night with the sick child without
+gathering very clearly how imminent was the peril still hanging over the
+family. Harold's night had been a wretched one, and he was weaker this
+morning. Hinton felt that a great deal more must be done to restore
+Harold to health; but he had not heard what Dr. Watson had said, and was
+therefore as yet in the dark and much puzzled how best to act. Seeing
+the mother's face serene, almost calm, as she poured out the tea, and
+the father's clouded over, he judged both wrongly.</p>
+
+<p>"She is deceived," he said of the one. "He knows," he said of the other.
+Had he, however, reversed the positions it would have been nearer the
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>He went away with a thousand schemes in his head. He would visit the
+doctor. He would&mdash;could he&mdash;might he, risk a visit to Charlotte? He was
+resolved that in some way he must save the boy; but it was not reserved
+for his hand to do the good deed on this occasion. After breakfast he
+went out, and Mr. Home, feeling almost like a dead man, hurried off to
+the daily service.</p>
+
+<p>For a brief moment Charlotte was alone. The instant she found herself
+so, she went straight down on her knees, and with eyes and heart raised
+to heaven, said, aloud and fervently,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Thy holy, loving, righteous Will be done."</p>
+
+<p>Then she got up and went to her little son. In the course of the morning
+the boy said to his mother,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How much I should like to see that pretty lady."</p>
+
+<p>"It would not be safe for her to come to you, my darling," said Mrs.
+Home. "You are not yet quite free from infection,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> and if you saw her
+now she might get ill. You would not harm your pretty lady, Harold?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, mother, not for worlds. But if I can't see her," he added,
+"may I have her toys to play with?"</p>
+
+<p>The mother fetched them and laid them on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"And now give me what was in the brown paper parcels, mother. The dear,
+dear, dainty clothes! Oh! didn't our baby look just lovely in his velvet
+frock? Please, mother, <i>may</i> I see those pretty things once again?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home could not refuse. The baby's pelisse, Daisy's frock, and
+Harold's own hat were placed by his side. He took up the hat with a
+great sigh of admiration. It was of dark purple plush, with a plume of
+ostrich feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"May I put it on, mother?" asked the little lad.</p>
+
+<p>He did so, then asked for a glass to look at himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah?" he said, half crying, half frightened at his wasted pale little
+face under this load of finery, "I don't like it now. My pretty, pretty
+lady's hat is much too big for me now. I can't wear it. Oh! mother,
+wouldn't she be disappointed?"</p>
+
+<p>"She shan't be," said the mother, "for I will draw in the lining, and
+then it will fit you as well as possible."</p>
+
+<p>"But oh! mother, do be careful. I saw her put in a nice little bit of
+soft paper; I saw her put it under the lining my own self. You will
+crush that bit of paper if you aren't careful, mother."</p>
+
+<p>The mother did not much heed the little eager voice, she drew in a cord
+which ran round the lining, then again placed the hat on Harold's head.</p>
+
+<p>"Now it fits, darling," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"But I think the bit of paper is injured," persisted the boy. "How funny
+I should never have thought of it until now. I'll take it out, mother,
+and you can put it by with the other things."</p>
+
+<p>The little fingers poked under the lining and drew out something thin
+and neatly folded.</p>
+
+<p>"Look, look, mother!" he said excitedly; "there's writing. Read it,
+mother; read what she said."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home read,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"For Harold, with his lady's love."</p></div>
+
+<p>She turned the paper. There, staring her in the face, lay a fresh, crisp
+Bank of England note for fifty pounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>"YOU KEPT A SECRET FROM ME."</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton, when he went away that morning, was, as I have said, very
+undecided how best to act. He saw very clearly the fresh danger arising
+to Harold. Was he but rescued from the dangerous fever to fall a prey to
+lingering, or, perhaps, rapid consumption? Even his unprofessional eye
+saw the danger the boy was in; and the boy himself, lying awake during
+most of the weary hours of the night, had confided to his friend some
+thoughts which it seemed to Hinton could only come to such a child as
+the precursor of death. He now loved the boy for his own sake, and he
+was determined, even more determined than during the height of the
+fever, to do something to again save his life.</p>
+
+<p>After a brief pause for rapid thought, he determined to visit Dr.
+Watson. That busy man was at home and saw Hinton at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Home is no better," said Hinton, going straight, as his wont
+was, to the very heart of his subject.</p>
+
+<p>"He will never be any better unless he has change," replied the doctor.
+"Neither I nor any other man can now do more for him. He requires, nay,
+he is dying for want of nature's remedies, complete change, fresh, mild
+sea-air. I told his mother so most plainly yesterday. I recommended
+Torquay within a week from now, if she wishes to save his life."</p>
+
+<p>"Torquay is an expensive place, and a very long way from London,"
+replied Hinton. "It seems almost cruel to tell Mrs. Home to do that for
+her child which must be utterly impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no other chance for his life," replied the doctor. "I should
+be doing less than my duty, did I for a moment conceal that fact."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton paused for a moment to think, then he abruptly changed the
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to visit a friend this morning&mdash;a friend who has never had
+scarlet fever. It is rather important that we should meet; but I must
+not risk danger. You know I have been a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> good deal with the little boy.
+Is there a risk to my friend in our meeting now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Change all your clothes," replied the doctor; "wear nothing you have in
+the Homes' house. Perhaps it would also be a wise precaution to take a
+Turkish bath. If you do all this you may meet your friend without the
+slightest risk of evil consequences."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton thanked the doctor, and as the result of this conversation
+entered the dining-room in Prince's Gate just as Charlotte was sitting
+down to her solitary luncheon.</p>
+
+<p>It was over three weeks since these two had met, and the long three
+weeks had seemed like for ever to the loving heart of the woman, who was
+so soon now to be Hinton's wife. She expressed her joy at this
+unexpected meeting, not so much by words, but so effectually with eyes
+and manner, that Hinton, as he folded his arms round her, could not help
+a great throb of thankfulness rising up from his heart.</p>
+
+<p>They sat down to lunch, and then afterwards Hinton told her the story of
+little Harold Home. In telling this tale, however, he omitted again both
+name and address. He had not meant when beginning his tale to keep these
+things any longer a mystery from her, but as the words dropped from him,
+and Charlotte's eyes were fixed on his face, and Charlotte's lips
+trembled with emotion, some undefined sensation prompted him to keep
+back these particulars.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton, in coming to Charlotte, relied on her help, but he meant her
+just now to bestow it as on a stranger. As he had expected, his tale
+aroused her warmest enthusiasm and interest.</p>
+
+<p>"John," she said, "something must be done. The boy must not die!"</p>
+
+<p>"He must go to Torquay," replied Hinton. "That is most manifest. But the
+difficulty will be how. They are very proud people. The difficulty will
+be how to induce them to accept aid from outsiders."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think they will be proud, John, when their child's life depends
+on their accepting some aid from others? I don't think they will allow
+so false an emotion to sacrifice his little precious life. It seems to
+me, that were I in that mother's place, I would lick the dust off the
+most menial feet that ever walked, to save my child."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you are right," said Hinton: "there is no doubt that one woman
+can best read the heart of another. What I propose is, that I take the
+little boy down to Torquay for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> few weeks; I can make an excuse to the
+mother on my own score, and it will not seem so hard for her to send her
+boy. And the little lad loves me, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it not be best for the mother to take her child herself?"</p>
+
+<p>"It undoubtedly would. But it would be placing her under deeper
+obligation. I want to make it as light as possible to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, John, you will give me one happiness? I will provide the money
+for this expedition."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall, my dearest," answered Hinton, stooping down and kissing her.</p>
+
+<p>He meant her to help Charlotte Home in this way, and he did not notice
+the slight sigh scarcely allowed to escape her lips. The fact was,
+Charlotte Harman had grown very hungry, almost starved, for her lover
+during his three weeks' absence, and now the thought that he was going
+still farther away from her, and their wedding-day drawing so quickly
+on, could not but excite a pang; the selfish part of her rose in revolt,
+and struggled to rebel, but with a firm hand she kept it well under, and
+Hinton never noticed her strangled little sigh. They talked for a long
+time of their plans, and Charlotte mentioned what money she had of her
+very own, and which could be immediately at Hinton's disposal. In the
+midst of this conversation, the postman's knock was heard, and a moment
+later a servant brought Charlotte a letter. She did not recognize the
+handwriting, and laid it for a moment unopened by her side. Then some
+confused remembrance of having seen it before, caused her to tear open
+the envelope. This was what her eyes rested on.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Charlotte&mdash;my sister and friend&mdash;I have found the little piece of
+paper you put into my Harold's hat. I never knew it was there until
+to-day. Thank God I did not know, for had I seen it after your
+visit, I should certainly, in my mad, ungracious, evil pride, have
+returned it to you.</p>
+
+<p>Dear Charlotte&mdash;God nearly broke my heart since I saw you. He
+nearly took my boy away. In that process my pride has gone, though
+my love and tenderness and gratitude to you remain, for with this
+fifty pounds you are saving my child's little life. Thank you for
+it. God will bless you for it. You will never&mdash;never regret this
+deed. It will come back to you, the remembrance of it, in the midst
+of your own wealth and affluence, or if dark days visit you, you
+will let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> your thoughts wander to it as a place of safe anchorage
+in the storm. It will, all your life long, be a source to you of
+rejoicing that you saved a father's and mother's hearts from
+breaking, and kept a precious little life in this world.</p>
+
+<p>I can add no more now, my dear. For this money must be spent, and
+at once. Oh! precious, valuable gold, which is to keep Harold with
+me! I will write to you when we come back from Torquay; do not come
+to see me before, it would not be safe for you.</p>
+
+<p>Ever, my dear friend, because of you, the happiest and most
+grateful mother on God's earth,</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Charlotte Home.</span></span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte Harman's face was very white when, after reading this letter,
+she raised her eyes to Hinton's. What had been written with all joy and
+thankfulness was received with pain. Why had Hinton kept this thing from
+her? Why had he not told her where he had been staying?</p>
+
+<p>"You kept a secret from me," she said, and her eyes filled with heavy
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>Then as he tried to comfort her, being very compunctious himself at
+having failed utterly to trust one so brave and noble, she suddenly drew
+herself from his embrace.</p>
+
+<p>"John," she said, with some pride in her voice, "did you in any degree
+keep this thing from me because you believed Mrs. Home's story about my
+grandfather's will?"</p>
+
+<p>"I had a thousand nameless reasons for not telling you, Charlotte. My
+principal one after the child got ill was my fear that you would come to
+the house, and so run the risk of infection."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you do not at all believe Mrs. Home's story?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not investigated it, my darling. I have done nothing but simply
+listen to what you yourself told me. <i>You</i> do not believe it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not! How could I? It implicates my father."</p>
+
+<p>"We will not think of it, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"We must think of it, for justice must be done to this woman and to her
+children; and besides, I wish to clear it up, for I will not have my
+father blamed."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton was silent. Charlotte gazed at him eagerly, his silence
+dissatisfied her. His whole manner carried the conviction that his faith
+in her father was by no means equal to hers.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible to see wills?" she asked suddenly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, dear; anybody can see any will by paying a shilling, at
+Somerset House."</p>
+
+<p>"Would my grandfather's will be kept at Somerset House?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. All wills are kept there."</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Charlotte, rising as she spoke, "before our wedding-day I
+will go to Somerset House and read my grandfather's will."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THEY RECALL TOO MUCH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Harman had a hard task before him. He was keeping two things at bay,
+two great and terrible things, Death and Thought. They were pursuing
+him, they were racing madly after him, and sometimes the second of these
+his enemies so far took possession of him as to grasp him by the
+heartstrings. But though he knew well that in the end both one and the
+other would conquer and lay him low, yet still he was in a measure
+victor. That strong nourishment, those potent medicines were keeping the
+life in him; while his still eager absorption in business prevented that
+time for reflection which was worse than death. His medical man, knowing
+nothing of his inner history, had begged of him to rest, to give up
+business, assuring him that by so doing he would prolong his short span
+of life. But Harman had answered, and truly, "If I give up business I
+shall be in my grave in a fortnight;" and there was such solemn
+conviction in his voice and manner, that the physician was fain to bow
+to the dictum of his patient. Except once to his brother Jasper, and
+once to Hinton, Mr. Harman had mentioned to no one how near he believed
+his end to be. The secret was not alluded to, the master of the house
+keeping up bravely, bearing his pains in silence and alone, and that
+subtle element of rejoicing began to pervade this quiet, luxurious home
+which precedes a wedding. Only one in the dwelling ever thought of
+funeral gloom.</p>
+
+<p>Little Harold Home had gone to Torquay with his mother. Hinton was once
+more free to go in and out of the house in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> Prince's Gate, and he and
+Charlotte were necessarily much occupied with each other. There seemed
+to these two so much to be done, and the time seemed so short until the
+twentieth of April, that had the very sun stood still for them, they
+would have felt no undue sensation of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>When people are about to step into the Garden of Eden even nature must
+sympathize, and marriage seemed that to Charlotte and Hinton. After
+their wedding tour it was arranged that they were to come to the house
+in Prince's Gate. For some time Mr. Harman had begged them to make it
+their home; but though Hinton could not oppose, he had a hope of some
+day settling down in a smaller house. He liked the power which wealth
+could give, but he was so unused to luxuries, that they were in
+themselves almost repellent to him. Charlotte, on the contrary, was
+perfectly happy to live in the old place. Home to this womanly heart was
+wherever her loved ones were; and she also acceded joyfully to another
+question which otherwise might have appeared a little either strange or
+selfish. Her father begged of her not to extend her wedding tour beyond
+a week. "Come back to me," said the old man, "at the end of a week; let
+me feel that comfort when you say good-by on your wedding-day."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte had promised, with her arms round his neck and her bright hair
+touching his silver locks. And now April had set in, and the days flew
+fast. All was bustle and confusion, and milliners and dressmakers worked
+as though there had never been a bride before, and Charlotte, too,
+believed there had never been so happy, so fortunate, so altogether
+blessed a woman as herself.</p>
+
+<p>One of those spring days, for the weather was particularly lovely, Mr.
+Harman came home earlier than usual and went to his study. For no
+special reason he had found it impossible to settle to any active work
+that morning. He had hastened home, and now taking his accustomed
+medicine, lay back in his armchair to rest. The medicine he had taken
+was partly of a sedative character, but to-day it failed in all soothing
+effects. That bloodhound Thought was near, and with a bound it sprang
+forward and settled its fangs into his heartstrings.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman could not sit still, he rose and began to pace his room.
+Stay&mdash;how could he quiet this monster of remorse and reflection? Would
+death do it by and by? He shook his head as this idea came to him. Were
+death but an annihilation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> he could, would, how gladly, welcome it, but
+all his firmest convictions pointed to a God and a future. A future to
+him meant retribution. He found it absolutely impossible to comfort his
+heart with so false a doctrine as that of annihilation. In the midst of
+his meditations his brother Jasper entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens! John, you do look bad!" he exclaimed almost
+involuntarily, noticing the anguish on the fine old face.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm a very miserable man," answered John Harman, and he sank down into
+a chair as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I would not think so much about my health," said Jasper; "doctors are
+the most mistaken fools under the sun. I knew a man out in Australia,
+and the first medical man in Sydney told him he had not a week to live.
+He came home and made his will and bid all his relations good-by. Well,
+what were the consequences? The week came to an end, but not the man; my
+dear John, that man is alive now, and what is more, he is in the
+enjoyment of perfect health. The doctor was all wrong; they are mortal
+like ourselves, man, and by no means infallible. I would not take my
+death for granted, if I were you; I would determine to take out a fresh
+lease of life when Charlotte is married. Determination does wonders in
+such cases."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not thinking of my death," answered Mr. Harman; "were death but
+all, I could almost welcome it. No, it is not death, it is memory.
+Jasper," he added, turning fiercely on his brother, "you were as the
+very devil to me once, why do you come to preach such sorry comfort
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>Jasper Harman had an impenetrable face, but at these words it turned a
+shade pale. He went to the fire and stirred it, he put on more coal, he
+even arranged in a rather noisy way one or two of the chimney ornaments.</p>
+
+<p>"If only that trustee had not died just then&mdash;and if only&mdash;only you had
+not tempted me," continued the elder man.</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, John," suddenly said Jasper, "what the alternative would
+have been just then, absolute ruin, ruin coupled with disgrace!"</p>
+
+<p>"I do not believe in the disgrace, and as to the ruin, we could have
+started afresh. Oh! to start even now with but sixpence in my pocket,
+and with clean hands! What would have been the old disgrace compared to
+the present misery?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Take comfort, John, no one knows of it; and if we are but careful no
+one need ever know. Don't excite yourself, be but careful, and no one
+need ever know."</p>
+
+<p>"God knows," answered the white-headed elder brother. And at these words
+Jasper again turned his face away. After a time, in which he thought
+briefly and rapidly, he turned, and sitting down by John, began to
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Something has come to my knowledge which may be a comfort to you. I did
+not mention it earlier, because in your present state of health I know
+you ought not to worry yourself. But as it seems you are so
+over-sensitive, I may as well mention that it will be possible for you
+to make reparation without exposing yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" asked Mr. Harman.</p>
+
+<p>"I know where Daisy Harman's daughter lives&mdash;you know we completely lost
+sight of her. I believe she is poor; she is married to a curate, all
+curates are poor; they have three children. Suppose, suppose you
+settled, say, well, half the money her mother had for her lifetime, on
+this young woman. That would be seventy-five pounds a year; a great
+difference seventy-five pounds would make in a poor home."</p>
+
+<p>"A little of the robbery paid back," said Mr. Harman with a dreary
+smile. "Jasper, you are a worse rogue than I am, and I believe you study
+the Bible less. God knows I don't care to confront myself with its
+morality, but I have a memory that it recommends, nay, commands, in the
+case of restoring again, or of paying back stolen goods, that not half
+should be given, but the whole, multiplied fourfold!"</p>
+
+<p>"Such a deed, as Quixotic as unnecessary, could not be done, it would
+arouse suspicion," said Jasper decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>After this the two brothers talked together for some time. Jasper quiet
+and calm, John disturbed and perplexed, too perplexed to notice that the
+younger and harder man was keeping back part of the truth. But
+conversation agitated John Harman, agitated him so much that that
+evening some of the veil was torn from his daughter's eyes, for during
+dinner he fainted away. Then there was commotion and dismay, and the
+instant sending for doctors, and John Hinton and Jasper Harman both felt
+almost needless alarm.</p>
+
+<p>When the old man came to himself he found his head resting on his
+daughter's shoulder. During all the time he was unconscious she had eyes
+and ears for no one else.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave me alone with the child," he said feebly to all the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> others. When
+they were gone, he looked at her anxious young face. "There is no cause,
+my darling, no cause whatever; what does one faint signify? Put your
+arms round me, Charlotte, and I shall feel quite well."</p>
+
+<p>She did so, laying her soft cheek against his.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you shall see no one but me to-night," she said, "and I shall sit
+with you the whole evening, and you must lie still and not talk. You are
+ill, father, and you have tried to keep it from me."</p>
+
+<p>"A little weak and unfit for much now, I confess," he said in a tone of
+relief. He saw she was not seriously alarmed, and it was a comfort to
+confide so far in her.</p>
+
+<p>"You are weak and tired, and need rest," she said: "you shall see no one
+to-night but me, and I will stay with you the whole evening!"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" said her father, "you will give up Hinton for me, Lottie!"</p>
+
+<p>"Even that I will do for you," she said, and she stooped and kissed his
+gray head.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you love me, Lottie. I shall think of that all the week you
+are away. You are sure you will only remain away one week?"</p>
+
+<p>"Father, you and I have never been parted before in all my life; I
+promise faithfully to come back in a week," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at this, and allowing her still to retain his hand in hers,
+sank into a quiet sleep. While he slept Charlotte sat quietly at his
+feet. She felt perplexed and irresolute. Her father's fainting fit had
+alarmed her, and now, looking into his face, even to her inexperience,
+the ravages which disease, both mental and physical, had brought there
+could not but be apparent to her. She had to acknowledge to herself that
+her father, only one year her Uncle Jasper's senior, looked a very old,
+nay, she could not shut her eyes to the fact, a very unhappy man. What
+brought that look on his face? A look which she acknowledged to herself
+she had seen there all her life, but which seemed to be growing in
+intensity with his added years. She closed her own eyes with a pang as a
+swift thought of great anguish came over her. This thought passed as
+quickly as it came; in her remorse at having entertained it she stooped
+down and kissed the withered old hand which still lay in hers.</p>
+
+<p>It was impossible for Charlotte really to doubt her father; but occupied
+as she was with her wedding preparations,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> and full of brightness as her
+sky undoubtedly looked to her just now, she had not forgotten Hinton's
+manner when she had asked him what faith he put in Mrs. Home's story.
+Hinton had evaded her inquiry. This evasion was as much as owning that
+he shared Mrs. Home's suspicions. Charlotte must clear up her beloved
+father in the eyes of that other beloved one. If on all hands she was
+warned not to agitate him, there was another way in which she could do
+it: she could read her grandfather's will. But though she had made up
+her mind to do this, she had an unaccountable repugnance to the task.
+For the first time in all her open, above-board life she would be doing
+something which she must conceal from her father. Even John Hinton
+should not accompany her to Somerset House. She must find the will and
+master its contents, and the deed once done, what a relief to her! With
+what joy would she with her own lips chase away the cloud which she felt
+sure rested over her beloved father in her lover's heart!</p>
+
+<p>"It is possible that, dearly as we love each other, such a little doubt
+might divide us by and by," she said to herself. "Yes, yes, it is right
+that I should dissipate it, absolutely right, when I feel so very, very
+sure."</p>
+
+<p>At this moment her father stirred in his sleep, and she distinctly heard
+the words drop from his lips&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I would make reparation."</p>
+
+<p>Before she had even time to take these words in, he had opened his eyes
+and was gazing at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You are better now," she said, stooping down and kissing him.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my darling; much, much better." He sat up as he spoke, and made an
+effort to put on at least a show of life and vigor. "A man of my age
+fainting, Charlotte, is nothing," he said; "really nothing whatever. You
+must not dwell on it again."</p>
+
+<p>"I will not," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Her answer comforted him and he became really brighter and better.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nice to have you all to myself, my little girl; it is very nice.
+Not that I grudge you to Hinton; I have a great regard for Hinton; but,
+my darling, you and I have been so much to each other. We have never in
+all our lives had one quarrel."</p>
+
+<p>"Quarrel, father! of course not. How can those who love as we do
+quarrel?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes they do, Lottie. Thank God, such an experience cannot visit
+you; but it comes to some and darkens everything. I have known it."</p>
+
+<p>"You have, father?" In spite of herself, Charlotte felt her voice
+trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"I had a great and terrible quarrel with my father, Charlotte; my father
+who seemed once as close to me as your father is to you. He married
+again, and the marriage displeased me, and such bitter words passed
+between us, that for years that old man and I did not speak. For years,
+the last years of his life, we were absolutely divided. We made it up in
+the end; we were one again when he died; but what happened then has
+embittered my whole life&mdash;my whole life."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was silent, though the color was coming into her cheeks and
+her heart began to beat.</p>
+
+<p>"And to-day, Lottie," continued Mr. Harman, "to-day your uncle Jasper
+told me about my father's little daughter. You have never heard of her;
+she was a baby-child when I saw her last. There were many complications
+after my father's death; complications which you must take on trust, for
+I cannot explain them to you. They led to my never seeing that child
+again. Lottie, though she was my little half-sister, she was quite
+young, not older than you, and to-day Jasper told me about her. He knows
+where she lives; she is married and has children, and is poor. I could
+never, never bring myself to look on her face; but some day, not when I
+am alive, but some day you may know her; I should like you to know her
+some day, and to be kind to her. She has been hardly treated, into that
+too I cannot go; but I must set it right. I mean to give her money; you
+will not be quite so rich; you won't mind that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mind it! mind it! Oh, father!" And Charlotte suddenly began to weep;
+she could not help that sudden, swift shower, though she struggled hard
+to repress it, seeing how her father trembled, and how each moment he
+looked more agitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," she said, checking her sobs as soon as she possibly
+could, "that Uncle Jasper, too, has told me that story; he asked me not
+to speak of it to you, for you would only be upset. He said how much you
+took to heart, even still, that time when your father was angry with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"And I angry with him, Lottie; and I with him. Don't forget that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear father, he told me the tale. I longed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> come to you with
+it, for it puzzled me, but he would not let me. Father, I, too, have
+seen that little sister; she is not little now, she is tall and
+noble-looking. She is a sweet and brave woman, and she has three of the
+most lovely children I ever saw; her children are like angels. Ah! I
+shall be glad to help that woman and those children. I cannot thank you
+enough for doing this."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't thank me, child; in God's name don't thank me."</p>
+
+<p>"If you could but see those children."</p>
+
+<p>"I would not see them; I would not; I could not. Charlotte, you don't
+know what bygone memories are to an old man like me. I could never see
+either the mother or the children. Lottie, tell me nothing more about
+them; if you love me never mention their names to me. They recall too
+much, and I am weak and old. I will help them; yes, before God I promise
+to help them; but I can never either see or speak of them, they recall
+too much."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>HAD HE SEEN A GHOST?</h3>
+
+
+<p>At this time Jasper Harman was a very perplexed man. Unlike his brother
+John, he was untroubled by remorse. Though so outwardly good-tempered
+and good-natured, his old heart was very hard; and though the arrows of
+past sins and past injustices might fly around him, they could not visit
+the inner shrine of that adamantine thing which he carried about instead
+of a heart of flesh within him.</p>
+
+<p>What the painful process must be which would restore to Jasper Harman
+the warm living heart of a little child, one must shudder even to
+contemplate. At present that process had not begun. But though he felt
+no remorse whatever, and stigmatized his brother as an old fool, he had
+considerable anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>There was an ugly secret in the back parts of these two brothers' lives;
+a secret which had seemed all these years safe and buried in the grave,
+but over which now little lights were beginning to pour. How could
+Jasper plaster up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> crevices and restore the thing to its silent
+grave? Upon this problem he pondered from morning to night.</p>
+
+<p>He did not like that growing anxiety of his brother's; he could not tell
+to what mad act it would lead him; he did not like a new look of fear
+which, since her father's fainting fit, he had seen on Charlotte's
+smooth brow; he did not like Mrs. Home coming and boldly declaring that
+an injustice had been done; he felt that between them these foolish and
+miserable people would pull a disgraceful old secret out of its grave,
+unless he, Jasper Harman, could outwit them. What a blessing that that
+other trustee was dead and buried, and that he, Jasper Harman, had
+really stood over his grave. Yes, the secret which he and his brother
+had guarded so faithfully for over twenty years might remain for ever
+undiscovered if only common sense, the tiniest bit of common sense, was
+exercised. Jasper paced his room as he thought of this. Yes, there could
+be no fear, unless&mdash;here he stood still, and a cold dew of sudden terror
+stole over him&mdash;suppose that young woman, that wronged young woman,
+Charlotte Home, should take it into her head to go and read her father's
+will. The will could not be put away. For the small sum of one shilling
+she might go and master the contents, and then the whole fraud would be
+laid bare. Was it likely that Mrs. Home would do this? Jasper had only
+seen her for a moment, but during that brief glance he read
+determination and fixity of purpose in her eyes and mouth. He must trust
+that this thought would not occur to her; but what a miserable
+uncertainty this was to live in! He did not know that the graver danger
+lay still nearer home, and that his own niece Charlotte was already
+putting the match to this mine full of gunpowder. No, clever as he
+thought himself, he was looking for the danger at the front door, when
+it was approaching him by the back.</p>
+
+<p>After many days of most anxious thought he resolved to go and see the
+Homes, for something must be done, and he could feel his way better if
+he knew something of his opponents.</p>
+
+<p>Getting Mr. Home's address in the Post Office Directory, for he would
+not betray himself by questioning Charlotte, he started off one evening
+to walk to Kentish Town. He arrived in the dusk, and by good fortune or
+otherwise, as he liked best to term it, the curate was at home, and so
+far disengaged as to be able to give him a little leisure time.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper sent in his card, and the little maid, Anne, showed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> him into the
+small parlor. There was a musty, unused smell in the dingy little room,
+for Mrs. Home was still at Torquay, and the curate during her absence
+mostly occupied his study. The maid, however, turned on the gas, and as
+she did so a small girl of four slipped in behind her. She was a very
+pretty child, with gray eyes and black eyelashes, and she stared in the
+full, frank manner of infancy at old Jasper. She was not a shy child,
+and felt so little fear of this good-natured, cherry-cheeked old man,
+that when Anne withdrew she still remained in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper had a surface love for children; he would not take any trouble
+about them, but they amused him, and he found pleasure in watching their
+unsophisticated ways. His good-natured, smiling face appealed to a
+certain part of Daisy Home, not a very high part certainly, but with the
+charming frankness of babyhood, the part appealed to gave utterance to
+its desire.</p>
+
+<p>"Have 'ou brought me a present?" she demanded, running up to old Jasper
+and laying her hand on his knee.</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear," he replied quickly. "I'm so sorry; I forgot it."</p>
+
+<p>"Did 'ou?" said Daisy, puckering her pretty brows; "Then 'ou're not like
+our pretty lady; she did not forget; she brought lots and lots and
+lots."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry," replied Jasper; "I will think of it next time." And
+then Mr. Home coming in, the two went into the little study.</p>
+
+<p>"I am your wife's half-brother," said Jasper, introducing himself
+without preface, for he had marked out his line of action before he
+came.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed!" replied Mr. Home. He was not a man easily surprised, but this
+announcement did bring a slight color into his face. "You are Mr.
+Harman," he repeated. "I am sorry my wife is away. She is staying at
+Torquay with our eldest boy, who has been ill. She has seen your
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Not my daughter, sir, my niece&mdash;a fine girl, but Quixotic, a little
+fanciful and apt to take up whims, but a fine girl for all that."</p>
+
+<p>"I, too, have seen Miss Harman," answered Mr. Home. "I met her once in
+Regent's Park, and, without knowing anything about us, she was good to
+our children. You must pardon me, sir, if in expressing the same opinion
+about her we come to it by different roads. It seems to me that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
+fine traits in Miss Harman's character are <i>due</i> to her Quixotic or
+unworldly spirit."</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Jasper Harman felt puzzled, then he chuckled inwardly. "The
+man who says that, is unworldly himself, therefore unpractical. So much
+the better for my purpose." Aloud he said, "Doubtless you put the case
+best, sir; but I will not take up your valuable time discussing my
+niece's virtues. I have come to talk to you on a little matter of
+business. Your wife has told you her story?"</p>
+
+<p>"My wife has certainly concealed nothing from me," replied Mr. Home.</p>
+
+<p>"She has mentioned her father's very curious will?"</p>
+
+<p>"His very unjust will," corrected Mr. Home.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I agree with you, it was unjust. It is to talk to you about
+that will I have come to you to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Sit nearer to the fire," replied Mr. Home, poking up the handful in the
+grate into as cheerful a blaze as circumstances would permit.</p>
+
+<p>"It was, as you say, an unjust will," proceeded old Jasper, peering hard
+with his short-sighted eyes at the curate, and trying to read some
+emotion beneath his very grave exterior. Being unable to fathom the
+depths of a character which was absolutely above the love of money, he
+felt perplexed, he scarcely liked this great self-possession. Did this
+Home know too much? "It was an unjust will," he repeated, "and took my
+brother and myself considerably by surprise. Our father seemed fond of
+his young wife, and we fully expected that he would leave her and her
+child well provided for. However, my dear sir, the facts could not be
+disputed. Her name was not mentioned at all. The entire property was
+left principally to my elder brother John. He and I were partners in
+business. Our father's money was convenient, and enabled us to grow
+rich. At the time our father died we were very struggling. Perhaps the
+fact that the money was so necessary to us just then made us think less
+of the widow than we should otherwise have done. We did not, however,
+forget her. We made provision for her during her life. But for us she
+must have starved or earned her own living."</p>
+
+<p>"The allowance you made was not very ample," replied Mr. Home, "and such
+as it was it ceased at her death."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; and there I own we&mdash;my brother and I&mdash;were guilty of an act
+of injustice. I can only exonerate us on the plea of want of thought.
+Our father's widow was a young woman&mdash;younger than either of us. The
+child was but a baby.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> The widow's death seemed a very far off
+contingency. We placed the money we had agreed to allow her the interest
+on, in the hands of our solicitor. We absolutely forgot the matter. I
+went to Australia, my brother grew old at home. When, five or six years
+ago, we heard that Mrs. Harman was dead, and that our three thousand
+pounds could return to us, we had absolutely forgotten the child. In
+this I own we showed sad neglect. Your wife's visit to my niece, through
+a mere accident, has recalled her to our memory, and I come here
+to-night to say that we are willing, willing and anxious, to repay that
+neglect, and to settle on your wife the sum of three thousand pounds;
+that sum to be hers unconditionally, to do what she pleases with."</p>
+
+<p>When Jasper ceased to speak, Mr. Home was quite silent for a moment,
+then he said, "My wife is away at present. I would rather not trouble
+her with money matters during her short holiday. When she returns I will
+tell her what you say and communicate to you the result."</p>
+
+<p>There was neither exultation nor annoyance in the quiet manner in which
+these few words were spoken. Uncle Jasper found it impossible to
+understand this man. He spoke as indifferently as if three thousand
+pounds were nothing to him and yet, to judge from appearances, his whole
+yearly income seemed hardly to represent the interest on so much
+capital. Did this quiet manner but hide deep designs? Jasper Harman
+fidgeted in his chair as this thought occurred to him.</p>
+
+<p>"There is just one thing more to add," he said. "I will leave you my
+club address. Kindly communicate with me there. I should like, while
+carrying out my elder brother's wish, to act entirely on it without
+troubling him in any way. He is, I am sorry to say, very ill, so ill
+that the least, the very least, agitation is dangerous to him. He feels
+with me the unintentional injustice done to your wife, but he cannot
+bear the subject alluded to.</p>
+
+<p>"Would it not rather be an ease to his mind to feel that what he looks
+on and perhaps dwells on as a sin has been expiated, as far as his own
+earthly act can expiate it?" inquired the clergyman gently.</p>
+
+<p>"He shall know it, but from my lips. I should like him best to hear it
+from me," said Jasper Harman.</p>
+
+<p>A few moments after, he went away, Mr. Home accompanying him to the hall
+door. The strong light of the gas lamp fell on his ruddy face and sandy
+hair. He bade his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> host good-bye, and hurried down the street, never
+observing that a man, much larger and much rougher than himself, was
+bearing down upon him. It was raining, and the large man had an umbrella
+up. The two came full tilt against each other. Jasper felt his breath
+taken away, and could only gasp out a word of remonstrance and apology.</p>
+
+<p>But the other, in a full, round, cheery voice, replied, "I'm home from
+the Colonies, stranger&mdash;you need not mention a tiff like that to <i>me</i>.
+Bless you! I guess you got the worst of it."</p>
+
+<p>He passed on with a laugh, never noticing that he had left Jasper
+standing in the middle of the road, gasping indeed now, but from a
+different cause. He put his hand to his heart. He felt his breath come
+too fast for comfort. What had come to him? Had he seen a ghost?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CHILDREN'S GREAT-UNCLE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was a few days after this that, the morning being very bright and
+sunshiny, the little maid, Anne, determined to give Daisy and the baby a
+long morning in the park. Mrs. Home was expected back in a few days.
+Harold was very much better, and Anne, being a faithful and loving
+little soul, was extremely anxious that Daisy and the baby should show
+as rosy faces as possible to greet their mother's return. Hinton, who
+still occupied the drawing-rooms, was absent as usual for the day. Mr.
+Home would not come in until tea time. So Anne, putting some dinner for
+the children and herself, in the back of the perambulator, and the house
+latch-key in her pocket, started off to have what she called to Daisy, a
+"picnic in the park."</p>
+
+<p>The baby was now nearly ten months old. His beauty had increased with
+his growing months, and many people turned to look at the lovely little
+fellow as Anne gayly wheeled him along. He had a great deal of hair,
+which showed in soft golden rings under his cap, and his eyes, large and
+gentle as a gazelle's, looked calmly out of his innocent face. Daisy,
+too, was quite pretty enough to come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> in for her share of admiration,
+and Anne felt proud of both her little charges.</p>
+
+<p>Reaching the park, she wheeled the perambulator under the shade of a
+great tree, and sitting down herself on a bench, took little Angus in
+her arms. Daisy scampered about and inquired when her namesakes, the
+starry daisies of the field, would be there for her to gather.</p>
+
+<p>As the little child played and shouted with delight, and the baby and
+small maid looked on, a stout, florid-faced man of foreign appearance,
+passing slowly by, was attracted by the picturesque group. Daisy had
+flung off her shabby little hat. Her bright hair was in wild confusion.
+Her gray eyes looked black beneath their dark lashes. Running full tilt
+across the stranger's path, she suddenly stumbled and fell. He stooped
+to pick her up. She hardly thanked him, but flew back to Anne. The
+foreign-looking man, however, stood still. Daisy's piquant little face
+had caused him to start and change color.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious! what a likeness," he exclaimed, and he turned and sat
+down on the bench beside Anne and the baby.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope the little thing didn't get hurt by that fall," he said to the
+small maid.</p>
+
+<p>Anne, who was accustomed to having all admiration bestowed on her baby,
+replied briefly that missy was right enough. As she spoke she turned
+baby Angus round so that the stranger might see his radiant little face.
+The dark eyes, however, of the pretty boy had no attraction for the man.
+He still watched Daisy, who had resumed her amusements at a little
+distance.</p>
+
+<p>Anne, who perceived that Daisy had attracted the stranger's admiration,
+was determined to stay to watch the play out. She pretended to amuse
+little Angus, but her eyes took furtive glances at the foreign-looking
+man. Presently Daisy, who was not at all shy, came up.</p>
+
+<p>"You never thanked me for picking you up from the ground," said the
+stranger to the little girl.</p>
+
+<p>Four year old Daisy turned up her eyes to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"I wor <i>so</i> busy," she apologized. "T'ank 'ou now."</p>
+
+<p>The light on her face, her very expression, caused this rough-looking
+man's heart to beat strangely. He held out his hand. Daisy put her soft
+little palm into his.</p>
+
+<p>"Come and sit on my knee," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Daisy accepted the invitation with alacrity. She dearly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> liked
+attention, and it was not often, with baby by, that she came in for the
+lion's share.</p>
+
+<p>"What a funny red beard you have!" she said, putting up a small finger
+to touch it delicately.</p>
+
+<p>This action, however, scandalized Anne, who, awaking to a sudden sense
+of her responsibilities, rose to depart.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Miss Daisy," she exclaimed; "'tis time we was a-moving
+home, and you mustn't trouble the gentleman no further, missy."</p>
+
+<p>"I s'ant go home, and I will stay," responded Daisy, her face growing
+very red as she clung to her new friend. The man put his arm round her
+in delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, my girl," he said, addressing Anne, "the little miss is not
+troubling me. Quite the contrary, she reminds me of a little lassie I
+used to know once, and she had the same name too, Daisy. Daisy Wilson
+was her name. Now this little kid is so like her that I shouldn't a bit
+wonder if she was a relation&mdash;perhaps her daughter. Shall I tell you
+what your two names are, little one?"</p>
+
+<p>Daisy nodded her head and looked up expectantly. Anne, hoping no harm
+was done, and devoured with curiosity, resumed her seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Your mamma's name was Daisy Wilson. You are her dear little daughter,
+and your name is Daisy Harman. Well, I'm right, ain't I?" The man's face
+was now crimson, and he only waited for Daisy's reply to clasp her to
+his breast. But Daisy, in high delight at his mistake, clapped her
+pretty hands.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," she said, "you're quite wrong. Guess again, guess again."</p>
+
+<p>Instantly his interest and excitement died out. He pushed the child a
+trifle away, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I made a mistake. I can't guess."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Daisy Home," replied Daisy, "and my mamma was never no Daisy
+Wilson. Her name is Sarlotte Home."</p>
+
+<p>The stranger put Daisy gently from his lap, and the discovery which was
+to affect so many people might never have been made but for Anne, who
+read the <i>Family Herald</i>, was burning with anxiety and wonder. Many
+kinds of visions were flashing before her romantic young eyes. This man
+might be very rich&mdash;very, very rich. He must have something to say to
+them all. She had long ago identified herself with the Home family. This
+man was coming to give them gold in abundance. He was not so beautiful
+to look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> at, but he might be just as valuable as the pretty lady of
+Harold's dreams. That pretty lady had not come back, though Anne had
+almost prayed for her return. Yes, she was sure this man was a relation.
+It was highly probable. Such things were always happening in the <i>Family
+Herald</i>. Raising her shrill, high-pitched voice, she exclaimed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Daisy, you're too young to know, or may be you furgets. But I
+think the gen'leman is near right. Yer mamma's name wos Harman afore she
+married yer papa, missy, and I ha' seen fur sure and certain in some old
+books at the house the name o' Daisy Wilson writ down as plain as could
+be, so maybe that wor yer grandma's name afore she married too."</p>
+
+<p>At these words the stranger caught Daisy up and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that little face could only belong to one related to Daisy
+Wilson," he said. "Little one, put yer arms round me. I'm your
+great-uncle&mdash;your great-uncle! I never thought that Daisy Wilson could
+have a daughter married, and that that daughter could have little ones
+of her own. Well, well, well, how time does fly! I'm your grandmother's
+brother&mdash;Sandy Wilson, home from Australia, my little pet; and when
+shall I see you all? It does my old heart good to see my sister over
+again in a little thing like you."</p>
+
+<p>"My great-uncle?" repeated Daisy. She was an affectionate little thing,
+and the man's agitation and delight so far touched her baby heart as to
+induce her to give him one very slight, dainty kiss. Then she sidled
+down to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Ef you please, sir," said Anne again, who felt absolutely certain that
+she had now made the fortune of her family, and who thought that that
+fact ought to be recognised&mdash;"ef you please, sir, 'tis but right as you
+should know as my missis's mother have long bin dead. My missis as is
+her living model is away, and won't be back afore Thursday. She's down
+by the seaside wid Master Harold wot' ad the scarlet fever, and wor like
+to die; and the fam'ly address, please sir, is 10, Tremins Road, Kentish
+Town."</p>
+
+<p>At the news of his sister's death so curtly announced by Anne, the man's
+rough, weatherbeaten face grew white. He did not touch Daisy again, or
+even look at little Angus; but going up to Anne, he slipped a sovereign
+into her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Take those children safely home now," he said; "the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> day is turning
+chilly, and&mdash;and&mdash;thank you for what you told me of, my good lass. I'll
+come and see your missis on Thursday night."</p>
+
+<p>Then, without another word, he hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly this big, rough man, who had nearly knocked down Jasper Harman
+the night before, hurried through the park. The exultation had died out
+of his face; his heart had ceased to beat wildly. Little Daisy's pretty
+figure was still before his eyes; but, weatherbeaten and lifebeaten man
+that he was, he found himself looking at it through a mist of tears.
+"'Tis a bit of a shock," he said to himself. "I'll take it quietly, of
+course. Sandy Wilson learned long ago to take everything quietly; but
+it's a rare bit of a shock. I never guessed as my little Daisy would
+die. Five and twenty years since we met, and all that time I've never
+once clasped the hand of a blood-relation&mdash;never had one belonging to
+me. I thought I was coming back to Daisy, and Daisy has died. She was
+very young to die&mdash;quite five years younger than me. A pretty, pretty
+lass; the little 'un is her image. How odd I should have knocked up
+against Daisy's grandchild, and should find her out by the likeness.
+Well, well, I'll call at 10, Tremins Road. I'll call, of course; not
+that I care much now, as my little sister Daisy Wilson is dead."</p>
+
+<p>He pressed his hand before his eyes; they felt weak and dim. The rough
+man had got a considerable shock; he did not care to look at London
+sights again to-day; he returned to the Commercial Hotel in the Strand,
+where for the present he was staying.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CUT OFF WITH A SHILLING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Never was a little maid-of-all-work more excited than Anne on the night
+on which her mistress was expected home from Torquay. A secret&mdash;quite a
+great secret&mdash;had been burning a hole in her heart ever since Monday,
+and to-night she expected this secret to result in something grand. Anne
+felt that the days of poverty for the family were over; the days for
+scraping and toiling were at an end. The uncle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> from Australia would
+give her missis everything that money could buy; he must be a very rich
+man indeed, for had he not given her a sovereign? Whoever before had
+even dreamed of giving little hard-worked Anne a sovereign? It meant
+unheard-of wealth to this childish soul of sixteen; it filled her with
+delight, and, carefully put away in a little gingham bag, it lay golden
+and warm now against her heart.</p>
+
+<p>But Anne's honest little heart had another and less selfish cause for
+rejoicing. It was she who was bringing this uncle and niece to meet
+again; but for her prompt interference Daisy and her great-uncle would
+never have discovered their relationship; but for her the uncle, so
+blessed with riches, would not have known where to seek for his niece.
+In a big place like London was it likely, was it at all likely, that
+they would meet? No, no, he would look for his poor dead sister for a
+little while, and then go back to Australia, and perhaps give his money
+to some one else. Anne felt that the family owed her a great deal; but
+she had full confidence in them, and felt sure that in their rise in
+life they would not forget her. Missis could keep plenty of servants
+now; she would have a cook and a housemaid, and probably some one to
+help in the nursery. This was what a family whom Anne thought immensely
+wealthy, did in a house just round the corner. In that case she, Anne,
+would be promoted to the proud position of head nurse&mdash;head nurse with
+wages&mdash;well, say wages as high as &pound;13 a year. Even to think of being
+raised to so dazzling a height made Anne's head a trifle giddy. On the
+strength of it, and all the riches in prospect, she became quite
+reckless in preparing missis's tea. She put out the best table-linen,
+and all the silver the house possessed, and she filled a great dish with
+water-cresses, and had hot buttered scones and a seed-cake and
+eggs&mdash;rather fresh for London&mdash;and finally half a pound of sliced ham.</p>
+
+<p>She was standing contemplating her well-laden board when the cab drove
+up, and out stepped her master and mistress and little Harold&mdash;Harold
+looking white and thin even yet, but still with an altogether improved
+expression on his little face. Anne was so excited, knowing all that was
+to come, that she caught Harold up in her arms and kissed him, which
+proceeding he bore with more patience than appreciation. Then ensued
+bustle and confusion and pleasant excitement. Charlotte Home felt so
+well and rested from her change, her husband was so delighted to have
+her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> back, and little Harold was so manifestly better, that Anne flew
+about nearly wild with delight. "They'll be a deal, deal 'appier
+by-and-by, and 'tis hall 'long of HAnne," she kept whispering to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>And now, tea being over, and Harold tucked up comfortably once more in
+his own little cot in the nursery, the small maid began to be devoured
+with impatience for the expected ring. It came at last; Anne with her
+own hands unfastened the door, showed the rich uncle into the
+dining-room, and danced upstairs to find her mistress. Charlotte Home
+was unpacking a trunk in her own room.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you say, Anne? A gentleman is downstairs, and wants to see me?
+But I am so dreadfully busy. What does he want? Do you think he has come
+about the drawing-rooms? They will be vacant next week."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think 'tis about the drawing-rooms, 'em," answered Anne as
+demurely as she could speak. "I 'avent put no card hup yet. Please, 'em,
+he looks a most benevolent gen'leman, and he axed fur you, yer hown
+self, 'em, most partic'lar bad."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish he had not come this evening, everything is in such confusion.
+Anne, are you sure your master is out?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, 'em, sure and certain; and ef you please, 'em, it wor fur you as
+the strange gen'leman axed."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose I must go down. He may have heard of the drawing-rooms
+through Mr. Hinton, and it would not do to lose a good lodger."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte went to the looking-glass to smooth her hair. She felt
+travel-stained and dusty; she was only a worn, pale-looking woman at the
+best of times. She ran downstairs, and Anne's heart beat as she heard
+the dining-room door shut behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Wilson&mdash;Sandy Wilson as he preferred to be called&mdash;had got himself
+up with due care for his interview with his niece. He had a perfectly
+new and shining broadcloth suit on, a diamond pin was in his necktie,
+and a very massive gold chain could be seen dangling from his vest
+pocket. His full face, always florid, was now flushed with extra color
+from agitation. Yes, Daisy might be dead, but the next best thing was to
+see Daisy's child. When the door opened he came forward eagerly, with
+outstretched hands. A pale, slight, cold-looking woman had come in. He
+drew back in dismay. She showed but too plainly by one swift glance that
+she thought him a stranger, and a vulgar one. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> owned to himself that
+he looked at her with a kind of shock. This Daisy Wilson's Daughter?
+This pale, dark, thin woman the child of that little, bright,
+curly-locked, golden-headed sister, whose face was as the sun, whose
+gay, rounded figure he had seen flitting before his eyes during all the
+weary years of his exile? It could scarcely be possible. Perhaps it was
+not possible?</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to see Mrs. Home," he began.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am Mrs. Home," answered the distinct, quiet voice.</p>
+
+<p>No, there was no hope; his Daisy's daughter was not in the least like
+her. Well, she was at least her child. He must take what comfort he
+could out of the relationship without the likeness.</p>
+
+<p>"You are Daisy's Wilson's child?" he said, and now again his hands were
+outstretched, and the smiles had returned to his face.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Home, completely in the dark, rather startled than otherwise,
+made no gesture of welcome. Her hands were not held out, her lips
+remained unsmiling.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother's name was Wilson," she admitted. "Yes, it was Daisy Wilson.
+I did not recognize it at first, as of course she was never called it to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, likely enough; but she was never anything else to me, just
+always little bright Daisy Wilson. I thought I'd find her before me,
+something as she used to be, a bit stoutened, perhaps, but not greatly
+altered. I have pictured her for the last six and twenty years just as I
+saw her last the bonniest bit of a thing the sun ever shone on."</p>
+
+<p>"You knew my mother then?" said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Knew her, lass, knew her! good heavens, what next? Did Daisy never
+speak to you about me? I don't believe it. Before I left it was 'Sandy,
+Sandy,' from morning to night. It was not in her to forget. Tell me,
+lass, did you never hear of your mother's big brother, Sandy Wilson who
+went to Australia?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's eyes began to dilate.</p>
+
+<p>"My mother often spoke of this brother," she said slowly. "My mother
+would have liked to have met you, had you known him. She never fretted
+for any one so much, except when my father died. My mother's brother is
+dead for many, many years. They are together now."</p>
+
+<p>"In spirit, lass, in spirit, I doubt not, but not otherwise. Why, is it
+possible you don't know me? Aren't you prepared?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> Did not your little
+lass tell you? I am your mother's brother, I am alive, as you see; I am
+Sandy Wilson."</p>
+
+<p>"You!" Charlotte looked at him half incredulous, half pained; but then a
+sudden joy came over her, she forgot the vulgarity in the love for her
+dead mother which still shone out of those honest blue eyes. She glanced
+up again; those eyes were her mother's eyes; instantly they acted as
+open sesame to her heart. She held out her own hands now and her eyes
+filled with tears. "Forgive me, Uncle Sandy; if you are indeed he. I did
+not know you, I could not know you; I have believed you dead for many,
+many years. But you have a look of my mother. She would welcome you
+to-night, so I must in her name."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you kiss me in her name, my lassie? Ah! that's good; 'tis long
+since I kissed one of my own. Yes, I've come back. I never did die, you
+see, though I knew that the report had reached England. I let it be, I
+did not trouble to contradict it."</p>
+
+<p>"But it was wrong of you, Uncle Sandy. You said you loved my mother, and
+that report of your death gave her terrible pain."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry for it, lass; I never guessed about the pain, though I might
+have thought of it, sweet soul; but I knew she was married to a very
+rich man. I was poor, so poor as to know what hunger meant, I thought
+she could do without me. I went up into the bush and stayed there until
+I had made my fortune. After a time I got accustomed to knowing that
+every one in England would think me dead. I used to laugh in my sleeve
+at the surprise I meant to give Daisy when I walked in rich some day.
+Well, well, what an old fool I made of myself! I never once thought of
+<i>her</i> dying. She is dead, and I am left; there's no one to welcome me
+back, after all."</p>
+
+<p>"She has been dead for over six years now; but come to the fire, uncle.
+I welcome you in my mother's name, and my children will love you. Now
+you must sit there and I will ring for Anne to bring in some tea."</p>
+
+<p>After this the uncle and niece talked together for some time. Anne
+brought in the tea, and looked at them with eyes rendered round and
+large from excitement. They both nodded to her, for both felt pleased.
+Uncle Sandy had discovered that his niece had a voice like her mother,
+if not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> a face. It was delicious to him to sit so close to his own flesh
+and blood, and Charlotte, who had heard of Uncle Sandy during all her
+early days, who had seen her mother's eyes filling with tears when she
+mentioned him, felt now that for her mother's sake she could not make
+enough of this newly recovered relation. His rough, honest, kindly
+nature was finding its way too, very straight, to her heart. There was
+nothing innately common or vulgar about Uncle Sandy. Charlotte was a
+keen observer of character, and she detected the ring of the true metal
+within.</p>
+
+<p>"To think I should have mistaken my uncle for some one going to see
+after the drawing-rooms!" she said after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, lass, you looked fairly dazed when I came up with my hand stretched
+out, hoping for a kiss," he said; "but no wonder: I never reckoned that
+that little maid-servant of yours would have told you nothing&mdash;nothing
+whatever. But what is that about drawing-rooms? You don't mean to tell
+me that you, Daisy Wilson's child, let lodgings?"</p>
+
+<p>The color flew into Charlotte's pale, proud face.</p>
+
+<p>"We do not need all the room in this house, so I generally have some one
+in the drawing-room," she answered&mdash;"the drawing-room and the bedroom
+beyond."</p>
+
+<p>"Are your rooms free now, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; but in a week they will be."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you let the old uncle have them? I will pay any rent you like
+to ask. The fact is, I have lost my whole heart to that little Daisy of
+yours. I want to be near the child. I won't spoil her more than I can
+help."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I <i>was</i> called down to my drawing-room lodger," answered Charlotte
+with a faint sweet smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I don't expect he will want to leave in a hurry. The fact is I
+have been so utterly friendless and homeless for such a number of years,
+that it is <i>nearly</i> as good as finding Daisy to be with her child. But,
+my dear lass, you will forgive a frank old man asking you a frank
+question. It's all moonshine about the house being too big for you.
+These houses are not so very monstrous, to judge by the looks of them.
+You have three children, so you tell me; if you let two rooms you must
+be a bit crippled, put as good a face on it as you will."</p>
+
+<p>"We also want the money. The want of the help this brings in, in the
+matter of rent, is our true reason for letting," replied Charlotte. "You
+see, Uncle Sandy, my husband is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> a clergyman&mdash;a clergyman and curate.
+Such men are never over-burdened with money."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy Wilson had small, penetrating, but very bright blue eyes; they
+were fixed now earnestly on his niece. He took a glance round the little
+parlor where they sat. He was an old Australian, accustomed to bush
+life, but even he noticed how threadbare was the carpet, how poor and
+meagre the window curtains. Charlotte herself, too, how thin and worn
+she was! Could those pale and hollow cheeks mean insufficient food?</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you, niece Charlotte?" he suddenly demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"I was twenty-five my last birthday."</p>
+
+<p>"Forgive me, my lass, you look very old for that; I should have taken
+you for thirty. The fact is you are poor, nothing ages like poverty. And
+the greater fact remains that it was full time for old Uncle Sandy to
+come home and prove himself of some use in the world."</p>
+
+<p>"We are poor," answered Charlotte; "we certainly are very poor. But
+poverty is not the greatest of troubles."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but it puzzles me why you should be poor. When I left my little
+sister, she had been married about three months to that rich old Mr.
+Harman. He seemed devoted to her. He had surrounded her with wealth; and
+he assured me when I came to bid her good-bye, and she put her dear arms
+round my neck, that my little darling should never want for anything. He
+was a good old man, ages too old of course for my bright little Daisy.
+But it seemed better than leaving her as a governess. It was my one
+comfort when parting with Daisy, to feel that she could never want for
+anything that money could get her."</p>
+
+<p>"My mother has told me that during my father's life she lived as a rich
+woman," answered Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"That means she did not afterwards. Did the old gentleman die bankrupt?
+I don't see how he could, for he had retired from business."</p>
+
+<p>"No, my father died a very wealthy man."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he did not leave her well off! You don't surely mean to tell me,
+Charlotte Home, that that old man dared to do anything but leave a large
+sum of money to your pretty young mother and to you? Why, be told me
+with his own lips that he would make most ample provision for her."</p>
+
+<p>At these words Charlotte's white face grew yet whiter,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> and a piteous
+look of terror came into her eyes, but all she said was,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, after my father's death we were poor."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! the scoundrel! 'Tis well he's out of Sandy Wilson's power. To think
+of my Daisy not profiting by his wealth at least. How much did he leave
+to your mother, Charlotte?</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing!" Here Uncle Sandy sprang to his feet. "Mr. Harman left my
+Daisy nothing&mdash;nothing whatever! Then he did die bankrupt?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Uncle Sandy, he died rich."</p>
+
+<p>"And her name was not mentioned in the will?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! there was a will. Have you seen it?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; why should I? It all happened long, long ago."</p>
+
+<p>"And your mother never saw the will?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think she did."</p>
+
+<p>"Then to whom, may I ask, did he leave all his wealth?"</p>
+
+<p>"You forget, Uncle Sandy, that my father was married before. He had two
+sons by his first marriage. These sons came in for his fortune. They
+were&mdash;they said they were, sorry for my mother, and they settled on her
+one hundred and fifty pounds a year for her life."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, I suppose you have got that pittance now?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it was only for my mother. When she died six years ago it ceased."</p>
+
+<p>Sandy Wilson began to pace up and down the little parlor.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing left to Daisy. Daisy's name not mentioned in the will. Brothers
+sorry&mdash;pretend to be. Give my Daisy a pittance for her life&mdash;nothing to
+the child. Charlotte," he suddenly stopped in front of his niece, "don't
+you think you are a good bit of a fool?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I am, Uncle Sandy. But I never recognized the fact before."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe that story about the will?"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you the tale as my own mother told it to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, Daisy was always too credulous, a foolish little thing, if you
+like. But you&mdash;you are of different metal. You believe that story?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I&mdash;Don't ask me, Uncle Sandy."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not believe it?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you will have it so, I do not believe it."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, my lass, shake hands on that. You are not a fool<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>. Oh! it was full
+time Sandy Wilson came home. Sandy can see to your rights, late as it is
+in the day."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home was silent. The old Australian was stamping his feet on the
+hearthrug. His face was now crimson from excitement and anger.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte," he repeated, "why don't you speak to me? I have come back
+to see to your rights. Do you hear me, niece?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte put her hand into his.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Uncle Sandy." Then she added, "You can do nothing. I mean
+you can take no legal steps without my knowledge and sanction."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it is not likely you will withhold your sanction from getting
+back what is your own. Charlotte, where are these half-brothers of
+yours? Why, they were a good bit older than Daisy. They must be old men
+now. Where are they, Charlotte? Are they alive?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are alive. I will tell you about them to-morrow. I want to think
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"And so do I want to think. I will run away now, my dear niece. I am
+staggered by this tale, perfectly staggered. I will look in to-morrow
+evening, and you shall tell me more. Ay, I guess they never reckoned
+that Sandy Wilson would turn up. They thought with the rest of you that
+old Sandy&mdash;sharp old Sandy was safe in his grave, and they said to
+themselves that dead men tell no tales. If I remember aright, your
+father told me I should be one of the trustees to my sister. He <i>did</i>
+mention it; though, just like me, I never thought of it until this
+minute. Is it likely that he would speak of trustees if he meant to cut
+off that poor darling with a shilling? Oh! it's preposterous,
+preposterous. But I'll sleep over it. We'll think how best to expose the
+villains!"</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Sandy, you will promise me one thing: you will do nothing until
+you see me again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, child, I can scarcely do much. I don't want to be long away from
+you, niece Charlotte. I'll look in to-morrow, about six o'clock. See
+that little Daisy is up, and introduce me to your husband. Oh! it was
+plain to be seen that Sandy Wilson was wanting in this country. Bless my
+old heart, what a Providence is over everything! Oh, the scoundrels! But
+Sandy will expose them. My Daisy cut off with a shilling!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>"SOMETHING BETTER FOR THE CHILDREN THAN MONEY."</h3>
+
+<p>After her newly found uncle had left her, Charlotte Home sat on by the
+fire; her face was very pale; she looked a quite broken-down and
+troubled woman. Little Anne, almost on tiptoe, crept into the room. She
+was all quivering with excitement. She expected her mistress to turn to
+her&mdash;almost to fling her arms around her neck&mdash;to thank her with the
+warmest expressions for what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>"Anne," rehearsed the little maid, imagining Charlotte's words, "you
+have saved us all; you are our lifelong benefactor. Henceforth partake
+of our wealth. Be not only our servant, but our friend."</p>
+
+<p>This was how matters would have been managed in the <i>Family Herald</i>.
+Anne raised expectant eyes to her mistress's face, but one glance at it
+scattered her golden visions. She softly lifted up the tea-tray and
+withdrew. Her faith and hope had gone down to zero. She was a very
+dispirited little girl as she returned to her kitchen. That uncle from
+Australia was not a rich uncle. Missis would never look so miserable if
+he was rich. As a poor relation he was no use whatever; and Anne had
+done nothing for the family she loved. Oh, how <i>very</i> disappointing life
+was after all!</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile what now troubled Charlotte Home had very little to do with
+Uncle Sandy's possible gold. She was solving another problem, and the
+task was a difficult one.</p>
+
+<p>For the past month Charlotte had been making up her mind to a certain
+line of action. Before she left Torquay her resolution was formed. She
+had been over four weeks there, and during those four weeks she and her
+boy had lived on Charlotte Harman's money. That money had saved the life
+of her child. When she first saw it and thanked for it, and each
+succeeding day, each succeeding hour, as she saw the color which was
+health, and the appetite which was life, returning to her darling, the
+conviction was growing upon her, that her hand could never inflict a
+blow upon the woman who had done so much for her. Her children wanted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+money, and her husband wanted money, and she herself too! A little dip
+into this world's softnesses, she owned, would be very pleasant; but,
+for all that, her hand must be still; her lips could not speak to cause
+pain and agony to one who had done so much for her. Miss Harman was
+going to be married. Was it possible that on the eve of her marriage
+she, Charlotte Home, could deal to her so cruel a blow? No, it was not
+possible. For Charlotte's sake, her father and uncle might keep their
+ill-gotten wealth. Mrs. Home believed more and more firmly that she and
+hers were robbed of their money. But now she could do nothing. She had
+been so treated by her enemy's daughter that to appear against that
+daughter's father would be impossible. As this conviction came to her,
+and she resolved to act upon it, and to let all chance of recovering her
+lost wealth go, a wonderful peace and calm stole over her. She almost
+used to fancy she heard the voice of God saying to her,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I will provide for your children, I can give them riches. There are
+better things to be won for those little ones than what money can give.
+There is such a thing as a heavy purse and a poor and empty heart.
+Suppose I fill those hearts with goodness, and greatness, and
+generosity, and love; is not that a better portion for these creatures
+who are to live for all eternity than the gold which lasts only for a
+time?"</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Charlotte felt that it was a better portion. And such peace and
+contentment came to this woman during the last week at Torquay that she
+thought it the happiest week of her whole life. But now&mdash;now she sat by
+her own hearth in troubled maze. She had come back to find her resolve
+sorely shaken. With no one to help her, she had resolved to let her
+chance of riches go. She came back to find an unexpected deliverer come
+to her. A strong, brave, practical man had appeared. This man was her
+own uncle&mdash;her beloved mother's brother. He knew how to act. While she
+alone must stumble in the dark, he would know what to do. He would&mdash;he
+could get her back her own. It seemed hard to reject such help; and yet
+her resolve was scarcely shaken, and the temptation, though severe, was
+not allowed to prevail. The voice of God was still talking to the woman,
+and she was not turning from Him.</p>
+
+<p>Since the life of her child had been given back to her, a great softness
+and sweetness had come to Mrs. Home; she had tasted of a mother's
+bitterest cup, but God had not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> asked her to drink it to the dregs. Her
+dark eyes, always beautiful, had now grown very lovely, being filled
+with a tenderness which not only took in her own child, but, for his
+sake, all the other children in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Charlotte loved God as she had never loved Him before, and it was
+becoming impossible for her to do that which might pain Him. After a
+time her husband came in, and the two sat and talked for some time. They
+had a great deal to say, and the hours flew on as each poured out a full
+heart to the other.</p>
+
+<p>After a time Charlotte told of her visit from the uncle whom she had
+supposed for so many years to be dead. Mr. Home was interested, and
+asked many questions. Charlotte repeated, almost word for word, what
+Uncle Sandy had said. Her husband regarded her attentively. After a time
+he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie, you remember when first you told me that queer story about your
+father's will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I own I did not believe it; I own I thought very little about it. I ask
+your pardon, my dear. I now believe you are right."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Angus!" a great flood of color came up to her face. "Oh! why," she
+added in a voice of pain, "why do you say this to me now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Partly from what your uncle said to-night; partly for another reason.
+The fact is, my dear wife, while you were away I had a visit from your
+half-brother, Mr. Jasper Harman.".</p>
+
+<p>"Angus!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he came here one evening. He told a tale, and he made a
+proposition. His tale was a lame one; his proposition scarcely came well
+from his lips. He evidently thought of me as of one unworldly and
+unpractical. I believe I am unpractical, but he never guessed that in my
+capacity as clergyman I have had much to do with sinners. This man has a
+conscience by no means void of offence. He is hardened. Charlotte, when
+I saw him, I instantly believed your story."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Home then told his wife the whole of his interview with Jasper
+Harman, and the proposal he had made to settle on Charlotte and on her
+children the three thousand pounds which had been her mother's for that
+mother's lifetime.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I gave him no answer, my Lottie," he said in conclusion. "I told him
+you were away&mdash;that I would tell you all on your return."</p>
+
+<p>"Then the decision is to rest with me, Angus?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I think it must."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not mind whether I decline or accept?"</p>
+
+<p>"I trust you absolutely. You shall do as you think best."</p>
+
+<p>After this Mrs. Home was silent for a moment or two; then she got up,
+went on her knees by her husband's side, and laying her head against his
+breast, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We will be poor, my darling&mdash;poor and blessed. I will not touch their
+gold."</p>
+
+<p>"My Lottie!" he answered. He did not quite understand her, but his heart
+began to beat.</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you all in a few words, Angus. I longed for money&mdash;be my
+reason base or noble, I longed for money. A month ago how sorely we
+needed it! God saw our need and sent it to us. He sent it through a
+channel and by a means which tried my proud heart. I accepted the
+gracious boon, and, when I accepted it, instantly I loved the giver; I
+loved&mdash;I love Charlotte Harman. She is innocent of all wrong. Angus, I
+cannot disturb her peace. My uncle has come home. My uncle, with his
+knowledge and his worldly skill, could now win my cause for me, and get
+back for me and mine what is ours. I will not let him. These old men may
+keep their ill-gotten wealth, for I cannot break the daughter's heart. I
+made my resolve at Torquay, Angus; and, though I own I have been tempted
+to-night&mdash;yes, I believe I have been tempted&mdash;still I must let this
+money go. I will leave those wicked men to God; but I cannot take their
+punishment into my own hands. And, Angus, dearest, neither can I take
+that small sum of money; for, though I cannot prosecute, neither can I
+accept a bribe. This money comes as a bribe. Is it not so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Lottie, I fear it is so."</p>
+
+<p>"I am right not to take it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are absolutely right."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we will not touch it. I and mine can live without it."</p>
+
+<p>"You and yours can live well and nobly without it, my most precious
+wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! there is rest and peace in my heart; and the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> house, though
+so poor and shabby, seems very home-like. Angus, I am so tired after all
+this! I will go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>Long after his wife had left him, the husband remained up. He had gone
+down on his knees, and he remained there for some hours. He had to thank
+God for his Charlotte, but even while he thanked a weight was heavy on
+his heart. Sin was very terrible to this man, and he feared that a very
+grievous sin had been committed. Long, long, into the night he cried to
+God for these sinners.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
+
+<h3>SHE COULD NOT POSTPONE HER ENGAGEMENT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Harman felt himself growing weaker and weaker. The disease which was
+to lay him in his grave was making slow, but steady progress. It was
+just possible that, had his mind been at rest, the weakness of body, the
+pain of body, the slow decay might have been, not removed, but at least
+arrested. Had Mr. Harman been a very happy man, he might have lived,
+even with so fatal a malady, for many years. He had lived a life of
+almost perfect physical health for over sixty years, and during all that
+time he had been able to keep mental pains at bay; but in his present
+weakness he found this impossible. His whole nervous system became
+affected, and it was apparent even to his daughter's eyes, that he was a
+very unhappy man. For her sake, however, he still did wonders. He
+dragged himself up to breakfast morning after morning, when he would
+have given worlds to remain in bed. He still went every day to his
+office in the city, though, when there, he sat in his office chair dull
+and unmindful of what was going on. Jasper did the work. Jasper was
+here, there, and everywhere; but it had come to such a pass with John
+Harman, that he now almost disliked gold. Still, for Charlotte's sake,
+he went there. Charlotte on the verge of her marriage must suspect
+nothing. In the evenings he sat with his daughter, he looked with
+apparent interest at the many presents which came pouring in, he made
+her show herself to him in each of the new dresses, and he even went
+himself with her to choose her wedding<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> wreath and veil. But all these
+things had become such a weariness to the man that, dearly as he loved
+this one precious daughter, he began to look forward with almost a sense
+of relief to the one week of her absence. During that week he need
+disguise nothing, he need not go to the office, he need not put on this
+forced cheerfulness. He might stay in bed all day long if he pleased.</p>
+
+<p>That week was near now, for it was the twelfth of April. In another
+eight days the wedding morning would dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was very busy. What young woman is not busy at such a time?
+Friends poured in, presents arrived at all hours. There were dressmakers
+and milliners to see and consult, from morning to night. Then Hinton
+took up some of his bride-elect's time, and the evening hours were given
+to her father. Seeing how much he liked having her all to himself after
+dinner each night, Charlotte had begged her lover not to come to see her
+at this particular time.</p>
+
+<p>"You will have me for all the rest of my life, John," she would say,
+"and I think it does my father good to be quite alone with me. It
+reminds him of old times." Then, when Hinton acceded to her request, she
+often added, "My father puzzles me. Is it the parting from me makes him
+look so ill and sad? I often fear that there is more the matter with him
+than he lets appear. I wish he would consult a good doctor."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton dared not tell her that he had consulted the very best. He could
+only try to turn her attention, and in this he believed that he
+succeeded much better than he really did. For when the night came after
+those quiet evenings, Charlotte found that she could not sleep. Was it
+excitement at her coming happiness, or was it anxiety?</p>
+
+<p>Anxiety was new to this happy nature&mdash;new to this prosperous life. She
+shuddered at the grim thing, as it visited her night after night, in the
+solitude of her luxurious room. But shut her eyes to it, fight against
+it, as she would, it could not be got to depart from her. The fact was,
+a dreadful thing had happened to this frank and loving nature, she was
+beginning to suspect the father whom she loved. These suspicions had
+first come into play on the night when he had fainted in her presence.
+Some words he had used that night, some expressions which had fallen
+from his lips, had aroused a new and dreadful thought, that thought
+would not go to sleep, would not depart. Was it possible that her father
+had done something wrong long ago in his life, and that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> remembrance
+of that wrong&mdash;that sin&mdash;was what ailed him now? Was it possible that
+her uncle Jasper, who always appeared so frank and open, had deceived
+her? Was it possible that Hinton knew that she was deceived? These
+thoughts did not trouble her much in the daytime, but at night they rose
+to agonies. They kept sleep far away: so much so, that in the morning
+she often came downstairs heavy-eyed and weary. She blamed herself,
+then, for her mean suspicions; she said to herself, as she gave her
+father his morning cup of coffee, that no face could be more incapable
+of concealing a wrong than that noble old face opposite to her, and she
+tried to atone for her feelings by extra tenderness of voice and manner.
+But though this revulsion of feeling came with the morning, the night
+brought back the same agony. She now disliked even to think of Mrs.
+Home, she never spoke of her to John Hinton. He watched for her to do
+so, but the name of this young woman which had so intensely interested
+her never passed her lips. When Hinton told her that little Harold was
+better, and that on a certain day he and his mother would be in Kentish
+Town once more, she colored slightly and changed the subject. Hinton
+rather wondered at this. Uncle Jasper also remarked it. It was now a
+week to the wedding-day, and Charlotte was nerving herself for an
+effort. She had firmly resolved that before she really gave herself to
+Hinton, she would read her grandfather's will. She felt that nothing
+else would completely set her mind at rest. She dreaded doing this as
+much as she longed for it. Each day as it dawned she had put off the
+task, but when the day just a week before her wedding came, she felt
+that she must overcome what she called a weakness. She would learn the
+worst that very day. She had little or no idea how to carry out her
+design. She only knew that the will was kept at Somerset House, that if
+she went there and allowed herself to go through certain forms she
+should see it. She had never seen a will in her life, she scarcely knew
+even what it would look like. Nevertheless, she could consult no one.
+She must just go to the place and trust to circumstances to do the rest.</p>
+
+<p>On the thirteenth of April she resolved, as she put on her dress and
+hurried down to meet her father at breakfast, that before that night
+came she would carry out her design. Her father seemed better that
+morning. The day was a specially lovely one, and Charlotte said to
+herself that, before that time to-morrow, her heart would be at rest;
+she would not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> even allow herself to glance at a darker alternative.
+Indeed, happy in having at last firmly made up her mind; she became
+suddenly scarcely at all fearful, scarcely anything but completely
+hopeful. She resolved that nothing should turn her from her purpose
+to-day.</p>
+
+<p>Her father kissed her, told her he felt certainly better, and went off
+to the city.</p>
+
+<p>Immediately after, her uncle Jasper came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie, child! I can take you to the private view of Mrs. &mdash;&mdash;'s
+pictures; I have just got an invitation. You know how wild you are to
+see them. Be ready at two o'clock. I will call for you then."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry, but I cannot go with you this afternoon, Uncle
+Jasper."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! You have made an engagement with Hinton. Can't you put it off? This
+is the last day for the pictures. You can go with Hinton to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not an engagement with John, Uncle Jasper. It is something else,
+and I cannot put it off."</p>
+
+<p>All the time a rather loud voice within was saying to her, "Go and see
+the pictures. Put off the reading of the will. Be happy for one more
+day." But because this voice, which became so loud, frightened her, she
+would not yield to it.</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry," she repeated; "I should have liked it greatly. But I
+cannot go."</p>
+
+<p>"Well! it is a pity, and I took some trouble about it. However, it can't
+be helped."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it can't be helped," repeated Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper went, feeling some annoyance, and also a little curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"Strange cattle&mdash;women," he said to himself. "I confess I don't
+understand 'em. Charlotte, wild to get to that private view two days
+ago, now won't go because of a whim. Well! I'm glad I never took a wife.
+I rather pity Hinton. I would not be tied even to that fine creature,
+Lottie, forever."</p>
+
+<p>Jasper Harman had scarcely turned the corner of the street, before a cab
+drew up at the house, and Hinton came in. Charlotte had not yet left the
+breakfast-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my dearest, I am afraid you might be out I must hurry away at once;
+but I just called to say that I have had a telegram from Webster. You
+know how I have longed for you two to meet. Well, he is coming to town
+to-day, and I want to bring him here at three o'clock. You will be sure
+to be at home."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I can't, John; I have an engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but you must put it off, you really <i>must</i> see Webster. He is my
+greatest friend, and is to be my best man. You really must, Lottie! and
+he telegraphs that he is coming up from Oxford on purpose."</p>
+
+<p>"I am ever so sorry. Could not you telegraph to him to put off his visit
+until to-morrow?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, my dear; he has started before this."</p>
+
+<p>"I am very sorry; I am unfortunate," repeated Charlotte. A certain
+degree of obstinacy, altogether foreign to her nature, had crept into
+her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton looked at her in undisguised astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to say that you are not going to see Webster, when he is
+coming up to town on purpose?"</p>
+
+<p>"John, dear, I will see him at five o'clock, I shall be home then. But I
+have an engagement at three."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot bring Webster here at five, he must be on his way back then.
+You must put off your engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"I really cannot. Uncle Jasper has just been here, and he asked me to go
+with him to see the private views at Mrs. &mdash;&mdash;'s studio. He took some
+trouble to get the invitation for us both, but I could not go with him,
+nor can I stay in. Mr. Webster must wait to make my acquaintance on our
+wedding-day, John."</p>
+
+<p>"And I am to tell him that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Say everything as nice and polite as you can. Say that I am most truly
+sorry."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton turned his back on his promised bride; there was a cloud on his
+brow, he felt both hurt and angry.</p>
+
+<p>"Lottie! what is your engagement?" This was said while pretending to
+look down the street.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte came close and put her hand a little timidly on his shoulder.
+"I know you will be vexed," she said "but I cannot tell you."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton held up his hand to a passing hansom.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am vexed," he said, "but I cannot wait any longer now. You know
+I hate secrets, and I think you might have obliged me, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I could," she said, and now her eyes filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton scarcely kissed her before he rushed away, and Charlotte sank
+down on the nearest chair. The unaccountable feeling which had prompted
+her to refuse both her uncle and her lover, and to fix just that hour of
+three o'clock<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> to visit Somerset House, was too strange and strong to be
+overcome. But the hope which had brightened her breakfast hour had now
+all departed. Her heart felt like lead within her breast, she dared not
+fully contemplate the realization of her worst fears. But they thronged
+like legion round her path.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
+
+<h3>WHERE HAD THE MONEY CARES VANISHED TO?</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton felt thoroughly angry; perhaps he had some cause. Webster, his
+college chum, his greatest friend, was coming up to town. He had heard
+many times and often of Hinton's promised bride, and he was coming to
+town, Hinton knew well at some personal inconvenience, to see her, and
+she refused to see him.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton, as well as Uncle Jasper, considered it a whim of Charlotte's. He
+was surprised. Nay, he was more than surprised. He was really angry.
+Here was the woman, who in a week's time now must stand up before God
+and promise solemnly to obey him for all the remainder of her life,
+refusing to attend to his most natural desire. She had an engagement,
+and she would not tell him what it was; she made a secret of it. Be the
+secret little or great, she knew how he disliked all such concealments.</p>
+
+<p>Was it possible that he was deceived in Charlotte after all? No, no, he
+was too really loyal to her, too sincerely attached to her: her
+frankness and sweetness were too natural, too complete, for him really
+to doubt her; but he owned that he was disappointed&mdash;he owned that he
+had not the greatness which she under similar circumstances would have
+exercised. She was keeping him in the dark&mdash;in the dark he could not
+trust. He recalled, with feelings of anything but pleasure, her last
+secret. She thought little of it. But Hinton knew how differently he had
+received it; he did not like to be reminded of it now. During the last
+few weeks he had managed almost completely to banish it from his
+thoughts; but now it came back to his memory with some force; it
+reminded him of Mrs. Home. Was it possible that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> he was acting wrongly
+in not searching into her rights? Was it possible that things had
+already come to such a pass with him, that he would not do the right
+because he feared the consequences? Had riches and wealth and worldly
+honor already become dearer to his soul than righteousness and judgment
+and truth?</p>
+
+<p>These condemnatory thoughts were very painful to the young man; but they
+turned his feelings of indignation from Charlotte to himself.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly a month now since he had left Mrs. Home. When he went away
+he had provided her with another lodger. He remembered that by this time
+she must have come back from Torquay. As this thought came to him he
+stopped suddenly and pulled out his watch. Webster would not be at
+Paddington before two o'clock. He had nothing very special to do that
+morning, he would jump into a hansom and go and see Mrs. Home and
+Harold. He put his ideas into execution without an instant's delay, and
+arrived at Kentish Town and drew up at the well-known door at quite an
+early hour. Daisy and the baby were already out, but Harold, still
+something of an invalid, stood by the dining-room window. Harold, a
+little weary from his journey, a little spoiled by his happy month at
+Torquay was experiencing some of that flatness, which must now and then
+visit even a little child when he finds he must descend from a pedestal.
+For a very long time he had been first in every one's thoughts. He had
+now to retire from the privileges of an invalid to the everyday
+position, the everyday life of a healthy child. While at Torquay his
+mother had no thought for any one but him; but now, this very morning,
+she had clasped the baby in such an ecstasy of love to her heart, that
+little spoiled Harold felt quite a pang of jealousy. It was with a shout
+therefore of almost ecstasy that he hailed Hinton. He flew to open the
+door for him himself, and when he entered the dining-room he instantly
+climbed on his knee. Hinton was really fond of the boy, and Harold
+reflected with satisfaction that he was altogether his own friend, that
+he scarcely knew either Daisy or the baby.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment entered the happy, smiling mother.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you have come to see your good work completed," she said. "See what
+a healthy little boy I have brought back with me."</p>
+
+<p>"We had just a delicious time," said Harold, "and I'm very strong again
+now, ain't I, mother? But it wasn't Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> Hinton gave us the money to go
+to Torquay, it was my pretty lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," said Mrs. Home, "I think you were scarcely, for all your
+great, great, and real kindness, scarcely perfect even in that respect.
+I never knew until a few days ago, and then it was in a letter from
+herself, that you are so soon to marry Charlotte Harman."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we are to be married on the twentieth," answered Hinton, "Has she
+written to you? I am glad."</p>
+
+<p>"I had one letter from her. She wrote to ask about my boy, and to tell
+me this of you."</p>
+
+<p>"She takes a great interest in you," said Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"And I in her. I believe I can read character fairly well, and in her I
+see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked the lover, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>"In brow, eyes, and lips I see truth, honor, love, bravery. Mr. Hinton,
+you deserve it all, but, nevertheless, you are drawing a great prize in
+your wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I am," answered the young man, deeply moved.</p>
+
+<p>"When <i>can</i> I see my pretty lady again?" asked Harold, suddenly. "If you
+are going to marry her, do you mean to take her quite, quite away? When
+may I see her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Before very long, I hope, my dear boy," answered Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"He has talked of her so often," said the mother. "I never saw any one
+who in so short a time so completely won the heart of a little child; I
+believe the thought of her helped to make him well. Ah! how thankful I
+am when I look at him; but Mr. Hinton, there is another thing which
+gives me great joy just now."</p>
+
+<p>"And that?" said Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"Last night something very wonderful happened. I was at home not two
+hours, when I was surprised by a visit from one whom I had never seen
+before and whom I had supposed to be in his grave for over twenty years.
+My dear mother had one brother who went to Australia shortly after her
+marriage. From Australia the news reached her of his death. He was not
+dead; he came back again. I had a visit from that uncle last night."</p>
+
+<p>"How strange!" said Hinton.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I have not heard his story yet. He met my little Daisy in Regent's
+Park, and found out who she was through her likeness to my mother. Is it
+not all like a romance?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> I had not an idea who the dear old man was when
+he came to visit me last night; but how glad I am now to feel that my
+own mother's brother is still alive!"</p>
+
+<p>Hinton asked a few more questions; then after many promises of effecting
+a meeting very soon between Charlotte and little Harold he went away. He
+was puzzled by Mrs. Home. The anxious woman he had thought of, whose sad
+face often haunted him, was gone, and another peaceful, happy, almost
+beautiful in her serenity, had come in her place. Her joy at Harold's
+recovery was both natural and right; but where had the money cares
+vanished to? Surely Charlotte's fifty pounds could not have done more
+than pay the Torquay trip. As to her delight over her Australian uncle's
+return, he rather wondered at it, and then forgot it. He little guessed,
+as he allowed it to vanish from his mind, how it was yet to influence
+the fate of more lives than his.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2>
+
+<h3>JASPER'S TERROR.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper, too, left Charlotte on that special morning with some
+displeasure, some surprise, and some anxiety. Remorse, as I have said,
+did not visit the man. Long ago, a very long time ago now, he and his
+brother John had touched an evil thing. For both men the natural
+consequences followed; but how differently? John wanted to fling the
+base defilement from his soul; Jasper wanted so to bury it there, so
+deftly, so cleverly to hide it within his very heart of hearts, that it
+should not appear to dishonor him in the eyes of his fellow-men. Of the
+final judgment and its disclosure he never thought. It was his inability
+to cover up the secret; it was his ever-growing knowledge that the
+garment was neither long enough nor broad enough to wrap it round, that
+caused his anxiety from day to day. In spite of his cheerful and ruddy
+face he was feeling quite worn and old. If this continues, if these
+people will insist on pulling the house down over their heads, I shall
+fall ill like John, he reflected. He was very angry with these stupid
+and silly people, who were bringing such shame and dishonor on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+themselves. He often found himself wishing that his niece Charlotte had
+not been the fine and open character she was. Had Charlotte been
+different he might have ventured to confide in her. He felt that with
+Charlotte on his side all might yet be well. This, however, was
+absolutely impossible. To tell Charlotte would be to tell the world. Bad
+as her father was in keeping this ugly secret quiet, Charlotte would be
+ten times, twenty times, worse. What an unfortunate thing it was that
+Charlotte had put that advertisement in the papers, and that Mrs. Home
+had answered it! Mrs. Home of all people! Well, well, it came of that
+dreadful meddling of women in literature. <i>He</i>, Jasper, had known no
+peace since the day that Charlotte had wished for an amanuensis to help
+her with her silly book.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper on this particular morning, as he hurried off from the Harman
+house, felt less and less comfortable. He was sure, by Charlotte's
+manner, that her engagement was something very particular. He feared she
+was going to meet Mrs. Home. He came, with all his surmises, very far
+short of the real truth, but he was in that state of mind when the
+guilty fly, with no man pursuing. It had been an awful moment for old
+Jasper Harman when, a week ago, he had suddenly knocked up against that
+solitary, foreign-looking man. He had heard his voice and seen his face,
+and he had felt his own heart standing still. Who <i>was</i> this man? Was he
+a ghost? the ghost of the long-dead trustee? Jasper began to hope that
+it was but an accidental likeness in voice and manner. For was not this
+man, this Alexander Wilson, named in his father's will, dead and buried
+for many a day? Had not he, Jasper, not, indeed, seen him die, but had
+he not stood on his grave? Had not he travelled up some hundreds of
+miles in that wild Australian country for the sole purpose of standing
+on that special grave? And had not he read name and age, and date of
+death, all fully corroborating the story which had been sent to him?
+Yes, Jasper hoped that it was but a very remarkable likeness&mdash;a ghost of
+the real man. How, indeed, could it be anything but a ghost when he had
+stood upon the man's very grave? He hoped this. He had brought himself
+almost to believe it; but for all that, fear and uneasiness were
+becoming more and more his portion, and he did not like to dwell even in
+thought upon that night's adventures. He walked on fast. He disliked
+cabs, and never took them. One of his great secrets of health was
+exercise, and plenty of it; but he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> rather in a hurry; he had an
+appointment in town for a comparatively early hour, and he wanted to
+call at his club for letters. He reached his destination, entered the
+building, and found a little pile awaiting him. He turned slowly into
+the reading-room to read them. One after the other he tore them open.
+They were not very interesting, and a rapid glance of his quick, deep
+eye was sufficient to enable him to master the contents. In ten minutes
+he had but one letter left to read, and that was in a strange
+handwriting. "Another begging epistle," he said to himself. He felt
+inclined to tear it up without going to the trouble of opening it. He
+had very nearly slipped it into his pocket, to take its chance at some
+future time, for he remembered that he was already late. Finally he did
+neither; he opened the letter and read it where he sat. This was what
+his eyes rested on&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">10, Tremins Road, Kentish Town</span>.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Sir</span>:&mdash;</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>According to your wish I write to you at your club. My wife
+returned from Torquay last night, and I told her of your visit and
+your proposal. She desires me to say, and this I do, both from her
+and myself, that she will not accept your offer, for reasons which
+we neither of us care to explain. We do not wish for the three
+thousand pounds you are willing to settle on my wife.</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I remain, sir,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yours faithfully,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">Angus Home</span>.</span><br />
+<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Jasper Harman, Esq</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>This letter fell from the hands of Jasper. His lips came a little apart,
+and a new look of terror came into his eyes. So absorbed was he, so
+thoroughly frightened by this letter, that he forgot where he was. He
+neither saw the looks of surprise, nor heard the words of astonishment
+made by those about him. Finally he gathered up envelope and paper and
+hurried out. As he walked down the street he looked by no means so young
+as he had done when he got up that morning. His hat was put on crooked,
+his very gait was uncertain. Jasper had got a shock. Being utterly
+unable to read the minds of the people who had written to him, he could
+but imagine one meaning to their words. They were not so unworldly as he
+had hoped. They saw through his bribe; they would not accept it,
+because&mdash;because&mdash;<i>they knew better</i>. Mrs. Home had read that will. Mrs.
+Home<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> meant to prosecute. Yes, yes, it was all as plain as that the sun
+was shining overhead. Mrs. Home meant to go to law. Exposure, and
+disgrace, and punishment were all close at hand. There was no doubt of
+it, no doubt whatever now. Those were the reasons which neither Mr. nor
+Mrs. Home cared to explain. Turning a corner he came suddenly full tilt
+against Hinton. The young man turned and walked down the street with
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"You are on your way to Charlotte?" remarked the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"No: I have been to her already. She has an engagement this afternoon.
+Did she not tell you? She said you wanted her to go somewhere with you,
+and this same engagement prevented it. No, I am not going to Prince's
+Gate, but I am off to Paddington in about an hour to meet a friend."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton spoke cheerfully, for his passing annoyance with Charlotte had
+absolutely vanished under Mrs. Home's words of loving praise. When Mrs.
+Home spoke as she had done of his brave and noble Charlotte the young
+man had felt quite ashamed of having doubted her even for a brief
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper had, however, been told of little Harold's illness, and Hinton,
+knowing this, continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have just come from the Homes. You know whom I mean? Their little boy
+was the one I helped to nurse through scarlet fever. Mother and boy have
+come back from Torquay like different creatures from the pleasant
+change. Mrs. Home looked absolutely bright. Charlotte will like to hear
+of her; and by the way, a curious thing, a little bit of a romance has
+happened to her. An uncle from Australia, whom she had supposed to be
+dead and in his grave for over twenty years, walked in alive and hale
+last night. She did not know him at first, but he managed to prove his
+identity. He&mdash;&mdash;good heavens! Mr. Harman, what is the matter? You are
+ill; come in here."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton led Jasper into a chemist's shop, which they happened to be
+passing at the moment, for his ruddy face had suddenly become ghastly
+white, and he had to clutch the young man's arm to keep himself from
+falling.</p>
+
+<p>"It is nothing," he explained, when he had been given a restorative.
+"Yes, I felt faint. I hope I am not going to be taken bad like my
+brother. What do you say? a hansom? Well, yes, perhaps I had better have
+one."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Jasper was bowled rapidly out of sight and Hinton walked on. No dust had
+been thrown in his eyes as to the cause of Jasper's agitation. He had
+observed the start of almost terror with which he had turned on him when
+he had first mentioned the long-lost Australian uncle of Mrs. Home's. He
+had often seen how uneasy he was, however cleverly he tried to hide it,
+when the Homes were mentioned. What did it all mean? Hinton felt very
+uncomfortable. Much as he loved Charlotte, it was not nice to marry into
+a family who kept concealed an ugly secret. Hinton was more and more
+convinced that there was a secret, and that this uncle who was supposed
+to be dead was in some way connected with it. Hinton was too acute, too
+clever, to put down Jasper's agitation to any other cause. Instantly he
+began to see a reason for Mrs. Home's joy in the recovery of this
+long-lost relation. It was a reason unworthy of her, unworthy and
+untrue; but nevertheless it took possession of the mind of this young
+man. The uncle ceased to be an object of little interest to him. He
+walked on, feeling downcast and perplexed. This day week would be his
+wedding-day, and Charlotte&mdash;Charlotte, beautiful and noble, nothing
+should part them. But what was this secret? Could he, dare he, fathom
+it? No, because of Charlotte he must not&mdash;it would break Charlotte's
+heart; because of Charlotte's father he must not, for it would cause his
+death; and yet, because of Jasper, he longed to, for he owned to himself
+that he disliked Jasper more and more.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE READING OF THE WILL.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Charlotte's depression did not remain with her all through the day. She
+was a healthy creature, healthy both in body and mind. It was impossible
+for her, with the bright spring sun shining, and with her wedding-day
+but one week absent, not to turn again to hope. She saw that she had
+vexed Hinton. She still felt that queer and uncomfortable desire to be
+at Somerset House, just at the very hour when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> her lover had pleaded for
+her society. But she reflected that when she told him the story, when
+she proudly cleared her father in his eyes, he would most abundantly
+forgive her.</p>
+
+<p>"He hates secrets," she said to herself; "and it is the last, the very
+last, little, tiny secret I shall ever have from my darling."</p>
+
+<p>By this it will be seen that she had ceased to fear her grandfather's
+will. She had ordered the carriage immediately after lunch, and now
+asked the coachman to drive to the Strand. As she lay back at her ease
+she reflected how soon now her anxiety would be over.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear father," she whispered to her heart, "how extra loving and tender
+I must be to him to-night! I believe him now&mdash;fully and absolutely
+believe him now. I am only doing this for John's sake."</p>
+
+<p>When she reached the Strand she desired the coachman to stop. She would
+not have him drive to Somerset House. Her secret was a secret, even the
+old coachman, who had known her from her birth, must not guess it. She
+told him that she had some business to transact, but that he might meet
+her at a certain part of the Embankment in an hour.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage rolled out of sight. Now she was alone. She was not
+accustomed to walking the London streets by herself. Certainly she had
+never been in the Strand before alone. She had dressed herself with
+studied plainness, and now, with her veil drawn tightly over her face,
+she hurried on. She had consulted the map, and knew exactly where
+Somerset House was. She also had obtained a little, a very little
+information as to how she was to act for the pursuit of her purpose,
+from a young barrister who had visited at her home with Hinton some few
+weeks before. She considered that she had gained her knowledge with
+considerable skill; and now, with a beating heart, she proceeded to act
+on it. She turned into the great square which Somerset House encloses,
+found the particular building where wills are kept, and entered. She was
+now in a large room, or entrance-hall. There were many desks about, and
+some clerks, who did not seem particularly busy. Charlotte went up to
+one of the desks, a clerk lent an attentive ear, she told her errand.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you want to read a will," said the gentleman. "You must first
+produce the proper stamp. Yes, yes, you can certainly see any will you
+desire. Just go through that door to your right, walk down the passage;
+you will see a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> door with such a direction written on it; ask for a
+search stamp. It will cost you a shilling. Bring it back to me."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte did as she was desired. The clerk she had appealed to,
+attracted by her appearance and manner, was willing to be both helpful
+and polite.</p>
+
+<p>"Whose will do you want, madam?"</p>
+
+<p>"I want my grandfather's will. His name was Harman."</p>
+
+<p>"What year did he die?"</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-three years ago."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! just so. This is 1880. So he died in the year 1857. Do you see
+those catalogues to your left? Go up to those marked 1857. Look under
+letter H, until you find Harman. Bring the book open at that name to
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was clever at carrying out her instructions. She quickly
+returned with the book opened at the desired name. The clerk wrote Mr.
+Harman's name and a number of a folio on a small piece of blue paper.
+This he gave to Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Take this piece of paper to room number 31, along the passage," he
+said. "You will have the will very soon now."</p>
+
+<p>She bowed, thanked him, and went away. At room 31 she was desired to
+wait in the reading-room. She found it without difficulty. It was a
+small room, with a long table in the middle, and benches round it. At
+one end sat a clerk at a desk. Charlotte seated herself at the table.
+There were other people about, some reading wills, some others waiting
+like herself. She happened just then to be the only woman in the room.
+She drew up her veil, pressed her hand to her pale face, and waited with
+what patience she could. She was too much excited to notice how she was
+looked at and her appearance commented upon. Sitting there and waiting
+with what courage she could muster, her fear returned. What stealthy
+thing was this she was doing in the dark? What march was she stealing on
+her father, her beloved and honored father? Suddenly it appeared to her
+that she had done wrong. That it would be better, more dignified, more
+noble, to ask from his own lips the simple truth, than to learn it by
+such underhand means as these. She half rose to go away; but at this
+moment a clerk entered, gave a piece of folded paper to the man at the
+desk, who read aloud the one word,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Harman."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte felt herself turning deadly white as she stood up to receive
+it. But when she really held her grandfather's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> will in her hand all
+desire not to read it had left her. She opened the folio with her
+shaking fingers, and began to read as steadily as she could. Her eyes
+had scarcely, however, turned over the page, and most certainly her mind
+had failed to grasp the meaning of a single word, before, for some
+unaccountable reason, she raised her head. A large man had come in and
+had seated himself opposite to her. He was a man on an immense scale,
+with a rough, red, kind face, and the longest, most brilliantly colored
+beard Charlotte had ever seen. His round, bright blue eyes were fixed
+earnestly on the young lady. She returned his glance, in her own
+peculiar full and open way, then returned to her interrupted task. Ah!
+what a task it was after all. Hard to understand, how difficult to
+follow! Charlotte, unused to all law phraseology, failed to grasp the
+meaning of what she read. She knit her pretty brows, and went over each
+passage many times. She was looking for certain names, and she saw no
+mention of them. Her heart began to leap with renewed joy and hope. Ah!
+surely, surely her grandfather had been unjust, and her own beloved
+father was innocent. Mrs. Home's story was but a myth. She had read for
+such a long, long time, and there was no mention of her or of her
+mother. Surely if her grandfather meant to leave them money he would
+have spoken of it before now. She had just turned another page, and was
+reading on with a light heart, when the clerk again entered. Charlotte
+raised her head, she could not tell why. The clerk said something to the
+clerk at the desk, who, turning to the tall foreign-looking man said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"The will of the name of Harman is being read just now by some one in
+the room."</p>
+
+<p>"I will wait then," answered the man in his deep voice.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte felt herself turning first crimson, then pale. She saw that
+the man observed her. A sudden sense of fright and of almost terror
+oppressed her. Her sweet and gracious calm completely deserted her. Her
+fingers trembled so that she could scarcely turn the page. She did not
+know what she feared. A nightmare seemed pressing on her. She felt that
+she could never grasp the meaning of the will. Her eyes travelled
+farther down the page. Suddenly her finger stopped; her brain grew
+clear, her heart beat steadily. This was what she read,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>"I will and bequeath all the residue of my real and personal
+estate and effects to the said John Harman, Jasper Harman, and
+Alexander Wilson, in trust to sell and realize the same, and out of
+the proceeds thereof to invest such a sum in public stocks or
+funds, or other authorized securities, as will produce an annual
+income of &pound;1,200 a year, and to hold the investment of the said sum
+in trust to pay the income thereof to my dear wife for her life:
+and after her decease to hold the said investment in trust for my
+daughter Charlotte to her sole and separate use, independently of
+any husband with whom she may intermarry."</p></div>
+
+<p>Charlotte Harman was not the kind of woman who faints. But there is a
+heart faintness when the muscles remain unmoved, and the eyes are still
+bright. At that moment her youth died absolutely. But though she felt
+its death pang, not a movement of her proud face betrayed her. She saw,
+without looking at him, that the red-faced man was watching her. She
+forced herself to raise her eyes, and saying simply, "This is Mr.
+Harman's will," handed it to him across the table. He took it, and began
+to devour the contents with quick and practised eyes. What she had taken
+so long to discover he took it in at a glance. She heard him utter a a
+smothered exclamation of pain and horror. She felt not the least
+amazement or curiosity. All emotion seemed dead in her. She drew on her
+gloves deliberately, pulled down her veil, and left the room. That dead,
+dead youth she was dragging away with her had made her feel so cold and
+numb that she never noticed that the red faced man had hastily folded up
+the will, had returned it to the clerk at the desk, and was following
+her. She went through the entrance hall, glancing neither to the left or
+right. The man came near. When they both got into the square he came to
+her side, raised his hat and spoke.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>TRUSTEES.</h3>
+
+
+<p>"Madam," said the stranger, "you will pardon my intruding on you, but I
+saw it in your face. You are interested in that will you have just
+read."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Charlotte simply.</p>
+
+<p>At another time she would have given an indignant retort to what she
+would have considered a liberty. Now she turned her eyes with a mute
+appeal in them to this stranger, for she recognized kindness in his
+tones.</p>
+
+<p>"It was my grandfather's will," she said, responding yet farther to the
+full, kind gaze he gave her back.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! then that sets me right," said Sandy Wilson, for it was he. "That
+sets me right, young lady. Now I saw you got a considerable bit of a
+shock just then. You ain't, you'll forgive me for saying so, but you
+ain't quite fit to meet any of your people for a bit; you may want them
+not to guess, but any one with half an eye can see you're not the young
+lady you were even when I entered that reading-room not half an hour
+back. I'm a rough, plain man, but I'm very much interested in that will
+too, and I'd like to have a little bit of a talk with you about it, if
+you'll allow me. Suppose, miss, that you and I just take a turn round
+the square for a few moments."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's answer to this was to turn her face again towards the
+particular building where she had read the will, and her companion,
+turning with her, began to talk eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, miss, it was quite a little bit of luck brought you and me
+together to-day. The gentleman who made that will was your grandfather;
+your name is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Harman," answered Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! yes, I see; and I&mdash;I am Alexander Wilson. I don't suppose you ever
+saw me before; but I, too, am much interested in that will. I have been
+abroad, and&mdash;and&mdash;supposed to be dead almost ever since that will was
+made. But I was not dead, I was in Australia; I came home a week ago,
+and found out my one living relation, my niece, my sister's child. She
+is married and is a Mrs. Home now, but she is the Charlotte named in Mr.
+Harman's will, the Charlotte to whom, and to her mother before her, Mr.
+Harman left &pound;1,200 a year."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Charlotte Harman. She found difficulty in dragging this one
+word from her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Madam, I find my niece very poor; very, very poor. I go and look at her
+father's will. I see there that she is entitled to wealth, to what she
+would consider riches. I find also that this money is left for her
+benefit in the hands of trustees; two of the trustees are called Harman,
+the other, madam, is&mdash;is I&mdash;myself; I&mdash;Alexander Wilson, am the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> other
+trustee, supposed to be dead. I could not hitherto act, but I can act
+now. I can get that wronged woman back her own. Yes, a monstrous piece
+of injustice has been done. It was full time for Sandy Wilson to come
+home. Now the first thing I must do is to find the other trustees; I
+must find the Harmans, wherever they are, for these Harmans have robbed
+my niece."</p>
+
+<p>"I can give you their addresses," answered Charlotte, suddenly pausing
+in her walk and turning and facing her companion. "John Harman, the
+other trustee, who, as you say, has robbed Mrs. Home, is my father. I am
+his only child. His address is Prince's Gate, Kensington."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens!" said Wilson, shocked and frightened by her manner; "I
+never guessed that you were his child&mdash;and yet you betray him."</p>
+
+<p>"I am his only child. When do you wish to see him?"</p>
+
+<p>To this question Wilson made no answer for a few moments. Though a just
+man, he was a kind one. He could read human nature with tolerable
+accuracy. It was despair, not want of feeling, which put those hard
+tones into that young voice. He would not, he could not, take advantage
+of its bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Harman," he said after a pause, "you will pardon me, but I don't
+think you quite know what you are saying; you have got a considerable
+bit of a shock; you were not prepared for this baseness&mdash;this baseness
+on your father's part."</p>
+
+<p>Here her eyes, turned with a sudden swift flash of agony upon him, said
+as plainly as eyes could speak&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Need you ask?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, you could not have guessed it," continued Sandy, replying to this
+mute, though beautiful appeal, almost with tears. "You are Mr. Harman's
+only child. Now I daresay you are a good bit of an idol with him. I know
+how I'd worship a fine lassie like you if I had her. Well, well, miss: I
+don't want to pain you, but when young things come all on a heap on a
+great wrong like you have done to-day, they're apt, whatever their
+former love, to be a bit, just a bit, too hard. They do things, in their
+first agony, that they are sorry enough for by and by. Now, miss, what I
+want to say is this, that I won't take down your father's address to-day
+nor listen indeed to anything you may tell me about him. I want you to
+sleep it over, miss. Of course something must be done, but if you will
+sleep it over, and I, Sandy Wilson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> sleep it over too, we'll come
+together over the business with our heads a deal clearer than we could
+when we both felt scared, so to speak, as we doubtless do just at
+present. I won't move hand or foot in the matter until I see you again,
+Miss Harman, When do you think you will be able to see me again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will this hour to-morrow do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; I shall be quite at your service. And as we may want to look at
+that will again, suppose we meet just here, miss?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will be here at this hour to-morrow," said Charlotte, and as she
+spoke she pulled out her watch to mark the exact time. "It is a quarter
+past four now," she said; "I will meet you here at this hour to-morrow,
+at a quarter past four."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, young lady, and may God help you! If I might express a wish
+for you, it is that you may have a good hard cry between now and then.
+When I was told, and quite sudden like too, that my little sister, Daisy
+Wilson, was dead nothing took off the pressure from my heart and brain
+like a good hearty cry. So I wish you the same. They say women need it
+more than men."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2>
+
+<h3>DAN'S WIFE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Charlotte watched Wilson out of the square, then she slowly followed
+him. The numbness of that dead youth was still oppressing her heart and
+brain. But she remembered that the carriage must be waiting for her on
+the Embankment, also that her father&mdash;she gasped a little as the thought
+of her father came to her&mdash;that her father would have returned from the
+city; that he might ask for her, and would wonder and grow uneasy at her
+absence. She must go home, that was her first thought. She hurried her
+steps, anxious to take the first turning which would lead to the
+Embankment.</p>
+
+<p>She had turned down a side street and was walking rapidly, when she
+heard her name called suddenly and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> eagerly, and a woman, very shabbily
+dressed, came up to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Miss Harman&mdash;Miss Harman&mdash;don't you know me?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte put her hand to her brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said, "I know you now; you are Hester Wright. Is your husband
+out of prison yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is, Miss, and he's dying; he's dying 'ard, 'ard; he's allers saying
+as he wants to see either you or his master. We are told that the master
+is ill; but oh! miss, miss, ef you would come and see him, he's dreadful
+anxious&mdash;dreadful, dreadful anxious. I think it's jest some'ut on his
+mind; ef he could tell it, I believe as he'd die easy. Oh! my beautiful,
+dear young lady, every one has a good word for you. Oh! I was going to
+make bold to come to Prince's Gate, and ask you to come to see him.
+You'll never be sorry, miss, if you can help a poor soul to die easy."</p>
+
+<p>"You say he is really dying?" said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed, indeed, miss; he never held up his head since he saw the
+inside of the prison. He's dying now of a galloping waste, so the
+doctors say. Oh! Miss Harman, I'll bless you for ever if you'll come and
+see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will come," said Charlotte. "Where do you live?"</p>
+
+<p>"Away over at Poplar, miss. Poor place enough, and unfit for one like
+you, but I'll come and fetch you my own self, and not a pin's worth of
+harm shall come to you; you need have no cause to fear. When shall I
+come for you, my dear, dear young lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"The man is dying, you say," said Charlotte. "Death doesn't wait for our
+convenience; I will come with you now. My carriage is waiting quite
+near, I must go and give directions to the coachman: you can come with
+me: I will then get a cab and drive to see your husband."</p>
+
+<p>After this the two women&mdash;the rich and the poor&mdash;walked on side by side,
+quickly and in silence. The heart of the one was dry and parched with
+the sudden fire of that anguish and shame, the heart of the other was so
+soothed, so thankful, that soft tears came, to be wiped stealthily away.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't she an angel?" she said to herself, knowing nothing, guessing
+less, of the storm which raged within her companion's soul; "and won't
+my poor Dan die easy now?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN OLD WEDDING-RING.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Once in Charlotte's life before now, she had remembered her father doing
+what she considered a strangely hard thing. A valet in whom he had
+always reposed full confidence had robbed him of one hundred pounds. He
+had broken open his master's desk at night and taken from thence notes
+to that amount. The deed had been clumsily done, and detection was very
+easy. The name of this valet was Wright. He was young and good-looking,
+and had been lately married; hitherto he had been considered all that
+was respectable. When his crime was brought home to him, he flew to seek
+Charlotte, then a very young girl; he flung himself on his knees in her
+presence, and begged of her to ask her father to show mercy to him.
+Scarcely half a dozen words of passionate, terrified entreaty had passed
+his trembling lips, before there came a tap at the door and the young
+wife rushed in to kneel by his side. Together they implored; their words
+were poor and halting, but the agony of their great plea for mercy went
+straight to the young generous heart they asked to intercede for them.
+Charlotte promised to do what she could. She promised eagerly, with hope
+in her tones.</p>
+
+<p>Never afterwards did she forget that day. Long indeed did the faces of
+those two continue to haunt her, for she had promised in vain; her
+father was obdurate to all her entreaties; even her tears, and she had
+cried passionately, had failed to move him. Nothing should save Wright
+from the full penalty of his crime. He was arrested, convicted, and sent
+to prison.</p>
+
+<p>From that moment the Harmans lost sight of the couple. Charlotte had
+tried, it is true, to befriend Hester Wright, but the young woman with
+some pride had refused all assistance from those whom she considered
+strangely hard and cruel. It was some years now since anything had been
+heard of either of them. Charlotte, it is true, had not forgotten them,
+but she had put them into a back part of her memory, for her father's
+conduct with regard to Wright had always been a sore puzzle to her. And
+now, on this day of all days,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> she was driving in a cab by the side of
+Hester Wright to see her dying husband. She had sent a message home by
+the coachman which would allay all immediate anxiety on her account, and
+she sat back in the cab by the side of the poor and sad woman with a
+sense of almost relief, for the present. For an hour or two she had
+something outside of herself and her home to turn her thoughts to. After
+what seemed a very long drive, they reached the shabby court and
+shabbier house where the Wrights lived.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte had heard of such places before, but had never visited them.
+Shabby women, and dirty and squalid children surrounded the young lady
+as she descended to the pavement. The children came very close indeed,
+and some even stroked her dress. One mite of three years raised, in the
+midst of its dirt and neglect, a face of such sweetness and innocence,
+that Charlotte suddenly stooped down and kissed it. That kiss, though it
+left a grimy mark on her lips, yet gave the first faint touch of
+consolation to her sorely bruised heart. There was something good still
+left on God's earth, and she had come to this slum, in the East end of
+London, to see it shine in a baby's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Ef you please, Miss, I think we had better keep the cab," said Hester
+Wright; "I don't think there's any cabstand, not a long way from yere."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte spoke to the cabby, desired him to wait, then she followed
+Hester into the house.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I have no children," said the woman in answer to a question of the
+young lady's; "thank God fur that; who'd want to have young 'uns in a
+hole like this?"</p>
+
+<p>By this time they had reached their destination. It was a cellar; Hester
+was not so very far wrong in calling it a hole. It was damp, dirty, and
+ill-smelling, even to the woman who was accustomed to it; to Charlotte
+it was horrible beyond words. For a time, the light was so faint she
+could distinguish nothing, then on some straw in a corner she saw a man.
+He was shrunken, and wasted, and dying, and Charlotte, prepared as she
+was for a great change, could never have recognized him. His wife,
+taking Charlotte's hand in hers, led her forward at once.</p>
+
+<p>"You'd never ha' guessed, Dan, as I'd have so much luck," she said. "I
+met our young lady in the street, and I made bold to 'ax her and come
+and see you, and she come off at once. This is our Miss Harman, Dan
+dear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Our Miss Harman," repeated the dying man, raising his dim eyes. "She's
+changed a goodish bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't call me yours," said Charlotte. "I never did anything for you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, but you tried," said the wife. "Dan and me don't furget as we heerd
+you cryin' fit to break yer heart outside the study door, and him
+within, wid a heart as hard as a nether mill-stone, would do nought. No,
+you did yer werry best; Dan and me, we don't furget."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't furget," said the man. "It wor a pity as the old man were
+so werry 'ard. I wor young and I did it rare and clumsy; it wor to pay a
+debt, a big, big debt. I 'ad put my 'and to a bit of paper widhout
+knowing wot it meant, and I wor made to pay for it, and the notes they
+seemed real 'andy. Well, well, I did it badly, I ha' larnt the right way
+since from some prison pals. I would not be found out so easy now."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke in an indifferent, drawling kind of voice, which expressed no
+emotion whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very ill, I fear," said Charlotte, kneeling by his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Ill! I'm dying, miss dear."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte had never seen death before. She noticed now the queer shade
+of grey in the complexion, the short and labored breath. She felt
+puzzled by these signs, for though she had never seen death, this
+grayness, this shortness of breath, were scarcely unfamiliar.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm dying," continued the man. "I don't much care; weren't it fur Hetty
+there, I'd be rayther glad. I never 'ad a chance since the old master
+sent me to prison. I'd ha' lived respectable enough ef the old master
+'ad bin merciful that time. But once in prison, always in prison fur a
+friendless chap like me. I never wanted to steal agen, but I jest 'ad
+to, to keep the life in me. I could get no honest work hanywhere; then
+at last I took cold, and it settled yere," pointing to his sunken chest,
+"and I'm going off, sure as sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"He ain't like to live another twenty-four hours, so the doctor do say,"
+interrupted the wife.</p>
+
+<p>"No, that's jest it. Yesterday a parson called. I used ter see the jail
+chaplain, and I never could abide him, but this man, he did speak hup
+and to the point. He said as it wor a hawful thing to die unforgiven. He
+said it over and over, until I wor fain to ax him wot I could do to get
+furgiven,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> fur he did say it wor an hawful thing to die without having
+parding."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it must be, it must be!" said Charlotte, suddenly clasping her
+hands very tightly together.</p>
+
+<p>"I axed him how I could get it from God h'Almighty, and he told me, to
+tell him, the parson, first of all my whole story, and then he could
+<i>adwise</i> me; so I hup and telled him heverything, hall about that theft
+as first tuk me to prison and ruined me, and how 'ard the old master
+wor, and I telled him another thing too, for he 'ad sech a way, he
+seemed to draw yer werry 'art out of you. Then he axed me ef I'd
+furgiven the old master, and I said no, fur he wor real, real 'ard; then
+he said so solemn-like, 'That's a great, great pity, fur I'm afraid as
+God can't furgive you, till you furgives.' Arter that he said a few more
+words, and prayed awhile, and then he went away. I could not sleep hall
+night, and to-day I called Hetty there, over, and she said as she'd do
+her werry best to bring either the old master yere, or you miss, and you
+see you are come; 'tis an awful thing to die without parding, that's why
+I axed you to come."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Charlotte very softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, miss, may a poor dying feller, though he ain't no better nor a
+common, common thief, may he grip, 'old of yer and?"</p>
+
+<p>"With all my heart."</p>
+
+<p>"There now, it don't seem so werry 'ard. <i>Lord Jesus, I furgives Mr.
+Harman.</i> Now I ha' said it. Wife dear, bring me hover that little box,
+that as I allers kep' so close."</p>
+
+<p>His wife brought him a tiny and very dirty cardboard box.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>She</i> kep' it when I wor locked up; I allers call it my bit o' revenge.
+I'll give it back now. Hetty, open it."</p>
+
+<p>Hetty did so, taking from under a tiny bit of cotton-wool a worn,
+old-fashioned wedding-ring.</p>
+
+<p>"There, miss dear," said Wright, handing it to her, "that wor the old
+master's wife's ring. I knew as he set more prize to it nor heverything
+else he had, he used to wear it on a bit of ribbon round his neck. One
+day he did not put it on, he furgot it, and I, when I found he meant to
+be so werry, werry 'ard, I took it and hid it, and took it away wid me.
+It comforted me when I wor so long in prison to think as he might be
+fretting fur it, and never guess as the lad he were so 'ard on had it. I
+never would sell it, and now as I has furgiven him, he may have it back
+agen. You tell him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> arter I'm dead, tell him as I furgives him, and
+yere's the ring back agen."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte slipped the worn little trinket on her finger.</p>
+
+<p>"I will try and give my father your message," she said. "I may not be
+able at once, but I will try. I am glad you have forgiven him; we all
+stand in sore, sore need of that, not only from our fellow-men, but much
+more from our God. Now good-bye, I will come again." She held out her
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but miss dear, I won't be yere fur no coming again, I'll be far
+away. Hetty knows that, poor, poor, gal! Hetty'll miss me, but only fur
+that I could be real glad, fur now as I ha' furgiven the old master, I
+feels real heasy. I ain't nothing better nor a common thief, but fur
+hall that, I think as Jesus 'ull make a place for me somehow nigh of
+hisself."</p>
+
+<p>"And, miss," said Hester, "I'm real sorry, and so will Dan be when I
+tell him how bad the old master is."</p>
+
+<p>"My father is not well; but how do you know?" said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, miss, I went to the house to-day, a-looking fur you and the
+servant she told me, she said as there worn't never a hope, as the old
+master were safe to die."</p>
+
+<p>"Then maybe I can tell himself hup in heaven as I quite furgives him,"
+said Dan Wright.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte glanced from one speaker to the other in a kind of terrible
+astonishment. Suddenly she knew on whose brow she had seen that awful
+grayness, from whose lips she had heard that short and hurried breath. A
+kind of spasm of great agony suddenly contracted her heart. Without a
+word, however, she rose to her feet, gave the wife money for her present
+needs, bade the dying husband good-bye, and stepped into the cab which
+still waited for her. It was really late, and all daylight had faded as
+she gave the direction for her own luxurious home.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THREE FACTS.</h3>
+
+<p>Dinner was more than half over when she reached Prince's Gate. She was
+glad of this. She went straight up to her own room and sent for her
+maid.</p>
+
+<p>"Ward, I am very tired and not very well. I shall not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> go down again
+to-night, nor do I wish to see any one. Please bring up a cup of strong
+tea here, and a little dry toast, and then you may leave me. I shall not
+want you again to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"You won't see Mr. Harman again to-night, miss. Am I to take him that
+message?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; say that I have a headache and think I had better stay quiet. I
+will be down to breakfast as usual."</p>
+
+<p>Ward went away, to return in a few moments with the tea and toast.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Miss Harman, they have just sent the wedding dress and
+veil from &mdash;&mdash;. Are you too tired to be fitted to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte gave a little involuntary shudder.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am much too tired," she said; "put everything away, I do not
+want even to look at them. Thank you, Ward, this tea looks nice. Now you
+need not come in again. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night, Miss Harman," said the maid, going softly to the door and
+closing it behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte got up at once and turned the key. Now, at last, thank God,
+she was quite alone. She threw off her bonnet and cloak and going
+straight to her bed flung herself upon it. In this position she lay
+still for over an hour. The strong tension she had put on herself gave
+way during that hour, for she groaned often and heavily, though tears
+were very far from her eyes. At the end of about an hour she got up,
+bathed her face and hands in cold water, drank a cup of tea, and put
+some coals on a fire in the grate. She then pulled out her watch. Yes;
+she gave a sigh of relief&mdash;it was not yet ten o'clock, she had the best
+part of twelve hours before her in which to prepare to meet her father
+at breakfast. In these hours she must think, she must resolve, she must
+prepare herself for action. She sat down opposite the little cheerful
+fire which, warm though the night was, was grateful to her in her
+chilled state of mind and body. Looking into its light she allowed
+thought to have full dominion over her. Hitherto, from the moment she
+had read those words in her grandfather's will until this present
+moment, she had kept thought back. In the numbness which immediately
+followed the first shock, this was not so difficult. She had heard all
+Sandy Wilson's words, but had only dimly followed out their meaning. He
+wanted to meet her on the morrow. She had promised to meet him, as she
+would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> promised also to do anything else, however preposterous, at
+that moment. Then she had felt a desire, more from the force of habit
+than from any stronger motive, to go home. She had been met by Hester
+Wright, and Hester had taken her to see her dying husband. She had stood
+by the deathbed and looked into the dim and terrible eyes of death, and
+felt as though a horrible nightmare was oppressing her, and then at last
+she had got away, and at last, at last she was at home. The luxuries of
+her own refined and beautiful home surrounded her. She was seated in the
+room where she had slept as a baby, as a child, as a girl; and now, now
+she must wake from this semi-dream, she must rouse herself, she must
+think it out. Hinton was right in saying that in a time of great trouble
+a very noble part of Charlotte would awake; that in deep waters such a
+nature as hers would rise, not sink. It was awakening now, and putting
+forth its young wings, though its birth-throes were causing agony. "I
+<i>will</i> look the facts boldly in the face," she said once aloud, "even my
+own heart shall not accuse me of cowardice." There were three facts
+confronting this young woman, and one seemed nearly as terrible as the
+other. First, her father was guilty. During almost all the years of her
+life he had been not an honorable, but a base man; he had, to enrich
+himself, robbed the widow and the fatherless; he had grown wealthy on
+their poverty; he had left them to suffer, perhaps to die. The will
+which he had thought would never be read was there to prove his
+treachery. Believing that his fellow-trustee was dead, he had betrayed
+his sacred trust. Charlotte could scarcely imagine a darker crime. Her
+father, who looked so noble, who was so tender and good to her, who bore
+so high a character in the eyes of the world, was a very bad man. This
+was her first fact. Her second seemed, just because of the first, even a
+shade darker. This father, whom she had loved, this poor, broken-down,
+guilty father, who, like a broken idol, had fallen from his high estate
+in her heart, was <i>dying</i>. Ah! she knew it now; that look on his old
+face could only belong to the dying. How blind she had been! how
+ignorant! But the Wrights' words had torn the veil from her eyes; the
+guilty man was going fast to judgment. The God whom he had sinned
+against was about to demand retribution. Now she read the key to his
+unhappiness, his despair. No wonder, no wonder, that like a canker it
+had eaten into his heart. Her father was certainly dying; God himself
+was taking his punishment into His own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> hands. Charlotte's third fact,
+though the most absolutely personal of the whole, scarcely tortured her
+as the other two did to-night. It lay so clearly and so directly in her
+path, that there was no pausing how best to act. The way for action was
+too clear to be even for an instant disobeyed. Into this fire she must
+walk without hesitation or pause. Her wedding-day could not be on the
+twentieth; her engagement must be broken off; her marriage at an end.
+What! she, the daughter of a thief, ally herself to an upright,
+honorable man! Never! never! Whatever the consequences and the pain to
+either, Hinton and she must part. She did not yet know how this parting
+would be effected. She did not know whether she would say farewell to
+her lover telling him all the terrible and bitter disgrace, or with a
+poor and lame excuse on her lips. But however she did it, the thing must
+be done. Never, never, never would she drag the man she loved down into
+her depths of shame.</p>
+
+<p>To-night she scarcely felt the full pain of this. It was almost a
+relief, in the midst of all the chaos, to have this settled line of
+action around which no doubt must linger. Yes, she would instantly break
+off her engagement. Now she turned her thoughts to her two former facts.
+Her father was guilty. Her father was dying. She, in an underhand way,
+for which even now she hated herself had discovered her father's
+long-buried crime. But she had not alone discovered it. Another had also
+gone to see that will in Somerset House; another with eyes far more
+practised than hers had read those fatal words. And that other, he could
+act. He would act; he would expose the guilty and dying old man, for he
+was <i>the other trustee</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was very ignorant as to how the law would act with regard to
+such a crime as her father's. Doubtless there would be a public trial, a
+public disgrace. He would be dragged into the prisoner's dock; his old
+white head would be bowed low there, and he was a dying man.</p>
+
+<p>In the first shock and horror of finding that the father she had always
+almost worshipped could be guilty of such a terrible crime, a great rush
+of anger and almost hardness had steeled her heart against him; but now
+tenderer feelings came back. Pity, sad-eyed and gentle, knocked at her
+heart, and when she let in pity, love quickly resumed its throne. Yes;
+whatever his crime, whatever his former life, she loved that old man.
+That white-headed, broken-hearted man, so close to the grave, was her
+father, and she his only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> child. When she spoke to Sandy Wilson to-day
+she had felt no desire to save the guilty from his rightful fate. But
+now her feelings were different. A great cry arose in her heart on his
+behalf. Could she screen him? could she screen him from his fate? In her
+agony she rose and flung herself on her knees. "My God, help me; my God,
+don't forsake me; save my father. Save him, save him, save him."</p>
+
+<p>She felt a little calmer after this broken prayer, and something to do
+occurred to her with its instant power of tranquillizing. She would find
+out the doctor whom her father consulted. She would ask Uncle Jasper.
+She would make him tell her, and she would visit this man early in the
+morning, and, whatever the consequence, learn the exact truth from his
+lips. It would help her in her interview later on with Mr. Wilson.
+Beyond this little immediate course of action, there was no light
+whatever; but she felt so far calmed, that, about two o'clock, she lay
+down and sleep came to her&mdash;healthy and dreamless sleep, which was sent
+direct from God to put strength into the brave heart, to enable it to
+suffer and endure. Many weeks before Mr. Home had said to Charlotte
+Harman, "You must keep the Christ bright within you." Was His likeness
+to shine henceforth through all the rest of her life, in those frank
+eyes, that sweet face, that noble woman's heart, because of and through
+that great tribulation? We have heard tell of the white robes which they
+wear who go through it. Is it not worth while for so sacred a result to
+heat the furnace seven times?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DOCTOR'S VERDICT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>In her terrible anger and despair Charlotte had almost forgotten Uncle
+Jasper; but when she came down to breakfast the following morning and
+saw him there, for he had come to Prince's Gate early, and was standing
+with her father on the hearthrug, she suddenly remembered that he too
+must have been guilty; nay, worse, her father had never tried to deceive
+her, and Uncle Jasper had. She remembered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> the lame story he had told
+her about Mrs. Home; how fully she had believed that story, and how it
+had comforted her heart at the time! Now she saw clearly its many flaws,
+and wondered at her own blindness. Charlotte had always been considered
+an open creature&mdash;one so frank, so ingenuous, that her secrets, had she
+ever tried to have any, might be read like an open book; but last night
+she had learned to dissemble. She was glad when she entered the cheerful
+breakfast-room to find that she was able to put her hardly learned
+lesson in practice. Knowing what she did, she could yet go up and kiss
+her father, and allow her uncle to put his lips to her cheek. She
+certainly looked badly, but that was accounted for by the headache which
+she confessed still troubled her. She sat down opposite the tea-urn, and
+breakfast was got through in such a manner that Mr. Harman noticed
+nothing particular to be wrong. He always drove to the City now in his
+own private carriage, and after he had gone Charlotte turned to Jasper.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Jasper," she said, "you have deceived me."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens! how, Charlotte?" said the old uncle.</p>
+
+<p>"My father is <i>very</i> ill. You have given me to understand that there was
+nothing of serious consequence the matter with him."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper heaved a slight but still audible sigh of relief. Was this
+all? These fears he might even yet quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"I have not deceived you, Charlotte," he said, "for I do not believe
+your father to be seriously ill."</p>
+
+<p>He fixed his keen gray eyes on her face as he spoke. She returned his
+gaze without shrinking.</p>
+
+<p>"Still you do think him ill?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, any one to look at him must admit that he is not what he was."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so, Uncle Jasper. So you have told me very many times, when you
+have feared my troubling him on certain matters. Now it has come to me
+from another source that he is very ill. My eyes have been opened, and I
+see the fact myself. I wish to learn the simple and exact truth. I wish
+to see the doctor he has consulted."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know he has consulted any?"</p>
+
+<p>"Has he?"</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Jasper was silent for a moment. He felt in a difficulty. Did
+Charlotte know the worst, she might postpone her marriage, the last
+thing to be desired just now; and yet where had she got her information?
+It was awkward<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> enough, though he felt a certain sense of relief in thus
+accounting for the change in her appearance since yesterday morning. He
+got up and approached her side softly.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear, I do own that your father is ill. I own, too, that I have, by
+his most express wish, made as light of the matter to you as I could.
+The fact is, Charlotte, he is anxious, very anxious, about himself. He
+thinks himself much worse than I believe him to be; but his strongest
+desire is, that now, on the eve of your marriage, you should not be
+alarmed on his account. I firmly believe you have no cause for any
+special fear. Ought you not to respect his wishes, and rest satisfied
+without seeking to know more than he and I tell you? I will swear,
+Charlotte, if that is any consolation to you, that I am not immediately
+anxious about your father."</p>
+
+<p>"You need not swear, Uncle Jasper. Your not being anxious does not
+prevent my being so. I am determined to find out the exact truth. If he
+thinks himself very ill he has, of course, consulted some medical man.
+If you will not tell me his name I will myself ask my father to do so
+to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"By so doing you will shock him, and the doctor does not wish him to be
+shocked."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so, Uncle Jasper, and you can spare him that by telling me what
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear niece, if you <i>will</i> have it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly am quite resolved, uncle."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, you approach this subject at your peril. If you <i>must</i> see
+the doctor you must. Wilful woman over again. Would you like me to go
+with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you; I prefer to go alone. What is the doctor's name?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir George Anderson, of B&mdash;&mdash; Street."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go to him at once," said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>She left the room instantly, though she heard her uncle calling her
+back. Yes, she would go to Sir George at once. She pulled out her watch,
+ran upstairs, put on some out-door dress, and in ten minutes from the
+time she had learned the name of the great physician was in a hansom
+driving to his house. This rapid action was a relief to her. Presently
+she arrived at her destination. Yes, the doctor was at home. He was
+engaged for the present with another patient, but if Charlotte liked to
+wait he would see her in her turn. Certainly she would wait. She gave
+her card to the man who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> admitted her, and was shown into a room, very
+dark and dismal, where three or four patients were already enduring a
+time of suspense waiting for their interviews. Charlotte, knowing
+nothing of illness, knew, if possible, still less of doctors' rooms. A
+sense of added depression came over her as she seated herself on the
+nearest chair, and glanced, from the weary and suffering faces of those
+who waited anxiously for their doom, to the periodicals and newspapers
+piled on the table. A gentleman seated not far off handed her the last
+number of the <i>Illustrated London News</i>. She took it, turning the pages
+mechanically. To her dying day she never got over the dislike to that
+special paper which that half hour created.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the patients' names were called by the grave footman as he
+came to summon them. One by one they went away, and at last, at last,
+Charlotte's turn came. She had entered into conversation with a little
+girl of about sixteen, who appeared to be in consumption, and the little
+girl had praised the great physician in such terms that Charlotte felt
+more than ever that against his opinion there could be no appeal. And
+now at last she was in the great man's presence, and, healthy girl that
+she was, her heart beat so loud, and her face grew so white, that the
+practised eyes of the doctor might have been pardoned for mistaking her
+for a <i>bona-fide</i> patient.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you suffering from?" he asked of her.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not myself, Sir George," she said, then making a great effort to
+control her voice&mdash;"I have come about my father&mdash;my father is one of
+your patients. His name is Harman."</p>
+
+<p>Sir George turned to a large book at his side, opened it at a certain
+page, read quietly for a moment, then closing it, fixed his keen eyes on
+the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right," he said, "your father, Mr. Harman, is one of my
+patients. He came to see me no later than last week."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said Charlotte, and her voice grew steadier and braver as she
+spoke, "I am in perfect health, and my father is ill. I have come here
+to-day to learn from your lips the exact truth as to his case."</p>
+
+<p>"The exact truth?" said the doctor. "Does your father know you have come
+here, Miss&mdash;Miss Harman?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does not, Sir George. My father is a widower, and I am his only
+child. He has endeavored to keep this thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> from me, and hitherto has
+partially succeeded. Yesterday, through another source, I learned that
+he is very seriously ill. I have come to you to know the truth. You will
+tell it to me, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly <i>can</i> tell it to you."</p>
+
+<p>"And you will?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the fact is, Miss Harman, he is anxious that you should not know.
+I am scarcely prepared to fathom your strength of character. Any shock
+will be of serious consequence to him. How can I tell how you will act
+when you know all?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are preparing me for the worst now, Sir George. I solemnly promise
+you in no way to use my knowledge so as to give my father the slightest
+shock."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you," answered the doctor. "A brave woman can do wonders.
+Women are unselfish; they can hide their own feelings to comfort and
+succor another. Miss Harman, I am sorry for you, I have bad news for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"I know it, Sir George. My father is very ill."</p>
+
+<p>"Your father is as seriously ill as a man can be to be alive; in short,
+he is&mdash;dying."</p>
+
+<p>"Is there no hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"None."</p>
+
+<p>"Must he die soon?" asked Charlotte, after a brief pause.</p>
+
+<p>"That depends. His malady is of such a nature that any sudden shock, any
+sudden grief will probably kill him instantly. If his mind is kept
+perfectly calm, and all shocks are kept from him, he may live for many
+months."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! terrible!" cried Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>She covered her face. When she raised it at last it looked quite haggard
+and old.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir George," she said, "I do not doubt that in your position as a
+doctor you have come across some secrets. I am going to confide in you,
+to confide in you to a certain measure."</p>
+
+<p>"Your confidence shall be sacred, my dear young lady."</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday, Sir George, I learned something, something which concerns my
+father. It concerns him most nearly and most painfully. It relates to an
+old and buried wrong. This wrong relates to others; it relates to those
+now living most nearly and most painfully."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a money matter?" asked the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a money matter. My father alone can set it right.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> I mean that
+during his lifetime it cannot possibly in any way be set right without
+his knowledge. Almost all my life, he has kept this thing a secret from
+me and&mdash;and&mdash;from the world. For three and twenty years it has lain in a
+grave. If he is told now, and the wrong cannot be repaired without his
+knowledge, it will come on him as a&mdash;disgrace. The question I ask of you
+is this: can he bear the disgrace?"</p>
+
+<p>"And my answer to you, Miss Harman, is, that in his state of health the
+knowledge you speak of will instantly kill him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;then&mdash;God help me! what am I to do? Can the wrong never be
+righted?"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear young lady, I am sincerely sorry for you. I cannot enter into
+the moral question, I can only state a fact. As your father's physician
+I forbid you to tell him."</p>
+
+<p>"You forbid me to tell him?" said Charlotte. She got up and pulled down
+her veil. "Thank you," she said, holding out her hand. "I have that to
+go on&mdash;as my father's physician you forbid him to know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I forbid it absolutely. Such a knowledge would cause instant death."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>PUZZLED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>The old Australian Alexander Wilson, had left his niece, Charlotte Home,
+after his first interview with her, in a very disturbed state of mind.
+More disturbed indeed was he than by the news of his sister's death. He
+was a rich man now, having been successful in the land of his
+banishment, and having returned to his native land the possessor of a
+moderate fortune. He had never married, and he meant to live with Daisy
+and share his wealth with her. But in these day-dreams he had only
+thought of his money as giving some added comforts to his rich little
+sister, enabling her to have a house in London for the season, and,
+while living in the country, to add more horses to her establishment and
+more conservatories to build and tend. His money should add to her
+luxuries and, consequently, to her comforts. He had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> never heard of this
+unforgotten sister for three and twenty years, the strange dislike to
+write home having grown upon him as time went on but though he knew
+nothing about her, he many a time in his own wild and solitary life
+pictured her as he saw her last. Daisy never grew old to him. Death and
+Daisy were not connected. Daisy in his imagination was always young,
+always girlish always fresh and beautiful. He saw her as he saw her last
+in her beautiful country home standing by her rich husband's side,
+looking more like his daughter than his wife. No, Sandy never dreamed
+that Daisy would or could die, but in thinking of her he believed her to
+be a widow. That husband, so old, when he went away, must be dead.</p>
+
+<p>On his arrival in England, Sandy went down into Hertfortshire. He
+visited the place where he had last seen his sister. It was in the hands
+of strangers&mdash;sold long ago. No one even remembered the name of Harman.
+Then he met little Daisy Home, and learned quite by accident that his
+Daisy was dead, and that the pretty child who reminded him of her was
+her grandchild. He went to visit Charlotte Home, and there made a fresh
+discovery. Had his Daisy been alive she would have wanted far more from
+his well-filled purse than horses and carriages. She would have needed
+not the luxuries of life, but the necessities. He had imagined her rich,
+while she had died in poverty. She had died poor, and her child, her
+only child, bore evident marks of having met face to face with the
+sorest of all want, that which attacks the gently born. Her face, still
+young, but sadly thin and worn, the very look in her eyes told this fact
+to Sandy.</p>
+
+<p>Yes; his pretty Daisy, whom he had imagined so rich, so bountifully
+provided for, had died a very poor and struggling woman. Doubtless this
+sad and dreadful fact had shortened her days. Doubtless but for this
+monstrous injustice she would be alive now, ready to welcome her
+long-lost brother back to his native land.</p>
+
+<p>All that night Sandy Wilson lay awake. He was a hale and hearty man, and
+seldom knew what it was to toss for any time on his pillow; but so
+shocked was he, that this night no repose would visit him. An injustice
+had been done, a fraud committed, and it remained for him to find out
+the evil thing, to drag it to the light, to set the wronged right once
+more. Charlotte Home was not at all the character he could best
+understand. She was not in the least like her mother. She told the tale
+of her wrongs with a strange and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> manifest reluctance. She believed that
+a fraud had been committed. She was fully persuaded that not her
+long-dead father but her living half-brothers were the guilty parties.
+In this belief Sandy most absolutely shared. He longed to drag these
+villains into the glaring light of justice, to expose them and their
+disgraceful secret to the shameful light of day. But in this longing he
+saw plainly that Charlotte did not share. He was puzzled, scarcely
+pleased that this was so. How differently little Daisy would have acted
+had she been alive. Dear little innocent Daisy, who all alone could do
+nothing, would in his strong presence have grown so brave and fearless.
+She would have put the case absolutely and once for all into his hands.
+Now this her daughter did not seem disposed to do. She said to him, with
+most manifest anxiety, "You will do nothing without me. You will do
+nothing until we meet again."</p>
+
+<p>This he had promised readily enough, for what <i>could</i> he do in the short
+hours which must elapse between now and their next meeting? As he was
+dressing, however, on the following morning, a sudden idea did occur to
+him, and on this idea he resolved to act before he saw Charlotte at six
+o'clock in the evening. He would go to Somerset House and see Mr.
+Harman's will. What Daisy first, and now Charlotte, had never thought of
+doing during all these years he would do that very day. Thus he would
+gain certain and definite information. With this information it would be
+comparatively easy to know best how to act.</p>
+
+<p>He went to Somerset House. He saw the will; he saw the greatness of the
+robbery committed so many years ago; he saw and he felt a wild kind of
+almost savage delight in the fact that he could quickly and easily set
+the wrong right, for he was one of the trustees. He saw all this, and
+yet&mdash;and yet&mdash;he went away a very unhappy and perplexed man, for he had
+seen something else&mdash;he had seen a woman's agony and despair. Sandy
+Wilson possessed the very softest soul that had ever been put into a big
+body. He never could bear to see even a dog in pain. How then could he
+look at the face of this girl which, all in a moment, under his very
+eyes, had been blanched with agony? He could not bear it. He forgot his
+fierce longing for revenge, he forgot his niece Charlotte's wrongs, in
+this sudden and passionate desire to succor the other Charlotte, the
+daughter of the bad man who had robbed his own sister, his own niece; he
+became positively anxious that Miss Harman should not commit herself;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
+he felt a nervous fear as each word dropped from her lips; he saw that
+she spoke in the extremity of despair. How could he stop the words which
+told too much? He was relieved when the thought occurred to him to ask
+her to meet him again&mdash;again when they both were calmer. She had
+consented, and he found himself advising her, as he would have advised
+his own dear daughter had he been lucky enough to have possessed one. He
+promised her that nothing, nothing should be done until they met again,
+and so afraid was he that in his interview that evening with his niece,
+Mrs. Home, he might be tempted to drop some word which might betray ever
+so little that other Charlotte, that instead of going to Tremin's Road
+as he had intended, he wrote a note excusing himself and putting off his
+promised visit until the following evening.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHARLOTTE'S PLEA.</h3>
+
+
+<p>When at last the time drew near for him to bend his steps in the
+direction of Somerset House he had by no means made up his mind how to
+act. His sympathies were still with Miss Harman. Her face had haunted
+him all night long; but he felt that every sense of justice, every sense
+of right, called upon him to befriend Mrs. Home. His dearly loved dead
+sister seemed to call to him from her grave and to ask him to rescue
+those belonging to her, to give again to these wronged ones what was
+rightfully theirs. In any case, seeing the wrong as he so plainly did,
+he would have felt called upon to take his sister's part in the matter.
+But as circumstances now stood, even had Mrs. Home been no relation to
+him whatever, he still must have acted for her and her alone. For was he
+not the <i>other trustee</i>? and did not the very law of the land of his
+birth demand that he should see that the terms of the will were carried
+out?</p>
+
+<p>He arrived at the square of Somerset House, and found Miss Harman
+waiting for him.</p>
+
+<p>She came up to him at once and held out her hand. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> quick eye
+detected at a glance that she was now quite calm and collected, that
+whatever she might have done in the first agony of her despair
+yesterday, to-day she would do nothing to betray herself. Strange to
+say, he liked her far less well in this mood than he had done yesterday,
+and his heart and inclination veered round again to his wronged niece
+and her children with a sense of pleasure and almost triumph.</p>
+
+<p>They began to walk up and down, and Miss Harman, finding that her
+companion was silent, was the first to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"You asked me to meet you here to-day. What do you want to say to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Good heavens! was she going to ride the high horse over him in this
+style? Sandy's small eyes almost flashed as he turned to look at her.</p>
+
+<p>"A monstrous wrong has been done, Miss Harman," he answered. "I have
+come to talk about that."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," replied Charlotte. "I have thought it all out. I know exactly
+what has been done. My grandfather died and left a sum of twelve hundred
+a year to my&mdash;to his wife. He left other moneys to my father and his
+brother. My father and his brother, my uncle, disregarded the claims of
+the widow and the orphan child. They appropriated the
+money&mdash;they&mdash;<i>stole it</i>&mdash;giving to my grandfather's widow a small sum
+during her life, which small sum they did not even allow to be retained
+by her child."</p>
+
+<p>"That is pretty much the case, young lady. You have read the will with
+tolerable accuracy."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know in the least how the deed was done," continued Charlotte.
+"How such a crime could be committed and yet lie hidden all these years
+remains a terrible and mysterious thing to me. But that it was done, I
+can but use my own eyes in reading my grandfather's will to see."</p>
+
+<p>"It was done easily enough, Miss Harman. They thought the other trustee
+was dead. Your father and his brother were false to their trust, and
+they never reckoned that Sandy Wilson would come back all alive and
+blooming one fine morning&mdash;Sandy, whose duty it is to see this great
+wrong put right."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is your duty," said Charlotte; and now, again, she grew very
+white; her eyes sought the ground and she was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"It is my most plain duty," repeated Wilson, shuffling with his great
+feet as he walked by her side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I should like to know what steps you mean to take," continued
+Charlotte, suddenly raising her eyes to his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Steps! Good gracious! young lady, I have not had time to go into the
+law of the thing. Besides, I promised to do nothing until we met again.
+But one thing is plain enough,and obvious enough&mdash;my niece, that young
+woman who might have been rich, but who is so poor&mdash;that young woman
+must come in for her own again. It is three-and-twenty years since her
+father died. She must receive from your father that money with all back
+interest for the last three and twenty years. That means a goodish bit
+of money I can tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt it does," replied Charlotte. "Mrs. Home shall have it
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I hope so, young lady, and soon, too. It seems to me she has had
+her share of poverty."</p>
+
+<p>"She has had, as you say, her share of that evil. Mr. Wilson," again
+raising her eyes to his face, "I know Mrs. Home."</p>
+
+<p>"You know her? You know my niece Charlotte personally? She did not tell
+me that."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know her. I should like to see her now."</p>
+
+<p>"You would?&mdash;I am surprised! Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I might go down on my knees to her."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, good gracious! young lady, I supposed you might feel sorry, but I
+did not know you would humble yourself to that extent. It was not <i>your</i>
+sin."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! It was my father's sin. I am his child. I would go lower than my
+knees&mdash;I would lie on the ground that she might walk over me, if the
+better in that position I might plead for mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"For mercy? Ay, that's all very well, but Charlotte must have her
+rights. Sandy Wilson must see to that."</p>
+
+<p>"She shall have her rights! And yet I would see her if I could, and if I
+saw her I would go on my knees and plead for mercy."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand you, Miss Harman."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not suppose you do. Will you have patience with me while I explain
+myself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have come here to talk to you and to listen to you," said Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, I must tell you of my father, that man whom you (and I do not
+wonder) consider so bad&mdash;so low! When I read that will yesterday&mdash;when I
+saw with my own eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> what a fraud had been committed, what a great,
+great evil had been done, I felt in my first misery that I almost hated
+my father! I said to myself, 'Let him be punished!' I would have helped
+you then to bring him to punishment. I think you saw that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I did, Miss Harman. I can see as far through a stone wall as most
+people. I saw that you were a bit stunned, and I thought it but fair
+that you should have time to calm down."</p>
+
+<p>"You were kind to me. You acted as a good man and a gentleman. Then I
+scarcely cared what happened to my father; now I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, young lady, natural feelings must return. I am very sorry for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Wilson, I hope to make you yet more sorry. I must tell you more.
+When I saw you yesterday I knew that my father was ill&mdash;I knew that he
+was in appearance an old man, a broken down man, a very unhappy man; but
+since I saw you yesterday I have learned that he is a dying man&mdash;that
+old man against whom I hardened my heart so yesterday is going fast to
+judgment. The knowledge of this was kept from me, for my father so loved
+me, so guarded me all my life that he could not bear that even a pin's
+point of sorrow should rest upon me. After seeing you yesterday, and
+leaving you, I visited some poor people who, not knowing that the truth
+was hidden from me, spoke of it as a well known fact. I went away from
+them with my eyes opened. I only wondered they had been closed so long.
+I went away, and this morning I did more. I visited one of the greatest
+and cleverest doctors in London. This doctor my father, unknown to me,
+had for some time consulted. I asked him for his candid opinion on my
+father's case. He gave it to me. Nothing can save my father. My father
+must die! But he told me more; he said that the nature of his complaint
+was such that any shock must instantly kill him. He said without that
+shock he may live for months; not many months, but still for a few.
+Hearing this, I took the doctor still further into my confidence. I told
+him that a wrong had been committed&mdash;that during my father's lifetime
+that wrong could not be set right without his knowledge. I said that he
+must know something which would disgrace him. His answer was this: 'As
+his medical man, I forbid him to know; such a knowledge will cause
+certain and instant death.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Charlotte paused. Wilson, now deeply interested, even appalled, was
+gazing at her earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>"I know Charlotte Home," continued Miss Harman; "and, as I said just
+now, I would see her now. Yes, she has needed money; she has longed for
+money; she has been cruelly wronged&mdash;most cruelly treated! Still, I
+think, if I pleaded long enough and hard enough, she would have mercy;
+she would not hurry that old man to so swift a judgment; she would spare
+him for those few, few months to which his life is now limited. It is
+for those months I plead. He is a dying man. I want nothing to be done
+during those months. Afterwards&mdash;afterwards I will promise, if necessary
+sign any legal paper you bring to me, that all that should have been
+hers shall be Charlotte Home's&mdash;I restore it all! Oh, how swiftly and
+how gladly! All I plead for are those few months."</p>
+
+<p>Wilson was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte suddenly looking at him almost lost her self-control.</p>
+
+<p>"Must I go down on my knees to you, sir? I will if it is necessary. I
+will here&mdash;even here do so, if it is necessary."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not, it is not, my dear Miss Harman. I believe you; from my soul
+I pity you! I will do what I can. I can't promise anything without my
+niece's permission; but I am to see her this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, if you plead with her, she will have mercy; for I know her&mdash;I am
+sure of her! Oh! how can I thank you?&mdash;how can I thank you both?"</p>
+
+<p>Here some tears rose to Charlotte's eyes, and rolled fast and heavily
+down her cheeks. She put up her handkerchief to wipe them away.</p>
+
+<p>"You asked me to cry yesterday, but I could not; now I believe I shall
+be able," she said with almost a smile. "God bless you!"</p>
+
+<p>Before Wilson could get in another word she had left him and, hurrying
+through the square, was lost to sight.</p>
+
+<p>Wilson gazed after her retreating form; then he went into Somerset
+House, and once more long and carefully studied Mr. Harman's will.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2>
+
+<h3>NO WEDDING ON THE TWENTIETH.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Charlotte was quite right in saying that now she could cry; a great
+tension had been removed, an immediate agony lightened. From the time
+she had left the doctor's presence until she had met Sandy Wilson, most
+intolerable had been her feelings. She would sink all pride when she saw
+him; for her father's sake, she would plead for mercy; but knowing
+nothing of the character of the man, how could she tell that she would
+be successful? How could she tell that he might not harden his heart
+against her plea? When she left him, however, she knew that her cause
+was won. Charlotte Home was to be the arbitrator of her fate; she had
+never in all her life seen such a hunger for money in any eyes as she
+had done in Charlotte's, and yet she felt a moral certainty that with
+Charlotte she was safe. In the immediate relief of this she could cry,
+and those tears were delicious to her. Returning from her drive, and in
+the solitude of her own room, she indulged in them, weeping on until no
+more tears would flow. They took the maddening pressure of heart and
+brain, and after them she felt strong and even calm. She had washed her
+face and smoothed her hair, and though she could not at once remove all
+trace of the storm through which she had just passed, she still looked
+better than she had done at breakfast that morning, when a tap came to
+her door, and Ward, her maid, waited outside.</p>
+
+<p>"If you please, Miss Harman, the dressmaker has called again. Will you
+have the wedding dress fitted now?"</p>
+
+<p>At the same instant and before Charlotte could reply, a footman appeared
+at the head of the stairs&mdash;"Mr. Hinton had arrived and was waiting for
+Miss Harman, in her own sitting-room."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, I will be with him directly," she answered to the man, then she
+turned to Ward. "I will send you with a message to the dressmaker this
+evening; tell her I am engaged now."</p>
+
+<p>The two messengers left, and Charlotte turned back into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> her room. She
+had to go through another fire. Well! the sooner it was over the better.
+She scarcely would give herself time for any thought as she ran quickly
+down the stairs and along the familiar corridor, and in a moment found
+herself in Hinton's presence. They had not met since yesterday morning,
+when they had parted in apparent coldness; but Hinton had long forgotten
+it, and now, when he saw her face, a great terror of pity and love came
+over him.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling! my own darling!" he said. He came up to her and put his
+arms round her. "Charlotte, what is it? You are in trouble? Tell me."</p>
+
+<p>Ah! how sweet it was to feel the pressure of his arms, to lay her head
+on his breast. She was silent for quite a minute, saying to herself, "It
+is for the last time."</p>
+
+<p>"You are in great trouble, Charlotte? Charlotte, what is it?" questioned
+her lover.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am in great trouble," she said then, raising her head and
+looking at him. Her eyes were clear and frank and open as of old, and
+yet at that moment she meant to deceive him; she would not tell him the
+real reason which induced her to break off her engagement. She would
+shelter her father in the eyes of the man she loved, at any cost.</p>
+
+<p>"You are in great trouble," he repeated, seeing that she paused.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, John&mdash;for myself&mdash;for my father&mdash;for&mdash;for you. Dear John, we
+cannot be married on the twentieth, we must part."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte!" he stepped back a pace or two in his astonishment, and her
+arms fell heavily to her sides. "Charlotte!" he repeated; he had failed
+to understand her. He gave a short laugh.</p>
+
+<p>She began to tremble when she heard him laugh, and seeing a chair near,
+she sunk into it. "Yes, John, we must part," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>He went down on his knees then by her side, and looked into her face.
+"My poor darling, you are really not well; you are in trouble, and don't
+know what you are saying. Tell me all your trouble, Charlotte, but don't
+mind those other words. It is impossible that you and I can part. Have
+we not plighted our troth before God? We cannot take that back.
+Therefore we cannot part."</p>
+
+<p>"In heart we may be one, but outwardly we must part," she repeated, and
+then she began to cry feebly, for she was all unstrung. Hinton's words
+were too much for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tell me all," he said then, very tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>"John, a dark thing was kept from me, but I have discovered it. My
+father is dying. How can I marry on the twentieth, when my father is
+dying?"</p>
+
+<p>Hinton instantly felt a sense of relief. Was this all the meaning of
+this great trouble? This objection meant, at the most, postponement,
+scarcely that, when Charlotte knew all.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you learn that about your father?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I went to see some poor people yesterday, and they told me; but that
+was not enough. To-day I visited the great doctor. My father has seen
+Sir George Anderson; he told me all. My father is a dying man. John, can
+you ask me to marry when my father is dying?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could not, Charlotte, if it were not his own wish."</p>
+
+<p>"His own wish?" she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes! some time ago he told me of this; he said the one great thing he
+longed for was to see you and me&mdash;you and me, my own Charlotte&mdash;husband
+and wife before he died."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did he keep his state of health as a secret from me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I begged of him to tell you, but he wanted you to be his own bright
+Charlotte to the end."</p>
+
+<p>Then Hinton told her of that first interview he had with her father. He
+told it well, but she hardly listened. Must she tell him the truth after
+all? No! she would not. During her father's lifetime she would shield
+him at any cost. Afterwards, ah! afterwards all the world would know.</p>
+
+<p>When Hinton had ceased speaking, she laid her hand on his arm.
+"Nevertheless, my darling, I cannot marry next week. I know you will
+fail to understand me. I know my father will fail to understand me. That
+is hard&mdash;the hardest part, but I am doing right. Some day you will
+acknowledge that. With my father dying I cannot stand up in white and
+call myself a bride. My marriage-day was to have been the entrance into
+Paradise to me. With a funeral so near, and so certain, it cannot be
+that. John&mdash;John&mdash;I&mdash;cannot&mdash;I cannot. We must not marry next week."</p>
+
+<p>"You put it off, then? You deny your dying father his dearest wish? That
+is not like you, Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it is unlike me. Everything, always, again, will be unlike me. If
+you put it so, I deny my father his dearest wish."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, I fail to understand you. You will not marry during your
+father's lifetime. But it may be very quiet&mdash;very&mdash;very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> quiet, I can
+manage that; and you need not leave him, you can still be altogether his
+daughter, and yet make him happy by letting him feel that you are also
+my wife; that I have the right to shield you, the right to love and
+comfort you. Come, Charlotte! come, my darling! we won't have any
+outward festivity, any outward rejoicing. This is but natural, this can
+be managed, and yet we may have that which is above and beyond it
+all&mdash;one another. We may be one in our sorrow instead of our joy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! if it could be," she sobbed; and now again she laid her head on his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"It shall be, Charlotte; we will marry like that on the twentieth. I
+will manage it with your father."</p>
+
+<p>"No John! no, my dearest, my best beloved, I cannot be your wife. Loving
+you as I never&mdash;never&mdash;loved you before, I give you up; it is worse than
+the agony of death to me. But I give you up."</p>
+
+<p>"You postpone our marriage during your father's lifetime?"</p>
+
+<p>"I postpone it&mdash;I do more&mdash;I break it off. Oh! John, don't look at me
+like that; pity me&mdash;pity me, my heart will break."</p>
+
+<p>But he had pushed her a little away from him. Pale as death he rose to
+his feet. "Charlotte! you are deceiving me; you have another reason for
+this?"</p>
+
+<p>"If you will have it so," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"You are keeping a secret from me."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not say so, but you are likely enough to think this," she
+repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you deny it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not try, I know we must part."</p>
+
+<p>"If this is so, we must. A secret between husband and wife is fatal."</p>
+
+<p>"It would be, but I admit nothing, we cannot be husband and wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Never, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton thought for a moment, and then he came up and again took her
+hand. "Lottie, tell me that secret; trust me; I know there is a secret,
+tell it to me, all of it, let me decide whether it must part us."</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot, my darling&mdash;my darling&mdash;I can say nothing, explain nothing,
+except that you and I must part."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If that is so, we must," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He was pained, shocked, and angry, beyond words. He left the room and
+the house without even another look.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"I LOVE HIM," SHE ANSWERED.</h3>
+
+
+<p>That evening Charlotte came softly into her father's study and sat down
+by his side. She had not appeared at dinner-time, sending another
+excuse. She was not very well, she said; she would see her father later
+in the evening. But as she could not eat, she did not care to come to
+dinner. She would like to see her father quite alone afterwards.
+Charlotte had worded this verbal message with great care, for she wished
+to prepare her father for something of extra importance. Even with the
+tenderest watching it was impossible to avoid disturbing him a little,
+and she wished to prepare him for the very slight but unavoidable shock
+she must give. Jasper dined at Prince's Gate as usual. But after dinner
+he went away. And Charlotte, when she knew this, instantly went down to
+her father. She was now perfectly calm. For the time being had forgotten
+herself absolutely. Nothing gives outward composure like
+self-forgetfulness, like putting yourself in your fellow-man's place.
+Charlotte had done this when she stepped up to her old father's side.
+She had dressed herself, too, with special thought for him. There was a
+muslin frock, quite clear and simple, which he had loved. It was a soft
+Indian fabric, and clung to her fine figure in graceful folds. She had
+made Ward iron it out, and had put it on. Of late she had considered it
+too girlish, but to-night she appeared in it knowing it would please the
+eyes for which it was worn.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman was chilly and sat by the fire. As usual the room was softly
+but abundantly lit by candles. Charlotte loved light, and, as a rule,
+hated to talk to any one without looking at that person fully. But
+to-night an opposite motive caused her to put out one by one all the
+candles.</p>
+
+<p>"Does not the room look cosy with only the firelight?" she said. And
+then she sat down on a low stool at her father's feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You are better now, my love. Tell me you are better," he said, taking
+her hand in his.</p>
+
+<p>"I am well enough to sit and talk to you, father," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"But what ailed you, Lottie? You could not come to dinner either
+yesterday or to-day; and I remember you looked ill this morning. What is
+wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"I felt troubled, and that has brought on a headache. But don't let us
+talk about me. I mean, I suppose we must after a little, but not at
+first."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom shall we talk about first? Who is more important? Is it Hinton?
+You cannot get <i>me</i> to think that Charlotte."</p>
+
+<p>"You are more important. I want to talk about you."</p>
+
+<p>Now she got hold of his hand, and, turning round, gazed firmly into his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, you have troubled me. You have caused my headache."</p>
+
+<p>Instantly a startled look came into his eyes; and she, reading him
+now&mdash;as, alas! she knew how to do but too well&mdash;hastened to soothe it.</p>
+
+<p>"You wanted to send me away, to make me less your own, if that were
+possible. Father, I have come here to-night to tell you that I am not
+going away&mdash;that I am all your own, even to the end."</p>
+
+<p>"My own to the end? Yes, you must always be that. But what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>She felt the hand she held trembling, and hastened to add,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you keep the truth from me? Why did you try to deceive me, your
+nearest and dearest, as to your state of health? But I know it all now.
+I am not going away from you."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean&mdash;you mean, Charlotte, you will not marry Hinton next week?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, father."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you told him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, do you know the worst about me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know all about you. I went to see Sir George Anderson this morning. I
+forced from him the opinion he has already given to you. He says that I
+cannot keep you long. But while I can, we will never part."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman's hand had now ceased to tremble. It lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> warm and quiet in
+his daughter's clasp. After a time he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Put your arms round me darling."</p>
+
+<p>She rose to her feet, clasped her hands round his neck, and laid her
+head on his shoulder. In this position he kissed first her bright hair,
+then her cheek and brow.</p>
+
+<p>"But I want my little girl to leave me," he said. "Illness need not make
+me selfish. You can still be my one only dear daughter, and yet be
+Hinton's wife."</p>
+
+<p>"I am your only dear daughter," she repeated. "Never mind about my being
+any man's wife." She tried to smile as she resumed her seat at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman saw the attempt at a smile, and it instantly strengthened him
+to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, I am not sorry that you know that which I had not courage
+either to tell you or to cause another to tell you. I am&mdash;yes, I am
+dying. Some day before long I must leave you, my darling. I must go away
+and return no more. But before I die I want to see you Hinton's wife. It
+will make me happier to see this, for you love him, and he can make you
+happy. You do love him, Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I love him," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Then we will not postpone the marriage. My child shall marry the man
+she loves, and have the strength of his love in the dark days that must
+follow; and in one week you will be back with me, no less my child
+because you are Hinton's wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I cannot."</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I wish it, dear&mdash;if I have set my heart on it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I cannot," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>She felt driven to her wits' end, and pressed her hands to her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, what is the meaning of this? There is more here than meets
+the eye. Have you and Hinton quarrelled?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, except over this. And even over this it takes two to make a
+quarrel. I cannot marry next week; I have told him so. He is vexed, and
+you&mdash;you are vexed. Must I break my heart and leave you? You have always
+given me my own way; give it now. Don't send me away from you. It would
+break my heart to marry and leave you now."</p>
+
+<p>"Is this indeed so, Charlotte?" he said. "Would you with your whole
+heart rather put it off?"</p>
+
+<p>"With my whole, whole heart, I would rather," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I will not urge it. I cannot; and yet it destroys a hope which I
+thought might cheer me on my dying bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind the hope, father; you will have me. I shall not spend that
+week away from you."</p>
+
+<p>"No, that week did seem long to look forward to."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! you are glad after all that I am to be with you," she said. "You
+will let me nurse you and care for you. You will not force yourself to
+do more than you are able. Now that I know all, I can take such care of
+you, and the thought of that will make me happier by and by."</p>
+
+<p>"It is a relief that you know the worst," said Mr. Harman, but he did
+not smile or look contented; he, as well as Hinton, felt that there was
+more in this strange desire of Charlotte's than met the eye.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>"YOU DON'T WANT MONEY?"</h3>
+
+
+<p>Sandy Wilson having again very carefully read Mr. Harman's will, felt
+much puzzled how to act. He was an honest, upright, practical man
+himself. The greatness of the crime committed quite startled him. He had
+no sympathy for the wicked men who had done the deed, and he had the
+very keenest sympathy for those against whom the deed was done. His
+little orphan and widowed sister and her baby child were the wronged
+ones. The men who had wronged her he had never seen. He said to himself
+that he had no sympathy, no sympathy whatever for Mr. Harman. What if he
+was a dying man, was that fact to screen him? Was he to be allowed to go
+down to his grave in peace, his gray head appearing to be to him a crown
+of glory, honored by the world, cheered for his great success in life?
+Was all this to be allowed to continue when he was worthy not of
+applause but of hisses, of the world's most bitter opprobrium?</p>
+
+<p>And yet Sandy felt that, little or indeed no pity as he had for this
+most wicked man, even if Charlotte had not come to him and pleaded with
+eyes, voice, and manner he could scarcely have exposed Mr. Harman. He
+could scarcely, after hearing that great doctor's verdict, have gone up
+to the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> man and said that which would hurry him without an instant's
+time for repentance, to judgment.</p>
+
+<p>Alexander Wilson believed most fully in a judgment to come. When he
+thought of it now, a certain sense of relief came over him. He need not
+trouble so sorely; he might leave this sinner to his God. It is to be
+feared that he thought more of God's justice than of His loving mercy
+and forgiveness, as he decided to leave John Harman in His hands.</p>
+
+<p>That evening at six o'clock he was to be again with Charlotte Home. For
+Charlotte Harman's sake, he had denied himself that pleasure the night
+before; but this evening the solitary man might enjoy the keen pleasure
+of being with his very own. Mrs. Home was his nearest living
+relation&mdash;the child of his own loved sister. He did not know yet whether
+he could love her at all as he had loved his little Daisy; but he felt
+quite sure that her children would twine themselves round his heart; for
+already the remembrance of Daisy Home was causing it to beat high with
+pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>As the hour approached for his visit, he loaded himself with presents
+not only for the children, but for the whole family. He said to himself
+with much delight, that however much Mr. Harman's will might be tied up
+for the present, yet Sandy Wilson's purse was open. He had far less idea
+than Charlotte Harman what children really liked, but he loaded himself
+with toys, cakes, and sweeties; and for his special pet Daisy over and
+above the other two he bought the very largest doll that a Regent Street
+shop could furnish him with. This doll was as heavy as a baby, and by no
+means so beautiful to look at as its smaller companions. But Sandy was
+no judge in such matters.</p>
+
+<p>With his presents for the adults of the party he was more fortunate. For
+his niece he purchased a black silk, which in softness, lustre, and
+quality could not be surpassed; for Mr. Home he bought two dozen very
+old port; for Anne, a bright blue merino dress.</p>
+
+<p>These goods were packed into a four-wheeler, and, punctually at six
+o'clock, that well-laden cab drew up at 10, Tremins Road. Three eager
+pairs of eyes watched the unpacking, for the three pretty children,
+dressed in their best, were in the dining-room; Mr. Home was also
+present, and Charlotte had laid her tea-table with several unwonted
+dainties in honor of her uncle's visit. Anne, the little maid, was
+fluttering about; that well-laden cab had raised her spirits and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+hopes. She flew in and out, helping the cabby to bring the numerous
+parcels into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Annie, my girl, here's something for you," said Uncle Sandy,
+tossing her dress to her. After which, it is to be feared, Anne went off
+her head for a little bit.</p>
+
+<p>The children, headed by their mother, came into the little hall to meet
+and welcome their uncle. He entered the dining-room with Daisy riding on
+his shoulder. Then before tea could even be thought of, the presents
+must be discussed. The cakes, the sweeties, the toys were opened out;
+the children scampered about, laughed, shouted, and kissed the old
+Australian. Never in all his life had Uncle Sandy felt so happy.</p>
+
+<p>Over an hour passed in this way, then the mother's firm voice was heard.
+The little heads were raised obediently. Good-night kisses were given,
+and Harold, Daisy, and little Angus were led off to their nursery by the
+highly flushed and excited Anne.</p>
+
+<p>The tea which followed and the quiet talk were nearly as pleasant, and
+Uncle Sandy so enjoyed himself, that for a time he completely forgot old
+Harman's will, his own half promise, Charlotte Harman's despair.</p>
+
+<p>It was all brought back to him, however, and by the Homes themselves.
+The tea things had been removed, the gas was lit, the curtains drawn,
+and Charlotte Home had insisted on her old uncle seating himself in the
+one easy-chair which the room possessed. She herself stood on the
+hearthrug, and glancing for a moment at her husband she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Sandy, it is so good to have you back again, and Angus and I are
+so truly glad to welcome my dear mother's brother to our home, that we
+think it hard to have to touch on anything the least gloomy to-night.
+Just a word or two will be sufficient, and then we must drop the subject
+for ever."</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Sandy raised his wrinkled old face.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," he said. "If there's anything unpleasant, have it cut by all
+means&mdash;out and over&mdash;that's my own motto."</p>
+
+<p>"We spoke the other night," continued Charlotte, "about my dear mother.
+I told you that she was poor&mdash;that she had to do with poverty, from the
+hour of my father's death until the end of her own life. It is all over
+for her now, she is at rest. If plenty of money could be found for her
+she would not need it. When I told you the story you expressed a doubt
+that all was not right; you said it was absolutely impossible that my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
+father could have left my mother nothing; you said that either the will
+was tampered with or not acted on. Well, Uncle Sandy, I agree with you.
+I had long felt that something was not right."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, my girl; I said before, you had a brain in your head and a head
+on your shoulders. Trust Uncle Sandy not to know a clever woman when he
+sees her."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, uncle, I can say all the rest in a very few words. You said you
+could investigate the matter; that you could discover whether any foul
+play had been committed. I asked you not to do so until I saw you again;
+I now ask you not to do so at all; to let the whole matter rest always.
+In this I have my husband's sanction and wish."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Lottie has my full approval in this matter," said Mr. Home, coming
+forward and laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. "We don't want
+money, we would rather let the matter rest."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't want money!" said Uncle Sandy, gazing hard from the ethereal
+worn-looking man, to the woman, tall and thin, in her rusty dress, with
+every mark of poverty showing in thin cheek, in careworn eyes, in
+labor-stained hands. "You don't want money!" he repeated. "Niece
+Charlotte, I retract what I said of you&mdash;I thought you were not quite a
+fool. As to you, Home, I don't pretend to understand you. You don't want
+money?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Home smiled. Charlotte bent down and kissed her old uncle's brow.</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, you will do what we wish, even though you don't
+understand," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Sandy took her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down near me, Niece Charlotte," he said. "And as to you, Home, you
+have a long story to hear. After you have heard it, it will be time
+enough to discuss your proposition. The fact is, Charlotte, I disobeyed
+you in part. You asked me to do nothing in this matter until we met
+again. I did nothing to compromise you; but, nevertheless, I was not
+idle, I wanted to set my own mind at rest. There was an easy way of
+doing this which I knew of, and which I wondered had not occurred to
+you. Charlotte, I went yesterday to Somerset House; doubtless, you know
+nothing of what took me there. I can soon enlighten you. In a certain
+part of that vast pile, all wills are obliged to be kept. Anyone who
+likes may go there, and, by paying the sum of one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> shilling, read any
+will they desire. I did so. I went to Somerset House and I saw your
+father's will."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Charlotte. Whatever her previous resolution, she no doubt
+felt keenly excited now. "Yes," she repeated, "you read my father's
+will."</p>
+
+<p>"I read it. I read it in a hurry yesterday; to-day I saw it again and
+read it carefully. There is no flaw in it; it is a will that must stand,
+that cannot be disputed. Charlotte, you were right in your forebodings.
+Niece Charlotte, you and your mother, before you, were basely robbed,
+cruelly wronged; your dead father was just and upright; your living
+brothers are villains; your father left, absolutely to your mother
+first, and to you at her death, the sum of twelve hundred a year. He
+left to you both a large enough sum of money to realize that large
+yearly income. You were robbed of it. Do you know how?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Charlotte. She said that one little word almost in a whisper.
+Her face was deadly pale.</p>
+
+<p>"That money was left in your father's will in trust; it was confided to
+the care of three men, whose solemn duty it was to realize it for your
+mother first, afterwards for you and your children. Those men were
+called trustees; two of them, Charlotte, were your half-brothers, John
+and Jasper Harman; the other was your mother's only living brother,
+Sandy Wilson. These trustees were false to you: two of them by simply
+ignoring the trust and taking the money to themselves; the other, by
+pretending to be dead when he ought to have been in England attending to
+his duty. The Harmans, the other trustees, so fully believed me to be
+dead that they thought their sin would never be found out. But they
+reckoned without their host, for Sandy has returned, and the missing
+trustee can act now. Better late than never&mdash;eh, Niece Charlotte?"</p>
+
+<p>"My poor mother!" said Charlotte, "my poor, poor mother!"</p>
+
+<p>She covered her face with her hands. The suddenness and greatness of the
+crime done had agitated her. She was very much upset. Her husband came
+again very near and put his hand on her shoulder. His face, too, was
+troubled.</p>
+
+<p>"It was a terrible sin," he said, "a terrible sin to lie on these men's
+breasts for three and twenty years. God help these sinners to
+repentance!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, God help them," repeated Uncle Sandy, "and also those they have
+wronged. But now look up, Charlotte, for I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> have not told you all. A man
+never sins for himself alone; if he did it would not so greatly matter,
+for God and the pangs of an evil conscience would make it impossible for
+him to get off scot free; but&mdash;I found it out in the bush, where, I can
+tell you, I met rough folks enough&mdash;the innocent are dragged down with
+the guilty. Now this is the case here. In exposing the guilty the
+innocent must suffer. I don't mean you, my dear, nor my poor little
+wronged Daisy. In both your cases the time for suffering, I trust, is
+quite at an end, but there is another victim." Here Uncle Sandy paused,
+and Charlotte, having recovered her composure, stood upright on the
+hearthrug ready to listen. "When I went to Somerset House yesterday, I
+had, in order to obtain a sight of Mr. Harman's will, to go through a
+little ceremony. It is not necessary to go into it. I had to get certain
+papers, and take orders to certain rooms. All this was the little form
+imposed on me by the Government for my curiosity. At last I was told to
+go to a room, called the reading room, and asked to wait there until the
+will was brought to me. It was a small room, and I sat down prepared to
+wait patiently enough. There were about half-a-dozen people in the room
+besides myself, some reading wills, others waiting until they were
+brought. One woman sat at the table exactly opposite to me. She was the
+only woman in the room at the time, and perhaps that fact made me first
+notice her; but when I looked once, I could not have been old Sandy
+Wilson without wanting to look again. I have a weakness for fine women,
+and this woman was fine, in the sense that makes you feel that she is
+lovable. She was young, eager-looking. I have no doubt her features were
+handsome, but it was her open, almost childlike expression which
+attracted most. She was essentially a fine creature, and yet there was a
+peculiar childish innocence about her, that made old Sandy long to
+protect her on the spot. I was looking at her, and hoping she would not
+notice it and think old Sandy Wilson a bore, when a man came into the
+room and said something to the clerk at the desk. The clerk turned to me
+and said, 'The will of the name of Harman is being read at this moment
+by some one else in the room.' Instantly this girl looked up, her eyes
+met mine, her face grew all one blaze of color, though she was a pale
+enough lass the moment before, and a frightened expression came into her
+eyes. She looked down again at once, and went on reading in a hurried,
+puzzled way, as if she was scarcely taking in much. Of course I knew she
+had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> the will, and I did not want to hurry or confuse her, so I
+pretended to turn my attention to something else. It must have been
+quite a couple of minutes before I looked again, and then&mdash;I confess
+that I am not easily startled, but I did have to smother an
+exclamation&mdash;the poor girl must have discovered the baseness and the
+fraud in those two minutes. Had she been any other but the plucky lass
+she is, she would have been in a dead faint on the floor, for I never,
+never in all my pretty vast experience, saw a living face so white. I
+could not help looking at her then, for I was completely fascinated. She
+went on reading for half a minute longer; then she raised her eyes and
+gazed straight and full at me. She had big, open gray eyes, and a moment
+before, they were full of innocence and trust like a child's, now there
+was a wild anger and despair in them. She was quite quiet however, and
+no one else in the room noticed her. She pushed the will across the
+table to me and said, "That is Mr. Harman's will," then she put on her
+gloves quite slowly and drew down her veil, and left the room as
+sedately and quietly as you please. I just glanced my eye over the will.
+I took in the right place and saw the shameful truth. I was horrified
+enough, but I could not wait to read it all. I gave the will back
+intending to go to it another time, for I felt I must follow that girl
+at any cost. I came up to her in Somerset House square. I did not care
+what she thought; I must speak to her; I did. Poor lass! I think she was
+quite stunned. She did not resent the liberty old Sandy had taken. When
+I asked her to wait and let me talk to her she turned at once&mdash;I have
+not lived in the bush so long without being, I pride myself, sharp
+enough in reading character. I saw the girl, proud girl enough at
+ordinary times, was in that state of despair which makes people do
+desperate things. She was defiant, and told more than I expected. She
+was Miss Harman&mdash;Charlotte Harman, by the way, she said. Yes; her father
+had stolen that money; would I like to see him? he lived in such a
+place; his name was so-and-so. Yes; she was his only child. Her manner
+was so reckless, so defiant, and yet so full of absolute misery, that I
+could do nothing but pity her from my very heart. I forgot you, Niece
+Lottie, and your rights, and everything but this fine creature stricken
+so low through another's sins. I said, 'Hush, you shall say no more
+to-day. You are stunned, you are shocked, you must have time to think; I
+won't remember a thing you say about your father now. Go home and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> come
+back again to-morrow,' I said; 'sleep over it, and I will sleep over it,
+and I will meet you here to-morrow, when you are more calm.' She agreed
+to this and went away. I felt a little compunction for my own softness
+during that evening and night, Niece Charlotte, I felt that I was not
+quite true to you; but then you had not seen her face, poor brave young
+thing, poor young thing!"</p>
+
+<p>Here Uncle Sandy paused and looked hard from his niece to her husband.
+Charlotte's eyes were full of tears, Mr. Home was smiling at him. There
+was something peculiar in this man's rare smiles which turned them into
+blessings. They were far more eloquent than words, for they were fed
+from some illumination of strong approval within. Uncle Sandy, without
+understanding, felt a warm glow instantly kindling in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte said, "Go on," in a broken voice.</p>
+
+<p>"To-day, at the appointed hour, I met her again," proceeded the
+Australian. "She was changed, she was composed enough now, she was on
+her guard, she did not win my sympathy so much as in her despair. She
+was quite open, however, as to the nature of the crime committed, and
+told me she knew well what a sin her father had been guilty of. Suddenly
+she startled me by saying that she knew you, Charlotte. She said she
+wished she could see you now. I asked her why. She said, 'That I might
+go down on my knees to her.' I was surprised at such words coming from
+so proud a creature. I said so. She repeated that she would go down on
+her knees that she might the better plead for mercy. I was beginning to
+harden my old heart at that, and to think badly of her, when she stopped
+me, by telling me a strange and sad thing. She said that she had
+discovered something, something very terrible, between that hour and
+yesterday. Her father had been ill for some time, but the worst had been
+kept from her. She said yesterday that a poor person let her know quite
+accidentally that he was not only ill but dying. She went alone that
+morning to consult a doctor, one of those first-rate doctors whose word
+is law. Mr. Harman, it seemed, unknown to her, was one of this man's
+patients. He told her that he was hopelessly ill; that he could only
+live for a few months, and that any shock might end his days in a
+moment. She then told this doctor in confidence something of what she
+had discovered yesterday. He said, 'As his medical man, I forbid you to
+tell to your father this discovery you have made; if you do so he will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
+die instantly.' Miss Harman told me this strange tale, and then she
+began to plead with me. She begged of me to show mercy; not to do
+anything in this matter during the few months which still remained of
+her father's life. Afterwards, she promised to restore all, and more
+than all of what had been stolen. I hesitated; I scarcely knew how to
+proceed. She saw it and exclaimed, 'Do you want me to go on my knees to
+you? I will this moment, and here.' Then I said I could do nothing
+without consulting you, I could do nothing without your consent.
+Instantly the poor thing's whole face changed&mdash;I never saw such a change
+from despair to relief. She held out her hand to me; she said she was
+safe; she said she knew you; and that with you she was safe. She said
+she never saw any one in her life seem to want money so badly as you;
+but for all that, with you she was quite safe. She looked so thankful.
+'I can cry now,' she said as she went away." Uncle Sandy paused again,
+and again looked at his niece and her husband. "I told her that I would
+come to you to-night," he said, "that I would plead her cause, and I
+have, have I not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well and nobly," answered Mrs. Home. "Angus, think of her trusting me!
+I am so glad she could trust me. Indeed she is safe with us."</p>
+
+<p>"How soon can you go to her in the morning, Lottie?" asked the curate.</p>
+
+<p>"With the first dawn I should like to go, I only wish I could fly to her
+now. Oh, Angus! what she must suffer; and next Tuesday is to be her
+wedding-day. How my heart does ache for her! But I am glad she trusts
+me."</p>
+
+<p>Here Mrs. Home become so excited that a great flood of tears came into
+her eyes. She must cry them away in private. She left the room, and the
+curate, sitting down, told to Uncle Sandy how Charlotte Harman had saved
+little Harold's life.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>LOVE BEFORE GOLD.</h3>
+
+
+<p>For the first time in all her life, Mrs. Home laid her head on her
+pillow with the knowledge that she was a rich woman. Those good things
+which money can buy could be hers; her husband need want no more; her
+children might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> be so trained, so nurtured, so carefully tended that
+their beauty, their beauty both physical and moral, would be seen in
+clearest lustre. How often she had dreamed of the possibility of such a
+time arriving, and now at last it had come. Ever since her dying mother
+had told her own true history, she had dwelt upon this possible moment,
+dwelt upon it with many murmurings, many heart frettings. Could it be
+realized, she would be the happiest of women. Then she had decided to
+give it all up, to put the golden dream quite out of her life and,
+behold! she had scarcely done so before it had come true, the dream was
+a reality, the riches lay at her feet. In no way through her
+interference had this come about. Yes, but in the moment of her victory
+the woman who had so longed for money was very miserable; like Dead Sea
+apples was the taste of this eagerly desired fruit. She was enriched
+through another's anguish and despair, through the wrecking of another's
+happiness, and that other had saved the life of her child. Only one
+thing comforted Charlotte Home during the long hours of that weary
+night; Charlotte Harman had said.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"With her I am safe; dearly as she loves money, with her I am quite
+safe."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home thought the slow moments would never fly until she was with
+the sister friend, who in her own bitter humiliation and shame could
+trust her. In the morning, she and her husband had a talk together. Then
+hurrying through her household duties, she started at a still very early
+hour for Prince's Gate. She arrived there before ten o'clock, and as she
+mounted the steps and pulled the ponderous bell she could not help
+thinking of her last visit; she had felt sore and jealous then, to-day
+she was bowed down by a sense of unworthiness and humility. Then, too,
+she had gone to visit this rich and prosperous young woman dressed in
+her very best, for she said to herself that whatever her poverty, she
+would look every inch the lady; she looked every inch the lady to-day,
+though she was in her old and faded merino. But that had now come to her
+which made her forget the very existence of dress. The grand footman,
+however, who answered her modest summons, being obtuse and uneducated,
+saw only the shabby dress; he thought she was a distressed workwoman, he
+had forgotten that she had ever come there before. When she asked for
+Miss Harman, he hesitated and was uncertain whether she could see his
+young lady; finally looking at her again, he decided to trust<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> her so
+far as to allow her to wait in the hall while he went to inquire.
+Charlotte gave her name, Mrs. Home, and he went away. When he returned
+there was a change in his manner. Had he begun to recognize the lady
+under the shabby dress; or had Charlotte Harman said anything? He took
+Mrs. Home up to the pretty room she had seen before, and left her there,
+saying that Miss Harman would be with her in few moments. The room
+looked just as of old. Charlotte, as she waited, remembered that she had
+been jealous of this pretty room. It was as pretty to-day, bright with
+flowers, gay with sunshine; the same love-birds were in the same cage,
+the same canary sang in the same window, the same parrot swung lazily
+from the same perch. Over the mantelpiece hung the portrait in oils of
+the pretty baby, who yet was not so pretty as hers. Charlotte remembered
+how she had longed for these pretty things for her children, but all
+desire for them had left her now. There was the rustling of a silk dress
+heard in the passage, and Charlotte Harman carelessly, but richly
+attired, came in. There was, even in their outward appearance, the full
+contrast between the rich and the poor observable at this moment, for
+Charlotte Harman, too, had absolutely forgotten her dress, and had
+allowed Ward to put on what she chose. When they were about to reverse
+positions, this rich and this poor woman stood side by side in marked
+contrast. Charlotte Harman looked proud and cold; in the moment when she
+came to plead, she held her head high. Charlotte Home, who was to grant
+the boon, came up timidly, almost humbly. She took the hands of this
+girl whom she loved, held them firmly, then gathering sudden courage,
+there burst from her lips just the last words she had meant at this
+moment to say.</p>
+
+<p>"How much I love you! how much I love you!"</p>
+
+<p>As these fervent, passionate words were almost flung at her, Charlotte
+Harman's eyes began suddenly to dilate. After a moment she said under
+her breath, in a startled kind of whisper?</p>
+
+<p>"You know all?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know everything."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you&mdash;you will save my father?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely. You need fear nothing from me or mine; in this we are but
+quits. Did not you save Harold?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Charlotte Harman; she took no notice of her friend and guest,
+she sat down on the nearest chair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> and covered her face. When she raised
+her head, Mrs. Home was kneeling by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte," said Miss Harman&mdash;there was a change in her, the proud look
+and bearing were gone&mdash;"Charlotte," she said, "you and I are one age,
+but you are a mother; may I lay my head on your breast just for a
+moment?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lay it there, my darling. As you have got into my heart of hearts, so
+would I comfort you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Charlotte, how my heart has beat! but your love is like a cool hand
+laid upon it, it is growing quiet."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, you are right in reminding me that I am a mother. I must
+treat you as I would my little Daisy. Daisy trusts me absolutely and has
+no fear; you must trust me altogether, and fear nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"I do. I fear nothing when I am with you. Charlotte, next Tuesday was to
+have been my wedding-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear."</p>
+
+<p>"But it is all on an end now; I broke off my engagement yesterday. And
+yet, how much I love him! Charlotte, don't look at me so pityingly."</p>
+
+<p>"Was I doing so? I was wondering if you slept last night."</p>
+
+<p>"Slept! No, people don't sleep when their hearts beat as hard as mine
+did, but I am better now."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, Charlotte, I must prescribe for you, as a mother. For the next
+two hours you are my child and shall obey me; we have a great deal to
+say to each other; but first of all, before we say a single word, you
+must lie on this sofa, and I will hold your hand. You shall try and
+sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"But can you spare the time from your children?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are my child now; as long as you want me I will stay with you. See,
+I am going to draw down the blinds, and I will lock the door; you must
+not be disturbed."</p>
+
+<p>It was thus that these two spent the morning. When Charlotte Harman
+awoke some hours later, quiet and refreshed, they had a long, long talk.
+That talk drew their hearts still closer together; it was plain that
+such a paltry thing as money could not divide these friends.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FATE OF A LETTER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton had left the Harmans' house, after his strange interview with
+Charlotte, with a stunned feeling. It is not too much to say of this
+young man that he utterly failed to realize what had befallen him. He
+walked like one in a dream, and when he reached his lodgings in Jermyn
+Street, and sat down at last by his hearth, he thought of himself in a
+queer way, as if he were some one else; a trouble had come to some one
+else; that some one was a friend of his so he was called on to pity him.
+Gradually, however, it dawned upon him that the friend was unpleasantly
+close, that the some one else reigned as lord of his bosom. It was
+he&mdash;he himself he was called on to pity. It was on his hitherto so
+prosperous, young head that the storm had burst. Next Tuesday was to
+have been his wedding-day. There was to be no wedding. On next Tuesday
+he was to have won a bride, a wife; that other one dearer than himself
+was to give herself to him absolutely. In addition to this he was to
+obtain fortune: and fortune was to lead to far dearer, far nobler fame.
+But now all this was at an end; Tuesday was to pass as any other
+day&mdash;gray, neutral-tinted, indifferent, it was to go over his head. And
+why? This was what caused the sharpest sting of the anguish. There
+seemed no reason for it all. Charlotte's excuse was a poor one; it had
+not the ring of the true metal about it. Unaccustomed to deceive, she
+had played her part badly. She had given an excuse; but it was no
+excuse. In this Hinton was not blinded, even for a moment. His
+Charlotte! There, seemed a flaw in the perfect creature. His Charlotte
+had a second time turned away her confidence from him. Yes, here was the
+sting; in her trouble she would not let him comfort her. What was the
+matter? What was the mystery? What was the hidden wrong?</p>
+
+<p>Hinton roused himself now. As thought and clearness of judgment came
+more vividly back to him, his anger grew and his pity lessened. His mind
+was brought to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> bear upon a secret, for there <i>was</i> a hidden secret. His
+remembrance travelled back to all that had happened since the day their
+marriage was fixed&mdash;since the day when he first saw a troubled look on
+Charlotte's face&mdash;and she had told him, though unwillingly, that queer
+story of Mrs. Home's. Yes, of course, he knew there was a mystery&mdash;a
+strange and dark mystery; like a coward he had turned away from
+investigating it. He had seen Uncle Jasper's nervous fear; he had seen
+Mrs. Home's poverty; he had witnessed Mr. Harman's ill-concealed
+disquietude&mdash;all this he had seen, all this he had known. But for
+Charlotte's sake, he had shut his eyes; Charlotte's sake he had
+forbidden his brain to think or his hands to work.&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>And now&mdash;now&mdash;ah! light was dawning. Charlotte had fathomed what he had
+feared to look at. Charlotte had seen the dread reality. The secret was
+disgraceful. Nothing else could so have changed his one love. Nothing
+but disgrace, the disgrace of the one nearest to her, could bring that
+look to her face. Scarcely had he thought this before a memory came to
+him. He started to his feet as it came back. Charlotte had said, "Before
+our wedding-day I will read my grandfather's will." Suppose she had done
+so, and her grandfather's will had been&mdash;what? Hinton began to see
+reason now in her unaccountable determination not to see Webster. She
+had doubtless resolved on that very day to go to Somerset House and read
+that fatal document. Having made up her mind she would not swerve from
+her purpose. Then, though she was firm in her determination, her face
+had been bright, her brow unfurrowed, she had still been his own dear
+and happy Charlotte. He had not seen her again until she knew all. She
+knew all, and her heart and spirit were alike broken. As this fact
+became clear to Hinton, a sense of relief and peace came over him; he
+began once more to understand the woman he loved. Beside the darkness of
+misunderstanding <i>her</i>, all other misunderstandings seemed light. She
+was still his love, his life; she was still true to herself, to the
+beautiful ideal he had enthroned in his heart of hearts. Poor darling!
+she would suffer; but he must escape. Loving him as deeply, as devotedly
+as ever, she yet would give him up, rather than that he should share in
+the downfall of her house. Ah! she did not know him. She could be great;
+but so also could he. Charlotte should see that her love was no light
+thing for any man to relinquish: she would find that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> it weighed heavier
+in the balance than riches, than fame; that disgrace even could not
+crush it down. Knowing all, he would go to her; she should not be alone
+in her great, great trouble; she should find out in her hour of need the
+kind of man whose heart she had won. His depression left him as he came
+to this resolve, and he scarcely spent even an anxious night. On the
+next day, however, he did not go to Charlotte; but about noon he sat
+down and wrote her the following letter:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">My Darling</span>:</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>You gave me up yesterday. I was&mdash;I don't mind telling you this
+now&mdash;stunned, surprised, pained. Since then, however, I have
+thought much; all my thought has been about you. Thought sometimes
+leads to light, and light has come to me. Charlotte, a contract
+entered into by two takes two to undo. I refuse to undo this
+contract. Charlotte, I refuse to give you up. You are my promised
+wife; our banns have been read twice in church already. Have you
+forgotten this? In the eyes of both God and man you are almost
+mine. To break off this engagement, unless I, too, wished it, would
+be, whatever your motive, a <i>sin</i>. Charlotte, the time has come,
+when we may ruin all the happiness of both our lives, unless very
+plain words pass between us. I use very plain words when I tell you
+that I most absolutely refuse to give you up. That being so,
+<i>whatever</i> your motive, you are committing a sin in refusing to
+give yourself to me. My darling, it is you I want, not your
+money&mdash;you&mdash;not&mdash;not&mdash;But I will add no more, except one thing.
+Charlotte, I went this morning to Somerset House, and I <i>read your
+grandfather's will</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now, what hour shall I come to you? Any hour you name I will fly
+to you. It is impossible for you to refuse what I demand as a
+right. But know that, if you do refuse, I will come
+notwithstanding.</p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yours ever,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><span class="smcap">John Hinton</span>.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>This letter, being directed, was quickly posted, and in due time reached
+its address at Prince's Gate.</p>
+
+<p>Then a strange thing happened to it. Jasper Harman, passing through the
+hall, saw the solitary letter waiting for his niece. It was his habit to
+examine every letter that came within his reach; he took up this one for
+no particular reason, but simply from the force of this long
+established<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> habit. But having taken it in his hand, he knew the
+writing. The letter was from Hinton, and Charlotte had told him&mdash;had
+just told him&mdash;that her engagement with Hinton was broken off, that her
+wedding was not to be. Old Jasper was beset just now by a thousand
+fears, and Charlotte's manner and Charlotte's words had considerably
+added to his alarm. There was a mystery; Charlotte could not deny that
+fact. This letter might elucidate it&mdash;might throw light where so much
+was needed. Jasper Harman felt that the contents of Hinton's letter
+might do him good and ease his mind. Without giving himself an instant's
+time for reflection, he took the letter into the dining-room, and,
+opening it, read what was meant for another. He had scarcely done so
+before Charlotte unexpectedly entered the room. To save himself from
+discovery, when he heard her step, he dropped the letter into the fire.
+Thus Charlotte never got her lover's letter.</p>
+
+<p>Hinton, bravely as he had spoken, was, nevertheless, pained at her
+silence. After waiting for twenty-four hours he, however, resolved to be
+true to his word. He had said to Charlotte, "If you refuse what I demand
+as a right, nevertheless I shall exercise my right. I will come to you."
+But he went with a strange sinking of heart, and when he got to Prince's
+Gate and was not admitted he scarcely felt surprised.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>"THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS."</h3>
+
+
+<p>It is one of those everlasting truths, which experience and life teach
+us every day, that sin brings its own punishment, virtue its own reward:
+peace, the great divine reward of conscience to the virtuous; misery and
+despair, and that constant apprehension which dreads discovery, and yet
+which in itself is worse than discovery, to the transgressors.</p>
+
+<p>"The way of transgressors is hard."</p>
+
+<p>That Bible text was proving itself once more now in the cases of two old
+men. John Harman was sinking into his grave in anguish at the thought of
+facing an angry God: Jasper Harman was preparing to fly from what, alas!
+he dreaded more, the faces of his angry fellow-creatures.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Yes; it had come to this with Jasper Harman; England had become too hot
+to hold him; better fly while he could. Ever since the day Hinton had
+told him that he had really and in truth heard of the safe arrival of
+the other trustee, Jasper's days and nights had been like hell to him.
+In the morning, he had wondered would the evening find him still a free
+man; in the evening, he had trembled at what might befall him before the
+morning dawned. Unaccustomed to any mental anguish, his health began to
+give way; his heart beat irregularly, unevenly, he lost his appetite; at
+night he either had bad dreams or he could not sleep. This change began
+to tell upon his appearance; his hair grew thinner and whiter, he
+stooped as he walked, there was very little apparent difference now
+between him and John.</p>
+
+<p>He could not bear the Harmans' house, for there he might meet Hinton. He
+dreaded his office in the City, for there the other trustee might follow
+him and publicly expose him. He liked his club best; but even there he
+felt scarcely safe, some one might get an inkling of the tale, there was
+no saying how soon such a story, so strange, so disgraceful, pertaining
+to so well-known a house as that of Harman Brothers, might get bruited
+about. Thus it came to pass that there was no place where this wretched
+old man felt safe; it became more and more clear to him day by day that
+England was too hot to hold him. All these growing feelings culminated
+in a sudden accession of terror on the day that Charlotte, with her
+strangely changed face, had asked him the truth with regard to her
+father's case, when, with the persistence of almost despair, she had
+insisted on knowing the very worst; then had quickly followed the
+announcement that her marriage had been broken off by herself; that it
+was postponed, her father thought, simply for the short remaining span
+of his own life; but Charlotte had taken little pains to conceal from
+Uncle Jasper that she now never meant to marry Hinton. What was the
+reason of it all? Jasper Harman, too, as well as Hinton, was not
+deceived by the reason given. There was something more behind. What was
+that something more?</p>
+
+<p>In his terror and perplexity, Jasper opened Hinton's letter. One
+sentence in that letter, never meant for him, burnt into the unhappy man
+as the very fire of hell.</p>
+
+<p>"I went this morning to Somerset House, and I read your grandfather's
+will."</p>
+
+<p>Then Jasper's worst fears had come true; the discovery<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> was made; the
+hidden sin brought to the light, the sinners would be dragged any moment
+to punishment.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper must leave England that very night. Never again could he enter
+his brother's house. He must fly; he must fly at once and in secret, for
+it would never do to take any one into his confidence. Jasper Harman had
+a hard and evil heart; he was naturally cold and unloving; but he had
+one affection, he did care for his brother. In mortal terror as he was,
+he could not leave that dying brother without bidding him good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>John Harman had not gone to the City that day, and when Charlotte left
+the room, Jasper, first glancing at the grate to make sure that Hinton's
+letter was all reduced to ashes, stole, in his usual soft and gliding
+fashion, to John's study. He was pleased to see his brother there, and
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>"You are early back from the City, Jasper," said the elder brother.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; there was nothing to keep me this afternoon, so I did not stay."</p>
+
+<p>The two old men exchanged a few more commonplaces. They were now
+standing by the hearth. Suddenly John Harman, uttering a half-suppressed
+groan, resumed his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"It is odd," he said, "how the insidious something which men call Death
+seems to grow nearer to me day by day. Now, as we stood together, I felt
+just a touch of the cold hand; the touch was but a feather weight, but
+any instant it will come down like a giant on its prey. It is terrible
+to stand as I do, looking into the face of Death; I mean it is terrible
+for one like me."</p>
+
+<p>"You are getting morbid, John," said Jasper; "you always were given to
+look on the dismals. If you must die, as I suppose and fear you must,
+why don't you rouse yourself and enjoy life while you may?"</p>
+
+<p>To this John Harman made no answer. After a moment or two of silence,
+during which Jasper watched him nervously, he said;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"As you have come back so early from the City, can you give me two hours
+now? I have a great deal I want to say to you."</p>
+
+<p>"About the past?" questioned Jasper.</p>
+
+<p>"About the past."</p>
+
+<p>Jasper Harman paused and hesitated; he knew well that he should never
+see his brother again; that this was his last request. But dare he stay?
+Two hours were very precious,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> and the avenger might even now be at the
+door. No; he could not waste time so precious in listening to an old,
+old tale.</p>
+
+<p>"Will two hours this evening do equally well, John?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if you prefer it. I generally give the evening to Charlotte; but
+this evening, if it suits you better."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go now, then," said Jasper.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte has told you of her resolve?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I have spoken to her; but she is an obstinate minx."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not call her so; it is because of her love for me. I am sorry that
+she will not marry at once; but it is not, after all, a long
+postponement and it is I own, a relief, not to have to conceal my state
+of health from her."</p>
+
+<p>"It is useless arguing with a woman," said Jasper. "Well, good-bye,
+John."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye," said the elder Harman, in some surprise that Jasper's hand
+was held out to him.</p>
+
+<p>Jasper's keen eyes looked hard into John's for a moment. He wrung the
+thin hand and left the room. He had left for ever the one human being he
+loved, and even in his throat was a lump caused by something else than
+fear. But in the street and well outside that luxurious home, his love
+sank out of sight and his fear returned; he must get out of England that
+very night, and he had much to do.</p>
+
+<p>He pulled out his watch. Yes, there was still time. Hailing a passing
+hansom he jumped into it, and drove to his bank. There, to the
+astonishment of the cashier, he drew all the money he kept there. This
+amounted to some thousands. Jasper buttoned the precious notes into a
+pocket-book. Then he went to his lodgings and began the task of tearing
+up letters and papers which he feared might betray him. Hitherto, all
+through his life he had kept these things precious; but now they all
+went, even to his mother's portrait and the few letters she had written
+to him when a boy at school. Even he sighed as he cast these treasures
+into the fire and watched them being reduced to ashes; but though they
+had gone with him from place to place in Australia, and he had hoped
+never to part from them, he must give them up now, for, innocent as they
+looked, they might appeal against him. He must give up all the past,
+name and all, for was he not flying from the avengers? flying because of
+his sin? Oh! surely the way of transgressors was hard!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHARLOTTE HARMAN'S COMFORT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Jasper Harman did not come to his brother's house that night, but about
+the time he might be expected to arrive there came a note from him
+instead. It was plausibly written, and gave a plausible excuse for his
+absence. He told John of sudden tidings with regard to some foreign
+business. These tidings were really true. Jasper said that a
+confidential clerk had gone to the foreign port where they dealt to
+inquire into this special matter, but that he thought it best, as the
+stakes at issue were large, to go also himself, to inquire personally.
+He would not be long away, &amp;c. &amp;c. He would write when to expect his
+return. It was a letter so cleverly put together, as to cause no alarm
+to any one. John Harman read it, folded it up, and told Charlotte that
+they need not expect Jasper in Prince's Gate for at least a week. The
+week passed, and though Jasper had neither come nor written, there was
+no anxiety felt on his account. In the mean time affairs had outwardly
+calmed down in Prince's Gate. The agitation, which had been felt even by
+the humblest servant in the establishment had ceased. Everything had
+returned to its accustomed groove. The nine days' wonder of that put off
+wedding had ceased to be a wonder. It still, it is true, gave zest to
+conversation in the servants' hall, but upstairs it was never mentioned.
+The even routine of daily life had resumed its sway, and things looked
+something as they did before, except that Mr. Harman grew to all eyes
+perceptibly weaker, that Charlotte was very grave and pale and quiet,
+that old Uncle Jasper was no longer in and out of the house, and that
+John Hinton never came near it. The luxurious house in Prince's Gate was
+unquestionably very dull; but otherwise no one could guess that there
+was anything specially amiss there.</p>
+
+<p>On a certain morning, Charlotte got up, put on her walking things, and
+went out. She had not been out of doors for a week, and a sudden longing
+to be alone in the fresh outer world came over her too strongly to be
+rejected. She called<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> a hansom and once more drove to her favorite
+Regent's Park. The park was now in all the full beauty and glory of its
+spring dress, and Charlotte sat down under the green and pleasant shade
+of a wide spreading oak-tree. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed
+straight before her. She had lived through one storm, but she knew that
+another was before her. The sky overhead was still gray and lowering;
+there was scarcely even peace in this brief lull in the tempest. In the
+first sudden fierceness of the storm she had acted nobly and bravely,
+but now that the excitement was past, there was coming to her a certain
+hardening of heart, and she was beginning to doubt the goodness of God.
+At first, most truly she had scarcely thought of herself at all, but it
+was impossible as the days went on for her not to make a moan over her
+own altered life. The path before her looked very dark, and Charlotte's
+feet had hitherto been unaccustomed to gloom. She was looking forward to
+the death, the inevitable and certainly approaching death of her father.
+That was bad, that was dreadful; but bad and dreadful as it would be to
+say good-bye to the old man, what must follow would be worse; however
+she might love him, however tenderly she might treat him, during his few
+remaining days or weeks of life, when all was over and he could return
+no more to receive men's praise or blame, then she must disgrace him,
+she must hold him up for the world's scorn. It would be impossible even
+to hope that the story would not be known, and once known it would heap
+dishonor on the old head she loved. For Charlotte, though she saw the
+sin, though the sin itself was most terrible and horrible to her, was
+still near enough to Christ in her nature to forgive the sinner. She had
+suffered; oh, how bitterly through this man! but none the less for this
+reason did she love him. But there was another cause for her heartache;
+and this was more personal. Hinton and she were parted. That was right.
+Any other course for her to have pursued would have been most distinctly
+wrong. But none the less did her heart ache and feel very sore; for how
+easily had Hinton acquiesced in her decision! She did not even know of
+his visit to the house. That letter, which would have been, whatever its
+result, like balm to her wounded spirit, had never reached her. Hinton
+was most plainly satisfied that they should meet no more. Doubtless it
+was best, doubtless in the end it would prove the least hard course; but
+none the less did hot tears fall now; none the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> less heavy was her
+heart. She was wiping away a tear or two, and thinking these very sad
+thoughts, when a clear little voice in her ear startled her.</p>
+
+<p>"My pretty lady!" said the sweet voice, and looking round Charlotte saw
+little Harold Home standing by her side. Charlotte had not seen Harold
+since his illness. He had grown taller and thinner than of old, but his
+loving eyes were fixed on her face, and now his small brown hands beat
+impatiently upon her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"Daisy and Angus are just round the corner," he whispered. "Let us play
+a game of hide and seek, shall we?"</p>
+
+<p>He pulled her hand as he spoke, and Charlotte got up to humor him at
+once. They went quickly round to the other side of the great oak-tree,
+Harold sitting down on the grass pulled Charlotte to his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! don't speak," he said, and he put his arms round her neck.</p>
+
+<p>She found the feel of the little arms strangely comforting, and when a
+moment or two afterwards the others discovered them and came close with
+peals of merry laughter, she yielded at once to Harold's eager request.</p>
+
+<p>"May they go for a walk for half an hour, and may I stay with you,
+pretty lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she answered, stooping down to kiss him.</p>
+
+<p>Anne promised to return at the right time, and Charlotte and Harold were
+alone. The boy, nestling close to her side, began to chatter
+confidentially.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm <i>so</i> glad I came across you," he said; "you looked very dull when I
+came up, and it must be nice for you to have me to talk to, and 'tis
+very nice for me too, for I am fond of you."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad of that, Harold," said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't think you are quite such a pretty lady as you were,"
+continued the boy, raising his eyes to her face and examining her
+critically. "Mr. Hinton and I used to think you were perfectly lovely!
+You were so <i>bright</i>&mdash;yes, bright is the word. Something like a dear
+pretty cherry, or like my little canary when he's singing his very, very
+best. But you ain't a bit like my canary to-day; you have no sing in you
+to-day; ain't you happy, my pretty lady?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have had some trouble since I saw you last, Harold," said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear!" sighed Harold, "everybody seems to have lots of trouble. I
+wonder why. No; I don't think<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> Mr. Hinton would think you pretty to-day.
+But," as a sudden thought and memory came over him&mdash;"I suppose you are
+married by this time? Aren't you married to my Mr. Hinton by this time?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear," answered Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" questioned the inquisitive boy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I cannot tell you that, Harold."</p>
+
+<p>Harold was silent for about half a minute. He was sitting down on the
+grass close to Charlotte, and his head was leaning against her shoulder.
+After a moment he continued with a sigh,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I guess <i>he's</i> very sorry. He and I used to talk about you so at night
+when I had the fever. I knew then he was fond of you, nearly as fond as
+I am myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad little Harold Home loves me," said Charlotte, soothed by the
+pretty boy's talk, and again she stooped down to kiss him.</p>
+
+<p>"But everybody does," said the boy. "There's father and mother, and my
+Mr. Hinton and me, myself, and above all, the blessed Jesus."</p>
+
+<p>A strange feeling, half pleasure, half surprise, came over Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know about that last?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I know," replied Harold. "I know quite well. I heard father
+and mother say it; I heard them say it quite plainly one day; 'She's one
+of those blessed ones whom Jesus Christ loves very much.' Oh dear! I
+wish the children weren't back so dreadfully soon."</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the children and Anne had returned, and Harold had to say good-bye,
+and Charlotte herself had to retrace her steps homewards. But her walk
+had not been for nothing, and there was a new peace, a new quiet, and a
+new hope in her heart. The fact was, she just simply, without doubt or
+difficulty, believed the child. Little Harold Home had brought her some
+news. The news was strange, new, and wonderful; she did not doubt it.
+Faithful, and therefore full of faith, was this simple and upright
+nature. There was no difficulty in her believing a fact. What Harold
+said was a fact. She was one of those whom Jesus loved. Straight did
+this troubled soul fly to the God of consolation. Her religion, from
+being a dead thing, began to live. She was not friendless, she was not
+alone, she had a friend who, knowing absolutely all, still loved. At
+that moment Charlotte Harman put her hand into the hand of Christ.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CHILDREN'S ATTIC.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was one thing for Alexander Wilson to agree to let matters alone for
+the present, and by so doing to oblige both Charlotte Home and Charlotte
+Harman, but it was quite another thing for him to see his niece, his own
+Daisy's child, suffering from poverty. Sandy had been accustomed to
+roughing it in the Australian bush. He had known what it was to go many
+hours without food, and when that food could be obtained it was most
+generally of the coarsest and commonest quality. He had known, too, what
+the cold of lying asleep in the open air meant. All that an ordinary man
+could endure had Sandy pulled through in his efforts to make a fortune.
+He had never grumbled at these hardships, they had passed over him
+lightly. He would, he considered, have been less than man to have
+complained. But nevertheless, when he entered the Home's house, and took
+possession of the poorly-furnished bedroom, and sat down day after day
+to the not too abundant meals; when he saw pretty little Daisy cry
+because her mother could not give her just what was most nourishing for
+her breakfast, and Harold, still pale and thin, having to do without the
+beef-tea which the doctor had ordered for him; when Sandy saw these
+things his heart waxed hot, and a great grumbling fit took possession of
+his kindly, genial soul. This grumbling fit reached its culminating
+point, when one day&mdash;mother, children, and maid all out&mdash;he stole up
+softly to the children's nursery. This small attic room, close to the
+roof, low, insufficiently ventilated, was altogether too much for Sandy.
+The time had come for him to act, and he was never the man to shirk
+action in any way. Charlotte Harman was all very well; that dying father
+of hers, whom he pronounced a most atrocious sinner, and took pleasure
+in so thinking him, he also was well enough, but everything could not
+give way to them. Though for the present Mr. Harman's money could not be
+touched for the Home's relief, yet Sandy's own purse was open, and that
+purse, he flattered himself, was somewhat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> comfortably lined. Yes, he
+must do something, and at once. Having examined with marked disgust the
+children's attic, he marched down the street. Tremins Road was long and
+narrow, but leading out of it was a row of fine new houses. These houses
+were about double the size of number ten, were nicely finished, and
+though many of them were already taken, two or three had boards up,
+announcing that they were still to let. Sandy saw the agent's name on
+the board, and went off straight to consult with him. The result of this
+consultation was that in half an hour he and the agent were all over the
+new house. Sandy went down to the basement, and thought himself
+particularly knowing in poking his nose into corners, in examining the
+construction of the kitchen-range, and expecting a copper for washing
+purposes to be put up in the scullery. Upstairs he selected a large and
+bright room, the windows of which commanded a peep of distant country.
+Here his pretty little Pet Daisy might play happily, and get back her
+rosy cheeks, and sleep well at night without coming downstairs
+heavy-eyed to breakfast. Finally he took the house on the spot, and
+ordered in paperers and painters for the following Monday.</p>
+
+<p>He was asked if he would like to choose the papers. "Certainly," he
+replied, inwardly resolving that the nursery should be covered with
+pictures. He appointed an hour on Monday for his selections. This day
+was Saturday. He then went to the landlord of No. 10, Tremins Road, and
+made an arrangement for the remainder of the Homes' lease. This
+arrangement cost him some money, but he reflected again with
+satisfaction that his purse was well lined. So far he had conducted his
+plans without difficulty. But his next step was not so easy; without
+saying a word to either Charlotte or her husband, he had deprived them
+of one home, while providing them with another. No doubt the new home
+was vastly superior to the old. But still it came into his mind that
+they might consider his action in the light of a liberty; in short, that
+this very peculiar and unworldly couple might be capable of taking huff
+and might refuse to go at his bidding. Sandy set his wits to work over
+this problem, and finally he concocted a scheme. He must come round this
+pair by guile. He thought and thought, and in the evening when her
+husband was out he had a long talk with his niece. By a few judiciously
+chosen words he contrived to frighten Charlotte about her husband's
+health. He remarked that he looked ill, worn, very much older than his
+years. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> said, with a sigh, that when a man like Home broke down he
+never got up again. He was undermining his constitution. When had he had
+a change?</p>
+
+<p>"Never once since we were married," answered the wife with tears in her
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy shook his head very sadly and gravely over this, and after a
+moment of reflection brought out his scheme.</p>
+
+<p>Easter was now over, there was no special press of parish work. Surely
+Homes' Rector would give him a holiday, and allow him to get away from
+Monday to Saturday night? Why not run away to Margate for those six
+days, and take his wife and three children with him? No, they need take
+no maid, for he, Uncle Sandy, having proposed this plan must be
+answerable for the expense. He would put them all up at a good hotel,
+and Anne could stay at home to take care of him. Of course to this
+scheme there were many objections raised. But, finally, the old
+Australian overruled them each and all. The short leave was granted by
+the Rector. The rooms at the hotel which commanded the best sea-view
+were taken by Sandy, and the Homes left 10 Tremins Road, little guessing
+that they were not to return there. When he had seen father, mother, and
+three happy little children off by an early train, Sandy returned
+quickly to Tremins Road. There he called Anne to him, and unfolded to
+the trembling and astonished girl his scheme.</p>
+
+<p>"We have to be in the new house as snug as snug by Saturday night, my
+girl," he said in conclusion. "We have to bring away what is worth
+moving of this furniture, and it must all be clean and fresh, for a
+clean new house. And, look here, Anne, you can't do all the work; do you
+happen to know of a good, hard-working girl, who would come and help
+you, and stay altogether if Mrs. Home happened to like her, just a
+second like yourself, my lass?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, please, sir, please, sir," answered Anne, "there's my own sister,
+she's older nor me, and more knowing. She's real 'andy, and please, sir,
+she'd like it real awful well."</p>
+
+<p>"Engage her by all means," said Wilson, "go at once for her. See; where
+does she live? I will pay the cab fare."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, was anything so exactly like the <i>Family Herald</i>," thought Anne as
+she drove away.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Sandy then went to a large West End furniture shop, and chose some
+sensible and nice furniture. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> drawing-room alone he left untouched,
+for he could not pretend to understand how such a room should be rigged
+out&mdash;that must be Charlotte's province. But the nice large dining-room,
+the bedrooms, the stairs and hall, were made as sweet and gay and pretty
+as the West End shopman, who had good taste and to whom Uncle Sandy gave
+carte blanche, could devise. Finally, on Saturday, he went to a
+florist's and from there filled the windows with flowers, and Anne had
+orders to abundantly supply the larder and store-room; and now at last,
+directions being given for tea, the old man went off to meet his niece,
+her husband and her children, to conduct them to their new home.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we did have such a time," said Harold, as, brown as a berry, he
+looked up at his old great-uncle. "Didn't we, Daisy?" he added,
+appealing to his small sister, who clung to his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Ess, but we 'onted 'oo, Uncle 'Andy," said the small thing, looking
+audaciously into his face, which she well knew this speech would please.</p>
+
+<p>"You're just a dear, little, darling duck," said Sandy, taking her in
+his arms and giving her a squeeze. But even Daisy could not quite
+monopolize him at this moment. All the success of his scheme depended on
+the next half-hour, and as they all drove back to Kentish Town, Sandy on
+the box-seat of the cab, and the father, mother, and three children
+inside, his heart beat so loud and hard, that he had to quiet it with
+some sharp inward admonitions.</p>
+
+<p>"Sandy Wilson, you old fool!" he said to himself more than once; "you
+have not been through the hardships of the Australian bush to be afraid
+of a moment like this. Keep yourself quiet; I'm ashamed of you."</p>
+
+<p>At last they drew up at the address Sandy had privately given. How
+beautiful the new house looked! The hall door stood open, and Anne's
+smiling face was seen on the threshold. The children raised a shout at
+sight of her and the flowers, which were so gay in the windows. Mr. Home
+in a puzzled kind of way was putting out his head to tell the cabby that
+he had made a mistake, and that he must just turn the corner. Charlotte
+was feeling a queer little sensation of surprise, when Uncle Sandy, with
+a face almost purple with emotion, flung open the door of the cab, took
+Daisy in his arms, and mounting her with an easy swing on to his
+shoulder said to Charlotte,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Welcome, in the name of your dear, dead mother, Daisy Wilson, to your
+new home, Niece Lottie."</p>
+
+<p>The children raised a fresh shout.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come, Daisy," said Harold; she struggled to the ground and the two
+rushed in. Anne came down and took the baby, and Mr. and Mrs. Home had
+no help for it but to follow in a blind kind of way. Uncle Sandy pushed
+his niece down into one of the hall chairs.</p>
+
+<p>"There!" he said; "don't, for Heaven's sake, you two unpractical,
+unworldly people, begin to be angry with me. That place in Tremins Road
+was fairly breaking my heart, and I could not stand it, and
+'tis&mdash;well&mdash;I do believe 'tis let, and you <i>can't</i> go back to it, and
+this house is yours, Niece Charlotte, and the furniture. As to the rent,
+I'll be answerable for that, and you won't refuse your own mother's
+brother. The fact was, that attic where the children slept was too much
+for me, so I had to do something. Forgive me if I practised a little bit
+of deception on you both. Now, I'm off to an hotel to-night, but
+to-morrow, if you're not too angry with your mother's brother, I'm
+coming back for good. Kept a fine room for myself, I can tell you. Anne
+shall show it to you. Trust Sandy Wilson to see to his own comforts. Now
+good-bye, and God bless you both."</p>
+
+<p>Away he rushed before either of the astonished pair had time to get in a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>"But I do think they'll forgive the liberty the old man took with them,"
+were his last waking thoughts as he closed his eyes that night.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2>
+
+<h3>HE WEPT.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Harman was beginning to take the outward circumstances of his life
+with great quietness. What, three months before, would have caused both
+trouble and distress, now, was received with equanimity. The fact was,
+he felt himself day by day getting so near eternity, that the things of
+time, always so disproportionately large to our worldly minds, were
+assuming to him their true proportions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>John Harman was being led by a dark road of terrible mental suffering to
+his God; already he was drawing near, and the shadow of that forgiveness
+which would yet encircle him in its perfect rest and peace was at hand.</p>
+
+<p>Days, and even weeks, went by, and there was no news of Jasper. John
+Harman would once have been sorely perplexed, but now he received the
+fact of his brothers absence with a strange quietness, even apathy.
+Charlotte's postponed marriage, a little time back, would have also
+fretted him, but believing surely that she would be happy after his
+death, he did not now trouble; and he could not help owning to himself
+that the presence of his dearly loved daughter was a comfort too great
+to be lightly dispensed with. He was too much absorbed with himself to
+notice the strangeness of Hinton's absence, and he did not perceive, as
+he otherwise would have done, that Charlotte's face was growing thin and
+pale, and that there was a subdued, almost crushed manner about the
+hitherto spirited creature, which not even his present state of health
+could altogether account for.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, John Harman lived his self-absorbed life, going day by day a little
+further into the valley of the shadow of death. The valley he was
+entering looked very dark indeed to the old man, for the sin of his
+youth was still unforgiven, and he could not see even a glimpse of the
+Good Shepherd's rod and staff. Still he was searching day and night for
+some road of peace and forgiveness; he wanted the Redeemer of all the
+world to lay His hand upon his bowed old head. The mistake he was still
+making was this&mdash;he would not take God's way of peace, he must find his
+own.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, after Charlotte had left him, he sat for a long time in his
+study lost in thought. After a time he rose and took down once more from
+the shelf the Bible which he had opened some time before; then it had
+given him the reverse of comfort, and he scarcely, as he removed it from
+the place where he had pushed it far back out of sight, knew why he
+again touched it. He did, however, take it in his hand, and return with
+it to his chair. He drew the chair up to the table and laid the old
+Bible upon it. He opened it haphazard; he was not a man who had ever
+studied or loved the Bible; he was not acquainted with all its contents
+and the story on which his eyes rested came almost with the freshness of
+novelty.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Two men went up into the Temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the
+other a publican.</p>
+
+<p>"The publican would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but
+smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me, a sinner.</p>
+
+<p>"I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the
+other."</p>
+
+<p>John Harman read the story twice.</p>
+
+<p>"This man went down to his house justified rather than the other."</p>
+
+<p>The other! he fasted, and gave alms, and thanked God that he was not as
+this publican&mdash;this publican, who was a sinner.</p>
+
+<p>But the Bible words were clear enough and plain enough. He, the sinner,
+was justified.</p>
+
+<p>John Harman covered his face with his hands. Suddenly he fell on his
+knees.</p>
+
+<p>"God be merciful to me a sinner," he said.</p>
+
+<p>He said the few words twice aloud, in great anguish of spirit, and as he
+prayed he wept.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards he turned over the Bible pages again. This time he read the
+story of Zacch&aelig;us.</p>
+
+<p>"If I have taken anything from any man, I restore him fourfold."</p>
+
+<p>It was very late when Mr. Harman at last went to bed, but he slept
+better that night than he had done for years. He was beginning to see
+the possible end.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2>
+
+<h3>HOME'S SERMON.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was impossible for the Homes to refuse Uncle Sandy's kindness. Their
+natural pride and independence of character could not stand in the way
+of so graciously and gracefully offered a gift. When the old man came to
+see them the next day, he was received with all the love and gratitude
+he deserved. If he could give well, Charlotte and her husband knew how
+to receive well. He now told his niece plainly that he had come to pass
+the remainder of his days with her and hers; and father, mother, and
+children welcomed him with delight.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Charlotte was now a very happy woman. The new and pretty house was
+delightful to her. She began to understand what it was not to have to
+look twice at a pound, for Uncle Sandy's purse was for ever at her
+command. When she went with her old uncle to choose the furniture for
+the new drawing room, she laughed so merrily and seemed so gay that
+Uncle Sandy informed her that she had already lost five years of her
+age. Harold and Daisy used to look into her face at this time, and say
+to one another, "Isn't our mother pretty?" For, indeed, the peace in her
+heart, and the little unexpected glow of worldly prosperity which had
+come into her life, had wonderfully softened and beautified her face.
+Her eyes, when she looked at her children's blooming faces, were often
+bright as stars. At all times now they were serene and happy. She had
+one little cross, however, one small shadow in her happy time. She
+wanted to be much&mdash;daily, if possible&mdash;with Charlotte Harman. Her heart
+yearned over Charlotte, and she would have almost neglected her children
+to give her one ray of comfort just now. But Charlotte herself had
+forbidden this daily intercourse.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you, Charlotte," she had said, "and I know that you love me. But
+at present we must not meet. I cannot leave my father to go to see you,
+and you must not come here, for I cannot risk the chance of seeing you.
+He may question me, and I shall not be able to answer his questions. No,
+Charlotte, we must not meet."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte Home felt much regret at this. Failing Charlotte Harman, she
+turned her attention to Hinton. She was fully resolved that no stone
+should remain unturned by her to enable those two yet to marry, and she
+thought she might best effect her object by seeing the young man. She
+wrote to him, asking him to call, telling him that she had much of
+importance to tell him; but both from his private address and also from
+his chambers the letters were, in due course of time, returned. Hinton
+was not in town, and had left no clue to his whereabouts. Thus she was
+cut off from helping, in any way, those who were in great darkness, and
+this fact was an undoubted sorrow to her. Yes, Mrs. Home was full of
+pity for Charlotte, full of pity for Charlotte's lover. But it is to be
+feared that both she and Uncle Sandy retained a strong sense of
+indignation towards the one who had caused the anguish&mdash;towards the one,
+therefore, on whom the heaviest share of the punishment fell. Very
+terrible was it for Charlotte, very terrible for Hinton. But were they
+asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> to tell their true feeling towards old John Harman, they might
+have whispered, "Serve him right." There was one, however, besides his
+daughter, whose warmest sympathies, whose most earnest and passionate
+prayers were beginning day by day and night by night, to centre more and
+more round the suffering and guilty man, and that one was the curate,
+Home. Angus Home had never seen John Harman, but his sin and his
+condition were ever before him. He was a dying man, and&mdash;he was a
+sinner. With strong tears and lamentation did this man cry to God for
+his fellow man. His tears and his prayers brought love for the sinner.
+Angus Home would have gladly died to bring John Harman back to God.</p>
+
+<p>One Saturday night he sat up late over his sermon. He was not an
+eloquent preacher, but so earnest was his nature, so intense his
+realization of God's love and of the things unseen, that it was
+impossible for his words not to be winged with the rare power of
+earnestness. He was neither gifted with language nor with imagination;
+but he could tell plain truths in such a way that his hearers often
+trembled as they listened. At such times he looked like an avenging
+angel. For the man, when he felt called on to rebuke sin, was very
+jealous for his God. Then, again, he could whisper comfort; he could
+bring down Heaven, and looked, when he spoke of the land which is very
+far off, as though even now, and even here, his eyes were seeing the
+King in His beauty. Nevertheless, so little was that real power of his
+understood, so much better were empty words gracefully strung together
+preferred, that Home was seldom asked to preach in the large parish
+church. His congregation were generally the very poorest of his flock.
+These very poor folks learned to love their pastor, and for them he
+would very gladly spend and be spent. He was to preach to-morrow in a
+small iron building to these poor people. He now sat up late to prepare
+his sermon. He found himself, however, sadly out of tune for this work.
+He took his Bible in hand and turned page after page; he could find no
+suitable text; he could fix his attention on no particular line of
+argument. He unlocked a drawer, and took from thence a pile of old
+sermons; should he use one of these? He looked through and through his
+store. None pleased, none satisfied him. Finally, overcome by a sudden
+feeling, he forgot his sermon of to-morrow. He pushed his manuscripts
+aside, and fell on his knees. He was in terror about the soul of John
+Harman,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> and he prayed for him in groans that seemed almost as though
+they must rend the heavens in their pleadings for a reply. "Lord, spare
+the man. Lord, hear me; hear me when I plead with Thee. It was for
+sinners such as he Thou didst die. Oh, spare! oh, save!&mdash;save this great
+sinner. Give me his soul, Lord. Lord, give me his soul to bring to Thee
+in Heaven." He went up to bed in the early hours of the May morning
+quite exhausted. He had absolutely forgotten his sermon. He had not
+prepared a word for his congregation for the next day. Before he went to
+church he remembered this. There was no help for it now. He could but
+put two of his already prepared sermons in his pocket and set out. He
+was to read the service as well as to preach the sermon. There were
+about sixty poor people present. Charlotte and the children went to the
+parish church. There was not a really well-dressed person in all his
+congregation. He had just finished reading the Absolution when a slight
+stir near the door attracted his attention. He raised his eyes to see
+the verger leading up the centre aisle an old man with bowed head and
+silver hair, accompanied by a young woman. The young woman Home
+recognized at a glance. She was Charlotte Harman; the old man then was
+her father. He did not ask himself why they had come here or how, but
+instantly he said to his own heart, with a great throb of ecstatic joy,
+"God has heard my prayer; that soul is to be mine." When he mounted the
+pulpit stairs he had absolutely forgotten his written sermons. For the
+first time he stood before his congregation without any outward aid of
+written words, or even notes. He certainly did not need them, for his
+heart was full. Out of that heart, burning with love so intense as to be
+almost divine, he spoke. I don't think he used any text, but he told
+from beginning to end the old, old tale of the Prodigal Son. He told it
+as, it seemed to his congregation, that wonderful story had never been
+told since the Redeemer Himself had first uttered the words. He
+described the far country, the country where God was not; and the people
+were afraid and could scarcely draw their breath. Then he told of the
+Father's forgiveness and the Father's welcome home; and the
+congregation, men and women alike, hid their faces and wept. Added to
+his earnestness God had given to him the great gift of eloquence to-day.
+The people said afterwards they scarcely knew their pastor. There was
+not a dry eye in his church that morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2>
+
+<h3>A SINNER.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Home went back to his new and pretty house and sat down with his wife
+and children, and waited. He would not even tell Charlotte of these
+unlooked-for additions to his small congregation. When she asked him if
+he had got on well, if his sermon had been a difficulty, he had
+answered, with a light in his eyes, that God had been with him. After
+this the wife only took his hand and pressed it. She need question no
+further: but even she wondered at the happy look on his face.</p>
+
+<p>He had two more services for that day, and also schools to attend, and
+through all his duties, which seemed to come without effort or
+annoyance, he still waited. He knew as well as if an angel had told him
+that he should see more of Mr. Harman. Had he been less assured of this
+he would have taken some steps himself to secure a meeting; he would
+have gone to the daughter, he would have done he knew not what. But
+having this firm assurance, he did not take any steps; he believed what
+God wished him to do was quietly to wait.</p>
+
+<p>When he went out on Monday morning he left word with his wife where he
+might be found without trouble or delay, if wanted.</p>
+
+<p>"Is any one ill in the congregation?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Some one is ill, but not in the congregation," he answered.</p>
+
+<p>He came home, however, late on Monday night, to find that no one had
+sent, no one in particular had inquired for him. Still his faith was not
+at all shaken; he still knew that Harman's soul was to be given to him,
+and believing that he would like to see him, he felt that he should yet
+be summoned to his side.</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday morning prayers were to be read in the little iron church.
+Never full even on Sundays, this one weekday service was very miserably
+attended. Home did not often take it, the duty generally devolving on
+the youngest<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> curate in the place. He was hurrying past to-day, having
+many sick and poor to attend to, when he met young Davenport&mdash;a curate
+only just ordained.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad I met you," said the young man, coming up at once and
+addressing the older clergyman with a troubled face. "There would not
+have been time to have gone round to your place. See, I have had a
+telegram; my father is ill. I want to catch a train at twelve o'clock to
+go and see him; I cannot if I take this service. Will it be possible for
+you to do the duty this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly possible," answered Home heartily. "Go off at once, my dear
+fellow; I will see to things for you until you return."</p>
+
+<p>The young man was duly grateful, and hurried away at once, and Home
+entered the little building. The moment he did so he saw the reason of
+it all. Mr. Harman was in the church; he was in the church and alone.
+His daughter was not with him. There was no sermon that day, and the
+short morning prayers were quickly over. The half-dozen poor who had
+come in went out again; but Mr. Harman did not stir. Home took off his
+surplice, and hurried down the church. He meant now to speak to Mr.
+Harman, if Mr. Harman did not speak to him; but he saw that he would
+speak. As he approached the pew the white-headed old man rose slowly and
+came to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir, I should like to say a few words to you."</p>
+
+<p>"As many as you please, my dear sir; I am quite at your service."</p>
+
+<p>Home now entered the pew and sat down.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we talk here or in the vestry?" he inquired, after a moment's
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought perhaps you would come to my house later on," said Mr.
+Harman. "I have a long story to tell you; I can tell it best at home. I
+am very ill, or I would come to you. May I expect you this evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will certainly come," answered Home. "What is your address?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman gave it. Then, after a pause, he added&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I seek you as a minister."</p>
+
+<p>"And I come to you as a servant of God," replied the curate, now fixing
+his eyes on his companion.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman's gaze did not quail before that steady look. With an
+unutterable sadness he returned it fully. Then he said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I came here on Sunday."</p>
+
+<p>"I saw you," answered Home.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! can it be possible that you preached to me?"</p>
+
+<p>"To you, if you think so. I spoke to every sinner in the congregation."</p>
+
+<p>"You spoke of a land where God is not; you described the terrible
+country well."</p>
+
+<p>"An arid land?" answered Home.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, a thirsty land."</p>
+
+<p>"Those that find it so generally find also that they are being led back
+to a land where God is."</p>
+
+<p>"You believe, then, in the forgiveness of sin?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I did not I should go mad."</p>
+
+<p>"My good sir, you are not much of a sinner."</p>
+
+<p>"I am a sinner, sir; and if I were not&mdash;if I dared to lift up my eyes to
+a holy, a righteous God, and say, 'I am pure'&mdash;I yet, if I did not
+believe as fully as I am now sitting by your side in the perfect
+forgiveness of sin, I yet should go mad; for I have seen other men's
+sins and other men's despair; I should lose my reason for their sakes,
+if not for my own."</p>
+
+<p>"Should you, indeed? You see now before you a despairing man and a dying
+man."</p>
+
+<p>"And a sinner?" questioned Home.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, God knows, a sinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I see also before me a man whose despair can be changed to peace,
+and his sin forgiven. What hour shall I call upon you this evening?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman named the hour. Then he rose feebly; Home gave him his arm
+and conducted him to his carriage; afterwards he re-entered the church
+to pray.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2>
+
+<h3>A HIDDEN SIN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Nine o' clock in the evening was the hour named by Mr. Harman, and
+punctually at that hour Home arrived at Prince's Gate. He was a man who
+had never been known to be late for an appointment; for in little things
+even, this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> singular man was faithful to the very letter of the trust.
+This nice observance of his passed word, in a great measure counteracted
+his otherwise unpractical nature. Home was known by all his
+acquaintances to be a most dependable man.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman had told Charlotte that he was expecting a friend to visit
+him. He said he should like to see that friend alone; but, contrary to
+his wont, he did not mention his name. This cannot be wondered at, for
+Mr. Harman knew of no connection between the Homes and Charlotte. He had
+chosen this man of God, above his fellow-men, because he had been
+haunted and impressed by his sermon, but he scarcely himself even knew
+his name. It so happened, however, that Charlotte saw Mr. Home entering
+her father's study. It is not too much to say that the sight nearly took
+her breath away, and that she felt very considerable disquietude.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit here," said Mr. Harman to his guest.</p>
+
+<p>The room had been comfortably prepared, and when Home entered Mr. Harman
+got up and locked the door; then, sitting down opposite to Home, and
+leaning a little forward, he began at once without preface or preamble.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to tell you without reservation the story of my life."</p>
+
+<p>"I have come to listen," answered Home.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the story of a sin."</p>
+
+<p>Home bent his head.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the story of a successfully hidden sin&mdash;a sin hidden from all the
+world for three and twenty years."</p>
+
+<p>"A crushing weight such a sin must have been," answered the clergyman.
+"But will you just tell me all from the beginning?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you all from the beginning. A hidden sin is, as you say,
+heavy enough to crush a man into hell. But I will make no more preface.
+Sir, I had the misfortune to lose a very noble mother when I was young.
+When I was ten years old, and my brother (I have one brother) was eight,
+our mother died! We were but children, you will say; but I don't, even
+now that I am a dying, sinful old man, forget my mother. She taught us
+to pray and to shun sin. She also surrounded us with such high and holy
+thoughts&mdash;she so gave us the perfection of all pure mother love, that we
+must have been less than human not to be good boys during her lifetime.
+I remember even now the look in her eyes when I refused on any childish
+occasion to follow the good, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> then chose the evil. I have a
+daughter&mdash;one beloved daughter, something like my mother. I have seen
+the same high and honorable light in her eyes, but never since in any
+others. Well, my mother died, and Jasper and I had only her memory to
+keep us right. We used to talk about her often, and often fretted for
+her as, I suppose, few little boys before or since have fretted for a
+mother. After her death we were sent to school. Our father even then was
+a rich man: he was a self-made man; he started a business in a small way
+in the City, but small beginnings often make great endings, and the
+little business grew, and grew, and success and wealth came almost
+without effort. Jasper and I never knew what poverty meant. I loved
+learning better than my brother did, and at the age of eighteen, when
+Jasper went into our father's business, I was sent to Oxford. At
+twenty-two I had taken my degree, and done so, not perhaps brilliantly,
+but with some honor. Any profession was now open to me, and my father
+gave me full permission to choose any walk in life I chose; at the same
+time he made a proposal. He was no longer so young as he had been; he
+had made his fortune; he believed that Jasper's aptitude for business
+excelled his own. If we would become partners in the firm which he had
+made, and which was already rising into considerable eminence, he would
+retire altogether. We young men should work the business in our own way.
+He was confident we should rise to immense wealth. While making this
+proposal our father said that he would not give up his business to
+Jasper alone. If both his sons accepted it, then he would be willing to
+retire, taking with him a considerable sum of money, but still leaving
+affairs both unencumbered and flourishing. 'You are my heirs
+eventually.' he said to us both; 'and now I give you a week to decide.'
+At the end of the allotted time we accepted the offer. This was
+principally Jasper's doing, for at that time I knew nothing of business,
+and had thought of a profession. Afterwards I liked the counting-house,
+and became as absorbed as others in the all-engrossing accumulation of
+wealth. Our father had taken a very large sum of money out of the
+business, and it was impossible for us not to feel for a time a
+considerable strain; but Jasper's skill and talent were simply
+wonderful, and success attended all our efforts.</p>
+
+<p>"Two years after I joined the business, I married my Charlotte's mother.
+I was a wealthy man even then. Though of no birth in particular, I was
+considered gentlemanly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> I had acquired that outward polish which a
+university education gives; I was also good-looking. With my money, good
+looks, and education, I was considered a match for the proud and very
+poor daughter of an old Irish baronet. She had no money; she had nothing
+but her beautiful face, her high and honorable spirit, her blue blood.
+You will say, 'Enough!' Ay, it was more than enough. She made me the
+best, the truest of wives. I never loved another woman. She was a little
+bit extravagant. She had never known wealth until she became my wife,
+and wealth, in the most innocent way in the world, was delightful to
+her. While Jasper saved, I was tempted to live largely. I took an
+expensive house&mdash;there was no earthly good thing I would not have given
+to her. She loved me; but, as I said, she was proud. Pride in birth and
+position was perhaps her only fault. I was perfect in her eyes, but she
+took a dislike to Jasper. This I could have borne, but it pained me when
+I saw her turning away from my old father. I dearly loved and respected
+my father, and I wanted Constance to love him, but she never could be
+got to care for him. It was at that time, that that thing happened which
+was the beginning of all the after darkness and misery.</p>
+
+<p>"My father, finding my proud young wife not exactly to his taste, came
+less and less to our house. Finally, he bought an old estate in
+Hertfordshire, and then one day the news reached us that he had engaged
+himself to a very young girl, and that he would marry at once. There was
+nothing wrong in this marriage, but Jasper and I chose to consider it a
+sin. We had never forgotten our mother, and we thought it a dishonor to
+her. We forgot our father's loneliness. In short, we were unreasonable
+and behaved as unreasonably as unreasonable men will on such occasions.
+Hot and angry words passed between our father and ourselves. We neither
+liked our father's marriage nor his choice. Of course, we were scarcely
+likely to turn the old man from his purpose, but we refused to have
+anything to do with his young wife. Under such circumstances we had an
+open quarrel. Our father married, and we did not see him for years. I
+was unhappy at this, for I loved my father. Before his second marriage,
+he always spent from Saturday to Monday at our house, and though my own
+wife not caring for him greatly marred our pleasure, yet now that the
+visits had absolutely ceased I missed them&mdash;I missed the gray head and
+the shrewd, old, kindly face; and often,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> very often, I almost resolved
+to run down into Hertfordshire and make up my quarrel. I did not do so,
+however; and as the years went on, I grew afraid to mention my father's
+name to either my wife or brother. Jasper and I were at this time deeply
+absorbed in speculation; our business was growing and growing; each
+thing we embarked in turned out well; we were beginning quite to recover
+from the strain which our father's removal of so large a sum of money
+had caused. Jasper was a better man of business than I was. Jasper,
+though the junior partner, took the lead in all plans. He proposed that
+an Australian branch of our business should be opened. It was done, and
+succeeded well.</p>
+
+<p>"About this time we heard that a little son had arrived at the Hermitage
+in Hertfordshire. He did not live long. We saw his birth announced in
+<i>The Times</i>. It may have been some months later, though, looking back on
+it, it seems but a few days, that the birth was followed by the death. A
+year or two passed away, and my wife and I were made happy by the
+arrival of our first child. The child was a daughter. We called her
+Charlotte, after my much-loved mother. Time went on, until one day a
+telegram was put into my hand summoning my brother and myself to our
+father's deathbed. The telegram was sent by the young wife. I rushed off
+at once; Jasper followed by the next train.</p>
+
+<p>"The hale old man had broken up very suddenly at last, and the doctor
+said he had but a few days to live. During those few days, Jasper and I
+scarcely left his bedside; we were reconciled fully and completely, and
+he died at last murmuring my own mother's name and holding our hands.</p>
+
+<p>"It was during this visit that I saw the little wife for the first time.
+She was a commonplace little thing, but pretty and very young; it was
+impossible to dislike the gentle creature. She was overpowered with
+grief at her husband's death. It was impossible not to be kind to her,
+not to comfort her. There was one child, a girl of about the age of my
+own little Charlotte. This child had also been named Charlotte. She was
+a pale, dark-eyed child, with a certain strange look of my mother about
+her. She was not a particle like her own. My father loved this little
+creature, and several times during those last days of his he spoke of
+her to me.</p>
+
+<p>"'I have called her after your own mother,' he said. 'I love my second
+wife; but the Charlotte of my youth can never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> be forgotten. I have
+called the child Charlotte; you have called your daughter Charlotte.
+Good! let the two be friends.'</p>
+
+<p>"I promised readily enough, and I felt pity and interest for the little
+forlorn creature. I also, as I said, intended to be good to the mother,
+who seemed to me to be incapable of standing alone.</p>
+
+<p>"Immediately after my father's death and before the funeral, I was
+summoned hastily to town. My wife was dangerously ill. A little dead
+baby had come into the world, and for a time her life was despaired of;
+eventually she got better; but for the next few days I lived and thought
+only for her. I turned over all business cares to Jasper. I was unable
+even to attend our father's funeral. I never day or night left
+Constance's bedside. I loved this woman most devotedly, most
+passionately. During all those days when her life hung in the balance,
+my time seemed one long prayer to God. 'Spare her, spare her precious
+life at any cost, at any cost.' Those were the words, forever on my
+lips. The prayer was heard; I had my wife again. For a short time she
+was restored to me. I have often thought since, was even that precious
+life worth the price I paid for it?"</p>
+
+<p>Here Mr. Harman paused. Some moisture had gathered on his brow; he took
+out his handkerchief to wipe it away. A glass of water stood by his
+side; he drank a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I am approaching the sin," he said addressing the clergyman. "The
+successfully buried sin is about to rise from its grave; pardon me if I
+shrink from the awful sight."</p>
+
+<p>"God will strengthen you, my dear sir," answered Home. "By your
+confession, you are struggling back into the right path. What do I say?
+Rather you are being led back by God himself. Take courage. Lean upon
+the Almighty arm. Your sin will shrink in dimensions as you view it; for
+between you and it will come forgiveness."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman smiled faintly, After another short pause, he continued.</p>
+
+<p>"On the day on which my dear wife was pronounced out of danger, Jasper
+sent for me. My brother and I had ever been friends, though in no one
+particular were we alike. During the awful struggle through which I had
+just passed. I forgot both him and my father. Now I remembered him and
+my father's death, and our own business cares. A thousand memories came
+back to me. When he sent for me I left my wife's bedside and went down
+to him. I was feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> weak and low, for I had not been in bed for many
+nights, and a kind of reaction had set in. I was in a kind of state when
+a man's nerves can be shaken, and his whole moral equilibrium upset. I
+do not offer this as an excuse for what followed. There is no excuse for
+the dark sin; but I do believe enough about myself to say that what I
+then yielded to, I should have been proof against at a stronger physical
+moment. I entered my private sitting-room to find Jasper pacing up and
+down like a wild creature. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair tossed. He
+was a calm and cheerful person generally. At this instant, he looked
+like one half bereft of reason. 'Good heavens! what is wrong?' I said. I
+was startled out of myself by his state of perturbation.</p>
+
+<p>"'We are ruined; that is what is wrong,' answered Jasper.</p>
+
+<p>"He then entered into particulars with which I need not trouble you. A
+great house, one of the greatest and largest houses in the City, had
+come to absolute grief; it was bankrupt. In its fall many other houses,
+ours amongst them, must sink.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw it all quite plainly. I sat down quiet and stunned; while Jasper
+raved and swore and paced up and down the room, I sat still. Yes we
+were, beggars, nothing could save the house which our father had made
+with such pride and care.</p>
+
+<p>"After a time I left Jasper and returned to my wife's room. On the way I
+entered the nursery and paid my pretty little Charlotte a visit. She
+climbed on my knee and kissed me, and all the time I kept saying to
+myself, 'The child is a beggar, I can give her no comforts; we are
+absolutely in want.' It was the beginning of the winter then, and the
+weather was bitterly cold. The doctor met me on the threshold of my
+wife's room; he said to me, 'As soon as ever she is better, you must
+either take or send her out of England. She may recover abroad; but to
+winter in this climate, in her present state, would certainly kill her.'
+How bitter I felt; for was I not a beggar? How could I take my wife
+away? I sat down again in the darkened room and thought over the past.
+Hitherto the wealth, which was so easily won, seemed of comparatively
+small importance. It was easy with a full purse to wish, then to obtain.
+I had often wondered at Constance's love for all the pretty things with
+which I delighted to surround her, her almost childish pleasure in the
+riches which had come to her. She always said to me at such times:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"'But I have known such poverty; I hate poverty, and I love, I love the
+pretty things of life.'</p>
+
+<p>"This very night, as I sat by her bedside, she opened her lovely eyes
+and looked at me and said:</p>
+
+<p>"'John, I have had such a dream so vivid, so, so terrible. I thought we
+were poor again&mdash;poorer than I ever was even with my father; so poor,
+John, that I was hungry, and you could give me nothing to eat. I begged
+you to give me food. There was a loaf in a shop window, such a nice
+crisp loaf; and I was starving. When you said you had no money, I begged
+of you to steal that loaf. You would not, you would not, and at last I
+lay down to die. Oh! John, say it was a dream.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Of course it was only a dream, my darling!' I answered, and I kissed
+her and soothed her, though all the time my heart felt like lead.</p>
+
+<p>"That evening Jasper sent for me again. His manner now was changed. The
+wildness and despair had left it. He was his old, cool, collected self.
+He was in the sort of mood when he always had an ascendency over me&mdash;the
+sort of mood when he showed that wonderful business faculty for which I
+could not but admire him.</p>
+
+<p>"'Sit down, John,' he said, 'I have a great deal to say to you. There is
+a plan in my head. If you will agree to act with me in it, we may yet be
+saved.'</p>
+
+<p>"Thinking of my Constance lying so ill upstairs, my heart leaped up at
+these words.</p>
+
+<p>"'What is your plan?' I said. 'I can stay with you for some time. I can
+listen as long as you like.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You hate poverty?' said Jasper.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' I said, thinking of Constance, 'I hate it.'</p>
+
+<p>"'If you will consent to my scheme; if you will consent before you leave
+this room, we need not sink with Cooper, Cooper and Bennett.'</p>
+
+<p>"'I will listen to you,' I said.</p>
+
+<p>"'You have always been so absorbed lately in your wife,' continued
+Jasper, 'that you have, I really believe, forgotten our father's death:
+his funeral was last Thursday. Of course you could not attend it. After
+the funeral I read the will.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' I said, 'I had really forgotten my father's will. He left us
+money?' I said. 'I am glad; it will keep us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> from absolute want.
+Constance need not be hungry after all.'</p>
+
+<p>"My brother looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>"'A little money has been left to us,' he said, 'but so little that it
+must go with the rest. In the general crash those few thousands must
+also go. John, you remember when our father took that very large sum out
+of the business, he promised that we should be his heirs. It was a loan
+for his lifetime.'</p>
+
+<p>"'He had not married then,' I said.</p>
+
+<p>"'No,' answered Jasper, 'he had not married. Now that he has married he
+has forgotten all but this second wife. He has left her, with the
+exception of a few thousands, the whole of that fine property. In short,
+he has left her a sum of money which is to realize an income of twelve
+hundred a year.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' I said, wearily.</p>
+
+<p>"Jasper looked at me very hard. I returned his gaze.</p>
+
+<p>"'That money, if left to us, would save the firm. <i>Quite absolutely save
+the firm in this present crisis</i>,' he said, slowly and emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes,' I said again. I was so innocent, so far from what I since
+became, at that moment, that I did not in the least understand my
+brother. 'The money is not ours,' I said, seeing that his eyes were
+still fixed on me with a greedy intense light.</p>
+
+<p>"'If my father were alive now,' said Jasper, rising to his feet and
+coming to my side, 'if my father were alive now, he would break his
+heart, to see the business which he made with such pride and skill, come
+to absolute grief. If my father were still alive; if that crash had come
+but a fortnight ago, he would say, 'Save the firm at any cost.'</p>
+
+<p>"'But he is dead,' I said, 'we cannot save the firm. What do you mean,
+Jasper? I confess I cannot see to what you are driving.'</p>
+
+<p>"'John,' said my brother, 'you are stupid. If our father could speak to
+us now, he would say, 'Take the money, all the money I have left, and
+save the firm of Harman Brothers.'</p>
+
+<p>"'You mean,' I said, 'you mean that we&mdash;we are to <i>steal</i> that money,
+the money left to the widow, and the fatherless?'</p>
+
+<p>"I understood the meaning now. I staggered to my feet. I could have
+felled my brother to the ground. He was my brother, my only brother; but
+at that moment, so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> true were my heart's instincts to the good and
+right, that I loathed him. Before however, I could say a word, or utter
+a reproach, a message came to me from my wife. I was wanted in my wife's
+room instantly, she was excited, she was worse. I flew away without a
+word.</p>
+
+<p>"'Come back again, I will wait for you here,' called after me my
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>"I entered Constance's room. I think she was a little delirious. She was
+still talking about money, about being hungry and having no money to buy
+bread. Perhaps a presentiment of <i>the</i> evil news had come to her. I had
+to soothe, to assure her that all she desired should be hers. I even
+took my purse out and put it into her burning hand. At last she believed
+me; she fell asleep with her hand in mine. I dared not stir from her;
+and all the time as I sat far into the night, I thought over Jasper's
+words. They were terrible words, but I could not get them out of my
+head, they were burning like fire into my brain. At last Constance
+awoke; she was better, and I could leave her. It was now almost morning.
+I went to my study, for I could not sleep. To my surprise, Jasper was
+still there. It was six hours since I had left him, but he had not
+stirred.</p>
+
+<p>"'John,' he said, seeing that I shrank from him, 'you must hear me out.
+Call my plan by as ugly a name as you like, no other plan will save the
+firm. John, will you hear me speak?'</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, I will hear you,' I said. I sank down on the sofa. My head was
+reeling. Right and wrong seemed confused. I said to myself, My brain is
+so confused with grief and perplexity that it is no matter what Jasper
+says just now, for I shall not understand him. But I found to my
+surprise, almost to my horror, that I understood with startling
+clearness every word. This was Jasper's plan. There were three trustees
+to the will; I was one, my brother Jasper another, a third was a man by
+the name of Alexander Wilson. He was brother to my father's second wife.
+This Alexander Wilson I had never seen. Jasper had seen him once. He
+described him to me as a tall and powerful man with red hair. 'He is the
+other trustee,' said my brother, 'and he is dead.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Dead!' I said, starting.</p>
+
+<p>"'Yes, he is without doubt dead; here is an account of his death.'</p>
+
+<p>"Jasper then opened an Australian paper and showed me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> the name, also
+the full account of a man who answered in all particulars to the
+Alexander Wilson named as a third trustee. Jasper then proceeded to
+unfold yet further his scheme.</p>
+
+<p>"That trustee being dead, we were absolute masters of the situation, we
+could appropriate that money. The widow knew nothing yet of her
+husband's will; she need never know. The sum meant for her was, under
+existing circumstances, much too large. She should not want, she should
+have abundance. But we too should not want. Were our father living he
+would ask us to do this. We should save ourselves and the great house of
+Harman Brothers. In short, to put the thing in plain language, we
+should, by stealing the widow's money, save ourselves. By being
+faithless to our most solemn trust, we could keep the filthy lucre. I
+will not say how I struggled. I did struggle for a day; in the evening I
+yielded. I don't excuse myself in the very least. In the evening I fell
+as basely as a man could fall. I believe in my fall I sank even lower
+than Jasper. I said to him, 'I cannot bear poverty, it will kill
+Constance, and Constance must not die; but you must manage everything. I
+can go into no details; I can never, never as long as I live, see that
+widow and child. You must see them, you must settle enough, abundance on
+them, but never mention their names to me. I can do the deed, but the
+victims must be dead to me.'</p>
+
+<p>"To all this Jasper promised readily enough. He promised and acted. All
+went, outwardly, smoothly and well; there was no hitch, no outward flaw,
+no difficulty, the firm was saved; none but we two knew how nearly it
+had been engulfed in hopeless shipwreck. It recovered itself by means of
+that stolen money, and flew lightly once again over the waters of
+prosperity. Yes, our house was saved, and from that hour my happiness
+fled. I had money, money in abundance and to spare; but I never knew
+another hour, day or night, of peace. I had done the deed to save my
+wife, but I found that, though God would give me that cursed wealth, He
+yet would take away my idol for whom I had sacrificed my soul. Constance
+only grew well enough to leave England. We wintered abroad, and at
+Cannes, surrounded by all that base money could supply, she closed her
+eyes. I returned home a widower, and the most wretched man on the face
+of the earth. Soon after, the Australian branch of our business growing
+and growing, Jasper found it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> well to visit that country. He did so, and
+stayed away many years. Soon after he landed, he wrote to tell me that
+he had seen the grave of Alexander Wilson; that he had made many
+inquiries about him, and that now there was not the least shadow of
+doubt that the other trustee was dead. He said that our last fears of
+discovery might now rest.</p>
+
+<p>"Years went by, and we grew richer and richer; all we put our hands to
+prospered. Money seemed to grow for us on every tree. I could give my
+one child all that wealth could suggest. She grew up unsullied by what
+was eating into me as a canker. She was beautiful alike in mind and
+body; she was and is the one pure and lovely thing left to me. She
+became engaged to a good and honorable man. He had, it is true, neither
+money nor position, but I had learned, through all these long years of
+pain, to value such things at their true worth. Charlotte should marry
+where her heart was. I gave her leave to engage herself to Hinton.
+Shortly after that engagement, Jasper, my brother, returned from
+Australia. His presence, reminding me, as it did, day and night, of my
+crime, but added to my misery of soul. I was surprised, too, to see how
+easily what was dragging me to the very gate of hell seemed to rest on
+him. I could never discover, narrowly as I watched him, that he was
+anything but a happy man. One evening, after spending some hours in his
+presence, I fainted away quite suddenly. I was alone when this fainting
+fit overtook me. I believe I was unconscious for many hours. The next
+day I went to consult a doctor. Then and there, in that great
+physician's consulting-room, I learned that I am the victim of an
+incurable complaint; a complaint that must end my life, must end it
+soon, and suddenly. In short, the doctor said to me, not in words, but
+by look, by manner, by significant hand pressure, and that silent
+sympathy which speaks a terrible fact. 'Prepare to meet thy God.' Since
+the morning I left the doctor's presence I have been trying to prepare;
+but between God and me stands my sin. I cannot get a glimpse of God. I
+wait, and wait, but I only see the awful sin of my youth. In short, sir,
+I am in the far country where God is not."</p>
+
+<p>"To die so would be terrible," said Mr. Home.</p>
+
+<p>"To die so will be terrible, sir; in, short, it will be hell."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not put it in the future tense, Mr. Harman, for you that day is
+past."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I mean that even now, though you know it not, you are no longer in the
+far country. You are the prodigal son if you like, but you are on the
+road back to the Father. You are on the homeward road, and the Father is
+looking out for you. When you come to die you will not be alone, the
+hand of God will hold yours, and the smile of a forgiving God will say
+to you, as the blessed Jesus said once to a poor sinful woman, who yet
+was not <i>half</i> as great a sinner as you are, 'Thy sins, which are many,
+are forgiven thee.'"</p>
+
+<p>"You believe then in the greatness of my sin?"</p>
+
+<p>"I believe, I <i>know</i> that your sin was enormous; but so also is your
+repentance."</p>
+
+<p>"God knows I repent," answered Mr. Harman.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; when you asked me to visit you, and when you poured out that story
+in my ears, your long repentance and anguish of heart were beginning to
+find vent."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"I mean that you will make reparation."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, indeed I am more than willing. Zacch&aelig;us restored fourfold."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, the road for you, straight to the bosom of the Father, is very
+prickly and full of sharp thorns. You have held a high character for
+honor and respectability. You have a child who loves you, who has
+thought you perfect. You must step down from your high pedestal. You
+must renounce the place you have held in your child's heart. In short,
+you must let your only child, and also the cold, censorious world, see
+you as God has seen you for so long."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind the world, but&mdash;my child&mdash;my only child," said Mr. Harman,
+and now he put up his trembling hands and covered his face. "That is a
+very hard road," he said after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>"There is no other back to the Father," answered the clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I will take it then, for I <i>must</i> get back to Him. You are a man
+of God. I put myself in your hands. What am I to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"You put yourself not into my hands, sir, but into the loving and
+merciful hands of my Lord Christ. The course before you is plain. You
+must find out those you have robbed; you must restore all, and ask these
+wronged ones' forgiveness. When they forgive, the peace of God will
+shine into your heart."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You mean the widow and the child. But I do not know anything of them; I
+have shut my eyes to their fate."</p>
+
+<p>"The widow is dead, but the child lives; I happen to know her; I can
+bring her to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you? How soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"In an hour and a half from now if you like. I should wish you to rest
+in that peace I spoke of before morning. Shall I bring her to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will see her; but first, first, will you pray with me?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Home knelt down at once. The gray-headed and sinful man knelt by his
+side. Then the clergyman hurried away to fetch his wife.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PRINCE OF PEACE.</h3>
+
+
+<p>It was very nearly midnight when Mr. Home, entering the sitting-room
+where his wife waited up for him, asked her to come with him at once.</p>
+
+<p>"There is a hansom at the door," he said, "put on your bonnet and come.
+I will tell you all as we drive along; come at once, we have not a
+moment to lose."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte Home, accustomed as Home's wife to imperative demands, only
+thought of a night's nursing of some specially poor patient. She rose
+without a word, and in two minutes they were driving, as fast as a fleet
+horse could take them to Prince's Gate.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte," said her husband, taking her hand, "God has heard my
+prayer, God has given me the man's soul."</p>
+
+<p>"Whose soul, my dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"The soul of John Harman. Charlotte, I have prayed as I never prayed
+before in all my life for that guilty and troubled sinner's soul. I have
+been in an agony for it; it has seemed to me at times that for this lost
+and suffering brother I could lay down my very life. On Sunday last I
+went to conduct service in the small iron church. I tried the night
+before to prepare a sermon; no thought would come to me. I tried at last
+to look up an old one; no old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> sermon would commend itself. Finally I
+dropped all thought of the morrow's sermon and spent the greater part of
+the night in prayer. My prayer was for this sinner, and it seemed to me,
+that as I struggled and pleaded, God the Father and God the Son drew
+nigh. I went to bed with a wonderfully close sense of their presence. At
+morning prayers the next day, Miss Harman and her father entered the
+church. You may well look at me in surprise, Charlotte, but when I saw
+them I felt quiet enough; I only knew that God had sent them. For the
+first time in my life I preached without note or written help. I felt,
+however, at no loss for words; my theme was the Prodigal Son. I thought
+only of Mr. Harman; I went home and continued to pray for him. On
+Tuesday morning&mdash;that is, this morning&mdash;he was again at the church.
+After the prayers were over he waited to speak to me: he asked me to
+visit him at his own house this evening. I went there; I have been with
+him all the evening; he told me his life story, the bitter story of his
+fall. I am now come for you, for he must confess to you&mdash;you are the
+wronged one."</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to see John Harman, my half-brother who has wronged me?"
+said Mrs. Home; "I am going to him now without preparation? Oh! Angus, I
+cannot, not to-night, not to-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear, it must be to-night; if there is any hardness left in your
+heart it will melt when you see this sinner, whom God has forgiven."</p>
+
+<p>"Angus, you are all tenderness and love to him; I cannot aspire to your
+nature, I cannot. To this man, who has caused such misery and sin, I
+feel hard. Charlotte I pity, Charlotte I love; but this man, this man
+who deliberately could rob my dead mother! It is against human nature to
+feel very sorry for him."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean to tell me, Charlotte, that you refuse to forgive him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; eventually you will conquer me; but just now, I confess, my heart
+is not full of pity."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Home thought for a moment. He was pained by his wife's want of
+sympathy. Then he reflected that she had not seen Mr. Harman. It was
+plain, however, that they must not meet until her spirit towards him had
+changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not stop at Prince's Gate," he called out to the cabby, "drive on
+until I ask you to stop."</p>
+
+<p>During the drive that followed, he told his wife Mr. Harman's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> story. He
+told it well, for when he had finished, Charlotte turned to him eyes
+which had shed some tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Does Charlotte know of this?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think so. Will you come to Mr. Harman now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I will come on one condition!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I may see Charlotte afterwards."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure that can be managed."</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Home desired the cabby to stop at Prince's Gate. A
+sleepy-looking servant waited up for them. He manifested no surprise at
+sight of the lady and gentleman at such an hour. Mr. Home took his
+wife's hand, and the servant led them straight to his master's study.</p>
+
+<p>"I have told her the story," said Mr. Home; "she is your father's child,
+she comes to&mdash;&mdash;" Here the clergyman paused and looked at his wife, he
+wanted the word "forgive" to come from her own lips. Mrs. Home had grown
+white to her very lips. Now instead of replying, she fell upon her knees
+and covered her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte," said Mr. Harman, "can you do what this clergyman wants? Can
+you forgive the sin?" There was no answer; Mrs. Home was sobbing aloud.
+"I have robbed you, I have robbed you most cruelly. My dying father
+asked me to be good to you; I have been worse than cruel. You see before
+you an old, old man, as great a sinner as can be found on God's earth.
+Can you forgive me? Dare I ask it? At last, at last I make full
+reparation; I repent me, in dust and ashes; I repent, and I restore all
+fourfold." But here Charlotte Home had risen suddenly to her feet. She
+came up close to Mr. Harman, and taking his hand raised it to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>"My husband has told me all. I, I quite forgive you," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman glanced at the clergyman. "Your husband?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; she is my wife," answered Mr. Home. "Sir, you heard my wife say
+that she quite forgives. You may go to rest to-night, with a very
+peaceful heart; the peace of God which passes all understanding may
+encompass your pillow to-night. It is late and you have gone through
+much, may I go with you to your room? There will be many explanations
+yet to make; but though a clergyman, I am also in some measure a
+physician. I see you can go through no more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> emotion to-night, rest
+satisfied that all explanations can wait till to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"I will go with you," answered Mr. Harman, "but may I first thank your
+wife?" Charlotte Home's bonnet had fallen off as she knelt on the floor,
+now suddenly a withered and trembling hand was placed on her head. "God
+bless you! Even from a sinner like me, such words from a full heart must
+be heard."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay," said Mr. Home, in a loud, exultant voice, "the Prince of peace and
+forgiveness has come into this house to-night."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2>
+
+<h3>CHARLOTTE'S ROOM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Home and Mr. Harman went away together, and Charlotte was left alone
+in the study. By the profound stillness which now reigned in the house
+she guessed that every one had gone to bed. The servant who had admitted
+them at so late an hour had looked sleepy as he had done so. Doubtless
+Mr. Harman had desired him not to wait longer. Charlotte felt there was
+no use in ringing a bell. She scarcely knew her way about this great
+house. Nevertheless she must find Charlotte; she could not wait until
+the morning to throw her arms round her neck. She took one of the
+candles from the mantelpiece and began her tour through the silent
+house. She felt strangely timid as she commenced this midnight
+pilgrimage. The softly-carpeted stairs echoed back no footfall; she
+passed door after door. At last she recognized Charlotte's own private
+sitting-room, she had been there two or three times, but had never seen
+the room where her friend slept. A corridor, however, ran directly from
+this sitting-room, and Charlotte saw a closed door at the further end.
+"That must be the room," she said to herself, and she went straight
+towards it. The door was closed, but Charlotte heard a faint sound
+within. Instantly on hearing it she knocked lightly, but distinctly.
+There was a quick sound of hurried and surprised feet, and Charlotte
+Harman opened the door. Her eyes were heavy and red, as though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> she had
+been weeping. Her face was pale. She had not begun to undress.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte; Charlotte Home!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what is wrong? My
+father!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing is wrong, dear Charlotte, dear, dear Charlotte; but may I come
+in? I have a great deal to tell you."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I shall be glad! but how astonished I am to see you. I could not
+sleep. Yes, come in, you shall keep me company. Charlotte, you have been
+crying. Charlotte, there <i>is</i> something wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"You may well be surprised to see me here," said Mrs. Home, "but,
+strange as it may seem, things are more right than wrong. My husband
+came first, then he brought me."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I saw Mr. Home early in the evening. I saw him go into my father's
+study. When he went away I went there myself; but the door was locked,
+and my father called out from within, 'Not to-night, my child; don't sit
+up for me, come to me in the morning, I would rather be alone to-night.'
+He never before refused to see me to say good-night. I went to my room.
+I could not rest. Everything seems very dark. I have been crying, and
+now you have come. Oh, Charlotte! what is the meaning of it all?"</p>
+
+<p>"The meaning is good, Charlotte; but good or bad, you have to thank
+yourself for it. Why did you take your father to my husband's church on
+Sunday?"</p>
+
+<p>"He came to me on Sunday morning," answered Miss Harman. "He said he
+would like to go to church with me. He never did go to church with
+me&mdash;never, for many months. I asked him where he would go. He said he
+would leave it to me. Then it flashed across me that he did not know Mr.
+Home, also that I had never heard Mr. Home preach. I resolved to go to
+his church. We drove to Kentish Town. I made a few inquiries. I found
+out the little church where your husband told the people of his
+congregation how best to live, how best to die. Ah, Charlotte! he <i>did</i>
+preach to us. What a man he is!"</p>
+
+<p>"He realizes the absolute daily presence of God more perfectly than any
+man I ever met," answered the wife. "My dear, it was God himself led you
+to my husband's church on Sunday. Your father went there again to-day.
+After the service he stopped to speak to Angus. He asked him to come to
+him this evening. This evening he told my husband all; all the story of
+his sin, his repentance. Angus heard all, and when it was over he sent
+for me. I saw your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> father. Charlotte, your father may have been a
+sinner, but with such sinners, as he was once, the New Jerusalem will be
+filled by and by. Ah! thank God for the peace I saw on his face before I
+left him. Do you know that he put his hand on my head and blessed me.
+Angus is with him now, and I have come to you."</p>
+
+<p>"My father has told all!" said Charlotte Harman. Her face could scarcely
+grow any whiter. She made no further exclamation, but sat quiet.
+Charlotte Home, having told her story, watched her face. Suddenly, with
+tears springing to her eyes, she turned to the wife and mother who stood
+by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, how hard my heart has been! I have passed through some
+dreadful weeks. Oh! how heavy was my burden, how heavy was my heart! My
+heart was growing very hard; but the hardness has gone now. Now,
+Charlotte, I believe, I believe fully what your little Harold said to me
+some weeks ago."</p>
+
+<p>"What did he say to you, dearest?"</p>
+
+<p>"He said that Jesus Christ loved me very much. Yes, I believe Jesus does
+love me very much. Oh, Charlotte! do you know that I am tired and
+rested, and I want to sleep altogether. Will you lie down beside me? You
+will not leave me to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, darling; I will not leave you to-night."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2>
+
+<h3>HOW SANDY WILSON SPEAKS OUT HIS MIND.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Early in the morning, the father and daughter met. Not very many words
+passed between them. Mr. Harman knew that Mrs. Home had told Charlotte
+all. Now, coming to his side, she put her arms about him, and knelt,
+looking into his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte, you know what I have been," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, I know what you are now," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>After these few words, she would scarcely allow him to speak again, for
+he was very weak, too weak to leave his bed; but later on, in the course
+of the day, they had a long talk together, and Charlotte told her father
+of her own suffering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> during the past weeks. There was no longer need of
+concealment between them, and Charlotte made none. It was a very few
+days later that two trustees of the late Mr. Harman's will saw each
+other for the first time.</p>
+
+<p>Sandy Wilson had often looked forward to the moment when he could speak
+out his mind as to the enormity of the crime committed by Mr. Harman.
+Hitherto, this worthy man had felt that in this respect circumstances
+had been hard on him. <i>His</i> Daisy, his pretty little gentle sister, had
+been treated as hardly, as cruelly, as woman could be treated, and yet
+the robber&mdash;for was he not just a common robber?&mdash;had got off scot free;
+he was to get off scot free to the very end; he was to be let die in
+peace; and afterwards, his innocent child, his only daughter, must bear
+the brunt of his misdeeds. She must be put to grief and shame, while he,
+the one on whose head the real sin lay, escaped. Sandy felt that it
+would have been some slight relief to his wounded feelings if he could
+find some one to whom he could thoroughly and heartily abuse Mr. Harman.
+But even this satisfaction was denied him. Mr. Home was a man who would
+listen to abuse of none; and even Charlotte, though her eyes did flash
+when his name was mentioned, even she was simply silent, and to all the
+rest of the world Sandy must keep the thing a secret.</p>
+
+<p>There was no doubt whatever that when, the day after Mr. Harman's
+confession, the Homes came to Uncle Sandy and told him, not only all,
+but also that at any moment he might receive a summons to visit Mr.
+Harman, he felt a sense of exultation; also that his exultation was
+caused, not by the fact that his niece would now get back her own, for
+he had supplied her immediate need for money, but by the joyful sense
+that at last, at last, he, Sandy, could speak out his full mind. He
+could show this bad man, about whom every one was so strangely, so
+absurdly silent, what <i>he</i> thought of his conduct to his dear little
+sister. He went away to Prince's Gate, when at last the summons came,
+bristling over with a quite delightful sense of power. How well he would
+speak! how cleverly he would insert the arrow of remorse into that cruel
+heart! As he entered the house he was met by Miss Harman. She held out
+her hand to him without a word, and led him to the door of her father's
+study. Her eyes, however, as she looked at him for a moment, were
+eloquent. Those eyes of hers had exercised a power over him in Somerset
+House; they were full of pleading now. He went into Mr. Harman's
+presence softened, a little confused, and with his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> many excellent, to
+the point, and scathing remarks running riot in his brain.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it came to pass that Sandy said no word of reproach to the
+broken-down man who greeted him. Nay, far from reproaching, he felt
+himself sharing in the universal pity. Where God's hand was smiting
+hard, how could man dare to raise his puny arm?</p>
+
+<p>The two trustees, meeting for the first time after all these years,
+talked long over that neglected, that unfulfilled trust, and steps were
+put in train to restore to Charlotte Home what had for so many years
+been held back from her. This large sum, with all back interest, would
+make the once poor Charlotte very rich indeed. There would still be,
+after all was settled, something left for Charlotte Harman, but the
+positions of the two were now virtually reversed.</p>
+
+<p>"There is one thing which still puzzles me," said Mr. Harman before they
+parted. "Leaving my terrible share in this matter alone, my brother and
+I could never have carried out our scheme if you had not been supposed
+to be dead. How is it you gave no sign of your existence for three and
+twenty years? My brother even wrote me word from Australia that he had
+himself stood on your grave."</p>
+
+<p>"He stood on the grave of Sandy Wilson, but never on mine," answered the
+other trustee. "There was a fellow bearing my name, who was with me in
+the Bush. He was the same age. He was like me too in general outline;
+big, with red hair and all that kind of thing. His name was put into the
+papers, and I remember wondering if the news would reach home, and if my
+little Daisy&mdash;bless her!&mdash;would think it was me. I was frightfully poor
+at the time, I had scarcely sixpence to bless myself with, and somehow,
+your father, sir, though he did eventually trust me, as circumstances
+proved, yet he gave me to understand that in marrying the sister he by
+no means intended to take the brother to his bosom. I said to myself, 'A
+poor lost dog like Sandy may as well appear to be dead to those at home.
+I love no one in England but my little Daisy, and she does not need me,
+she has abundance without me.' So I ceased to write. I had gone to a
+part of the country where even an English paper reached us but once or
+twice a year. I heard nothing of the old home; and by degrees I got out
+of the habit of writing. I was satisfied to be considered dead. I did
+wrong, I confess."</p>
+
+<p>"By coming back, by proclaiming your existence, you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> could have exposed
+me years ago," said Mr. Harman; "how I dreaded exposure; how little I
+knew, when it did come, that it would fall lightly in comparison
+with&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Wilson.</p>
+
+<p>"The awful frown of God's displeasure. Man, to be shut away from God
+through your own sin is to be in hell. I have dwelt there for three and
+twenty years. Until two nights ago, I have known no peace; now, I know
+God can forgive even such a sin as mine."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe you have suffered, Mr. Harman," answered Wilson. "For the
+matter of that, we are all poor sinners. God have mercy upon us all!"</p>
+
+<p>"Amen," said Mr. Harman.</p>
+
+<p>And that was all the reproof Sandy ever found in his heart to give to
+his fellow trustee.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2>
+
+<h3>MRS. HOME'S DREAM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Still, there was a weight on Charlotte Home's mind. Much had been given
+to her, so much that she could scarcely believe herself to be the same
+woman, who a few short months ago had pawned her engagement ring to buy
+her little son a pair of shoes. She was now wealthy beyond her wildest
+dreams; she was wealthy not only in money but in friends. Charlotte
+Harman was her almost daily companion. Charlotte Harman clung to her
+with an almost passionate love. Uncle Sandy, too, had made himself, by
+his cheerfulness, his generosity, his kindness of nature, a warm place
+in her affections; and Mr. Harman saw her more than once, and she found
+that she could love even Mr. Harman. Then&mdash;how well, how beautiful her
+children looked! How nice it was to see them surrounded by those good
+things of life which, despise them as some people will, still add charms
+to those who possess them! Above all, how happy her dear husband was!
+Angus Home's face was like the sun itself, during the days which
+followed Mr. Harman's confession. This sunshine with him had nothing to
+say to the altered and improved circumstances of his life; but it had a
+great deal to say to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> the altered circumstances of his mind. God had
+most signally, most remarkably, heard his prayer. He had given to him
+the soul for which he pleaded. Through all eternity that suffering, and
+once so sinful, soul was safe. Mr. Home rejoiced over that redeemed soul
+as one who finds great spoil. Added love to God filled his grateful
+heart; his faith in God became more and more, day by day, a mighty
+power. Thus Charlotte Home was surrounded by as much sunshine as often
+visits a human being in this mortal life; yet still this unreasonable
+woman was discontented. The fact was, success had made her bold. She had
+obtained what her heart had pined for. She wanted another little drop of
+bliss to complete her overflowing cup. Charlotte Home was unselfish in
+her joy. There was a shadow on another's brow. She wanted that shadow to
+depart; in short, she wanted Hinton and Charlotte to meet; not only to
+meet, but as quickly as possible to marry. Charlotte's heart was still
+with this lover whom she had given up, and who seemed to have forsaken
+her. Mrs. Home saw this, though on the subject of Hinton Charlotte still
+refused to speak. She said once, and only once, to her friend:</p>
+
+<p>"We have parted, we have most absolutely parted. There is no use now
+looking back on the past; he must never share my disgrace. Yes, my dear
+and beloved father has repented nobly: but the disgrace remains. He must
+never share it. He sees the wisdom of this himself, so we will not speak
+of him, dear Charlotte; I can bear it best so."</p>
+
+<p>This little speech was made with great firmness; but there was a
+strained look about the lips, and a sorrow about the eyes which Mrs.
+Home understood very well. She must not speak, but no one could prevent
+her acting. She resolved to leave no stone unturned to bring these two
+together again. In doing this she would act for the good of two whom she
+loved, for Hinton was also very dear to her. She could never forget
+those nights when he sat by the bed of her almost dying child. She could
+never forget the prompt interference which saved that child's life. She
+had learned enough of his character, during those few weeks which they
+had spent together, to feel sure that no disgrace such as Charlotte
+feared would influence him to cause her pain. It is true she could not
+in any measure account for his absence and his silence; but she was
+quite wise enough and quite clever enough to believe that both could be
+satisfactorily accounted for. She could, however, do nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> without
+seeing Hinton. How could she see him? She had written to his chambers,
+she had written to his lodgings; from both addresses had the letters
+been returned. She thought of advertising. She lay awake at night trying
+to devise some scheme. At last one night she had a dream; so far
+curious, in that it conducted her to the desired end. She dreamt that
+Hinton came to Waterloo station, not to remain in London, but to pass
+through to another part of England. There was nothing more in her dream;
+nevertheless, she resolved to go to that station on the next day. Her
+dream had not even pointed to any particular hour. She looked in
+<i>Bradshaw</i>, saw when a great express from the south was due, and started
+off on what might truly be called a wild-goose chase.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, instinct, if nothing higher, had guided Charlotte Home;
+for the first person she saw stepping out of a carriage of this very
+train was Hinton. She saw Hinton, he also saw her.</p>
+
+<p>"You must come with me," she said, going up to him and laying her hand
+on his arm. "You must come with me, and at once, for God has sent me to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"But I cannot," he answered, "I am catching another train at Euston. I
+am going on special business to Scotland. It is important. I cannot put
+it off. I am ever so sorry; but I must jump into a cab at once." He held
+out his hand as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Home glanced into his face. His face was changed; it was pale and
+worn. There was a hard look about both eyes and mouth, which both
+altered and considerably spoiled his expression.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not keep you if you still wish to go, after hearing my story,"
+answered Mrs. Home; "but there will be room for two in your hansom. You
+do not object to my driving with you to Euston?"</p>
+
+<p>Hinton could not say he objected to this, though in his heart he felt
+both annoyed and surprised.</p>
+
+<p>As they were driving along, Mrs. Home said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard anything lately of Mr. Harman?"</p>
+
+<p>To this Hinton replied, "I have not; and pardon me, Mr. Harman does not
+interest me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Mrs. Home, "he interests me very much. He&mdash;he told my husband
+a strange tale&mdash;a tale about himself."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Did he confess his guilt? I know that he is a very sinful man."</p>
+
+<p>"He has been a great sinner, but he has repented. He has confessed that
+early and terrible sin of his youth. He has not only confessed, but he
+is taking steps to make full reparation."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! then you will come into your rights? Let me congratulate you."</p>
+
+<p>"You knew of his sin? You knew what his sin was Mr. Hinton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I knew."</p>
+
+<p>"Charlotte had hoped to keep that disgrace from you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!"</p>
+
+<p>"She gave you another reason for breaking off her engagement?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, a weak and futile one. She could not expect me to believe it. I
+did what she had but done before me. I went to Somerset House and saw
+that will which has been so greatly abused."</p>
+
+<p>"She never knew that."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, she did."</p>
+
+<p>"I fear I must be rude enough to contradict you. She said most
+distinctly that you were fully satisfied with the reasons she had given
+for breaking off the engagement, that perhaps you might never now learn
+what her father had done."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton looked at his companion in some perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>"But I wrote to her," he said. "I wrote a letter which, it seemed to me,
+any woman who had a spark even of kindness would have answered. In that
+letter, I told her that I held her to her promise; that I knew all; that
+even if she did not write to me I would call and try to see her. She
+never replied to my letter, and when, after waiting for twenty-four
+hours, I went to the house, she absolutely refused to see me."</p>
+
+<p>"She never knew you called," answered Mrs. Home, "and she never got your
+letter."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens! how do you know?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know her too well; but I will ask her directly."</p>
+
+<p>Hinton was silent.</p>
+
+<p>After a short pause, Mrs. Home broke out passionately,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"How dare you insinuate doubts of so noble a creature?"</p>
+
+<p>"I could only believe facts."</p>
+
+<p>"Has a letter never gone astray? Has a letter never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> failed to reach the
+hands it was meant for? Mr. Hinton, I am ashamed of you."</p>
+
+<p>"If you can prove that she never got it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know she never got it. She is changed; her heart is half broken. But
+I will prove it. I will go to her at once. Are you still going to
+Scotland?"</p>
+
+<p>"I need not go until I hear from you. You have astonished me greatly."</p>
+
+<p>"Then drive to my house. Ah! you do not know our new address; it is &mdash;&mdash;;
+wait for me there, I will be with you in an hour or so."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII" id="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII.</h2>
+
+<h3>JOHN.</h3>
+
+
+<p>Hinton went to Mrs. Home's house. The children were out, Mr. Home was
+not visible. Anne, now converted into a neat parlor-maid, received him
+with broad grins of pleasure. She ushered him into the pretty,
+newly-furnished drawing-room, and asked him to wait for her mistress.</p>
+
+<p>"Missis 'ull be back afore long," she said, lingering a little to
+readjust the blinds, and half hoping, half expecting, Hinton to make
+some surprised and approving remark on the changed circumstances of the
+Homes' surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>He made none, however; and Anne, with a slight sigh, left him alone.
+When she did so he rose to his feet and began to pace quickly up and
+down the room. After a time, half an hour or so, he pulled out his
+watch. Yes, he had already lost that express to the north. A good piece
+of business would probably be also lost. But what matter! beyond
+ascertaining the fact that he had missed his train, he did not give the
+affair another thought. To tell the truth, his mind was agitated, his
+heart was full; hope once more peeped upon the horizon of his being. A
+month ago&mdash;for it was quite a month ago now&mdash;he had received as sharp
+and cruel a shock as falls on most men. Fortune, love, and trust had all
+been dashed from the lips which were already so close to the charmed cup
+that its very flavor was apparent. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> cup had never reached the lips
+of Hinton. Fortune was gone, love was gone; worst of all, yes, hardest
+of all, trust was gone. The ideal he had worshipped was but an ideal.
+The Charlotte he had loved was unworthy. She had rejected him, and
+cruelly. His letter was unanswered. He himself was refused admittance.
+Then his pride had risen in revolt. If she could so treat him, he would
+sue no longer. If she could so easily give him up, he would bow to her
+decision. She was not the Charlotte of his love and his dream. But what
+matter! Other men had come to an ideal and found it but a clay idol. He
+would recover: he would not let his heart break. He found, however, that
+he could not stay in London. An uncle of his, his only living near
+relation, was a solicitor in the south of England. Hinton went to visit
+his uncle. He received him warmly and kindly. He not only promised him
+work, but kept his word. Hinton took chambers in a fashionable part of
+the town, and already was not idle. But he was a changed man. That
+shattered trust was making his spirit very hard. The cynical part of him
+was being fostered. Mrs. Home, when she looked into his face, was quite
+right in saying to herself that his expression had not improved. Now,
+however, again, as he paced up and down, soft thoughts were visiting
+him. For what doubts, what blessed doubts had Mrs. Home not insinuated?
+How irregularly his heart beat; how human he felt once more! Ah! what
+sound was that? A cab had drawn up at the door. Hinton flew to the
+window; he saw the soft fawn shade of a lady's dress, he could not see
+the lady. Of course, it was Mrs. Home returning. What news did she
+bring? How he longed to fly to meet her! He did not do so, however; his
+feet felt leaden weighted. He leant against the window, with his back to
+the door. His heart beat harder and harder; he clenched his hands hard.
+There was a quick step running up the stairs, a quick and springing
+step. The drawing-room door was opened and then shut. He heard the
+rustle of soft drapery, then a hand was laid on his arm. The touch of
+that hand made him tremble violently. He turned his head, and&mdash;not
+Charlotte Home&mdash;but <i>his</i> Charlotte, beautiful and true, stood by his
+side. Their eyes met.</p>
+
+<p>"John!" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"My own, my darling!" he answered.</p>
+
+<p>In an instant they were clasped in each other's arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> That swift
+glance, which each had given the other, had told all.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>"John, I never got your letter."</p>
+
+<p>"No!"</p>
+
+<p>"John, you doubted me."</p>
+
+<p>"I did, I confess it; I confess it bitterly. But not now, not after one
+glance into your eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"John, what did you say in that letter?"</p>
+
+<p>"That I held you to your sacred promise; that I refused to give you up."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but&mdash;you did not know my true reason. You did not know
+why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I knew all. Before I wrote that letter I went to Somerset house. I
+read your grandfather's will."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! did you&mdash;did you indeed? Oh! what a dreadful time I have gone
+through."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but it is over now. Mrs. Home told me how your father had
+repented. The sin is forgiven. The agony is past. What God forgets don't
+let us remember. Lottie, cease to think of it. It is at an end, and so
+are our troubles. I am with you again. Oh! how nearly I had lost you."</p>
+
+<p>Charlotte's head was on her lover's shoulder. His arm was round her.
+"Charlotte, I repeat what I said in that letter which never reached you.
+I refuse to absolve you from your promise. I refuse to give you up. Do
+you hear? I refuse to give you up."</p>
+
+<p>"But, John, I am poor now."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor or rich, you are yourself, and you are mine. Charlotte, do you
+hear me? If you hear me answer me. Tell me that you are mine."</p>
+
+<p>"I am yours, John," she said simply, and she raised her lips to kiss
+him.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII" id="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2>
+
+<h3>BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM.</h3>
+
+
+<p>A month after&mdash;just one month after, there was a very quiet wedding; a
+wedding performed in the little church at Kentish Town. The ceremony was
+thought by the few who witnessed it to be, even for that obscure part, a
+very poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> one. There were no bridesmaids, or white dresses, or, indeed,
+white favors in any form. The bride wore the plainest gray travelling
+suit. She was given away by her gray-headed father; Charlotte Home stood
+close behind her; Mr. Home married the couple, and Uncle Sandy acted as
+best man. Surely no tamer ending could come to what was once meant to be
+such a brilliant affair. Immediately after the ceremony, the bride and
+bridegroom went away for two days and Mrs. Home went back to Prince's
+Gate with Mr. Harman, for she had promised Charlotte to take care of her
+father until her return.</p>
+
+<p>Many changes were contemplated. The grand house in Prince's gate was to
+be given up, and the Hintons were to live in that large southern town
+where Hinton was already obtaining a young barrister's great
+ambition&mdash;briefs. Mr. Harman, while he lived, was to find his home with
+his son and daughter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Harman was now a peaceful and happy man, and so improved was his
+health&mdash;so had the state of his mind affected his body, that though he
+could never hope for cure of his malady, yet Sir George Anderson assured
+him that with care he might live for a very much longer time than he had
+thought possible a few months before. Thus death stood back, not
+altogether thrust aside, but biding its time.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of Charlotte's wedding-day there arrived a letter from
+Jasper.</p>
+
+<p>"So you have told all?" he said to his brother. "Well, be it so. From
+the time I knew the other trustee was not dead and had reached England,
+I felt that discovery was at hand. No, thank you; I shall never come
+back to England. If you can bear poverty and public disgrace, I cannot.
+I have some savings of my own, and on these I can live during my
+remaining days. Good-bye&mdash;we shall never meet again on earth! I repent,
+do you say, of my share? Yes, the business turned out badly in the end.
+What a heap of money those Homes will come in for! Stolen goods don't
+prosper with a man! So it seems. Well, I shall stay out of England."</p>
+
+<p>Jasper was true to his word. Not one of those who knew him in this tale
+ever heard of him again.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, the Homes were now very rich; but both Mr. and Mrs. Home were
+faithful stewards of what was lent them from the Lord. Nor did the
+Hintons miss what was taken from them. It is surely enough to say of
+Charlotte and her husband that they were very happy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But as sin, however repented of, must yet reap its own reward, so in
+this instance the great house of Harman Brothers ceased to exist. To pay
+that unfulfilled trust the business had to be sold. It passed into the
+hands of strangers, and was continued under another name. No one now
+remembers even its existence.</p>
+
+<h4>THE END</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>L. T. MEADE SERIES.</h2>
+
+<p class='center'>Uniform With This Volume.<br />
+<span class="smcap">By MRS. L. T. MEADE.</span><br /></p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="L. T. MEADE SERIES">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Daddy's Girl.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Dr. Ramsey's Patient.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Gay Charmer, A.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Girl in Ten Thousand, A.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Girls of the True Blue.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Merry Girls of England.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Miss Nonentity.</b></td></tr>
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+<tr><td align='left'><b>Sweet Girl Graduate, A.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Very Naughty Girl, A.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Wild Kitty.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>World of Girls.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Young Mutineers, The.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Price Post-Paid, 50c. each, or any three books for $1.25.</i></p>
+
+<h4>HURST &amp; COMPANY <span class="smcap">Publishers, New York.</span></h4>
+
+
+
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+<h2>REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD OBTAIN A CATALOGUE OF OUR PUBLICATIONS</h2>
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+
+<p>1. You will possess a comprehensive and classified list of all the best
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+Juvenile and Nursery Literature in immense variety.</p>
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+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>THE FAMOUS ALGER BOOKS</h2>
+
+<p class='center'>By Horatio Alger, Jr.<br />
+The Boy's Writer</p>
+
+<p>A series of books known to all boys; books that are good and wholesome,
+with enough "ginger" in them to suit the tastes of the younger
+generation. The Alger books are not filled with "blood and thunder"
+stories of a doubtful character, but are healthy and elevating, and
+parents should see to it that their children become acquainted with the
+writings of this celebrated writer of boys' books. We publish the titles
+named below:</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="THE FAMOUS ALGER BOOKS">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Adrift in New York.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>A Cousin's Conspiracy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Andy Gordon.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Andy Grant's Pluck.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Bob Burton.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Bound to Rise.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Brave and Bold.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Cash Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Chester Rand.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Do and Dare.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Driven from Home.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Erie Train Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Facing the World.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Five Hundred Dollars.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Frank's Campaign.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Grit.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Hector's Inheritance.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Helping Himself.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Herbert Carter's Legacy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>In a New World.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Jack's Ward.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Jed, the Poor House Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Joe's Luck.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Julins, the Street Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Luke Walton.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Making His Way.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Mark Mason.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Only an Irish Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Paul, the Peddler.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Phil, the Fiddler.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Ralph Raymond's Heir.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Risen from the Ranks.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Sam's Chance.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Shifting for Himself.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Sink or Swim.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Slow and Sure.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Store Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Strive and Succeed.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Strong and Steady.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Struggling Upward.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Tin Box.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Tom, the Bootblack.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Tony, the Tramp.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Try and Trust.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Wait and Hope.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Walter Sherwood's Probation.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Acrobat.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Adventurer.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Outlaw.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Salesman.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Any of these books will be mailed upon receipt of <b>35c., or three copies
+for $1.00</b>. Do not fail to procure one or more of these famous volumes.</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+A Complete Catalogue of Books<br />
+Will Be Sent Upon Request.</p>
+
+<h4>HURST &amp; CO., Publishers, NEW YORK</h4>
+
+
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>HENTY SERIES</h2>
+
+<p>An entirely new edition of these famous Books for Boys, by G. A. Henty.
+This author has reached the hearts of the younger generation by cleverly
+amalgamating historical events into interesting stories. Every book
+illustrated. 42 titles. Price, 35c.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="HENTY SERIES">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Among Malay Pirates. A Story of Adventure and Peril.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Bonnie Prince Charlie. A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Boy Knight, The. A Tale of the Crusades.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Bravest of the Brave, The. With Peterborough in Spain.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>By England's Aid; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604).</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>By Pike and Dyke. A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>By Right of Conquest; or with Cortez in Mexico.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>By Sheer Pluck. A Tale of the Ashanti War.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Captain Bayley's Heir. A Tale of the Gold Fields of California.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Cat of Bubastes, The. A Story of Ancient Egypt.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Cornet of Horse, The. A Tale of Marlborough's Wars.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Dragon and the Raven: or, The Days of King Alfred.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Facing Death. A Tale of the Coal Mines.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Final Reckoning, A. A Tale of Bush Life in Australia.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>For Name and Fame; or, Through Afghan Passes.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>For the Temple. A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Friends, Though Divided. A Tale of the Civil War in England.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Golden Canon, The.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>In Freedom's Cause. A Story of Wallace and Bruce.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>In the Reign of Terror. Adventures of a Westminster Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>In Times of Peril. A Tale of India.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Lion of St. Mark, The. A Story of Venice in the Fourteenth Century.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Lion of the North, The. A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and Wars of Religion.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Lost Heir, The.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Maori and Settler. A Story of the New Zealand War.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>One of the 28th. A Tale of Waterloo.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Orange and Green. A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Out on the Pampas. A Tale of South America.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>St. George for England. A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Sturdy and Strong; or, How George Andrews Made His Way.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Through the Fray. A Story of the Luddite Riots.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>True to the Old Flag. A Tale of the American War of Independence.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Under Drake's Flag. A Tale of the Spanish Main.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>With Clive in India; or, The Beginnings of an Empire.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>With Lee in Virginia. A Story of the American Civil War.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Continent.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Buglers, The. A Tale of the Peninsular War.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Carthaginian, The. A Story of the Times of Hannibal.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Colonists, The. A Story of Life and War in South Africa.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Franc-Tireurs, The. A Tale of the Franco-Prussian War.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Young Midshipman, The. A Tale of the Siege of Alexandria.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>ANY OF THESE BOOKS WILL BE MAILED UPON RECEIPT OF 35c., OR THREE COPIES
+FOR $1.00</p>
+
+<p class="center">Be sure you have one of our complete catalogues; sent anywhere when
+requested.</p>
+
+<h4>HURST &amp; CO. Publishers NEW YORK</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<h4>Mirthful Books Worth Reading!</h4>
+
+<h2>Peck's Books of Humor</h2>
+
+<p>No author has achieved a greater national reputation for books of
+genuine humor and mirth than <span class="smcap">George W. Peck</span>, author of "Peck's Bad Boy
+and His Pa."</p>
+
+<p>We are fortunate to be able to offer, within everyone's reach, three of
+his latest books. The titles are:</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="PECK BOOKS OF HUMOR">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Peck's Uncle Ike,</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Peck's Sunbeams,</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Peck's Red-Headed Boy.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p class="center">CLOTH Binding, 60c., Postpaid.  &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;  PAPER Binding, 30c., Postpaid.</p>
+
+<p>By failing to procure any one of these books you lose an opportunity to
+"laugh and grow fat." When you get one you will order the others.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Send for our Illustrated Catalogue of Books.</i></p>
+
+<h4>HURST &amp; CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>Helen's Babies</h2>
+
+<p class="center">By John Habberton</p>
+
+<h4>Interesting!&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Entertaining!&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Amusing!</h4>
+
+<p>A book with a famous reputation. It is safe to say that no book,
+illustrating the doings of children, has ever been published that has
+reached the popularity enjoyed by "<span class="smcap">Helen's Babies</span>." Brilliantly written,
+Habberton records in this volume some of the cutest, wittiest and most
+amusing of childish sayings, whims and pranks, all at the expense of a
+bachelor uncle. The book is elaborately illustrated, which greatly
+assists the reader in appreciating page by page, Habberton's
+masterpiece.</p>
+
+<p>Published as follows:</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Popular Price Edition, Cloth, 60c., Postpaid.</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 8em;">Quarto Edition, with Six Colored Plates, Cloth, $1.25, Postpaid.</span></p>
+
+<p>We guarantee that you will not suffer from "the blues" after reading
+this book.</p>
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+<p class="center"><i>Ask for our complete catalogue. Mailed upon request.</i></p>
+
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+
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+<h4>Elegant Gift Books</h4>
+
+<h2>Hurst's Presentation Series</h2>
+
+<p class="center">A Distinctive Cover Design on Each Book</p>
+
+<p>A beautiful series of Young People's Books to suit the tastes of the
+most fastidious. The publishers consider themselves fortunate in being
+able to offer such a marvelous line of choice subjects, made up into
+attractive presentation volumes. Large type, fine heavy paper, numerous
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+and gold effects.</p>
+
+<p>Price, postpaid, $1.00 per volume.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="HURST PRESENTATION SERIES">
+<tr><td align='left'><b>Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Anderson's Fairy Tales.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Arabian Nights.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Black Beauty.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Child's History of England.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Grimm's Fairy Tales.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Gulliver's Travels.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Helen's Babies.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Mother Goose, Complete.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Palmer Cox's Fairy Book.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Peck's Uncle Ike and the Red-Headed Boy.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Pilgrim's Progress.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Robinson Crusoe.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Swiss Family Robinson.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Tales from Scott for Young People.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Tom Brown's School Days.</b></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="left"><b>Uncle Tom's Cabin.</b></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Books sure to be a delight to every boy and girl who becomes the proud
+possessor of any or all of them.</p>
+
+<p class="center">Write for our Complete Catalogue.</p>
+
+<h4>HURST &amp; CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,11710 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of How It All Came Round, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: How It All Came Round
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: November 28, 2007 [EBook #23653]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW IT ALL CAME ROUND ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire, D Alexander and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+HOW IT ALL CAME ROUND
+
+BY
+
+MRS. L. T. MEADE
+
+AUTHOR OF "GIRLS OF THE TRUE BLUE," "WILD KITTY,"
+"A GIRL OF THE PEOPLE," ETC., ETC.
+
+NEW YORK
+HURST & COMPANY
+PUBLISHERS
+
+
+[Illustration: MRS. L. T. MEADE.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE RICH CHARLOTTE.
+
+
+The room had three occupants, two were men, the third a woman. The men
+were middle-aged and gray-haired, the woman on the contrary was in the
+prime of youth; she was finely made, and well proportioned. Her face was
+perhaps rather too pale, but the eyes and brow were noble, and the
+sensitive mouth showed indications of heart as well as intellect.
+
+The girl, or rather young woman, for she was past five and twenty, sat
+by the fire, a book on her knee. The two men had drawn chairs close to a
+table. The elder of these men bore such an unmistakable likeness to the
+girl, that even the most casual observer must have guessed the
+relationship which existed between them. He was a handsome man,
+handsomer even than his daughter, but the same individualities marked
+both faces. While, however, in the woman all was a profound serenity and
+calm, the man had some anxious lines round the mouth, and some
+expression, now coming, now going, in the fine gray eyes, which
+betokened a long-felt anxiety.
+
+The other and younger man was shrewd-looking and commonplace; but a very
+close observer of human nature might have said, "He may be commonplace,
+but do not feel too certain; he simply possesses one of those faces
+which express nothing, from which not the cleverest detective in
+Scotland Yard could extract any secret."
+
+He was a man with plenty to say, and much humor, and at the moment this
+story opens he was laughing merrily and in a heart-whole way, and his
+older and graver companion listened with evident enjoyment.
+
+The room in which the three sat bore evidence of wealth. It was a
+library, and handsome books lay on the tables, and rare old folios could
+have been found by those who cared to look within the carefully locked
+bookcases. Some manuscripts were scattered about, and by the girl's
+side, on a small table, lay several carefully revised proofs, and even
+now she was bending earnestly over a book of reference.
+
+"Well, Jasper," said the elder man, when the younger paused for an
+instant in his eager flow of words, "we have talked long enough about
+that fine land you have just come from, for even Australian adventures
+can keep--I am interested in something nearer home. What do you say to
+Charlotte there? She was but a baby when you saw her last."
+
+"She was five years old," replied Jasper. "A saucy little imp, bless
+you! just the kind that would be sure to grow into a fine woman. But to
+tell the truth I don't much care to look at her, for she makes me feel
+uncommonly old and shaky."
+
+"You gave me twenty years to grow into a woman, uncle," answered the
+pleasant voice of Charlotte Harman. "I could not choose but make good
+use of the time."
+
+"So you have, lass--so you have; I have been growing old and you have
+been growing beautiful; such is life; but never mind, your turn will
+come."
+
+"But not for a long, long time, Lottie my pet," interrupted the father.
+"You need not mind your uncle Jasper. These little speeches were always
+his way. And I'll tell you something else, Jasper; that girl of mine has
+a head worth owning on her shoulders, a head she knows how to use. You
+will not believe me when I say that she writes in this magazine and
+this, and she is getting a book ready for the press; ay, and there's
+another thing. Shall I tell it, Charlotte?"
+
+"Yes, father; it is no secret," replied Charlotte.
+
+"It is this, brother Jasper; you have come home in time for a wedding.
+My girl is going to leave me. I shall miss her, for she is womanly in
+the best sense of the word, and she is my only one; but there is a
+comfort--the man she is to marry is worthy of her."
+
+"And there is another comfort, father," said Charlotte; "that though I
+hope to be married, yet I never mean to leave you. You know that well, I
+have often told you so," and here this grave young girl came over and
+kissed her father's forehead.
+
+He smiled back at her, all the care leaving his eyes as he did so. Uncle
+Jasper had sprung impatiently to his feet.
+
+"As to the lass being married," he said, "that's nothing; all women
+marry, or if they don't they ought to. But what was that you said, John,
+about writing, writing in a printed book? You were joking surely, man?"
+
+"No, I was not," answered the father. "Go and show your uncle Jasper
+that last article of yours, Charlotte."
+
+"Oh, heaven preserve us! no," said uncle Jasper, backing a pace or two.
+"I'm willing with all my heart to believe it, if you swear it, but not
+the article. Don't for heaven's sake, confront me with the article."
+
+"There's nothing uncommon in my writing for magazines, Uncle Jasper; a
+great many girls do write now. I have three friends myself who----"
+
+Uncle Jasper's red face had grown positively pathetic in its agitation.
+"What a place England must have become!" he interrupted with a groan.
+"Well, lass, I'll believe you, but I have one request to make. Tell me
+what you like about your wedding; go into all the raptures you care for
+over your wedding dress, and even over the lucky individual for whom you
+will wear it; tell me twenty times a day that he's perfection, that you
+and you alone have found the eighth wonder of the world, but for the
+love of heaven leave out about the books! The other will be hard to
+bear, but I'll endeavor to swallow it--but the books, oh! heaven
+preserve us--leave out about the printed books. Don't mention the
+unlucky magazines for which you write. Don't breathe to me the thoughts
+with which you fill them. Oh, if there's an awful creature under the sun
+'tis a blue-stocking, and to think I should have come back from England
+to find such a horror in the person of my own niece!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+THE POOR CHARLOTTE.
+
+
+While this light and playful scene was being enacted in a wealthy house
+in Prince's Gate, and Charlotte Harman and her father laughed merrily
+over the Australian uncle's horror of authors and their works, another
+Charlotte was going through a very different part, in a different place
+in the great world's centre.
+
+There could scarcely be a greater contrast than between the small and
+very shabby house in Kentish Town and the luxurious mansion in
+Kensington. The parlor of this house, for the drawing-rooms were let to
+lodgers, was occupied by one woman. She sat by a little shabbily covered
+table, writing. The whole appearance of the room was shabby: the
+furniture, the carpet, the dingy window panes, the tiny pretence of a
+fire in the grate. It was not exactly a dirty room, but it lacked all
+brightness and freshness. The chimney did not draw well, and now and
+then a great gust of smoke would come down, causing the busy writer to
+start and rub her smarting eyes. She was a young woman, as young as
+Charlotte Harman, with a slight figure and very pale face. There were
+possibilities of beauty in the face. But the possibilities had come to
+nothing; the features were too pinched, too underfed, the eyes, in
+themselves dark and heavily fringed, too often dimmed by tears. It was a
+very cold day, and sleet was beginning to fall, and the smoking chimney
+had a vindictive way of smoking more than ever, but the young woman
+wrote on rapidly, as though for bare life. Each page as she finished it,
+was flung on one side; some few fell on the floor, but she did not stop
+even to pick them up.
+
+The short winter daylight had quite faded, and she had stood up to light
+the gas, when the room door was pushed slightly ajar, and one of those
+little maids-of-all-work, so commonly seen in London, put in her untidy
+head.
+
+"Ef you please, 'em, Harold's been and hurt Daisy, and they is
+quarreling h'ever so, and I think as baby's a deal worse, 'em."
+
+"I will go up to them, Anne, and you may stay down and lay the cloth for
+tea--I expect your master in early to-night."
+
+She put her writing materials hastily away, and with a light, quick step
+ran upstairs. She entered a room which in its size and general
+shabbiness might better have been called an attic, and found herself in
+the presence of three small children. The two elder ran to meet her with
+outstretched arms and glad cries. The baby sat up in his cot and gazed
+hard at his mother with flushed cheeks and round eyes.
+
+She took the baby in her arms and sat down in a low rocking-chair close
+to the fire. Harold and Daisy went on their little knees in front of
+her. Now that mother had come their quarrel was quite over, and the poor
+baby ceased to fret.
+
+Seated thus, with her little children about her there was no doubt at
+all that Charlotte Home had a pleasant face; the care vanished from her
+eyes as she looked into the innocent eyes of her babies, and as she
+nursed the seven-months-old infant she began crooning a sweet old song
+in a true, delicious voice, to which the other two listened with
+delight:----
+
+  "In the days when we went gipsying,
+  A long time ago."
+
+"What's gipsying, mother?" asked Harold, aged six.
+
+"Something like picnicking, darling. People who live in the country, or
+who are rich,"--here Mrs. Home sighed--"often, in the bright summer
+weather, take their dinner or their tea, and they go out into the woods
+or the green fields and eat there. I have been to gypsy teas; they are
+great fun. We lit a fire and boiled the kettle over it, and made the
+tea; it was just the same tea as we had at home, but somehow it tasted
+much better out-of-doors."
+
+"Was that some time ago, mother?" asked little Daisy.
+
+"It would seem a long, long time to you, darling; but it was not so many
+years ago."
+
+"Mother," asked Harold, "why aren't we rich, or why don't we live in the
+country?"
+
+A dark cloud, caused by some deeper emotion than the mere fact of being
+poor, passed over the mother's face.
+
+"We cannot live in the country," she said, "because your father has a
+curacy in this part of London. Your father is a brave man, and he must
+not desert his post."
+
+"Then why aren't we rich?" persisted the boy.
+
+"Because--because--I cannot answer you that, Harold; and now I must run
+downstairs again. Father is coming in earlier than usual to-night, and
+you and Daisy may come down for a little bit after tea--that is, if you
+promise to be very good children now, and not to quarrel. See, baby has
+dropped asleep; who will sit by him and keep him from waking until Anne
+comes back?"
+
+"I, mother," said Harold, and, "I, mother," said Daisy.
+
+"That is best," said the gentle-voiced mother; "you both shall keep him
+very quiet and safe; Harold shall sit on this side of his little cot and
+Daisy at the other."
+
+Both children placed themselves, mute as mice, by the baby's side, with
+the proud look of being trusted on their little faces. The mother kissed
+them and flew downstairs. There was no time for quiet or leisurely
+movement in that little house; in the dingy parlor, the gas had now been
+lighted, and the fire burned better and brighter, and Anne with most
+praiseworthy efforts, was endeavoring to make some toast, which, alas!
+she only succeeded in burning. Mrs. Home took the toasting-fork out of
+her hands.
+
+"There, Anne, that will do nicely: I will finish the toast. Now please
+run away, and take Miss Mitchell's dinner up to her; she is to have a
+little pie to-night and some baked potatoes; they are all waiting, and
+hot in the oven, and then please go back to the children."
+
+Anne, a really good-tempered little maid-of-all-work, vanished, and Mrs.
+Home made some fresh toast, which she set, brown, hot, and crisp, in the
+china toast-rack. She then boiled a new-laid egg, and had hardly
+finished these final preparations before the rattle of the latch-key was
+heard in the hall-door, and her husband came in. He was a tall man, with
+a face so colorless that hers looked almost rosy by contrast; his voice,
+however, had a certain ring about it, which betokened that most rare and
+happy gift to its possessor, a brave and courageous heart. The way in
+which he now said, "Ah, Lottie!" and stooped down and kissed her, had a
+good sound, and the wife's eyes sparkled as she sat down by the
+tea-tray.
+
+"Must you go out again to-night, Angus?" she said presently.
+
+"Yes, my dear. Poor Mrs. Swift is really dying at last. I promised to
+look in on her again."
+
+"Ah, poor soul! has it really come? And what will those four children
+do?"
+
+"We must get them into an Orphanage; Petterick has interest. I shall
+speak to him. Lottie?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Beat up that fresh egg I saw you putting into the cupboard when I came
+in; beat it up, and add a little milk and a teaspoonful of brandy. I
+want to take it round with me to little Alice. That child has never left
+her mother's side for two whole days and nights, and I believe has
+scarcely tasted a morsel; I fear she will sink when all is over."
+
+Lottie rose at once and prepared the mixture, placing it, when ready, in
+a little basket, which her husband seldom went out without; but as she
+put it in his hand she could not refrain from saying----
+
+"I was keeping that egg for your breakfast, Angus; I do grudge it a
+little bit."
+
+"And to eat it when little Alice wanted it so sorely would choke me,
+wife," replied the husband; and then buttoning his thin overcoat tightly
+about him, he went out into the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE STORY.
+
+
+The children were at last in bed, the drawing-room lodger had finished
+her dinner, the welcome time of lull in the day's occupations had come,
+and Mrs. Home sat by the dining-room fire. A large basket, filled with
+little garments ready for mending, lay on the floor at her feet, and her
+working materials were close by; but, for a wonder, the busy fingers
+were idle. In vain Daisy's frock pleaded for that great rent made
+yesterday, and Harold's socks showed themselves most disreputably out at
+heels. Charlotte Home neither put on her thimble nor threaded her
+needle; she sat gazing into the fire, lost in reverie. It was not a very
+happy or peaceful reverie, to judge from the many changes on her
+expressive face. The words, "Shall I, or shall I not?" came often to
+her lips. Many things seemed to tear her judgment in divers ways; most
+of all the look in her little son's eyes when he asked that eager,
+impatient question, "mother, why aren't we rich?" but other and older
+voices than little Harold's said to her, and they spoke pleadingly
+enough, "Leave this thing alone; God knows what is best for you. As you
+have gone on all these years, so continue, not troubling about what you
+cannot understand, but trusting to him."
+
+"I cannot; I am so tired sometimes," sighed the poor young wife.
+
+She was still undetermined when her husband returned. There was a great
+contrast in their faces--a greater almost in their voices, in the tone
+of her dispirited, "Well, Angus," and his almost triumphant answer,----
+
+"Well, Lottie, that hard fight has ended bravely. Thank God!"
+
+"Ah! then the poor soul has gone," said the wife, moving her husband's
+chair into the warmest corner.
+
+"She has truly gone; I saw her breathe her last. But there is no need to
+apply the word 'poor' to her; she has done with all that. You know what
+a weakly, troubled creature she always was, how temptation and doubt
+seemed to wrap her round like a mist, and prevent her seeing any of the
+shining of the blue sky. Well, it all passed away at the last, and there
+was nothing but a steadfast looking into the very face of her Lord. He
+came for her, and she just stretched out her arms and went to Him. Thank
+God for being privileged to witness such a death; it makes life far more
+easy."
+
+A little weariness had crept perceptibly into the brave voice of the
+minister as he said these last words. His wife laid her hand
+sympathizingly on his. They sat silent for a few moments, then he spoke
+on a different subject,----
+
+"How is baby to-night, Lottie?"
+
+"Better, I think; his tooth is through at last. He will have rest now
+for a bit, poor little darling."
+
+"We must be careful to keep him from catching another cold. And how is
+Anne getting on?"
+
+"As well as we can expect from such an ignorant little mite. And oh!
+Angus, the nursery is such a cold, draughty room, and I do--I do wish we
+were rich."
+
+The last words were tumbled out with a great irrepressible burst of
+tears.
+
+"Why, my Lottie, what has come to you?" said her husband, touched and
+alarmed by this rare show of feeling "What is it, dear? You wish we were
+rich, so do not I; I am quite content. I go among so very much poorer
+people than myself, Lottie, that it always seems to me I have far more
+than my fair share of life's good things; but, at any rate my Lottie,
+crying won't make us rich, so don't waste your strength over it."
+
+"I can't help it sometimes, Angus; it goes to my heart to see you
+shivering in such a great-coat as you have just taken off, and then I
+know you want better food, and wine; you are so tired this moment you
+can scarcely speak. What a lot of good some port wine would do you!"
+
+"And what a lot of good, wishing for it will do me! Come Lottie, be
+sensible; we must not begin to repine for what we have not got, and
+cannot get. Let us think of our mercies."
+
+"You make me ashamed of myself, Angus. But these thoughts don't come to
+me for nothing; the fact is--yes, I will tell you at last, I have long
+been making up my mind. The truth is, Angus, I can't look at the
+children--I can't look at you and see you all suffering, and hold my
+peace any longer. We are poor, very--very--dreadfully poor, but we ought
+to be rich."
+
+"Lottie!"
+
+Such a speech, so uttered, would have called for reproof from Angus
+Home, had it passed the lips of another. But he knew the woman he had
+married too well not to believe there was reason in her words.
+
+"I am sorry you have kept a secret from me," he said. "What is this
+mystery, Lottie?"
+
+"It was my mother, Angus. She begged of me to keep it to myself, and she
+only told me when she was dying. But may I just tell you all from the
+very beginning?"
+
+"Yes, dear. If it is a romance, it will just soothe me, for though I am,
+I own, tired, I could not sleep for a long time to come."
+
+"First, Angus, I must confess to a little bit of deceit I practised on
+you."
+
+"Ah, Lottie!" said her husband playfully, "no wonder you cried, with
+such a heavy burden on your soul; but confess your sins, wife."
+
+"You know how it has always fretted me, our being poor," said Charlotte.
+"Your income is only just sufficient to put bread into our mouths, and,
+indeed, we sometimes want even that. I have often lain awake at night
+wondering how I could make a little money, and this winter, when it set
+in so very severe, set my thoughts harder to work on this great problem
+than ever. The children did want so much, Angus--new boots, and little
+warm dresses--and so--and so--one day about a month ago, Mrs. Lisle, who
+reads and writes so much, called, and I was very low, and she was kind
+and sympathizing; somehow, at last out it all came, I did so wish to
+earn money. She asked me if I could write a good clear hand, a hand
+easily read. I showed her what I could do, and she was good enough to
+call it excellent. She said no more then, but the next day she came
+early. She brought me a MS. written by a friend of hers; very illegible
+it was. She would not tell me the name of her friend, but she said she
+was a lady very desirous of seeing herself in print. If I would copy
+this illegible writing in my own good clear hand, the lady would give me
+five pounds. I thought of the children's boots and their winter dresses,
+and I toiled over it. I confess now that it was weary work, and tired me
+more than I cared to own. I finished it to-day; this evening, just
+before you came home, that task was done; but this morning I did
+something else. You know Miss Mitchell is always kind enough to let me
+see the _Times_. This morning Anne brought it down as usual, and, as I
+ran my eyes over it I was struck by an advertisement, 'A young lady
+living at Kensington wished for the services of an amanuensis, for so
+many hours daily. Remuneration good.' I could not help it, Angus, my
+heart seemed to leap into my mouth. Then and there I put on my bonnet,
+and with a specimen of my handwriting in my pocket, went off to answer
+the advertisement in person. The house was in Prince's Gate, Kensington:
+the name of the young lady who had advertised for my services was
+Harman."
+
+"Harman! how strange, wife! your own name before you married."
+
+"Yes, dear; but such a different person from me, so rich, while I am so
+poor; so very, very beautiful, and graceful, and gracious: she may have
+been a year or so younger than I, she was not much. She had a thoughtful
+face, a noble face. I could have drawn tears from her eyes had I
+described the little children, but I did not. It was delightful to look
+upon her calm. Not for worlds would I disturb it; and, Angus, I found
+out another thing--her name was not only Harman, but Charlotte Harman."
+
+There was no doubt at all that the other Charlotte was excited now, the
+color had come into her cheeks, her eyes sparkled. Her husband watched
+her with undisguised surprise.
+
+"I made a good thing of it Angus," she continued. "I am to go to
+Prince's Gate every morning, I am to be there at ten, and give my
+services till one o'clock. I am then to have lunch with the young lady,
+and for all this, and the enjoyment of a good dinner into the bargain, I
+am to receive thirty shillings a week. Does not it sound too good to be
+true?"
+
+"And that is how we are to be rich, Lottie. Well, go on and prosper. I
+know what an active little woman you are and how impossible it is for
+you to let the grass grow under your feet. I do not object to your
+trying this thing, if it is not too much for your strength, and if you
+can safely leave the children."
+
+"I have thought of the children, Angus; this is so much for their real
+interest, that it would be a pity to throw it away. But, as you say,
+they must not be neglected. I shall ask that little Alice Martin to come
+in to look after them until I am back every day; she will be glad to
+earn half-a-crown a week."
+
+"As much in proportion, as your thirty shillings is to you--eh, Lottie?
+See how rich we are in reality."
+
+Mrs. Home sighed, and the bright look left her face. Her husband
+perceived the change.
+
+"That is not all you have got to tell me," he said.
+
+"No, it is only leading up to what I want to tell you. It is what has
+set me thinking so hard all day that I can keep it to myself no longer.
+Angus, prepare for a surprise; that beautiful young lady, who bears the
+same name I bore before I was married--is--is--she is my near relation."
+
+"Your near relation, Charlotte? But I never knew you had any near
+relations."
+
+"No, dear, I never told you; my mother thought it best that you should
+not know. She only spoke to me of them when she was dying. She was sorry
+afterwards that she had even done that; she begged of me, unless great
+necessity arose, not to say anything to you. It is only because it seems
+to me the necessity has really come that I speak of what gave my mother
+such pain to mention."
+
+"Yes, dear, you have wealthy relations. I don't know that it matters
+very greatly. But go on."
+
+"There is more than that, Angus, but I will try to tell you all. You
+know how poor I was when you found me, and gave me your love and
+yourself."
+
+"We were both poor, Lottie; so much so that we thought two hundred a
+year, which was what we had to begin housekeeping on, quite riches."
+
+"Yes, Angus; well, I had been poor all my life, I could never do what
+rich girls did, I was so accustomed to wearing shabby dresses, and
+eating plain food, and doing without the amusements which seem to come
+naturally into the lives of most young girls, that I had ceased to miss
+them. I was sent to a rather good school, and had lessons in music and
+painting, and I sometimes wondered how my mother had money even to give
+me these. Then I met you, and we were married. It was just after our
+little Harold was born that my mother died."
+
+"Yes, you went down into Hertfordshire; you were away for six weeks."
+
+"I took Harold with me; mother was so proud of him. Whenever she had an
+easy moment, she used to like to have him placed on her knee. She told
+me then that she had a little son older than I, who died, and that our
+Harold reminded her of him. One night, I remember so well, I was sitting
+up with her. She had been going through great pain, but towards the
+morning she was easier. She was more inclined, however, to talk than to
+sleep. She began again speaking about the likeness between our Harold
+and my little brother who died.
+
+"'I shall give you little Edgar's christening robe for Harold,' she
+said. 'I never could bear to part with it before but I don't mind his
+having it. Open my wardrobe, Charlotte, and you will find it folded away
+in a blue paper, in the small wooden box.'
+
+"I did so, and took out a costly thing, yellow, it is true, with age,
+but half covered with most valuable lace.
+
+"'Why, mother,' I exclaimed, 'how did you ever get such a valuable dress
+as this? Why, this lace would be cheap at a guinea a yard!'
+
+"'It cost a great deal more than that,' replied mother, stroking down
+the soft lace and muslin with her thin fingers; 'but we were rich then,
+Lottie.'
+
+"'Rich!' I said, 'rich! I never, never thought that you and I had
+anything to say to money, mother.'
+
+"'You don't remember your father, child?'
+
+"'No, mother,' I said; 'how could I? I was only two years old when he
+died.'
+
+"Mother was silent after that, and I think she went into a doze, but my
+curiosity and wonder were excited, and I could not help seeking to know
+more.
+
+"'I never knew that we were rich,' I said again the next day. 'Why did
+you never tell me before? The next best thing to enjoying riches would
+be to hear about them.'
+
+"'I did not want to make you discontented, Lottie. I thought what you
+had never known or thought of you would never miss. I feared, my dear,
+to make you discontented.'
+
+"'But I have thought of money,' I owned, 'I have thought of it lately a
+great deal. When I look at Angus I long to get him every luxury, and I
+want my little Harold to grow up surrounded by those things which help
+to develop a fine and refined character.
+
+"'But they don't, Lottie; they don't indeed,' answered my dear dying
+mother. 'Riches bring a snare--they debase the character, they don't
+ennoble it.'
+
+"'Mother,' I said, 'I see plainly that you are well acquainted with this
+subject. You will tell me, mother, what you know?'
+
+"'Yes,' replied my mother; 'it won't do you the least good; but as I
+have said so much to you I may as well tell the rest.'
+
+"Then, Angus, my mother told me the following story; it is not very
+long.
+
+"She was an orphan and a governess when my father found her and married
+her--she was my father's second wife. She was much younger than he--he
+had grown-up sons--two grown-up sons at the time of his marriage; and
+they were very deeply offended at his thinking of a second marriage. So
+indignant were they that my father and they came to quite an open
+quarrel, and mother said that during the five years that my father lived
+she never saw either of her stepsons until just at the close. She was
+very happy as my father's wife; he loved her dearly, and as he had
+plenty of money she wanted for nothing. My father was an old man, as I
+have said, and he was tired of fuss, and also of much society; so though
+they were so rich mother lived rather a lonely life--in a large and
+beautiful place in Hertfordshire. She said the place was called the
+Hermitage, and was one of the largest and best in the neighborhood. At
+last my father fell ill, very ill, and the doctors said he must die.
+Then for the first time there came hastening back to the Hermitage the
+two elder sons--their names were John and Jasper--the eldest John, my
+mother said, was very handsome, and very kind and courteous to her. He
+was a married man, and he told mother that he had a little daughter much
+about my age, who was also called Charlotte. My father and his two sons
+seemed quite reconciled in these last days, and they spent most of their
+time with him. On the evening, however, before he died, he had mother
+and me with him alone. I sat on the bed, a little baby child of two, and
+my father held mother's hand. He told mother how much he loved her, and
+he spoke a very little about money matters.
+
+"'John will make it all right for you, Daisy,' he said. 'John knows all
+about my wishes with regard to you and little Charlotte. I should like
+this little Charlotte and his to be friends; they are both called after
+my own mother, the best woman I ever met. You will bring up little
+Charlotte with every comfort and refinement, dear wife.'
+
+"The next day my father died, and John and Jasper went to London. They
+did not even wait for the funeral, though Jasper came back for it. John,
+he told mother, was kept by the sudden dangerous illness of his wife.
+Jasper said that John felt our father's death most dreadfully. Mother
+had liked John, who was always very civil to her, but she could not bear
+Jasper: she said he seemed a cleverer man than his brother, but she
+never could get over a feeling of distrust towards him. The will was
+never read to my mother, but Jasper came back again from London to tell
+her of its contents, and then judge of her surprise--her name was not
+even mentioned, neither her name nor mine. She had been married without
+settlements, and every farthing of all my father's great wealth was left
+to his two sons, John and Jasper. Jasper expressed great surprise; he
+even said it was a monstrously unfair thing of his father to do, and
+that certainly he and his brother would try to rectify it in a measure.
+He then went back to London, and mother was left alone in the great
+empty house. She said she felt quite stunned, and was just then in such
+grief for my father that she scarcely heeded the fact that she was left
+penniless. Two days afterwards a lawyer from London came down to see
+her. He came with a message from her two stepsons. They were much
+concerned for her, and they were willing to help her. They would allow
+her, between them, as long as she lived the interest on three thousand
+pounds--on one condition. The condition was this: she was never to claim
+the very least relationship with them; she was to bring up her daughter
+as a stranger to them. They had never approved of their father's
+marrying her; they would allow her the money on condition that all
+connection between them be completely dropped. The day it was renewed by
+either mother or daughter, on that day the interest on the three
+thousand pounds would cease to be paid. My mother was too young, too
+completely inexperienced, and too bowed down with grief, to make the
+least objection. Only one faint protest did she make. 'My husband said,'
+she faltered, 'on the very last day of his life, he said that he wished
+my little Charlotte and that other Charlotte in London to be friends.'
+But the lawyer only shook his head. On this point his clients were firm.
+'All communication between the families must cease.'
+
+"That is the story, Angus," continued Charlotte Home, suddenly changing
+her voice, and allowing her eyes, which had been lowered during her
+brief recital, to rise to her husband's face. "My dear mother died a day
+or two afterwards. She died regretting having to own even what she did,
+and begging me not to think unkindly of my father, and not to unsettle
+your mind by telling you what could do no good whatever.
+
+"'I do not think unkindly of my father, mother,' I answered, 'and I will
+not trouble my husband's mind, at least, not yet, never, perhaps, unless
+fitting opportunity arises. But I know what I think, mother--what,
+indeed, I know. That was not my father's real will; my brothers John and
+Jasper have cheated you. Of this I am very sure.'
+
+"Mother, though she was so weak and dying, got quite a color into her
+cheeks when I said this. 'No, no,' she said, 'don't harbor such a
+thought in your heart--my darling, my darling. Indeed it is utterly
+impossible. It was a real, real will. I heard it read, and your
+brothers, they were gentlemen. Don't let so base a thought of them dwell
+in your heart. It is, I know it is, impossible.'
+
+"I said no more to trouble my dear mother and shortly afterwards she
+died. That is six years ago."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT IT.
+
+
+After the story was finished the husband and wife sat for a long time
+side by side, in absolute silence. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on the
+glowing embers in the fire; the wife's reflected back both the lights
+and the shadows; they were troubled eyes, troubled with possible joy,
+troubled also with the dark feelings of anger. The husband's, on the
+contrary, were calm and steady. No strong hope was visiting them, but
+despair, even disquietude, seemed miles away. Presently the wife's small
+nervous fingers were stretched out to meet her husband's, his closed
+over them, he turned his head, met her anxious face, smiled and spoke.
+
+"So it seems on the cards that you might have been rich, Lottie. Well,
+it was unjust of your father not to have made some provision for your
+mother and you, but--but--he has long been dead, the whole thing is
+over. Let it pass."
+
+"Angus! do you know what I should like?" asked his wife.
+
+"No. What?"
+
+"I should like to meet those two men, John and Jasper Harman, face to
+face, and ask them without the least preamble or preparation, what they
+have done with my father's real will?"
+
+"Dear Lottie, you must get this strange idea out of your head. It is not
+right of you to harbor such thoughts of any men."
+
+"I should like to look so hard at them," continued Charlotte, scarcely
+heeding her husband's words. "I know their eyes would flinch, they would
+be startled, they would betray themselves. Angus, I can't help it, the
+conviction that is over me is too strong to be silenced. For years, ever
+since my mother told me that story, I have felt that we have been
+wronged, nay, robbed of our own. But when I entered that house to-day
+and found myself face with my half-brother's daughter, when I found
+myself in the house that I had been forbidden to enter, I felt--I knew,
+that a great wrong had been committed. My father! Why should I think
+ill of my father, Angus? Is it likely that he would have made no
+provision for my mother whom he loved, or for me? Is it likely that he
+would have left everything he possessed to the two sons with whom he had
+so bitterly quarrelled, that for years they had not even met? Is it
+likely? Angus, you are a just man, and you will own to the truth. Is it
+likely, that with his almost dying breath, he should have assured my
+mother that all was settled that she could bring me up well, in comfort
+and luxury, that Charlotte Harman and I should be friends? No, Angus! I
+believe my father; he was a good and just man always; and, even if he
+was not, dying men don't tell lies."
+
+"I grant that it seems unlikely, Lottie; but then, on the other hand,
+what do you accuse these men of? Why, of no less a crime than forging a
+will, of suppressing the real will, and bringing forward one of their
+own manufacture. Why, my dear wife, such an act of villainy would be not
+only difficult, but, I should say, impossible."
+
+"I don't know _how_ it was done, Angus, but something was done, of that
+I am sure, and what that thing was I shall live, please God, to find
+out."
+
+"Then you--you, a clergyman's wife--the wife of a man who lives to
+proclaim peace on earth, good-will to men, you go into your brother's
+house as a spy!"
+
+Mrs. Home colored. Her husband had risen from his chair.
+
+"You shall not do that," he said; "I am your husband, and I forbid it.
+You can only go to the Harmans, if they are indeed the near relations
+you believe them to be, on one condition."
+
+"And that?" said Charlotte.
+
+"That you see not only Mr. Harman's daughter, but Mr. Harman himself;
+that you tell him exactly who you are.... If, after hearing your story,
+he allows you to work for his daughter, you can do so without again
+alluding to the relationship. If they wish it dropped, drop it, Lottie;
+work for them as you would for any other strangers, doing your best work
+bravely and well. But begin openly. Above all things thinking no evil in
+your heart of them."
+
+"Then I cannot go on these conditions, Angus, for I cannot feel charity
+in my heart towards Mr. Harman. It seemed such a good thing this
+morning. But I must give it up."
+
+"And something else will come in it's place, never fear; but I did not
+know until to-night that my Lottie so pined for riches."
+
+"Angus, I do--I do--I want Harold to go to a good school, Daisy to be
+educated, little Angus to get what is necessary for his health, and
+above all, you, my dearest, my dearest, to have a warm overcoat, and
+port wine: the overcoat when you are cold, the port wine when you are
+tired. Think of having these luxuries, not only for yourself, but to
+give away to your poor, Angus, and I am sure we ought to have them."
+
+"Ah, Lottie! you are a witch, you try to tempt me, and all these things
+sound very pleasant. But don't dream of what we haven't, let us live for
+the many, many things we have."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+LOVE IN A DIAMOND.
+
+
+The next day Angus Home went out early as usual, about his many parish
+duties; this was it was true, neither a feast nor a fast day, nor had he
+to attend a morning service, but he had long ago constituted himself
+chief visitor among the sick and poorest of his flock, and such work
+occupied him from morning to night. Perhaps in a nature naturally
+inclined to asceticism, this daily mingling with the very poor and the
+very suffering, had helped to keep down all ambitions for earthly good
+things, whether those good things came in the guise of riches or honors;
+but though unambitious and very humble, never pushing himself forward,
+doing always the work that men who considered themselves more fastidious
+would shun, never allowing his voice to be heard where he believed wiser
+men than he might speak, Mr. Home was neither morbid nor unhappy; one of
+his greatest characteristics was an utter absence of all
+self-consciousness.
+
+The fact was, the man, though he had a wife whom he loved, and children
+very dear to him, had grown accustomed to hold life lightly; to him life
+was in very truth a pilgrimage, a school, a morning which should usher
+in the great day of the future. His mental and spiritual eyes were fixed
+expectantly and longingly on that day; and in connection with it, it
+would be wrong to say that he was without ambition, for he had a very
+earnest and burning desire, not only for rank but for kingship by and
+by: he wanted to be crowned with the crown of righteousness.
+
+Angus Home knew well that to wear that crown in all its lustre in the
+future, it must begin to fit his head down here; and he also knew that
+those who put on such crowns on earth, find them, as their great and
+blessed Master did before them, made of thorns.
+
+It is no wonder then that the man with so simple a faith, so Christ-like
+a spirit, should not be greatly concerned by his wife's story of the
+night before. He did not absolutely forget it, for he pondered over it
+as he wended his way to the attic where the orphan Swifts lived. He felt
+sorry for Lottie as he thought of it, and he hoped she would soon cease
+to have such uncharitable ideas of her half-brothers; he himself could
+not even entertain the notion that any fraud had been committed; he felt
+rather shocked that his Lottie should dwell on so base a thing.
+
+There is no doubt that this saint-like man could be a tiny bit
+provoking; and so his wife felt when he left her without again alluding
+to their last night's talk. After all it is wives and mothers who feel
+the sharpest stings of poverty. Charlotte had known what to be poor
+meant all her life, as a child, as a young girl, as a wife, as a mother,
+but she had been brave enough about it, indifferent enough to it, until
+the children came; but from the day her mother's story was told her, and
+she knew how close the wings of earthly comfort had swept her by,
+discontent came into her heart. Discontent came in and grew with the
+birth of each fresh little one. She might have made her children so
+comfortable, she could do so little with them; they were pretty children
+too. It went to her heart to see their beauty disfigured in ugly
+clothes; she used to look the other way with a great jealous pang, when
+she saw children not nearly so beautiful as hers, yet looked at and
+admired because of their bright fresh colors and dainty little
+surroundings. But poverty brought worse stings than these. The small
+house in Kentish Town was hot and stifling in the months of July and
+August; the children grew pale and pined for the fresh country air which
+could not be given to them; Lottie herself grew weak and languid, and
+her husband's pale face seemed to grow more ethereal day by day. At all
+such times as these did Charlotte Home's mind and thoughts refer back
+to her mother's story, and again and again the idea returned that a
+great, great wrong had been done.
+
+In the winter when this story opens, poverty came very close to the
+little household. They were, it is true, quite out of debt, but they
+were only so because the food was kept so scanty, the fires so low,
+dress so very insufficient to keep at a distance the winter's bitter
+cold; they were only out of debt because the mother slaved from morning
+to night, and the father ate less and less, having, it is to be feared,
+less and less appetite to eat.
+
+Then the wife and mother grew desperate, money must be brought in--how
+could it be done? The doctor called and said that baby Angus would die
+if he had not more milk--he must have what is called in London
+baby-milk, and plenty of it. Such milk in Kentish Town meant money.
+Lottie resolved that baby Angus should not die. In answering an
+advertisement which she hoped would give her employment, she
+accidentally found herself in her own half-brother's house. There was
+the wealth which had belonged to her father; there were the riches to
+which she was surely born. How delicious were those soft carpets; how
+nice those cushioned seats; how pleasant those glowing fires; what an
+air of refinement breathed over everything; how grand it was to be
+served by those noiseless and well-trained servants; how great a thing
+was wealth, after all!
+
+She thought all this before she saw Charlotte Harman. Then the gracious
+face, the noble bearing, the kindly and sweet manner of this girl of her
+own age, this girl who might have been her dearest friend, who was so
+nearly related to her, filled her with sudden bitterness; she believed
+herself immeasurably inferior to Miss Harman, and yet she knew that she
+might have been such another. She left the house with a mingled feeling
+of relief and bitterness. She was earning present money. What might she
+not discover to benefit her husband and children by and by?
+
+In the evening, unable to keep her thoughts to herself, she told them
+and her story for the first time to her husband. Instantly he tore the
+veil from her eyes. Was she, his wife, to go to her own brother's house
+as a spy? No! a thousand times no! No wealth, however needed, would be
+worth purchasing at such a price. If Charlotte could not banish from her
+mind these unworthy thoughts, she must give up so excellent a means of
+earning money.
+
+Poor Charlotte! The thoughts her husband considered so mean, so untrue,
+so unworthy, had become by this time part of her very being. Oh! must
+the children suffer because unrighteous men enjoyed what was rightfully
+theirs?
+
+For the first time, the very first time in all her life, she felt
+discontented with her Angus. If only he were a little more everyday, a
+little more practical; if only he would go to the bottom of this
+mystery, and set her mind at rest!
+
+She went about her morning duties in a state of mental friction and
+aggravation, and, as often happens, on this very morning when she seemed
+least able to bear it, came the proverbial last straw. Anne, the little
+maid, put in her head at the parlor door.
+
+"Ef you please, 'em, is Harold to wear 'em shoes again? There's holes
+through and through of 'em, and it's most desp'rate sloppy out of doors
+this mornin'."
+
+Mrs. Home took the little worn-out shoes in her hand; she saw at a
+glance that they were quite past mending.
+
+"Leave them here, Anne," she said. "You are right, he cannot wear these
+again. I will go out at once and buy him another pair."
+
+The small maid disappeared, and Charlotte put her hand into her pocket.
+She drew out her purse with a sinking heart. Was there money enough in
+it to buy the necessary food for the day's consumption, and also to get
+new shoes for Harold? A glance showed her but too swiftly there was not.
+She never went on credit for anything--the shoes must wait, and Harold
+remain a prisoner in the house that day. She went slowly up to the
+nursery: Daisy and baby could go out and Harold should come down to the
+parlor to her.
+
+But one glance at her boy's pale face caused her heart to sink. He was a
+handsome boy--she thought him aristocratic, fit to be the son of a
+prince--but to-day he was deadly pale, with that washy look which
+children who pine for fresh air so often get. He was standing in rather
+a moping attitude by the tiny window; but at sight of his mother he flew
+to her.
+
+"Mother, Anne says I'm to have new shoes. Have you got them? I am so
+glad."
+
+No, she could not disappoint her boy. A sudden idea darted through her
+brain. She would ask Miss Mitchell, the drawing-room boarder, to lend
+her the three-and-sixpence which the little shoes would cost. It was the
+first time she had ever borrowed, and her pride rose in revolt at even
+naming the paltry sum--but, for the sake of her boy's pale face?
+
+"I am going out to buy the shoes," she said, stooping down to kiss the
+sweet upturned brow; and she flew downstairs and tapped at the
+drawing-room door.
+
+Miss Mitchell was a lady of about fifty; she had been with them now for
+nearly a year, and what she paid for the drawing-room and best bedroom
+behind it, quite covered the rent of the shabby little house. Miss
+Mitchell was Charlotte Home's grand standby; she was a very
+uninteresting person, neither giving nor looking for sympathy, never
+concerning herself about the family in whose house she lived. But then,
+on the other hand, she was easily pleased; she never grumbled, she paid
+her rent like clockwork. She now startled Lottie by coming instantly
+forward and telling her that it was her intention to leave after the
+usual notice; she found the baby's fretful cries too troublesome, for
+her room was under the nursery; this was one reason. Another, perhaps
+the most truthful one, was, that her favorite curate in St. Martin's
+Church over the way, had received promotion to another and more
+fashionable church, and she would like to move to where she could still
+be under his ministry. Charlotte bowed; there was nothing for it but to
+accept the fact that her comfortable lodger must go. Where could she
+find a second Miss Mitchell, and how could she possibly now ask for the
+loan of three and sixpence?
+
+She left the room. Where was the money to come from to buy Harold's
+shoes? for that little pleading face must not be disappointed. This care
+was, for the moment, more pressing than the loss of Miss Mitchell. How
+should she get the money for her boy? She pressed her hand to her brow
+to think out this problem. As she did so, a ring she wore on her
+wedding-finger flashed; it was her engagement ring, a plain gold band,
+only differing from the wedding-ring, which it now guarded, in that it
+possessed one small, very small diamond. The diamond was perhaps the
+smallest that could be purchased, but it was pure of its kind, and the
+tiny gem now flashed a loving fire into her eyes, as though it would
+speak if it could in answer to her inquiry. Yes, if she sold this ring,
+the money would be forthcoming. It was precious, it symbolized much to
+her; she had no other to act as guard; but it was not so precious as the
+blue eyes of her first-born. Her resolve was scarcely conceived before
+it was put in practice. She hastened out with the ring; a jeweller
+lived not far away; he gave her fifteen shillings, and Charlotte,
+feeling quite rich, bought the little shoes and hurried home.
+
+As she almost flew along the sloppy streets a fresh thought came to her.
+Yes! she must certainly decline that very excellent situation with Miss
+Harman. That sorely wanted thirty shillings a week must be given up,
+there was no question about that. Bitter were her pangs of heart as she
+relinquished the precious money, but it would be impossible for her to
+go to her brother's house in the only spirit in which her husband would
+allow her to go. Yes; she must give it up. When the children were at
+last fairly started on their walk she would sit down and write to Miss
+Harman. But why should she write? She stood still as the thought came to
+her to go to Miss Harman in person; to tell her from her own lips that
+she must not visit that house, or see her daily. She might or might not
+tell her who she really was; she would leave that to circumstances; but
+she would at least once more see her brother's house and look into the
+eyes of her brother's child. It would be a short, soon-lived-through
+excitement. Still she was in that mood when to sit still in inactivity
+was impossible; the visit would lead to nothing, but still she would pay
+it; afterwards would be time enough to think of finding some one to
+replace Miss Mitchell, of trying to buy again her engagement ring, of
+purchasing warm clothes for her little ones.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+IN PRINCE'S GATE.
+
+
+Having arranged her household matters, been informed of another pair of
+boots which could not last many days longer, seen to the children's
+dinner, and finally started the little group fairly off for their walk
+with Anne, Charlotte ran upstairs, put on her neat though thin and worn
+black silk, her best jacket and bonnet and set off to Kensington to see
+Miss Harman.
+
+She reached the grand house in Prince's Gate about twelve o'clock. The
+day had indeed long begun for her, but she reflected rather bitterly
+that most likely Miss Harman had but just concluded her breakfast. She
+found, however, that she had much wronged this energetic young lady.
+Breakfast had been over with some hours ago, and when Mrs. Home asked
+for her, the footman who answered her modest summons said that Miss
+Harman was out, but had left directions that if a lady called she was to
+be asked to wait.
+
+Charlotte was taken up to Miss Harman's own private sitting room, where,
+after stirring the fire, and furnishing her with that morning's _Times_,
+the servant left her alone.
+
+Mrs. Home was glad of this. She drew her comfortable easy chair to the
+fire, placed her feet upon the neat brass rail, closed her eyes, and
+tried to fancy herself alone. Had her father lived, such comforts as
+these would have been matters of everyday occurrence to her. Common as
+the air she breathed would this grateful warmth be then to her thin
+limbs, this delicious easy chair to her aching back. Had her father
+lived, or had justice been done, in either case would soft ease have
+been her portion. She started from her reclining position and looked
+round the room. A parrot swung lazily on his perch in one of the
+windows. Two canaries sang in a gilded cage in the other. How Harold and
+Daisy would love these birds! Just over her head was a very beautifully
+executed portrait in oils of a little child, most likely Miss Harman in
+her infancy. Ah, yes, but baby Angus at home was more beautiful. A
+portrait of him would attract more admiration than did that of the proud
+daughter of all this wealth. Tears started unbidden to the poor
+perplexed mother's eyes. It was hard to sit quiet with this burning pain
+at her heart. Just then the door was opened and an elderly gentleman
+with silver hair came in. He bowed, distantly to the stranger sitting by
+his hearth, took up a book he had come to seek, and withdrew. Mrs. Home
+had barely time to realize that this elderly man must really be the
+brother who had supplanted her, when a sound of feet, of voices, of
+pleasant laughter, drew near. The room door was again opened, and
+Charlotte Harman, accompanied by two gentlemen, came in. The elder of
+the two men was short and rather stout, with hair that had once been
+red, but was now sandy, keen, deep-set eyes, and a shrewd, rather
+pleasant face. Miss Harman addressed him as Uncle Jasper, and they
+continued firing gay badinage at one another for a moment without
+perceiving Mrs. Home's presence. The younger man was tall and
+square-shouldered, with a rather rugged face of some power. He might
+have been about thirty. He entered the room by Miss Harman's side, and
+stood by her now with a certain air of proprietorship.
+
+"Ah! Mrs. Home," said the young lady, quickly discovering her visitor
+and coming forward and shaking hands with her at once, "I expected you.
+I hope you have not waited long, John," turning to the young man, "will
+you come back at four? Mrs. Home and I have some little matters to talk
+over, and I daresay her time is precious. I shall be quite ready to go
+out with you at four. Uncle Jasper, my father is in the library; will
+you take him this book from me?"
+
+Uncle Jasper, who had been peering with all his might out of his
+short-sighted eyes at the visitor, now answered with a laugh, "We are
+politely dismissed, eh? Hinton," and taking the arm of the younger man
+they left the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IT INTERESTS HER.
+
+
+"And now, Mrs Home, we will have some lunch together up here, and then
+afterwards we can talk and quite finish all our arrangements," said the
+rich Charlotte, looking with her frank and pleasant eyes at the poor
+one. She rang a bell as she spoke, and before Mrs. Home had time to
+reply, a tempting little meal was ordered to be served without delay.
+
+"I have been with my publishers this morning," said Miss Harman. "They
+are good enough to say they believe my tale promises well, but they want
+it completed by the first of March, to come out with the best spring
+books. Don't you think we may get it done? It is the middle of January
+now."
+
+"I daresay it may be done," answered Mrs. Home, rising, and speaking in
+a tremulous voice. "I have no doubt you will work hard and have it
+ready--but--but--I regret it much, I have come to-day to say I cannot
+take the situation you have so kindly offered me."
+
+"But why?" said Miss Harman, "why?" Some color came into her cheeks as
+she added, "I don't understand you. I thought you had promised. I
+thought it was all arranged yesterday."
+
+Her tone was a little haughty, but how well she used it; how keenly Mrs.
+Home felt the loss of what she was resigning.
+
+"I did promise you," she said; "I feel you have a right to blame me. It
+is a considerable loss to me resigning your situation, but my husband
+has asked me to do so. I must obey my husband, must I not?"
+
+"Oh! yes, of course. But why should he object. He is a clergyman, is he
+not? Is he too proud--I would tell no one. All in this house should
+consider you simply as a friend. Our writing would be just a secret
+between you and me. Your husband will give in when you tell him that."
+
+"He is not in the least proud, Miss Harman--not proud I mean in that
+false way."
+
+"Then I am not giving you money enough--of course thirty shillings seems
+too little; I will gladly raise it to two pounds a week, and if this
+book succeeds, you shall have more for helping me with the next."
+
+Mrs. Home felt her heart beating. How much she needed, how keenly she
+longed for that easily earned money. "I must not think of it," she said,
+however, shaking her head. "I confess I want money, but I must earn it
+elsewhere. I cannot come here. My husband will only allow me to do so on
+a certain condition. I cannot even tell you the condition--certainly I
+cannot fulfil it, therefore I cannot come."
+
+"Oh! but that is exciting. _Do_ tell it to me."
+
+"If I did you would be the first to say I must never come to this house
+again."
+
+"I am quite sure you wrong me there. I may as well own that I have taken
+a fancy to you. I am a spoiled child, and I always have my own way. My
+present way is to have you here in this snug room for two or three hours
+daily--you and I working in secret over something grand. I always get my
+way so your conditions must melt into air. Now, what are they?"
+
+"Dare I tell her?" thought Mrs. Home. Aloud she said, "The conditions
+are these:--I must tell you a story, a story about myself--and--and
+others."
+
+"And I love stories, especially when they happen in real life."
+
+"Miss Harman, don't tempt me. I want to tell you, but I had better not;
+you had better let me go away. You are very happy now, are you not?"
+
+"What a strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! Yes, I am happy."
+
+"You won't like my story. It is possible you may not be happy after you
+have heard it."
+
+"That is a very unlikely possibility. How can the tale of an absolute
+stranger affect my happiness?" These words were said eagerly--a little
+bit defiantly.
+
+But Mrs. Home's face had now become so grave, and there was such an
+eager, almost frightened look in her eyes, that her companion's too
+changed. After all what was this tale? A myth, doubtless; but she would
+hear it now.
+
+"I accept the risk of my happiness being imperiled," she said. "I choose
+to hear the tale--I am ready."
+
+"But I may not choose to tell," said the other Charlotte.
+
+"I would make you. You have begun--begun in such a way that you _must_
+finish."
+
+"Is that so?" replied Mrs. Home. The light was growing more and more
+eager in her eyes. She said to herself, "The die is cast." There rose up
+before her a vision of her children--of her husband's thin face. Her
+voice trembled.
+
+"Miss Harman--I will speak--you won't interrupt me?"
+
+"No, but lunch is on the table. You must eat something first."
+
+"I am afraid I cannot with that story in prospect; to eat would choke
+me!"
+
+"What a queer tale it must be!" said the other Charlotte. "Well, so be
+it." She seated herself in a chair at a little distance from Mrs. Home,
+fixed her gaze on the glowing fire, and said, "I am ready. I won't
+interrupt you."
+
+The poor Charlotte, too, looked at the fire. During the entire telling
+of the tale neither of these young women glanced at the other.
+
+"It is my own story," began Mrs. Home: then she paused, and continued,
+"My father died when I was two years old. During my father's lifetime I,
+who am now so poor, had all the comforts that you must have had, Miss
+Harman, in your childhood. He died, leaving my mother, who was both
+young and pretty, nothing. She was his second wife, for five years she
+had enjoyed all that his wealth could purchase for her. He died, leaving
+her absolutely penniless. My mother was, as I have said, a second wife.
+My father had two grown-up sons. These sons had quarrelled with him at
+the time of his marrying my young mother; they came to see him and were
+reconciled on his deathbed. He left to these sons every penny of his
+great wealth. The sons expressed surprise when the will was read. They
+even blamed my father for so completely forgetting his wife and youngest
+child. They offered to make some atonement for him. During my mother's
+lifetime they settled on her three thousand pounds; I mean the interest,
+at five per cent., on that sum. It was to return to them at her death,
+it was not to descend to me, and my mother must only enjoy it on one
+condition. The condition was, that all communication must cease between
+my father's family and hers. On the day she renewed it the money would
+cease to be paid. My mother was young, a widow, and alone; she accepted
+the conditions, and the money was faithfully paid to her until the day
+of her death. I was too young to remember my father, and I only heard
+this story about him on my mother's deathbed; then for the first time I
+learned that we might have been rich, that we were in a measure meant to
+enjoy the good things which money can buy. My mother had educated me
+well, and you may be quite sure that with an income of one hundred and
+fifty pounds a year this could only be done by practising the strictest
+economy. I was accustomed to doing without the pretty dresses and nice
+things which came as natural to other girls as the air they breathed. In
+my girlhood, I did not miss these things; but at the time of my mother's
+death, at the time the story first reached my ears, I was married, and
+my eldest child was born. A poor man had made me, a poor girl his wife,
+and, Miss Harman, let me tell you, that wives and mothers do long for
+money. The longing with them is scarcely selfish, it is for the beings
+dearer than themselves. There is a pain beyond words in denying your
+little child what you know is for that child's good, but yet which you
+cannot give because of your empty purse; there is a pain in seeing your
+husband shivering in too thin a coat on bitter winter nights. You know
+nothing of such things--may you never know them; but they have gone
+quite through my heart, quite, quite through it. Well, that is my story;
+not much, you will say, after all. I might have been rich, I am poor,
+that is my story."
+
+"It interests me," said Miss Harman, drawing a long breath, "it
+interests me greatly; but you will pardon my expressing my real
+feelings: I think your father was a cruel and unjust man."
+
+"I think my brothers, my half-brothers, were cruel and unjust. I don't
+believe that was my father's real will."
+
+"What! you believe there was foul play? This is interesting--if so, if
+you can prove it, you may be righted yet. Are your half-brothers
+living?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you think you have proof that you and your mother were unjustly
+treated?"
+
+"I have no proof, no proof whatever, Miss Harman, I have only
+suspicions."
+
+"Oh! you will tell me what they are?"
+
+"Even they amount to very little, and yet I feel them to be certainties.
+On the night before my father died he told my mother that she and I
+would be comfortably off; he also said that he wished that I and his
+son's little daughter, that other Charlotte he called her, should grow
+up together as sisters. My father was a good man, his mind was not
+wandering at all, why should he on his deathbed have said this if he
+knew that he had made such an unjust will, if he knew that he had left
+my mother and her little child without a sixpence?"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Harman slowly and thoughtfully, "it looks strange."
+
+After this for a few moments both these young women were silent. Mrs.
+Home's eyes again sought the fire, she had told her story, the
+excitement was over, and a dull despair came back over her face.
+Charlotte Harman, on the contrary, was deep in that fine speculation
+which seeks to succor the oppressed, her grey eyes glowed, and a faint
+color came in to her cheeks. After a time she said--
+
+"I should like to help you to get your rights. You saw that gentleman
+who left the room just now, that younger gentleman, I am to be his wife
+before long--he is a lawyer, may I tell him your tale?"
+
+"No, no, not for worlds." Here Mrs. Home in her excitement rose to her
+feet. "I have told the story, forget it now, let it die."
+
+"What a very strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! I must say I cannot
+understand you."
+
+"You will never understand me. But it does not matter, we are not likely
+to meet again. I saw you for the first time yesterday. I love you, I
+thank you. You are a rich and prosperous young lady, you won't be too
+proud to accept my thanks and my love. Now good-bye."
+
+"No, you are not going in that fashion. I do not see why you should go
+at all; you have told me your story, it only proves that you want money
+very much, there is nothing at all to prevent your becoming my
+amanuensis."
+
+"I cannot, I must not. Let me go."
+
+"But why? I do not understand."
+
+"You will never understand. I can only repeat that I must not come
+here."
+
+Mrs. Home could look proud when she liked. It was now Miss Harman's turn
+to become the suppliant; with a softness of manner which in so
+noble-looking a girl was simply bewitching, she said gently----
+
+"You confess that you love me."
+
+Mrs. Home's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Because I do I am going away," she said.
+
+She had just revealed by this little speech a trifle too much, the
+trifle reflected a light too vivid to Charlotte Harman's mind, her face
+became crimson.
+
+"I will know the truth," she said, "I will--I must. This story--you say
+it is about you; is it all about you? has it anything to say to me?"
+
+"No, no, don't ask me--good-bye."
+
+"I stand between you and the door until you speak. How old are you, Mrs.
+Home?"
+
+"I am twenty-five."
+
+"That is my age. Who was that Charlotte your dying father wished you to
+be a sister to?"
+
+"I cannot tell you."
+
+"You cannot--but you must. I will know. Was it--but impossible! it
+cannot be--am _I_ that Charlotte?"
+
+Mrs. Home covered her face with two trembling hands. The other woman,
+with her superior intellect, had discovered the secret she had feebly
+tried to guard. There was a pause and a dead silence. That silence told
+all that was necessary to Charlotte Harman. After a time she said
+gently, but all the fibre and tune had left her voice,----
+
+"I must think over your story, it is a very, very strange tale. You are
+right, you cannot come here; good-bye."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE WOMAN BY THE HEARTH.
+
+
+Mrs. Home went back to the small house in Kentish Town, and Miss Harman
+sat on by her comfortable fire. The dainty lunch was brought in and laid
+on the table, the young lady did not touch it. The soft-voiced,
+soft-footed servant brought in some letters on a silver salver. They
+looked tempting letters, thick and bulgy. Charlotte Harman turned her
+head to glance at them but she left them unopened by her side. She had
+come in very hungry, from her visit to the publishers, and these letters
+which now lay so close had been looked forward to with some impatience,
+but now she could neither eat nor read. At last a pretty little
+timepiece which stood on a shelf over her head struck four, and a clock
+from a neighboring church re-echoed the sound. Almost at the same
+instant there came a tap at her room door.
+
+"That is John," said Charlotte. She shivered a little. Her face had
+changed a good deal, but she rose from her seat and came forward to meet
+her lover.
+
+"Ready, Charlotte?" he said, laying his two hands on her shoulders; then
+looking into her face he started back in some alarm. "My dear, my
+dearest, something has happened; what is the matter?"
+
+This young woman was the very embodiment of truth. She did not dream of
+saying, "Nothing is the matter." She looked up bravely into the eyes she
+loved best in the world and answered,----
+
+"A good deal is the matter, John. I am very much vexed and--and
+troubled."
+
+"You will tell me all about it; you will let me help you?" said the
+lover, tenderly.
+
+"Yes, John dear, but not to-night. I want to think to-night. I want to
+know more. To-morrow you shall hear; certainly to-morrow. No, I will not
+go out with you. Is my father in? Is Uncle Jasper in?"
+
+"Your father is out, and your uncle is going. I left him buttoning on
+his great-coat in the hall."
+
+"Oh! I must see Uncle Jasper; forgive me, I must see him for a minute."
+
+She flew downstairs, leaving John Hinton standing alone, a little
+puzzled and a little vexed. Breathless she arrived in the hall to find
+her uncle descending the steps; she rushed after him and laid her hand
+on his shoulder.
+
+"Uncle Jasper, I want you. Where are you going?"
+
+"Hoity-toity," said the old gentleman, turning round in some surprise,
+and even dismay when he caught sight of her face. "I am going to the
+club, child. What next. I sent Hinton up to you. What more do you want?"
+
+"I want you. I have a story to tell you and a question to ask you. You
+must come back."
+
+"Lottie, I said I would have nothing to do with those books of yours,
+and I won't. I hate novels, and I hate novelists. Forgive me, child. I
+don't hate you; but if your father and John Hinton between them mean to
+spoil a fine woman by encouraging her to become that monster of nature,
+a blue-stocking, I won't help them, and that's flat. There now. Let me
+go."
+
+"It is no fiction I want to ask you, Uncle Jasper. It is a true tale,
+one I have just heard. It concerns me and you and my father. It has
+pained me very much, but I believe it can be cleared up. I would rather
+ask you than my father about it, at least at first; but either of you
+can answer what I want to know; so if you will not listen to me I can
+speak to my father after dinner."
+
+Uncle Jasper had one of those faces which reveal nothing, and it
+revealed nothing now. But the keen eyes looked hard into the open gray
+eyes of the girl who stood by his side.
+
+"What thread out of that tangled skein has she got into her head?" he
+whispered to himself. Aloud he said, "I will come back to dinner,
+Charlotte, and afterwards you shall take me up to your little snuggery.
+If you are in trouble, my dear, you had better confide in me than in
+your father. He does not--does not look very strong."
+
+Then he walked down the street; but when he reached his club he did not
+enter it. He walked on and on. He puzzling, not so much over his niece's
+strange words as over something else. Who was that woman who sat by
+Charlotte's hearth that day?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+CHARLOTTE CANNOT BEAR THE DARK.
+
+
+The elder Mr. Harman had retired to his study, and Charlotte and her
+uncle sat side by side in that young lady's own private apartment. The
+room looked snug and sheltered, and the subdued light from a Queen's
+reading-lamp, and from the glowing embers of a half burned-out fire,
+were very pleasant. Uncle Jasper was leaning back in an armchair, but
+Charlotte stood on the hearthrug. Soft and faint as the light was, it
+revealed burning cheeks and shining eyes; but the old face these tokens
+of excitement appealed to remained completely in shadow.
+
+Charlotte had told the story she had heard that day, and during its
+whole recital her uncle had sat motionless, making no comment either by
+word or exclamation.
+
+Mrs. Home's tale had been put into skilful hands. It was well told--all
+the better because the speaker so earnestly hoped that its existence
+might turn out a myth--that the phantom so suddenly conjured up might
+depart as quickly as it had arrived. At last the story came to a
+conclusion. There was a pause, and Charlotte said,----
+
+"Well, Uncle Jasper?"
+
+"Well, Lottie?" he answered. And now he roused himself, and bent a
+little forward.
+
+"Is the story true, Uncle Jasper?"
+
+"It is certainly true, Charlotte, that my father and your grandfather
+married again."
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"It is also highly probable that this young woman is the daughter of
+that marriage. When I saw her in this room to-day I was puzzled by an
+intangible likeness in her. This accounts for it."
+
+"Then why----" began Charlotte, and then she stopped. There was a whole
+world of bitterness in her tone.
+
+"Sit down, child," said her uncle. He pointed to a footstool at his
+feet. Whenever he came into this room Charlotte had occupied this
+footstool, and he wanted her to take it now, but she would not; she
+still kept her place on the hearth.
+
+"I cannot sit," she said. "I am excited--greatly excited. This looks to
+me in the light of a wrong."
+
+"Who do you think has committed the wrong, Charlotte?"
+
+Before she answered, Charlotte Harman lit a pair of candles which stood
+on the mantelshelf.
+
+"There, now," she said with a sigh of relief, "I can see your face. It
+is dreadful to speak to any one in the dark. Uncle Jasper, if I had so
+near a relation living all these years why was I never told of it? I
+have over and over again longed for a sister, and it seems I had one or
+one who might have been to me a sister. Why was I kept in ignorance of
+her very existence?"
+
+"You are like all women--unreasonable, Lottie. I am glad to find you so
+human, my dear; so human, and--and--womanly. You jump to conclusions
+without hearing reasons. Now I will give you the reasons. But I do wish
+you would sit down."
+
+"I will sit here," said Charlotte, and she drew a chair near the table.
+The room abounded in easy-chairs of all sizes and descriptions, but she
+chose one hard and made of cane, and she sat upright upon it, her hands
+folded on her lap. "Now, Uncle Jasper," she said, "I am ready to hear
+your reasons."
+
+"They go a good way back, my dear, and I am not clever at telling a
+story; but I will do my best. Your grandfather made his money in trade;
+he made a good business, and he put your father and me both into it. It
+is unnecessary to go into particulars about our special business; it was
+small at first, but we extended it until it became the great firm of
+which your father is the present head. We both, your father and I,
+showed even more aptitude for this life of mercantile success than our
+father did, and he, perceiving this, retired while scarcely an old man.
+He made us over the entire business he had made, taking, however, from
+it, for his own private use, a large sum of money. On the interest of
+this money he would live, promising, however, to return it to us at his
+death. The money taken out of the business rather crippled us, and we
+begged of him to allow us to pay him the interest, and to let the
+capital remain at our disposal; but he wished to be completely his own
+master, and he bought a place in Hertfordshire out of part of the
+money. It was a year or two after, that he met his second wife and
+married her. I don't pretend," continued Uncle Jasper, "that we liked
+this marriage or our stepmother. We were young fellows then, and we
+thought our father had done us an injustice. The girl he had chosen was
+an insipid little thing, with just a pretty face, and nothing whatever
+else. She was not quite a lady. We saw her, and came to the conclusion
+that she was common--most unsuited to our father. We also remembered our
+own mother; and most young men feel pain at seeing any one put into her
+place.
+
+"We expostulated with our father. He was a fiery old man, and hot words
+passed between us. I won't repeat what we all said, my dear, or how
+bitter John and I felt when we rode away from the old place our father
+had just purchased. One thing he said as we were going off.
+
+"'My marrying again won't make any money difference to you two fellows,
+and I suppose I may please myself.'"
+
+"I think my grandfather was very unjust," said Charlotte, but
+nevertheless a look of relief stole over her face.
+
+"We went back to our business, my dear, and our father married; and when
+we wrote to him he did not answer our letters. After a time we heard a
+son had been born, and then, shortly after the birth of this child, the
+news reached us, that a lawyer had been summoned down to the manor-house
+in Hertfordshire. We supposed that our father was making provision for
+the child; and it seemed to us fair enough. Then we saw the child's
+death in the _Times_, and shortly after the news also came to us that
+the same lawyer had gone down again to see our father.
+
+"After this, a few years went by, and we, busy with our own life, gave
+little heed to the old man, who seemed to have forgotten us. Suddenly we
+were summoned to his deathbed. John, your father, my dear, had always
+been his favorite. On his deathbed he seemed to have returned to the old
+times, when John was a little fellow. He liked to have him by his side;
+in short, he could not bear to have him out of his sight. He appeared to
+have forgotten the poor, common little wife he had married, and to live
+his early days over again. He died quite reconciled to us both, and we
+held his hand as he breathed his last.
+
+"To our surprise, my dear, we found that he had left us every penny of
+his fortune. The wife and baby girl were left totally unprovided for. We
+were amazed! We thought it unjust. We instantly resolved to make
+provision for her and her baby. We did so. She never wanted to the day
+of her death."
+
+"She did not starve," interrupted Charlotte, "but you shut her out, her
+and her child, from yourselves, and from me. Why did you do this?"
+
+"My dear, you would scarcely speak in that tone to your father, and it
+was his wish as well as mine--indeed, far more his wish than mine. I was
+on the eve of going to Australia, to carry on a branch of our trade
+there; but he was remaining at home. He was not very long married. You
+don't remember your mother, Charlotte. Ah! what a fine young creature
+she was, but proud--proud of her high birth--of a thousand things. It
+would have been intolerable to her to associate with one like my
+stepmother. Your father was particular about his wife and child. He
+judged it best to keep these undesirable relations apart. I, for one,
+can scarcely blame him."
+
+"I _will_ not blame my father," said Charlotte. Again that look of
+relief had stolen over her face. The healthy tint, which was scarcely
+color, had returned to her cheek; and the tension of her attitude was
+also withdrawn, for she changed her seat, taking possession now of her
+favorite easy-chair. "But I like Charlotte Home," she said after a
+pause. "She is--whatever her mother may have been--quite a lady. I think
+it is hard that when she is so nearly related to me she should be so
+poor and I so rich. I will speak to my father. He asked me only this
+morning what I should like as a wedding present. I know what I shall
+like. He will give that three thousand pounds to Charlotte Home. The
+money her mother had for her life she shall have for ever. I know my
+father won't refuse me."
+
+Charlotte's eyes were on the ground, and she did not see the dark
+expression which for a moment passed over Jasper Harman's face. Before
+he answered her he poked the fire into a vigorous flame.
+
+"You are a generous girl, Lottie," he said then. "I admire your spirit.
+But it is plain, my dear, that money has come as easily to you as the
+very air you breathe, or you would not speak of three thousand pounds in
+a manner so light as almost to take one's breath away. But
+suppose--suppose the money could be given, there is another difficulty.
+To get that money for Mrs. Home, who, by the way, has her husband to
+provide for her, you must tell this tale to your father--you must not do
+that."
+
+"Why not?" asked Charlotte, opening her eyes wide in surprise.
+
+"Simply because he is ill, and the doctors have forbidden him to be in
+the least agitated."
+
+"Uncle Jasper--I know he is not well, but I did not hear this; and
+why--why should what I have to say agitate him?"
+
+"Because he cannot bear any allusion to the past. He loved his father;
+he cannot dwell on those years when they were estranged. My dear,"
+continued old Uncle Jasper. "I am glad you came with this tale to me--it
+would have done your father harm. The doctors hope soon to make him much
+better, but at present he must hear nothing likely to give rise to
+gloomy thoughts; wait until he is better, my dear. And if you want help
+for this Mrs. Home, you must appeal to me. Promise me that, Lottie."
+
+"I will promise, certainly, not to injure my father, but I confess you
+puzzle me."
+
+"I am truly sorry, my dear. I will think over your tale, but now I must
+go to John. Will you come with me?"
+
+"No, thanks; I would rather stay here."
+
+"Then we shall not meet again, for in an hour I am off to my club.
+Good-night, my dear."
+
+And Charlotte could not help noticing how soft and catlike were the
+footsteps of the old Australian uncle as he stole away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+JOHN AND JASPER HARMAN.
+
+
+Jaspar Harman was sixty years old at this time, but the days of his
+pilgrimage had passed lightly over him, neither impairing his frame nor
+his vigor. At sixty years of age he could think as clearly, sleep as
+comfortably, eat as well--nay, even walk as far as he did thirty years
+ago. His life in the Antipodes seemed to have agreed with him. It is
+true his hair was turning gray, and his shrewd face had many wrinkles on
+it, but these seemed more the effects of climate than of years. He
+looked like a man whom no heart-trouble had ever touched and in this
+doubtless lay the secret of his perpetual youth. Care might sweep him
+very close, but it could not enter an unwelcome guest, to sit on the
+hearth of his holy of holies; into the innermost shrine of his being it
+could scarcely find room to enter. His was the kind of nature to whom
+remorse even for a sin committed must be almost unknown. His affections
+were not his strong point. Most decidedly his intellect overbalanced his
+heart. But without an undue preponderance of heart he was good-natured;
+he would pat a chubby little cheek, if he passed it in the street, and
+he would talk in a genial and hearty way to those beneath him in life.
+In business matters he was considered very shrewd and hard, but those
+who had no such dealings with him pronounced him a kindly soul. His
+smile was genial; his manner frank and pleasant. He had one trick,
+however, which no servant could bear--his step was as soft as a cat's;
+he must be on your heels before you had the faintest clue to his
+approach.
+
+In this stealthy way he now left his niece's room, stole down the
+thickly carpeted stairs, crept across a tiled hall, and entered the
+apartment where his elder brother waited for him.
+
+John Harman was only one year Jasper's senior, but there looked a much
+greater difference between them. Jasper was young for his years; John
+was old; nay, more--he was very old. In youth he must have been a
+handsome man; in age for every one spoke of him as aged, he was handsome
+still. He was tall, over six feet; his hair was silver-white; his eyes
+very deep set, very dark. Their expression was penetrating, kind, but
+sad. His mouth was firm, but had some lines round it which puzzled you.
+His smile, which was rare and seldom seen, was a wintry one. You would
+rather John Harman did not smile at you; you felt miserable afterwards.
+All who knew him said instinctively that John Harman had known some
+great trouble. Most people attributed it to the death of his wife, but,
+as this happened twenty years ago, others shook their heads and felt
+puzzled. Whatever the sorrow, however, which so perpetually clouded the
+fine old face, the nature of the man was so essentially noble that he
+was universally loved and respected.
+
+John Harmon was writing a letter when his brother entered. He pushed
+aside his writing materials, however, and raised his head with a sigh of
+relief. In Jasper's presence there was always one element of comfort.
+He need cover over no anxieties; his old face looked almost sharp as he
+wheeled his chair round to the fire.
+
+"No, you are not interrupting me," he began. "This letter can keep; it
+is not a business one. I never transact business at home." Then he
+added, as Jasper sank into the opposite chair, "You have been having a
+long chat with the child. I am glad she is getting fond of you."
+
+"She is a fine girl," said Jasper; "a fine, generous girl. I like her,
+even though she does dabble in literature; and I like Hinton too. When
+are they to be married, John?"
+
+"When Hinton gets his first brief--not before," answered John Harman.
+
+"Well, well, he's a clever chap; I don't see why you should wait for
+that--he's safe to get on. If I were you, I'd like to see my girl
+comfortably settled. One can never tell what may happen!"
+
+"What may happen!" repeated the elder Harman. "Do you allude now to the
+doctor's verdict on myself. I did not wish Charlotte acquainted with
+it."
+
+"Pooh! my dear fellow, there's nothing to alarm our girl in that
+quarter. I'd lay my own life you have many long years before you. No,
+Charlotte knows you are not well, and that is all she need ever know. I
+was not alluding to your health, but to the fact that that fine young
+woman upstairs is, just to use a vulgar phrase, eating her own head off
+for want of something better to do. She is dabbling in print. Of course,
+her book must fail. She is full of all kinds of chimerical expedients.
+Why, this very evening she was propounding the most preposterous scheme
+to me, as generous as it was nonsensical. No, no, my dear fellow, even
+to you I won't betray confidence. The girl is an enthusiast. Now
+enthusiasts are always morbid and unhappy unless they can find vent for
+their energies. Why don't you give her the natural and healthy vents
+supplied by wifehood and motherhood? Why do you wait for Hinton's first
+brief to make them happy? You have money enough to make them happy at
+once."
+
+"Yes, yes, Jasper--it is not that. It is just that I want the young man
+not to be altogether dependent on his wife. I am fonder of Hinton than
+of any other creature in the world except my own child. For his sake I
+ask for his short delay to their marriage. On the day he brings me news
+of that brief I take the first steps to settle on Charlotte a thousand
+a year during my lifetime. I make arrangements that her eldest son
+inherits the business, and I make further provision for any other
+children she may have."
+
+"Well, my dear fellow, all that sounds very nice; and if Hinton was not
+quite the man he is I should say, 'Wait for the brief.' But I believe
+that having a wife will only make him seek that said brief all the
+harder. I see success before that future son-in-law of yours."
+
+"And you are a shrewd observer of character, Jasper," answered his
+brother.
+
+Neither of the men spoke for some time after this, and presently Jasper
+rose to go. He had all but reached the door when he turned back.
+
+"You will be in good time in the city to-morrow, John."
+
+"Yes, of course. Not that there is anything very special going on. Why
+do you ask?"
+
+"Only that we must give an answer to that question of the trusteeship to
+the Rutherford orphans. I know you object to the charge, still it seems
+a pity for the sake of a sentiment."
+
+Instantly John Harman, who had been crouching over the fire, rose to his
+full height. His deep-set eyes flashed, his voice trembled with some
+hardly suppressed anguish.
+
+"Jasper!" he said suddenly and sharply; then he added, "you have but one
+answer to that question from me--never, never, as long as I live, shall
+our firm become trustees for even sixpence worth. You know my feelings
+on that point, Jasper, and they shall never change."
+
+"You are a fool for your pains, then," muttered Jasper, but he closed
+the door rather hastily behind him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"A PET DAY."
+
+
+At breakfast the next morning Charlotte Harman was in almost wild
+spirits. Her movements were generally rather sedate, as befitted one so
+tall, so finely proportioned, so dignified. To-day her step seemed set
+to some hidden rhythmic measure; her eyes laughed; her gracious, kindly
+mouth was wreathed in perpetual smiles. Her father, on the contrary,
+looked more bent, more careworn, more aged even than usual. Looking,
+however, into her eyes for light, his own brightened. As he ate his
+frugal breakfast of coffee and dry toast he spoke:
+
+"Charlotte, your Uncle Jasper came to me last night with a proposal on
+your behalf."
+
+"Yes, father," answered Charlotte. She looked up expectantly. She
+thought of Mrs. Home. Her uncle had told the tale after all, and her
+dear and generous father would refuse her nothing. She should have the
+great joy of giving three thousand pounds to that poor mother for the
+use of her little children.
+
+The next words, however, uttered by Mr. Harman caused these dreams to be
+dispelled by others more golden. The most generous woman must at times
+think first of herself. Charlotte was very generous; but her father's
+next words brought dimples into very prominent play in each cheek.
+
+"My darling, Jasper thinks me very cruel to postpone your marriage. I
+will not postpone it. You and Hinton may fix the day. I will take that
+brief of his on trust."
+
+No woman likes an indefinite engagement, and Charlotte was not the
+exception to prove this rule.
+
+"Dearest father," she said, "I am very happy at this. I will tell John.
+He is coming over this morning. But you know my conditions? No wedding
+day for me unless my father agrees to live with me afterwards."
+
+"Settle it as you please, dear child. I don't think there would be much
+sunshine left for me if you were away from me. And now I suppose you
+will be very busy. You have _carte blanche_ for the trousseau, but your
+book? will you have time to write it, Charlotte? And that young woman
+whom I saw in your room yesterday, is she the amanuensis whom you told
+me about?"
+
+"She is the lady whom I hoped to have secured, father, but she is not
+coming."
+
+"Not coming! I rather liked her look, she seemed quite a lady. Did you
+offer her too small remuneration? Not that that would be your way, but
+you do not perhaps know what such labor is worth."
+
+"It was not that, dear father. I offered her what she herself considered
+a very handsome sum. It was not that. She is very poor; very, very poor
+and she has three little children. I never saw such a hungry look in any
+eyes as she had, when she spoke of what money would be to her. But she
+gave me a reason--a reason which I am not at liberty to tell to you,
+which makes it impossible for her to come here."
+
+Charlotte's cheeks were burning now, and something in her tone caused
+her father to gaze at her attentively. It was not his way, however, to
+press for any confidence not voluntarily offered. He rose from his seat
+with a slight sigh.
+
+"Well, dear," he said, "you must look for some one else. We can't talk
+over matters to-night. Ask Hinton to stay and dine. There; I must be
+off, I am very late as it is."
+
+Mr. Harman kissed his daughter and she went out as usual to button on
+his great-coat and see him down the street. She had performed this
+office for him ever since--a little mite of four years old--she had
+tried to take her dead mother's place. The child, the growing girl, the
+young woman, had all in turns stood on those steps, and watched that
+figure walking away. But never until to-day had she noticed how aged and
+bent it had grown. For the first time the possibility visited her heart
+that there might be such a thing for her in the future as life without
+her father.
+
+Uncle Jasper had said he was not well; no, he did not look well. Her
+eyes filled with tears as she closed the hall door and re-entered the
+house. But her own prospects were too golden just now to permit her to
+dwell as long, or as anxiously, as she otherwise would have done, on so
+gloomy an aspect of her father's case.
+
+Charlotte Harman was twenty-five years of age; but, except when her
+mother died, death had never come near her young life. She could
+scarcely remember her mother, and, with this one exception, death and
+sickness were things unknown. She has heard of them of course; but the
+grim practical knowledge, the standing face to face with the foe, were
+not her experience. She was the kind of woman who could develop into the
+most tender nurse, into the wisest, best, and most helpful guide,
+through those same dark roads of sickness and death, but the training
+for this was all to come. No wonder that in her inexperience she should
+soon cease to dwell on her father's bent figure and drawn, white face. A
+reaction was over her, and she must yield to it.
+
+As she returned to the comfortable breakfast-room, her eyes shone
+brighter through their momentary tears. She went over and stood by the
+hearth. She was a most industrious creature, having trained herself not
+to waste an instant; but to-day she must indulge in a happy reverie.
+
+How dark had been those few hours after Mrs. Home had left her
+yesterday; how undefined, how dim, and yet how dark had been her
+suspicions! She did not know what to think, or whom to suspect; but she
+felt that, cost her what it might, she must fathom the truth, and that
+having once fathomed it, something might be revealed to her that would
+embitter and darken her whole life.
+
+And behold! she had done so. She had bravely grasped the phantom in both
+hands, and it had vanished into thin air. What she dreamed was not.
+There was no disgrace anywhere. A morbid young woman had conjured up a
+possible tale of wrong. There was no wrong. She, Mrs. Home, was to be
+pitied, and Charlotte would help her; but beyond this no dark or evil
+thing had come into her life.
+
+And now, what a great further good was in store for her! Her father had
+most unexpectedly withdrawn his opposition over the slight delay he had
+insisted upon to her marriage. Charlotte did not know until now how she
+had chafed at this delay; how she had longed to be the wife of the man
+she loved. She said, "Thank God!" under her breath, then ran upstairs to
+her own room.
+
+Charlotte's maid had the special care of this room. It was a sunshiny
+morning, and the warm spring air came in through the open window.
+
+"Yes, leave it open," she said to the girl; "it seems as if spring had
+really come to-day."
+
+"But it is winter still, madam, February is not yet over," replied the
+lady's maid. "Better let me shut it, Miss Harman, this is only a pet
+day."
+
+"I will enjoy it then, Ward," answered Miss Harman. "And now leave me,
+for I am very busy."
+
+The maid withdrew, and Charlotte seated herself by her writing table.
+She was engaged over a novel which Messrs. M----, of ---- Street, had
+pronounced really good; they would purchase the copyright, and they
+wanted the MS. by a given date. How eager she had felt about this
+yesterday; how determined not to let anything interfere with its
+completion! But to-day, she took up her pen as usual, read over the last
+page she had written, then sat quiet, waiting for inspiration.
+
+What was the matter with her? No thought came. As a rule thoughts flowed
+freely, proceeding fast from the brain to the pen, from the pen to the
+paper. But to-day? What ailed her to-day? The fact was, the most natural
+thing in the world had come to stop the flow of fiction. It was put out
+by a greater fire. The moon could shine brilliantly at night, but how
+sombre it looked beside the sun! The great sunshine of her own personal
+joy was flooding Charlotte's heart to-day, and the griefs and delights
+of the most attractive heroine in the world must sink into
+insignificance beside it. She sat waiting for about a quarter of an
+hour, then threw down her pen in disgust. She pulled out her watch.
+Hinton could not be with her before the afternoon. The morning was
+glorious. What had Ward, her maid, called the day?--"a pet day." Well,
+she would enjoy it; she would go out. She ran to her room, enveloped
+herself in some rich and becoming furs, and went into the street. She
+walked on a little way, rather undecided where to turn her steps. In an
+instant she could have found herself in Kensington Gardens or Hyde Park;
+but, just because they were so easy of access, they proved unattractive.
+She must wander farther afield. She beckoned to a passing hansom.
+
+"I want to go somewhere where I shall have green grass and trees," she
+said to the cabby. "No, it must not be Hyde Park, somewhere farther
+off."
+
+"There's the Regent's," replied the man. "I'll drive yer there and back
+wid pleasure, my lady."
+
+"I will go to Regent's Park," said Charlotte. She made up her mind, as
+she was swiftly bowled along, that she would walk back. She was just in
+that condition of suppressed excitement, when a walk would be the most
+delightful safety-valve in the world.
+
+In half an hour she found herself in Regent's Park and, having dismissed
+her cab, wandered about amongst the trees. The whole place was flooded
+with sunshine. There were no flowers visible; the season had been too
+bad, and the year was yet too young; but for all that, nature seemed to
+be awake and listening.
+
+Charlotte walked about until she felt tired, then she sat down on one of
+the many seats to rest until it was time to return home. Children were
+running about everywhere. Charlotte loved children. Many an afternoon
+had she gone into Kensington Gardens for the mere and sole purpose of
+watching them. Here were children, too, as many as there, but of a
+different class. Not quite so aristocratic, not quite so exclusively
+belonging to the world of rank and fashion. The children in Regent's
+Park were certainly quite as well dressed; but there was just some
+little indescribable thing missing in them, which the little creatures,
+whom Charlotte Harman was most accustomed to notice, possessed.
+
+She was commenting on this, in that vague and slight way one does when
+all their deepest thoughts are elsewhere, when a man came near and
+shared her seat. He was a tall man, very slight, very thin. Charlotte,
+just glancing at him took in this much also, that he was a clergyman. He
+sat down to rest, evidently doing so from great fatigue. Selfish in her
+happiness, Charlotte presently returned to her golden dreams. The
+children came on fast, group after group; some pale and thin, some rosy
+and healthy; a few scantily clothed, a few overladen with finery. They
+laughed and scampered past her. For, be the circumstances what they
+might, all the little hearts seemed full of mirth and sweet content. At
+last a very small nurse appeared, wheeling a perambulator, while two
+children ran by her side. These children were dressed neatly, but with
+no attempt at fashion. The baby in the shabby perambulator was very
+beautiful. The little group were walking past rather more slowly than
+most of the other groups, for the older boy and girl looked decidedly
+tired, when suddenly they all stopped; the servant girl opened her mouth
+until it remained fixed in the form of a round O; the baby raised its
+arms and crowed; the elder boy and girl uttered a glad shout and ran
+forward.
+
+"Father, father, you here?" said the boy. "You here?" echoed the girl,
+and the whole cavalcade drew up in front of Charlotte and the thin
+clergyman. The boy in an instant was on his father's knee, and the girl,
+helping herself mightily by Charlotte's dress, had got on the bench.
+
+The baby seeing this began to cry. The small nurse seemed incapable of
+action, and Charlotte herself had to come to the rescue. She lifted the
+little seven months old creature out of its carriage, and placed it in
+its father's arms.
+
+He raised his eyes gratefully to her face and placed his arm round the
+baby.
+
+"Oh! I'm falling," said the girl. "This seat is so slippy, may I sit on
+your knee?"
+
+It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Charlotte to take this
+strange, shabbily dressed little girl into her embrace.
+
+The child began to stroke down and admire her soft furs.
+
+"Aren't they lovely?" she said. "Oh, Harold, look! Feel 'em, Harold;
+they're like pussies."
+
+Harold, absorbed with his father, turned his full blue eyes round
+gravely and fixed them not on the furs, but on the strange lady's face.
+
+"Father," he said in a slow, solemn tone, "may I kiss that pretty lady?"
+
+"My dear boy, no, no. I am ashamed of you. Now run away, children; go on
+with your walk. Nurse, take baby."
+
+The children were evidently accustomed to implicit obedience. They went
+without a word.
+
+"But I will kiss Harold first," said Charlotte Harman, and she stooped
+down and pressed her lips to the soft round cheek.
+
+"Thank you," said the clergyman. Again he looked into her face and
+smiled.
+
+The smile on his careworn face reminded Charlotte of the smile on St.
+Stephen's face, when he was dying. It was unearthly, angelic; but it was
+also very fleeting. Presently he added in a grave tone,----
+
+"You have evidently the great gift of attracting the heart of a little
+child. Pardon me if I add a hope that you may never lose it."
+
+"Is that possible?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"Yes; when you lose the child spirit, the power will go."
+
+"Oh! then I hope it never will," she replied.
+
+"It never will if you keep the Christ bright within you," he answered.
+Then he raised his hat to her, smiled again, and walked away.
+
+He was a strange man, and Charlotte felt attracted as well as repelled.
+She was proud, and at another time and from other lips such words would
+have been received with disdain. But this queer, shadowy-looking
+clergyman looked like an unearthly visitant. She watched his rather weak
+footsteps, as he walked quietly away in the northern direction through
+the park. Then she got up and prepared to return home. But this little
+incident had sobered her. She was not unhappy; but she now felt very
+grave. The child spirit! She must keep it alive, and the Christ must
+dwell bright within her.
+
+Charlotte's temperament was naturally religious. Her nature was so frank
+and noble that she could not but drink in the good as readily as the
+flower receives the dew; but she had come to this present fulness of her
+youthful vigor without one trial being sent to test the gold. She
+entered the house after her long walk to find Hinton waiting for her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+FOUR MONTHS HENCE.
+
+
+Hinton had gone away the day before rather disturbed by Charlotte's
+manner. He had found her, for the first time since their betrothal, in
+trouble. Wishing to comfort, she had repelled him. He was a strong man,
+as strong in his own way as Charlotte was in hers, and this power of
+standing alone scarcely pleased him in her. His was the kind of nature
+which would be supposed to take for its other half one soft and
+clinging. Contrary to the established rule, however, he had won this
+proud and stately Charlotte. She thought him perfection: he was anything
+but that. But he had good points, there was nothing mean or base about
+him. There were no secrets hidden away in his life. His was an honorable
+and manly nature. But he had one little fault, running like a canker
+through the otherwise healthy fruit of his heart. While Charlotte was
+frank and open as the day, he was reserved; not only reserved, but
+suspicious. All the men who knew Hinton said what a capital lawyer he
+would make; he had all the qualities necessary to insure success in his
+profession. Above all things in the world secrets oppressed, irritated,
+and yet interested him. Once having heard of any little possible
+mystery, he could not rest until it was solved.
+
+This had been his character from a boy. His own brothers and sisters had
+confided in him, not because they found him particularly sympathetic, or
+particularly clever, not because they loved him so much, but simply
+because they could not help themselves. John would have found out all
+the small childish matter without their aid; it was better, safer to
+take him into confidence. Then, to do him justice, he was true as steel;
+for though he must discover, he would scorn to betray.
+
+On the white, untroubled sheet of Charlotte Harmon's heart no secrets
+yet had been written. Consequently, though she had been engaged for many
+months to John Hinton, she had never found out this peculiarity about
+him. Those qualities of openness and frankness, so impossible to his own
+nature, had attracted him most of all to this beautiful young woman.
+Never until yesterday had there been breath or thought of concealment
+about her. But then--then he had found her in trouble. Full of sympathy
+he had drawn near to comfort, and she had repelled him. She had heard of
+something which troubled her, which troubled her to such an extent that
+the very expression of her bright face had changed, and yet this
+something was to be a secret from him--true, only until the following
+day, but a whole twenty-four hours seemed like for ever to Hinton in his
+impatience. Before he could even expostulate with her she had run off,
+doubtless to confide her care to another. Perhaps the best way to
+express John Hinton's feelings would be to say that he was very cross as
+he returned to his chambers in Lincoln's Inn.
+
+All that evening, through his dreams all that night, all the following
+morning as he tried to engage himself over his law books, he pondered on
+Charlotte's secret. Such pondering must in a nature like his excite
+apprehension. He arrived on the next day at the house in Prince's Gate
+with his mind full of gloomy forebodings. His face was so grave that it
+scarcely cleared up at the sight of the bright one raised to meet it. He
+was full of the secret of yesterday; Charlotte, in all the joy of the
+secret of to-day, had already forgotten it.
+
+"Oh, I have had such a walk!" she exclaimed; "and a little bit of an
+adventure--a pretty adventure; and now I am starving. Come into the
+dining-room and have some lunch."
+
+"You look very well," answered her lover, "and I left you so miserable
+yesterday!"
+
+"Yesterday!" repeated Charlotte; she had forgotten yesterday. "Oh, yes,
+I had heard something very disagreeable: but when I looked into the
+matter, it turned out to be nothing."
+
+"You will tell me all about it, dear?"
+
+"Well, I don't know, John. I would of course if there was anything to
+tell; but do come and have some lunch, I cannot even mention something
+else much more important until I have had some lunch."
+
+John Hinton frowned. Even that allusion to something much more important
+did not satisfy him. He must know this other thing. What! spend
+twenty-four hours of misery, and not learn what it was all about in the
+end! Charlotte's happiness, however, could not but prove infectious, and
+the two made merry over their meal, and not until they found themselves
+in Charlotte's own special sanctum did Hinton resume his grave manner.
+Then he began at once.
+
+"Now, Charlotte, you will tell me why you looked so grave and scared
+yesterday. I have been miserable enough thinking of it ever since. I
+don't understand why you did not confide in me at once."
+
+"Dear John," she said--she saw now that he had been really hurt--"I
+would not give you pain for worlds, my dearest. Yes, I was much
+perplexed, I was even very unhappy for the time. A horrid doubt had been
+put into my head, but it turned out nothing, nothing whatever. Let us
+forget it, dear John; I have something much more important to tell you."
+
+"Yes, afterwards, but you will tell me this, even though it did turn out
+of no consequence."
+
+"Please, John dear, I would rather not. I was assailed by a most
+unworthy suspicion. It turned out nothing, nothing at all. I would
+rather, seeing it was all a myth, you never knew of it."
+
+"And I would rather know, Charlotte; the myth shall be dismissed from
+mind, too, but I would rather be in your full confidence."
+
+"My full confidence?" she repeated; the expression pained her. She
+looked hard at Hinton; his words were very quietly spoken, but there was
+a cloud on his brow. "You shall certainly have my full confidence," she
+said after that brief pause; "which will you hear first, what gave me
+pain yesterday, or what brings me joy to-day?"
+
+"What gave you pain yesterday."
+
+There is no doubt she had hoped he would have made the latter choice,
+but seeing he did not she submitted at once, sitting, not as was her
+wont close to his side, but on a chair opposite. Hinton sat with his
+back to the light, but it fell full on Charlotte, and he could see every
+line of her innocent and noble face as she told her tale. Having got to
+tell it, she did so in few but simple words; Mrs. Home's story coming of
+a necessity first, her Uncle Jasper's explanation last. When the whole
+tale was told, she paused, then said,--
+
+"You see there was nothing in it."
+
+"I see," answered Hinton. This was his first remark. He had not
+interrupted the progress of the narrative by a single observation; then
+he added, "But I think, if even your father does not feel disposed to
+help her, that we, you and I, Charlotte, ought to do something for Mrs.
+Home."
+
+"Oh, John dear, how you delight me! How good and noble you are! Yes, my
+heart aches for that poor mother; yes, we will help her. You and I, how
+very delightful it will be!"
+
+Now she came close to her lover and kissed him, and he returned her
+embrace.
+
+"You will never have a secret again from me, my darling?" he said.
+
+"I never, never had one," she answered, for it was impossible for her to
+understand that this brief delay in her confidence could be considered a
+secret. "Now for my other news," she said.
+
+"Now for your other news," he repeated.
+
+"John, what is the thing you desire most in the world?"
+
+Of course this young man being sincerely attached to this young woman,
+answered,--
+
+"You, Charlotte."
+
+"John, you always said you did not like Uncle Jasper, but see what a
+good turn he has done us--he has persuaded my father to allow us to
+marry at once."
+
+"What, without my brief?"
+
+"Yes, without your brief; my dear father told me this morning that we
+may fix the day whenever we like. He says he will stand in the way no
+longer. He is quite sure of that brief, we need not wait to be happy for
+it, we may fix our wedding-day, John, and you are to dine here this
+evening and have a talk with my father afterwards."
+
+Hinton's face had grown red. He was a lover, and an attached one; but so
+diverse were the feelings stirred within him, that for the moment he
+felt more excited than elated.
+
+"Your father is very good," he said, "he gives us leave to fix the day.
+Very well, that is your province, my Lottie; when shall it be?"
+
+"This is the twentieth of February, our wedding-day shall be on the
+twentieth of June," she replied.
+
+"That is four months hence," he said. In spite of himself there was a
+sound of relief in his tone. "Very well, Charlotte; yes, I will come and
+dine this evening. But now I am late for an appointment; we will have a
+long talk after dinner."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+HIS FIRST BRIEF.
+
+
+Hinton, when he left Charlotte, went straight back to his chambers. He
+had no particular work to hurry him there; indeed, when he left that
+morning he had done so with the full intention of spending the entire
+afternoon with his betrothed. He was, as has been said, although a
+clever, yet certainly at present a briefless young barrister.
+Nevertheless, had twenty briefs awaited his immediate attention, he
+could not have more rapidly hurried back as he now did. When he entered
+his rooms he locked the outer door. Then he threw himself on a chair,
+drew the chair to his writing table, pushed his hands through his thick
+hair, and staring hard at a blank sheet of paper which lay before him
+began to think out a problem. His might scarcely have been called a
+passionate nature, but it was one capable of a very deep, very real
+attachment. This attachment had been formed for Charlotte Harman. Their
+engagement had already lasted nearly a year, and now with her own lips
+she had told him that it might end, that the end, the one happy end to
+all engagements, was in sight. With comfort, nay, with affluence, with
+the full consent of all her friends, they might become man and wife.
+John Hinton most undoubtedly loved this woman, and yet now as he
+reviewed the whole position the one pleasure he could deduct for his own
+reflection was in the fact that there was four months' reprieve.
+Charlotte had herself postponed their wedding-day for four months.
+
+Hinton was a proud man. When, a year ago, he had gone to Mr. Harman and
+asked him for his daughter, Mr. Harman had responded with the very
+natural question, "What means have you to support her with?"
+
+Hinton had answered that he had two hundred a year--and--his profession.
+
+"What are you making in your profession?" asked the father.
+
+"Not anything--yet," answered the young man.
+
+There was a tone of defiance and withal of hope thrown into that "yet"
+which might have repelled some men, but pleased Mr. Harman. He paused to
+consider. He might have got a much, much better match for Charlotte from
+a temporal standpoint. Hinton was of no family in particular; he had no
+money worthy of the name. He was simply an honest fellow, fairly
+good-looking, and with the heart of a gentleman.
+
+"You are doubtless aware," replied Mr. Harman, "that my daughter will
+inherit a very large fortune. She has been sought for in marriage before
+now, and by men who could give something to meet what she brings, both
+with regard to money and position."
+
+"I have heard of Mr. S.'s proposal," answered Hinton. "I know he is
+rich, and the son of Lord ----; but that is nothing, for she does not
+love him."
+
+"And you believe she loves you?"
+
+"Most certainly she loves me."
+
+In spite of himself Mr. Harman smiled, then after a little more thought,
+for he was much taken with Hinton, he came to terms.
+
+He must not have Charlotte while he had nothing to support her with.
+Pooh! that two hundred a year was nothing to a girl brought up like his
+daughter. For Hinton's own sake it would not be good for him to live on
+his wife's money; but when he obtained his first brief then they might
+marry.
+
+Hinton was profuse in thanks. He only made on his part one
+stipulation--that brief, which was to obtain for him his bride, was in
+no way to come to him through Mr. Harman's influence. He must win it by
+his own individual exertion.
+
+Mr Harman smiled and grew a trifle red. In his business capacity he
+could have put twenty briefs in this young fellow's way, and in his
+inmost heart he had resolved to do so; but he liked him all the better
+for this one proviso, and promised readily enough.
+
+Hinton had no business connections of his own. He had no influential
+personal friends, and his future father-in-law felt bound in honor to
+leave him altogether to his own resources. A year had nearly passed
+since the engagement, and the brief which was to win him Charlotte was
+as far away as ever. But now she told him that this one embargo to their
+happiness had been withdrawn. They might marry, and the brief would
+follow after. Hinton knew well what it all meant. The rich city
+merchant could then put work in his way. Work would quickly pour in to
+the man so closely connected with rich John Harman. Yes. As he sat by
+his table in his small shabbily furnished room, he knew that his fortune
+was made. He would obtain Charlotte and Charlotte's wealth; and if he
+but chose to use his golden opportunities, fame too might be his
+portion. He was a keen and ardent politician, and a seat in the House
+might easily follow all the other good things which seemed following in
+his track. Yes; but he was a proud man, and he did not like it. He had
+not the heart to tell Charlotte to-day, as she looked at him with all
+the love she had so freely given shining in her sweet and tender face,
+that he would not accept such terms, that the original bargain must yet
+abide in force. He could not say to this young woman when she came to
+him, "I do not want you." But none the less, as he now sat by his
+writing-table, was he resolved that unless his brief was won before the
+twentieth of June it should bring no wedding-day to him. This was why he
+rejoiced in the four months' reprieve. But this was by no means his only
+perplexity. Had it been, so stung to renewed action was his sense of
+pride and independence, that he would have gone at once to seek, perhaps
+to obtain work; but something else was lying like wormwood against his
+heart. That story of Mrs. Home's! That explanation of Jasper Harman's!
+The story was a queer one; the explanation, while satisfying the
+inexperienced girl, failed to meet the requirements of the acute lawyer.
+Hinton saw flaws in Jasper's narrative, where Charlotte saw none. The
+one great talent of his life, if it could be called a talent, was coming
+fiercely into play as he sat now and thought about it all. He had
+pre-eminently the gift of discovering secrets. He was rooting up many
+things from the deep grave of the hidden past now. That look of care on
+Mr. Harman's face, how often it had puzzled him! He had never liked
+Jasper; indefinite had been his antipathy hitherto, but it was taking
+definite form now. There _was_ a secret in the past of that most
+respectable firm, and he, John Hinton, would give himself no rest until
+he had laid it bare. No wedding-day could come to him and Charlotte
+until his mind was at rest on this point. It was against his interest to
+ferret out this hidden thing, but that fact weighed as nothing with him.
+It would bring pain to the woman he loved; it might ruin her father; but
+the pain and the ruin would be inflicted unsparingly by his righteous
+young hand, which knew nothing yet of mercy but was all for justice, and
+justice untempered with mercy is a terrible weapon. This Hinton was yet
+to learn.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+LODGINGS IN KENTISH TOWN.
+
+
+After a time, restless from the complexity of his musings, Hinton went
+out. He had promised to return to the Harmans for dinner, but their hour
+for dinner was eight o'clock, and it still wanted nearly three hours of
+that time. As Charlotte had done before that day, he found himself in
+the close neighborhood of Regent's Park. He would have gone into the
+park, but that he knew that the hour of closing the gates at this early
+period of the year must be close at hand; he walked, therefore, by the
+side of the park, rather aimlessly it is true, not greatly caring,
+provided he kept moving, in what direction his footsteps took him.
+
+At last he found himself on the broad tram line which leads to the
+suburb of Kentish Town. It was by no means an interesting neighborhood.
+But Hinton, soon lost in his private and anxious musings, went on. At
+last he left the public thoroughfare and turned down a private road.
+There were no shops here, nor much traffic. He felt a sense of relief at
+leaving the roar and bustle behind him. This road on which he had now
+entered was flanked at each side by a small class of dwelling-houses,
+some shabby and dirty, some bright and neat; all, however, were
+poor-looking. It was quite dusk by this time, and the gas had been
+already lit. This fact, perhaps, was the reason which drew Hinton's
+much-preoccupied attention to a trivial circumstance.
+
+In one of these small houses a young woman, who had previously lit the
+gas, stepped to the window and proceeded to paste a card to the pane.
+There was a gas lamp also directly underneath, and Hinton, raising his
+eyes, saw very distinctly, not only the little act, but also the words
+on the card. They were the very common words----
+
+  APARTMENTS TO LET
+
+  INQUIRE WITHIN.
+
+Hinton suddenly drew up short on the pavement. He did not live in his
+chambers, and it occurred to him that here he would be within a walk of
+Regent's Park. In short, that these shabby-looking little lodgings might
+suit him for the next few uncertain months. As suddenly as he had
+stopped, and the thought had come to him, he ran up the steps and rang
+the bell. In a moment or two a little servant-maid opened the door. She
+was neither a clean nor a tidy-looking maid, and Hinton, fastidious on
+such matters, took in this fact at a glance. Nevertheless the desire to
+find for himself a habitation in this shabby little house did not leave
+him.
+
+"I saw a card up in your window. You have rooms to let," he said to the
+little maid.
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed, please, sir," answered the servant with a broad and
+delighted grin. "'Tis h'our drawing-rooms, please, sir; and ef you'll
+please jest come inter the 'all I'll run and tell missis."
+
+Hinton did so; and in another moment the maid, returning, asked him to
+step this way.
+
+This way led him into a dingy little parlor, and face to face with a
+young woman who, pale, self-possessed, and ladylike, rose to meet him.
+Hinton felt the color rising to his face at sight of her. He also
+experienced a curious and sudden constriction of his heart, and an
+overawed sense of some special Providence leading him here. For he had
+seen this young woman before. She was Charlotte Home. In his swift
+glance, however, he saw that she did not recognize him. His resolve was
+taken on the instant. However uncomfortable the rooms she had to offer,
+they should be his. His interest in this Mrs. Home became intensified to
+a degree that was painful. He knew that he was about to pursue a course
+which would be to his own detriment, but he felt it impossible now to
+turn aside. In a quiet voice, and utterly unconscious of this tumult in
+his breast, she asked him to be seated, and they began to discuss the
+accommodation she could offer.
+
+Her back and front drawing-rooms would be vacant in a week. Yes,
+certainly; Mr. Hinton could see them. She rang the bell as she spoke,
+and the maid appearing, took Hinton up stairs. The rooms were even
+smaller and shabbier than he had believed possible. Nevertheless, when
+he came downstairs he found no fault with anything, and agreed to the
+terms asked, namely, one guinea a week. He noticed a tremor in the
+young, brave voice which asked for this remuneration, and he longed to
+make the one guinea two, but this was impossible. Before he left he had
+taken Mrs. Home's drawing-rooms for a month, and had arranged to come
+into possession of his new quarters that day week.
+
+Looking at his watch when he left the house, he found that time had gone
+faster than he had any idea of. He had now barely an hour to jump into a
+cab, go to his present most comfortable lodgings, change his morning
+dress, and reach the Harmans in time for eight o'clock dinner. Little
+more than these sixty minutes elapsed from the time he left the shabby
+house in Kentish Town before he found himself in the luxurious abode of
+wealth, and every refinement, in Prince's Gate. He ran up to the
+drawing-room, to find Charlotte waiting for him alone.
+
+"Uncle Jasper will dine with us, John," she said, "but my father is not
+well."
+
+"Not well!" echoed Hinton. Her face only expressed slight concern, and
+his reflected it in a lesser degree.
+
+"He is very tired," she said, "and he looks badly. But I hope there is
+not much the matter. He will see you after dinner. But he could not eat,
+so I have begged of him to lie down; he will be all right after a little
+rest."
+
+Hinton made no further remark, and Uncle Jasper then coming in, and
+dinner being announced, they all went downstairs.
+
+Uncle Jasper and Charlotte were merry enough, but Hinton could not get
+over a sense of depression, which not even the presence of the woman he
+loved could disperse. He was not sorry when the message came for him to
+go to Mr. Harman. Charlotte smiled as he rose.
+
+"You will find me in the drawing-room whenever you like to come there,"
+she said to him.
+
+He left the room suppressing the sigh. Charlotte, however, did not hear
+or notice it. Still, with that light of love and happiness crowning her
+bright face, she turned to the old Australian uncle.
+
+"I will pour you out your next glass of port, and stay with you for a
+few moments, for I have something to tell you."
+
+"What is that, my dear?" asked the old man.
+
+"Something you have had to do with, dear old uncle. My wedding-day is
+fixed."
+
+Uncle Jasper chuckled.
+
+"Ah! my dear," he said, "there's nothing like having the day clear in
+one's head. And when is it to be, my pretty lass?"
+
+"The twentieth of June, Uncle Jasper. Just four months from to-day."
+
+"Four months off!" repeated Uncle Jasper. "Well, I don't call that very
+close at hand. When I spoke to your father last night--for you know I
+did speak to him, Charlotte--he seemed quite inclined to put no obstacle
+in the way of your speedy marriage."
+
+"Nor did he, Uncle Jasper. You don't understand. He said we might marry
+at once if we liked. It was I who said the twentieth of June."
+
+"You, child!--and--and did Hinton, knowing your father had withdrawn all
+opposition, did Hinton allow you to put off his happiness for four whole
+months?"
+
+"It was my own choice," said Charlotte. "Four months do not seem to me
+too long to prepare."
+
+"They would seem a very long time to me if I were the man who was to
+marry you, my dear."
+
+Charlotte looked grave at this. Her uncle seemed to impute blame to her
+lover. Being absolutely certain of his devotion, she scorned to defend
+it. She rose from the table.
+
+"You will find me in the drawing-room, Uncle Jasper."
+
+"One word, Charlotte, before you go," said her uncle. "No, child, I am
+not going to the drawing-room. You two lovers may have it to yourselves.
+But--but--you remember our talk of last night?"
+
+"Yes," answered Charlotte, pausing, and coming back a little way into
+the room. "Did you say anything to my father? Will he help Mrs. Home?"
+
+"I have no doubt he will, my dear. Your father and I will both do
+something. He is a very just man, is your father. He was a good deal
+upset by this reference to his early days, and to his quarrel with his
+own father. I believe, between you and me, that it was that which made
+him ill this evening. But, Charlotte, you leave Mrs. Home to us. I will
+mention her case again when your father is more fit to bear the subject.
+What I wanted to say now, my dear, is this, that I think it would best
+please the dear old man if--if you told nothing of this strange tale,
+not even to Hinton, my dear."
+
+"Why, Uncle Jasper?"
+
+"Why, my dear child? The reason seems to me obvious enough. It is a
+story of the past. It relates to an old and painful quarrel. It is all
+over years ago. And then you could not tell one side of the tale without
+the other. Mrs. Home, poor thing, not personally knowing your father as
+one of the best and noblest of men, imputes very grave blame to him.
+Don't you think such a tale, so false, so wrong, had better be buried in
+oblivion?"
+
+"Mrs. Home was most unjust in her ignorance," repeated Charlotte. "But,
+uncle, you are too late in your warning, for I told John the whole story
+already to-day."
+
+Not a muscle of Uncle Jasper's face changed.
+
+"Well, child, I should have said that to you last night. After all, it
+is natural. Hinton won't let it go farther, and no harm is done."
+
+"Certainly, John does not speak of my most sacred things," answered
+Charlotte proudly.
+
+"No, no, of course he doesn't. I am sorry you told him; but as you say,
+he is one with yourself. No harm is done. No, thank you, my dear, no
+more wine now. I am going off to my club."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+MR. HARMAN'S CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+All through dinner, Hinton had felt that strange sense of depression
+stealing upon him. He was a man capable of putting a very great
+restraint upon his feelings, and he so behaved during the long and weary
+meal as to rouse no suspicions, either in Charlotte's breast or in the
+far sharper one of the Australian uncle. But, nevertheless, so
+distressing was the growing sense of coming calamity, that he felt the
+gay laugh of his betrothed almost distressing, and was truly relieved
+when he had to change it for the gravity of her father. As he went from
+the dining-room to Mr. Harman's study, he reflected with pleasure that
+his future father-in-law was always grave, that never in all the months
+of their rather frequent intercourse had he seen him even once indulge
+in what could be called real gayety of heart. Though this fact rather
+coupled with his own suspicions, still he felt a momentary relief in
+having to deal to-night with one who treated life from its sombre
+standpoint.
+
+He entered the comfortable study. Mr. Harman was sunk down in an
+armchair, a cup of untasted coffee stood by his side; the moment he
+heard Hinton's step, however, he rose and going forward, took the young
+man's hand and wrung it warmly.
+
+The room was lit by candles, but there were plenty of them, and Hinton
+almost started when he perceived how ill the old man looked.
+
+"Charlotte has told you what I want you for to-night, eh, Hinton?" said
+Mr. Harman.
+
+"Yes; Charlotte has told me," answered John Hinton. Then he sat down
+opposite his future father-in-law, who had resumed his armchair by the
+fire. Standing up, Mr. Harman looked ill, but sunk into his chair, with
+his bent, white head, and drawn, anxious face, and hands worn to
+emaciation, he looked twenty times worse. There seemed nearly a lifetime
+between him and that blithe-looking Jasper, whom Hinton had left with
+Charlotte in the dining-room. Mr. Harman, sitting by his fire, with
+firelight and candlelight shining full upon him, looked a very old man
+indeed.
+
+"I am sorry to see you so unwell, sir. You certainly don't look at all
+the thing," began Hinton.
+
+"I am not well--not at all well. I don't want Charlotte to know. But
+there need be no disguises between you and me; of course I show it; but
+we will come to that presently. First, about your own affairs. Lottie
+has told you what I want you for to-night?"
+
+"She has, Mr. Harman. She says that you have been good and generous
+enough to say you will take away the one slight embargo you made to our
+marriage--that we may become man and wife before I bring you news of
+that brief."
+
+"Yes, Hinton: that is what I said to her this morning: I repeat the same
+to you to-night. You may fix your wedding-day when you like--I dare say
+you have fixed it."
+
+"Charlotte has named the twentieth of next June, sir; but----"
+
+"The twentieth of June! that is four months away. I did not want her to
+put it off as far as that. However, women, even the most sensible, have
+such an idea of the time it takes to get a trousseau. The twentieth of
+June! You can make it sooner, can't you?"
+
+"Four months is not such a long time, sir. We have a house to get, and
+furniture to buy. Four months will be necessary to make these
+arrangements."
+
+"No, they won't; for you have no such arrangements to make. You are to
+come and live here when you marry. This will be your house when you
+marry, and I shall be your guest. I can give you Charlotte Hinton; but I
+cannot do without her myself."
+
+"But this house means a very, very large income, Mr. Harman. Is it
+prudent that we should begin like this? For my part I should much rather
+do on less."
+
+"You may sell the house if you fancy, and take a smaller one; or go more
+into the country. I only make one proviso--that while I live, I live
+with my only daughter."
+
+"And with your son, too, Mr. Harman," said Hinton, just letting his hand
+touch for an instant the wrinkled hand which lay on Mr. Harman's knee.
+
+The old man smiled one of those queer, sad smiles which Hinton had often
+in vain tried to fathom. Responding to the touch of the vigorous young
+hand, he said--
+
+"I have always liked you, Hinton. I believe, in giving you my dear
+child, I give her to one who will make her happy."
+
+"Happy! yes, I shall certainly try to make her happy," answered Hinton,
+with a sparkle in his eyes.
+
+"And that is the main thing; better than wealth, or position, or
+anything else on God's earth. Happiness comes with goodness, you know,
+my dear fellow; no bad man was ever happy. If you and Charlotte get this
+precious thing into your lives you must both be good. Don't let the evil
+touch you ever so slightly. If you do, happiness flies."
+
+"I quite believe you," answered Hinton.
+
+"Well, about money matters. I am, as you know, very rich. I shall settle
+plenty of means upon my daughter; but it will be better for you to enter
+into all these matters with my solicitor. When can you meet him?"
+
+"Whenever convenient to you and to him, sir."
+
+"I will arrange it for you, and let you know."
+
+"Mr. Harman, may I say a word for myself?" suddenly asked the young man.
+
+"Most certainly. Have I been so garrulous as to keep you from speaking?"
+
+"Not at all, sir; you have been more than generous. You have been
+showing me the rose-color from your point of view. Now it is not all
+rose-color."
+
+"I was coming to that; it is by no means all rose-color. Well, say your
+say first."
+
+"You are a very rich man, and you are giving me your daughter; so
+endowing her, that any man in the world would say I had drawn a prize in
+money, if in nothing else."
+
+Mr. Harman smiled.
+
+"I fear you must bear that," he said. "I do not see that you can support
+Charlotte without some assistance from me."
+
+"I certainly could not do so. I have exactly two hundred a year, and
+that, as you were pleased to observed before, would be, to one brought
+up as Charlotte has been, little short of beggary."
+
+"To Charlotte it certainly would be almost beggary."
+
+"Mr. Harman, I have some pride in me. I am a barrister by profession.
+Some barristers get high in their profession."
+
+"Undoubtedly _some_ do."
+
+"Those who are brilliant do," continued Hinton. "I have abilities,
+whether they are brilliant or not, time will show. Mr. Harman, I should
+like to bring you news of that brief before we are married."
+
+"I can throw you in the way of getting plenty of briefs when you are my
+son-in-law. I promise you, you will no longer be a barrister with
+nothing to do."
+
+"Yes, sir; but I want this before my marriage."
+
+"My influence can give it to you before."
+
+"But that was against our agreement, Mr. Harman. I want to find that
+brief which is to do so much for me without your help."
+
+"Very well. Find it before the twentieth of June."
+
+After this the two men were silent for several moments. John Hinton,
+though in no measure comforted, felt it impossible to say more just
+then, and Mr. Harman, with a face full of care, kept gazing into the
+fire. John Hinton might have watched that face with interest, had he not
+been otherwise occupied. After this short silence Mr. Harman spoke
+again.
+
+"You think me very unselfish in all this; perhaps even my conduct
+surprises you."
+
+"I confess it rather does," answered Hinton.
+
+"Will you oblige me by saying how?"
+
+"For one thing, you give so much and expect so little."
+
+"Ay, so it appears at first sight; but I told you it was not all
+rose-color; I am coming to that part. Your pride has been roused--I can
+soothe it."
+
+"I love Charlotte too much to feel any pride in the matter," replied
+Hinton, with some heat.
+
+"I don't doubt your affection, my good fellow; and I put against it an
+equal amount on Charlotte's part; also a noble and beautiful woman, and
+plenty of money, with money's attendant mercies. I fear even your
+affection is outweighed in that balance."
+
+"Nothing can outweigh affection," replied Hinton boldly.
+
+Mr. Harman smiled, and this time stretching out his own hand he touched
+the young man's.
+
+"You are right, my dear boy; and because I am so well aware of this, I
+give my one girl to a man who is a gentleman, and who loves her. I ask
+for nothing else in Charlotte's husband, but I am anxious for you to be
+her husband at once."
+
+"And that is what puzzles me," said Hinton: "you have a sudden reason
+for this hurry. We are both young; we can wait; there is no hardship in
+waiting."
+
+"There would be a hardship to me in your waiting longer now. You are
+quite right in saying I have a sudden reason; this time last night I had
+no special thought of hurrying on Charlotte's marriage. Her uncle
+proposed it; I considered his reasoning good--so good, that I gave
+Charlotte permission this morning to fix with you the time for the
+wedding. But even then delay would have troubled me but little; now it
+does; now even these four short months trouble me sorely."
+
+"Why?" asked Hinton.
+
+"Why? You mentioned my health, and observed that I looked ill; I said I
+would come to that presently. I am ill; I look very ill. I have seen
+physicians. To-day I went to see Sir George Anderson; he told me,
+without any preamble, the truth. My dear fellow, I want you to be my
+child's protector in a time of trouble, for I am a dying man."
+
+Hinton had never come face to face with death in his life before. He
+started forward now and clasped his hands.
+
+"Dying!" he repeated, in a tone of unbelief and consternation.
+
+"Yes; you don't see it, for I am going about. I shall go about much as
+usual to the very last. Your idea of dying men is that they stay in bed
+and get weak, and have a living death long before the last great mercy
+comes. That will not be my case. I shall be as you see me now to the
+very last moment; then some day, or perhaps some night, you will come
+into this room, or into another room, it does not a bit matter where,
+and find me dead."
+
+"And must this come soon?" repeated Hinton.
+
+"It may not come for some months; it may stay away for a year; but again
+it may come to-night or to-morrow."
+
+"Good God!" repeated Hinton.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Hinton, you are right, in the contemplation of such a solemn
+and terrible event, to mention the name of your Creator. He is a good
+God, but His very goodness makes Him terrible. He is a God who will see
+justice done; who will by no means cleanse the guilty. I am going into
+His presence--a sinful old man. Well, I bow to His decree. But enough of
+this; you see my reasons for wishing for an early marriage for my
+child."
+
+"Mr. Harman, I am deeply, deeply pained and shocked. May I know the
+nature of your malady?"
+
+"It is unnecessary to discuss it, and does no good; suffice it to know
+that I carry a disease within me which by its very nature must end both
+soon and suddenly; also that there is no cure for the disease."
+
+"Are you telling me all this as a secret?"
+
+"As a most solemn and sacred secret. My brother suspects something of
+it, but no one, no one in all the world knows the full and solemn truth
+but yourself."
+
+"Then Charlotte is not to be told?"
+
+"Charlotte! Charlotte! It is for her sake I have confided to you all
+this, that you may guard her from such a knowledge."
+
+John Hinton was silent for a moment or two; if he disliked Charlotte
+having a secret from him much more did he protest against the knowledge
+which now was forced upon him being kept from her. He saw that Mr.
+Harman was firmly set on keeping his child in the dark; he disapproved,
+but he hardly dared, so much did he fear to agitate the old man, to make
+any vigorous stand against a decree which seemed to him both cruel and
+unjust. He must say something, however, so he began gently--
+
+"I will respect your most sacred confidence, Mr. Harman; without your
+leave no word from me shall convey this knowledge to Charlotte; but
+pardon me if I say a word. You know your own child very well, but I also
+know Charlotte; she has lived, for all her talent and her five and
+twenty years, the sheltered life of a child hitherto--but that is
+nothing; she is a noble woman, she has a noble woman's heart; in
+trouble, such a nature as hers could rise and prove itself great. Don't
+you suppose, when by and by the end really comes, she will blame me, and
+even perhaps, you, sir, for keeping this knowledge from her."
+
+"She will never blame her old father. She will see, bless her, that I
+did it in love; you will tell her that, be sure you tell her that, when
+the time comes; please God, you will be her husband then, and you will
+have the right to comfort her."
+
+"I hope to have the right to comfort her, I hope to be her husband;
+still, I think you are mistaken, though I can urge the matter no
+further."
+
+"No, for you cannot see it with my eyes; that child and I have lived the
+most unbroken life of peace and happiness together; neither storm nor
+cloud has visited us in one another. The shadow of death must not
+embitter our last few months; she must be my bright girl to the very
+last. Some day, if you and she ever have a daughter, you will understand
+my feelings--at least in part you will understand it."
+
+"I cannot understand it now, but I can at least respect it," answered
+the young man.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+"VENGEANCE IS MINE."
+
+
+When Hinton at last left him, Mr. Harman sat on for a long time by his
+study fire. The fire burnt low but he did not replenish it, neither did
+he touch the cold coffee which still remained on his table. After an
+hour or so of musings, during which the old face seemed each moment to
+grow more sad and careworn, he stretched out his hand to ring his bell.
+
+Almost instantly was the summons answered--a tall footman stood before
+him.
+
+"Dennis, has Mr. Jasper left?"
+
+"Yes, sir. He said he was going to his club. I can have him fetched,
+sir."
+
+"Do not do so. After Mr. Hinton leaves, ask Miss Harman to come here."
+
+The footman answered softly in the affirmative and withdrew, and Mr.
+Harman still sat on alone. He had enough to think about. For the first
+time to-day death had come and stared him in the face; very close indeed
+his own death was looking at him. He was a brave man, but the sight of
+the cold, grim thing, brought so close, so inevitably near, was scarcely
+to be endured with equanimity. After a time, rising from his seat, he
+went to a bookcase and took down, not a treatise on medicine or
+philosophy, but an old Bible.
+
+"Dying men are said to find comfort here," he said faintly to himself.
+He put one of the candles on the table and opened the book. It was an
+old Bible, but John Harman was not very well acquainted with its
+contents.
+
+"They tell me there is much comfort here," he said to himself. He turned
+the old and yellow leaves.
+
+"_Vengeance is mine. I will repay._" These were the words on which his
+eyes fell.
+
+Comfort! He closed the book with a groan and returned it to the
+bookshelf. But in returning it he chose the highest shelf of all and
+pushed it far back and well out of sight.
+
+He had scarcely done so before a light quick step was heard at the door,
+and Charlotte, her eyes and cheeks both bright, entered.
+
+"My dearest, my darling," he said. He came to meet her, and folded her
+in his arms. He was a dying man, and a sin-laden one, but not the less
+sweet was that young embrace, that smooth cheek, those bright, happy
+eyes.
+
+"You are better, father; you look better," said his daughter.
+
+"I have been rather weak and low all the evening, Lottie; but I am much
+better for seeing you. Come here and sit at my feet, my dear love."
+
+"I am very happy this evening," said Charlotte, seating herself on her
+father's footstool, and laying her hand on his knee.
+
+"I can guess the reason, my child; your wedding-day is fixed."
+
+"This morning, father, I said it should be the twentieth of June; John
+seemed quite satisfied, and four months were not a bit too long for our
+preparations; but to-night he has changed his mind; he wants our wedding
+to be in April. I have not given in--not yet. Two months seem so short."
+
+"You will have plenty of time to prepare in two months, dear; and April
+is a nice time of year. If I were you, I would not oppose Hinton."
+
+Charlotte smiled. She knew in her heart of hearts she should not oppose
+him. But being a true woman, she laid hold of a futile excuse.
+
+"My book will not be finished. I like to do well what I do at all."
+
+Her father was very proud of this coming book; but now, patting her
+hand, he said softly,--
+
+"The book can keep. Put it out of your head for the present; you can get
+it done later."
+
+"Then I shall leave you two months sooner, father; does that not weigh
+with you at all?"
+
+"You are only going for your honeymoon, darling; and the sooner you go
+the sooner you will return."
+
+"Vanquished on all points," said Charlotte, smiling radiantly, and then
+she sat still, looking into the fire.
+
+Long, long afterwards, through much of sorrow--nay, even of
+tribulation--did her thoughts wander back to that golden evening of her
+life.
+
+"You remind me of my own mother to-night," said her father presently.
+
+Charlotte and her father had many times spoken of this dead mother. Now
+she said softly,--
+
+"I want, I pray, I long to make as good a wife as you tell me she did."
+
+"With praying, longing, and striving, it will come Charlotte. That was
+how she succeeded."
+
+"And there is another thing," continued Charlotte, suddenly changing her
+position and raising her bright eyes to her old father's face. "You had
+a good wife and I had a good mother. If ever I die, as my own mother
+died, and leave behind me a little child, as she did, I pray that my
+John may be as good a father to it as you have been to me."
+
+But in answer to this little burst of daughterly love, a strange thing
+happened. Mr. Harman grew very white, so white that he gasped for
+breath.
+
+"Water, a little water," he said, feebly; and when Charlotte had brought
+it to him and he raised it to his lips, and the color and power to
+breathe had come back again, he said slowly and with great pain,--
+
+"Never, never pray that your husband may be like me, Charlotte. To be
+worthy of you at all, he must be a much better and a very different
+man."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+HAPPINESS NOT JUSTICE.
+
+
+Hinton left Mr. Harman's house in a very perplexed frame of mind. It
+seemed to him that in that one short day as much had happened to him as
+in all the course of his previous life, but the very force of the
+thoughts, the emotions, the hopes, the fears, which had visited him,
+made him, strong, young and vigorous as he was, so utterly weary, that
+when he reached his rooms he felt that he must let tired-out nature have
+its way--he threw himself on his bed and slept the sleep of the young
+and healthy until the morning.
+
+It was February weather, February unusually mild and genial, and the pet
+day of yesterday was followed by another as soft and sweet and mild.
+When Hinton awoke from his refreshing slumbers, the day was so well and
+thoroughly risen that a gleam of sunshine lay across his bed. He started
+up to discover a corresponding glow in his heart. What was causing this
+glow? In a moment he remembered, and the gleam of heart sunshine grew
+brighter with the knowledge. The fact was, happiness was standing by the
+young man's side, holding out two radiant hands, and saying, "Take me,
+take me to your heart of hearts, for I have come to dwell with you."
+Hinton rose, dressed hastily, and went into his sitting-room. All the
+gloom which had so oppressed him yesterday had vanished. He could not
+resist the outward sunshine, nor the heart-glow which had come to him.
+He stepped lightly, and whistled some gay airs. He ate his breakfast
+with appetite, then threw himself into an easy-chair which stood near
+the window; he need not go to his chambers for at least an hour, he
+might give himself this time to think.
+
+Again happiness stepped up close and showed her beautiful face. Should
+he take her; should he receive the rare and lovely thing and shut out
+that stern sense of justice, of relieving the oppressed, of seeing the
+wronged righted, which had been as his sheet-anchor yesterday, which had
+been more or less the sheet-anchor of his life. Here was his position.
+He was engaged to marry Charlotte Harman; he loved her with his whole
+heart; she loved him with her whole heart; she was a beautiful woman, a
+noble woman, a wealthy woman. With her as his wife, love, riches, power
+might all be his. What more could the warm, warm feelings of youth
+desire? what more could the ambitions of youth aspire to? Yesterday, it
+is true, he had felt some rising of that noble pride which scorns to
+receive so much and give so little. He had formed a wild, almost
+passionate determination to obtain his brief before he obtained his
+bride, but Mr. Harman had soothed that pride to sleep. There was indeed
+a grave and sad reason why this beautiful and innocent woman whom he had
+won should receive all the full comfort his love and protection could
+give her as quickly as possible. Her father was dying, and she must not
+know of his approaching death. Her father wished to see her Hinton's
+wife as soon as possible. Hinton felt that this was reasonable, this was
+fair; for the sake of no pride, true or false, no hoped-for brief, could
+he any longer put off their wedding. Nay, far from this. Last night he
+had urged its being completed two months sooner than Charlotte herself
+had proposed. He saw by the brightness in Charlotte's eyes that, though
+she did not at once agree to this, her love for him was such that she
+would marry him in a week if he so willed it. He rejoiced in these
+symptoms of her great love, and the rejoicings of last night had risen
+in a fuller tide this morning. Yes, it was the rule of life, the one
+everlasting law, the old must suffer and die, the young must live and
+rejoice. Yes; Hinton felt very deep sympathy for Mr. Harman last night,
+but this morning, his happiness making him more self-absorbed than
+really selfish, he knew that the old man's dying and suffering state
+could not take one iota from his present delight.
+
+What then perplexed him? What made him stand aloof from the radiant
+guest, Happiness, for a brief half hour? That story of Charlotte's; it
+would come back to him; he wished now he had never heard it. For having
+heard he could not forget: he could not exorcise this grim Thing which
+stood side by side with Happiness in his sunny room. The fact was, his
+acute mind took in the true bearings of the case far more clearly than
+Charlotte had done. He felt sure that Mrs. Home had been wronged. He
+felt equally sure that, if he looked into the case, it lay in his power
+to right her. Over and over he saw her pale, sad face, and he hoped it
+was not going to haunt him. The tale in his mind lay all in Mrs. Home's
+favor, all against John and Jasper Harman. Was it likely that their
+wealthy father would do anything so monstrously unjust as to leave all
+his money to his two eldest sons with whom he had previously quarrelled,
+and nothing, nothing at all to his young wife and infant daughter? It
+would be a meaningless piece of injustice, unlike all that he had
+gleaned of the previous character of the old man. As to John and Jasper,
+and their conduct in the affair, that too was difficult to fathom.
+Jasper had spent the greater portion of his life in Australia. Of his
+character Hinton knew little; that little he felt was repugnant to him.
+But John Harman--no man in the City bore a higher character for
+uprightness, for integrity, for honor. John Harman was respected and
+loved by all who knew him.
+
+Yes, yes: Hinton felt that all this was possible, but also he knew that
+never in their close intercourse had he been able to fathom John Harman.
+A shadow rested over the wealthy and prosperous merchant. Never until
+now had Hinton even approached the cause; but now, now it seemed to him
+that he was grappling with the impenetrable mystery, that face to face
+he was looking at the long and successfully hidden sin. Strong man as he
+was, he trembled as this fear came over him. Whatever the cause,
+whatever the sudden and swift temptation, he felt an ever-growing
+conviction that long ago John and Jasper Harman had robbed the widow and
+fatherless. Feeling this, being almost sure of this, how then should he
+act? He knew very well what he could do. He could go to Somerset House
+and see the will of old Mr. Harman. It was very unlikely that a forged
+will had been attempted. It was, he felt sure, far, far more probable
+that the real will was left untampered with, that the deed of injustice
+had been done in the hope that no one who knew anything about such
+matters would ever inquire into it.
+
+Hinton could go that very day and set his mind at rest. Why then did he
+hesitate? Ah! he knew but too well. Never and nearer came that shining
+form of Happiness. If he did this thing, and found his suspicions
+correct, as he feared much he should, if he then acted upon this
+knowledge and gave Mrs. Home her own again, happiness would fly from
+him, it might be for ever. To give Mrs. Home her rights he must cruelly
+expose a dying old man. Such a shock, coming now, would most probably
+kill John Harman. After bringing her father to such shame and dishonor,
+would Charlotte ever consent to be his wife? would she not indeed in
+very horror fly from his presence? What was Mrs. Home to him, that he
+should ruin his whole life for her sake, that he should give up wife,
+wealth, and fame? Nothing--a complete stranger. Why should he, for her
+sake, pain and make miserable those he loved, above all break the heart
+of the woman who was more precious to him than all the rest of the
+world? He felt he could not do this thing. He must take that bright
+winged happiness and let justice have her day when she could. Some other
+hand must inflict the blow, it could not be his hand. He was sorry now
+that he had taken Mrs. Home's lodgings. But after all what did it
+signify? He had taken them for a month, he could go there for that short
+period. His quickly approaching marriage would make it necessary for him
+to leave very soon after, and he would try amongst his many friends to
+find her a more permanent tenant, for though he had now quite made up
+his mind to let matters alone, his heart ached for this woman. Yes, he
+would, if possible, help her in little ways, though it would be
+impossible for his hand to be the one to give her her own again. Having
+come to this determination he went out.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+"SUGAR AND SPICE AND ALL THAT'S NICE."
+
+
+Perhaps for one day Charlotte Harman was selfish in her happiness. But
+when she awoke on the morning after her interview with her father, her
+finely balanced nature had quite recovered its equilibrium. She was a
+woman whom circumstances could make very noble; all her leanings were
+towards the good, she had hitherto been unassailed by temptation,
+untouched by care. All her life the beautiful and bright things of this
+world had been showered at her feet. She had the friends whom rich,
+amiable, and handsome girls usually make. She had the devotion of a
+most loving father. John Hinton met her and loved her. She responded to
+his love with her full heart. Another father might have objected to her
+giving herself to this man, who in the fashionable world's opinion was
+nothing. But Harman only insisted on a slight delay to their marriage,
+none whatever to their engagement, and now, after scarcely a year of
+waiting, the embargo was withdrawn, their wedding-day was fixed, was
+close at hand. The twentieth of April (Charlotte knew she should not
+oppose the twentieth of April) was not quite two months away. Very light
+was her heart when she awoke to this happy fact. Happiness, too, was
+standing by her bedside, and she made no scruple to press the radiant
+creature to her heart of hearts. But Charlotte's was too fine a nature
+to be spoiled by prosperity. Independent of her wealth, she must always
+have been a favorite. Her heart was frank and generous; she was
+thoughtful for others, she was most truly unselfish. Charlotte was a
+favorite with the servants; her maid worshipped her. She was a just
+creature, and had read too much on social reform to give away
+indiscriminately and without thought; but where her sense of justice was
+really satisfied, she could give with a royal hand, and there were many
+poor whom Ward, her maid, knew, who, rising up, called Miss Harman
+blessed.
+
+Charlotte had taken a great interest in Mrs. Home. Her face attracted,
+her manner won, before ever her story touched the heart of this young
+woman. The greatest pain Charlotte had ever gone through in her life had
+followed the recital of Mrs. Home's tale, a terrible foreboding the
+awful shadow which points to wrong done, to sin committed by her best
+and dearest, had come near and touched her. Uncle Jasper, with his
+clever and experienced hand, had driven that shadow away, and in her
+first feeling of intense thankfulness and relief, she had almost
+disliked the woman who had come to her with so cruel a tale. All
+yesterday, in the midst of her own happiness, she had endeavored to shut
+Mrs. Home from her thoughts; but this morning, more calm herself, the
+remembrance of the poor, pale, and struggling mother rose up again fresh
+and vivid within her heart. It is true Mrs. Home believed a lie, a cruel
+and dreadful lie; but none the less for this was she to be pitied, none
+the less for this must she be helped. Mrs. Home was Charlotte's near
+relation, she could not suffer her to want. As she lay in bed, she
+reflected with great thankfulness that John Hinton had said, on hearing
+the tale, how manifestly it would be his and her duty to help this poor
+mother. Yes, by and by they would give her enough to raise her above all
+want, but Charlotte felt she could not wait for that distant time. She
+must succor Mrs. Home at once. Her father had said last night that, if
+she married in two months, there would be no time for her to finish her
+book. He was right; she must give up the book; she would devote this
+morning to Mrs. Home.
+
+She rose with her determination formed and went downstairs. As usual her
+father was waiting for her, as usual he came up and kissed her; and as
+they had done every morning for so many years, they sat down opposite
+each other to breakfast. Charlotte longed to speak to her father about
+Mrs. Home, but he looked, even to her inexperienced eyes, very ill and
+haggard, and she remembered her uncle's words and refrained from the
+subject.
+
+"You seem so feeble, father, had you not better go into town in the
+carriage this morning?" she asked, as he rose from his chair.
+
+To her surprise he assented, even confessed that he had already ordered
+the carriage. He had never to her knowledge done such a thing before,
+and little as she knew of real illness, nothing as she knew of danger
+and death, she felt a sharp pain at her heart as she watched him driving
+away. The pain, however, was but momentary, lost in the pressing
+interests of other thoughts. Before eleven o'clock she had started off
+to see Mrs. Home.
+
+Now it was by no means her intention to go to this newly found relation
+empty handed. Mrs. Home might or might not be willing to receive a gift
+of money, but Charlotte hoped so to be able to convey it to her as to
+save her pride from being too greatly hurt.
+
+Charlotte had a small banking account of her own. She drove now straight
+to her bank in the city, and drawing fifty pounds in one note slipped it
+into her purse. From the bank she went to a children's West End shop.
+She there chose a lovely velvet frock for the fair-haired little Daisy,
+two embroidered white dresses for the baby; and going a little farther
+she bought a smart tailor suit for the eldest boy. After buying the
+pretty clothes she visited a toy shop, where she loaded herself with
+toys; then a cake shop to purchase cakes and other goodies; and having
+at last exhausted her resources; she desired the coachman to drive to
+Mrs. Home's address in Kentish Town. She arrived, after a drive of a
+little over half an hour, to find the lady whom she had come to seek,
+out. The dirty little maid stared with full round eyes at the beautiful
+young lady and at the handsome carriage, and declared she did not know
+when her missis would be in.
+
+For a moment Charlotte felt foiled; but she was excited now--she could
+not go away, laden as she was with fairy gifts, without making some
+effort to dispense these blessings.
+
+"I am a relation of Mrs. Home's and I want to see the children. Are the
+children in?" she asked of the little maid.
+
+Rounder and rounder grew that small domestic's eyes.
+
+"They can't be hout without me," she volunteered; "ain't I the nuss and
+maid-of-all work? Yes, the children is hin."
+
+Then she opened the dining-room door, and Charlotte, first flying to the
+carriage and returning laden with brown paper parcels, followed her into
+the little parlor.
+
+The maid, on the swift wings of excitement, flew upstairs. There was the
+quick patter of eager little feet, and in a very few moments the door
+was pushed open and a boy and girl entered. Charlotte recognized them at
+a glance. They were the very handsome little pair whose acquaintance she
+had made yesterday in Regent's Park. The girl hung back a trifle shyly,
+but the boy, just saying to his sister, "The pretty lady," came up, and
+raised his lips for a kiss.
+
+"You don't think me rude?" he said; "you don't mind kissing me, do you."
+
+"I love to kiss you; I am your own cousin," said Charlotte.
+
+"My own cousin! Then I may sit on your knee. Daisy, come here--the
+pretty lady is our own cousin."
+
+On hearing this, Daisy too advanced. Neither child had any idea what the
+word cousin meant, but it seemed to include proprietorship. They stroked
+Charlotte's furs, and both pairs of lips were raised again and again for
+many kisses. In the midst of this scene entered the little maid with the
+baby. Pretty as Daisy and Harold were, they were nothing to the baby;
+this baby of eight months had a most ethereal and lovely face.
+
+"Oh, you beauty! you darling!" said Charlotte, as she clasped the little
+creature in her arms, and the baby, too young to be shy, allowed her to
+kiss him repeatedly.
+
+"What a lot of lumber!" said Daisy, touching the brown-paper parcels.
+
+This little child's speech brought Charlotte back to the fact of her
+cakes and toys. Giving baby to his small nurse, she opened her
+treasures. Daisy received her doll with a kind of awed rapture, Harold
+rattled his drum and blew his trumpet in a way most distracting to any
+weak nerves within reasonable distance, and the baby sucked some rather
+unwholesome sweets. No child thought of thanking their benefactor, but
+flushed cheeks, bright eyes, eager little voices, were thanks louder and
+more eloquent than words.
+
+"I want to see your mother; when will she be in?" asked Charlotte, after
+a little quiet had been restored.
+
+"Not all day," answered Harold. "Mother has gone with father to nurse a
+poor sick lady; she won't be back till quite night."
+
+"She said we were to be very good; we are, aren't we?" said Daisy.
+
+"Yes, darling; you are quite perfect," replied the inexperienced
+Charlotte.
+
+"Did our mother ask you to come and play with us and give us lovely
+things?" demanded Harold.
+
+"She does not know I am here, my dear little boy; but now, if you will
+show me where I can get a sheet of paper, I will just write your mother
+a little note."
+
+The paper was quickly found, and Charlotte sat down, a boy and girl on
+each side. It was not easy to say much under such circumstances, so the
+words in the little note were few.
+
+"You will give this to your mother when she comes in. See!--I will put
+it on the mantelpiece," she said to Harold; "and you must not touch
+these parcels until mother opens them herself. Yes; I will come again.
+Now, good-by." Her bonnet was decidedly crooked as she stepped into the
+carriage, her jacket was also much crumpled; but there was a very sweet
+feel of little arms still round her neck, and she touched her hair and
+cheeks with satisfaction, for they had been honored by many child
+kisses.
+
+"I believe she's just a fairy godmother," said Harold, as he watched the
+carriage rolling away.
+
+"I never seed the like in hall my born days," remarked the small
+maid-of-all-work.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+"THE PRETTY LADY"
+
+
+"Mother, mother, mother!"
+
+"And look!--oh, do look at what I have got!" were the words that greeted
+Mrs. Home, when, very tired, after a day of hard nursing with one of her
+husband's sick parishioners, she came back.
+
+The children ought to have been in bed, the baby fast asleep, the little
+parlor-table tidily laid for tea: instead of which, the baby wailed
+unceasingly up in the distant nursery, and Harold and Daisy, having
+nearly finished Charlotte's sweeties, and made themselves very
+uncomfortable by repeated attacks on the rich plum-cake, were now, with
+very flushed cheeks, alternately playing with their toys and poking
+their small fingers into the still unopened brown-paper parcels. They
+had positively refused to go up to the nursery, and, though the gas was
+lit and the blinds were pulled down, the spirit of disorder had most
+manifestly got into the little parlor.
+
+"Oh, mother!--what _do_ you think? The lovely lady!--the lady we met in
+the park yesterday!--she has been, and she brought us _lots_ of
+things--toys, and sweeties, and cakes, and--oh, mother, do look!"
+
+Daisy presented her doll, and Harold blew some very shrill blasts from
+his trumpet right up into his mother's eyes.
+
+"My dear children," said Mrs. Home, "whom do you mean? where did you get
+all these things? who has come here? Why aren't you both in bed? It is
+long past your usual hour."
+
+This string of questions met with an unintelligible chorus of replies,
+in which the words "pretty lady," "Regent's Park," "father knew her,"
+"we _had_ to sit up," so completely puzzled Mrs. Home, that had not her
+eyes suddenly rested on the little note waiting for her on the
+mantelpiece she would have been afraid her children had taken leave of
+their senses.
+
+"Oh, yes; she told us to give you that," said Harold when he saw his
+mother take it up.
+
+I have said the note was very short. Charlotte Home read it in a moment.
+
+"Mother, mother! what does she tell you, and what are in the other
+parcels? She said we weren't to open them until you came home. Oh, _do_
+tell us what she said, and let us see the rest of the pretty things!"
+
+"Do, do mother; we have been so patient 'bout it!" repeated little
+Daisy.
+
+Harold now ran for the largest of the parcels, and raised it for his
+mother to take. Both children clung to her skirts. Mrs. Home put the
+large parcel on a shelf out of reach, then she put aside the hot and
+eager little hands. At last she spoke.
+
+"My little children must have some more patience, for mother can tell
+them nothing more to-night. Yes, yes, the lady is very pretty and very
+kind, but we can talk no more about anything until the morning. Now,
+Harold and Daisy, come upstairs at once."
+
+They were an obedient, well-trained little pair. They just looked at one
+another, and from each dimpled mouth came a short, impatient sigh; then
+they gave their hands to mother, and went gravely up to the nursery.
+Charlotte stayed with her children until they were undressed. She saw
+them comfortably washed, their baby prayers said, and each little head
+at rest on its pillow, then kissing the baby, who was also by this time
+fast asleep, she went softly downstairs.
+
+Anne, the little maid, was flying about, trying to get the tea ready and
+some order restored, but when she saw her mistress she could not refrain
+from standing still to pour out her excited tale.
+
+"Ef you please, 'em, it come on me hall on a 'eap. She come in that free
+and that bounteous, and seemed as if she could eat all the children up
+wid love; and she give 'em a lot, and left a lot more fur you, 'em. And
+when she wor goin' away she put half-a-crown in my hand. I never seed
+the like--never, 'em--never! She wor dressed as grand as Queen Victory
+herself, and she come in a carriage and two spanking hosses; and,
+please, 'em, I heard of her telling the children as she wos own cousin
+to you, 'em."
+
+"Yes, I know the young lady," replied Mrs. Home. "She is, as you say,
+very nice and kind. But now, Anne, we must not talk any more. Your
+master won't be in for an hour, but I shan't wait tea for him; we will
+have some fresh made later. Please bring me in a cup at once, for I am
+very tired."
+
+Anne gazed at her mistress in open-eyed astonishment. Any one--any one
+as poor as she well knew missis to be--who could take the fact of being
+cousin to so beautiful and rich a young lady with such coolness and
+apparent indifference quite passed Anne's powers of comprehension.
+
+"It beats me holler--that it do!" she said to herself; then, with a
+start, she ran off to her kitchen.
+
+Mrs. Home had taken her first cup of tea, and had even eaten a piece of
+bread and butter, before she again drew Charlotte Harman's little note
+out of her pocket. This is what her eyes had already briefly glanced
+over:--
+
+     DEAR FRIEND AND SISTER--for you must let me call you so--I have
+     come to see you, and finding you out asked to see your children. I
+     have lost my heart to your beautiful and lovely children. They are
+     very sweet! Your baby is more like an angel than any earthly
+     creature my eyes have ever rested on. Charlotte, I brought your
+     children a few toys, and one or two other little things. You won't
+     be too proud to accept them. When I bought them I did not love your
+     children, but I loved you. You are my near kinswoman. You won't
+     take away the pleasure I felt when I bought those things. Dear
+     Sister Charlotte, when shall we meet again? Send me a line, and I
+     will come to you at any time. Yours,
+
+     "CHARLOTTE HARMAN."
+
+It is to be regretted that Charlotte Home by no means received this
+sweet and loving little note in the spirit in which it was written. Her
+pale, thin face flushed, and her eyes burnt with an angry light. This
+burst of excited feeling was but the outcome of all she had undergone
+mentally since she had left Miss Harman's house a few days ago. She had
+said then, and truly, that she loved this young lady. The pride, the
+stately bearing, the very look of open frankness in Charlotte's eyes had
+warmed and touched her heart. She had not meant to tell to those ears,
+so unaccustomed to sin and shame, this tale of long-past wrong. It had
+been in a manner forced from her, and she had seen a flush of
+perplexity, then of horror, color the cheeks and fill the fine brave
+eyes. She had come away with her heart sympathies so moved by this girl,
+so touched, so shocked with what she herself had revealed, that she
+would almost rather, could her father's money now be hers, relinquish
+it, than cause any further pain or shame to Charlotte Harman.
+
+She came home and confided what she had done to her husband. It is not
+too much to say that he was displeased--that he was much hurt. The
+Charlotte who in her too eagerness for money could so act was scarcely
+the Charlotte he had pictured to himself as his wife. Charlotte was
+lowered in the eyes of the unworldly man. But just because her husband
+was so unworldly, so unpractical, Charlotte's own more everyday nature
+began to reassert itself. She had really done no harm. She had but told
+a tale of wrong. Those who committed the wrong were the ones to blame.
+She, the sufferer--who could put sin at her door? Her sympathy for
+Charlotte grew less, her sorrow for herself and her children more. She
+felt more sure than ever that injustice had been committed--that she and
+her mother had been robbed; she seemed to read the fact in Charlotte
+Harman's innocent eyes, Charlotte, in spite of herself, even though her
+own father was the one accused, believed her--agreed with her.
+
+All that night she spent in a sort of feverish dream, in which she saw
+herself wealthy, her husband happy, her children cared for as they ought
+to be. The ugly, ugly poverty of her life and her surroundings had all
+passed away like a dream that is told.
+
+She got up in a state of excitement and expectation, for what might not
+Charlotte Harman do for her? She would tell the tale to her father, and
+that father, seeing that his sin was found out, would restore her to her
+rights. Of course, this must be the natural consequence. Charlotte was
+not low and mean; she would see that she had her own again. Mrs. Home
+made no allowance for any subsequent event--for any influence other than
+her own being brought to bear on the young lady. All that day she
+watched the post; she watched for the possibility of a visit. Neither
+letter nor visit came, but Mrs. Home was not discouraged. That day was
+too soon to hear; she must wait with patience for the morrow.
+
+On the morrow her husband, who had almost forgotten her story, asked her
+to come and help him in the care of a sick woman at some distance away.
+Charlotte was a capital sick-nurse, and had often before given similar
+aid to Mr. Home in parish work.
+
+She went, spent her day away, and returned to find that Charlotte had
+come--that so far her dream was true. Yes, but only so far, for
+Charlotte had come, not in shame, but in the plenitude of a generous
+benefactor. She had come laden with gifts, and had gone away with the
+hearts of the children and the little maid. Charlotte Home felt a great
+wave of anger and pain stealing over her heart. In her pain and
+disappointment she was unjust.
+
+"She is a coward after all. She dare not tell her father. She believes
+my tale, but she is not brave enough to see justice done to me and mine;
+so she tries to make up for it; she tries to salve her conscience and
+bribe me with gifts--gifts and flattery. I will have none of it. My
+rights--my true and just rights, or nothing! These parcels shall go back
+unopened to-morrow." She rose from her seat, and put them all tidily
+away on a side-table. She had scarcely done so before her husband's
+latch-key was heard in the hall-door. He came in with the weary look
+which was habitual to his thin face. "Oh, Angus, how badly you do want
+your tea!" said the poor wife. She was almost alarmed at her husband's
+pallor, and forgot Charlotte while attending to his comfort.
+
+"What are those parcels, Lottie?" he said, noticing the heaped-up things
+on the side-table.
+
+"Never mind. Eat your supper first," she said to him.
+
+"I can eat, and yet know what is in them. They give quite a Christmas
+and festive character to the place. And what is that I see lying on that
+chair--a new doll for Daisy? Why, has my careful little woman been so
+extravagant as to buy the child another doll?"
+
+Mr. Home smiled as he spoke. His wife looked at him gravely. She picked
+up the very pretty doll and laid it with the other parcels on the
+side-table.
+
+"I will tell you about the parcels and the doll if you wish it," she
+answered. "Miss Harman called when I was out, and brought cakes, and
+sweeties, and toys to the children. She also brought those parcels. I do
+not know what they contain, for I have not opened them. And she left a
+note for me. I cannot help the sweeties and cakes, for Harold and Daisy
+have eaten them; but the toys and those parcels shall go back
+to-morrow."
+
+Mrs. Home looked very proud and defiant as she spoke. Her husband
+glanced at her face; then, with a slight sigh, he pushed his supper
+aside.
+
+"No, I am not hungry, dear. I am just a little overtired. May I see Miss
+Harman's note?"
+
+Charlotte put it at once into his hand.
+
+He read it carefully once--twice. His own spirit was very loving and
+Christ-like; consequently the real love and true human feeling in the
+little note touched him.
+
+"Lottie," he said, as he gave it back to his wife, "why do you want to
+pain that sweet creature?"
+
+Mrs. Home took the note, and flung it into the fire.
+
+"There!" she said, an angry spot on each cheek. "She and hers have
+injured me and mine. I don't want gifts from her. I want my rights!"
+
+To this burst of excited feeling Mr. Home answered nothing. After a
+moment or two of silence he rang the bell, and when Anne appeared asked
+her to take away the tea-things. After this followed an hour of perfect
+quiet. Mrs. Home took out her great basket of mending. Mr. Home sat
+still, and apparently idle, by the fire. After a time he left the room
+to go for a moment to his own. Passing the nursery, he heard a little
+movement, and, entering softly, saw Harold sitting up in his little cot.
+
+"Father, is that you?" he called through the semi-light.
+
+"Yes, my boy. Is anything the matter? Why are you not asleep?"
+
+"I couldn't, father dear; I'm so longing for to-morrow. I want to blow
+my new trumpet again, and to see the rest of the brown-paper parcels.
+Father, do come over to me for a moment."
+
+Mr. Home came, and put his arm round the little neck.
+
+"Did mother tell you that _our_ pretty lady came to-day, and brought
+such a splendid lot of things?"
+
+"Whose pretty lady, my boy?"
+
+"_Ours_, father--the lady you, and I, and Daisy, and baby met in the
+park yesterday. You said it was rude to kiss her, and _she_ did not
+mind. She gave me dozens and dozens of kisses to-day."
+
+"She was very kind to you," said Mr. Home. Then, bidding the child lie
+down and sleep, he left him and went on to his own room. He was going to
+his room with a purpose. That purpose was quickened into intensity by
+little Harold's words.
+
+That frank, fearless, sweet-looking girl was Miss Harman! That letter
+was, therefore, not to be wondered at. It was the kind of letter he
+would have expected such a woman to write. What was the matter with his
+Lottie?
+
+In his perplexity he knelt down; he remained upon his knees for about
+ten minutes, then he returned to the little parlor. The answer to his
+earnest prayer was given to him almost directly. His wife was no longer
+proud and cold. She looked up the moment he entered, and said,--
+
+"You are angry with me, Angus."
+
+"No, my darling," he answered, "not angry, but very sorry for you."
+
+"You must not be sorry for me. You have anxieties enough. I must not add
+to them. Not all the Miss Harmans that ever breathe shall bring a cloud
+between you and me. Angus, may I put out the gas and then sit close to
+you? You shall talk me out of this feeling, for I do feel bad."
+
+"I will talk all night if it makes you better, my own Lottie. Now, what
+is troubling you?"
+
+"In the first instance, you don't seem to believe this story about our
+money."
+
+"I neither believe it, nor the reverse--I simply don't let it trouble
+me."
+
+"But, Angus, that seems a little hard; for if the money was left to me
+by my father I ought to have it. Think what a difference it would make
+to us all--you, and me, and the children?"
+
+"We should be rich instead of poor. It would make that difference,
+certainly."
+
+"Angus, you talk as if this difference was nothing."
+
+"Nothing! It is not quite nothing; but I confess it does not weigh much
+with me."
+
+"If not for yourself, it might for the children's sakes; think what a
+difference money would make to our darlings."
+
+"My dear wife, you quite forgot when speaking so, that they are God's
+little children as well as ours. He has said that not a sparrow falls
+without His loving knowledge. Is it likely when that is so, that He will
+see His children and ours either gain or suffer from such a paltry thing
+as money?"
+
+"Then you will do nothing to get back our own?"
+
+"If you mean that I will go to law on the chance of our receiving some
+money which may have been left to us, certainly I will not. The fact is,
+Lottie--you may think me very eccentric--but I cannot move in this
+matter. It seems to me to be entirely God's matter, not ours. If Mr.
+Harman has committed the dreadful sin you impute to him, God must bring
+it home to him. Before that poor man who for years has hidden such a sin
+in his heart, and lived such a life before his fellow-men, is fit to go
+back to the arms of His father, he must suffer dreadfully. I pray, from
+my heart I pray, that if he committed the sin he may have the suffering,
+for there is no other road to the Father; but I cannot pray that this
+awful suffering may be sent to give us a better house, and our children
+finer clothes, and that richer food may be put on our table."
+
+Mrs. Home was silent for a moment, then she said,--
+
+"Angus, forgive me, I did not look at it in that light."
+
+"No, my dearest, and because I so pity her, if her father really is
+guilty, I do not want you unnecessarily to pain Miss Harman. You
+remember my telling you of that fine girl I met in Regent's Park
+yesterday, the girl who was so kind and nice to our children. I have
+just been up with Harold, and he tells me that your Miss Harman and his
+pretty lady are one and the same."
+
+"Is that really so?" answered Mrs. Home. "Yes. I know that Charlotte
+Harman is very attractive. Did I not tell you, Angus, that she had won
+my own heart? But I confess when I saw those gifts and read her note I
+felt angry. I thought after hearing my tale she should have done more.
+These presents seemed to me in the light of a bribe."
+
+"Charlotte!"
+
+"Ah! I know you are shocked. You cannot see the thing with my eyes; that
+is how they really looked to me."
+
+"Then, my dear wife, may I give you a piece of advice?"
+
+"That is what I am hungering for, Angus."
+
+"Tell the whole story, as frankly--more frankly than you have told it to
+me, to God to-night. Lay the whole matter in the loving hands of your
+Father, then, Charlotte; after so praying, if in the morning you still
+think Miss Harman was actuated by so mean a spirit, treat her as she
+deserves. With your own hands deal the punishment to her, send
+everything back."
+
+Mrs. Home's face flushed very brightly, and she lowered her eyes to
+prevent her husband seeing the look of shame which filled them. The
+result of this conversation was the following note written the next
+morning to Miss Harman.
+
+     I could not have thanked you last night for what you have done,
+     but I can to-day. You have won my children's little hearts. Be
+     thankful that you have made my dear little ones so happy. You ask
+     to see me again, Miss Harman. I do not think I can come to you, and
+     I don't ask you to come here. Still I will see you; name some
+     afternoon to meet me in Regent's Park and I will be there.
+
+     Yours,
+     CHARLOTTE HOME.
+
+Thus the gifts were kept, and the mother tried to pray away a certain
+soreness which would remain notwithstanding all her husband's words. She
+was human after all, however, and Charlotte Harman might have been
+rewarded had she seen her face the following Sunday morning when she
+brought her pretty children down to their father to inspect them in
+their new clothes.
+
+Harold went to church that morning, with his mother, in a very
+picturesque hat; but no one suspected quite how much it was worth, not
+even those jealous mothers who saw it and remarked upon it, and wondered
+who had left Mrs. Home a legacy, for stowed carefully away under the
+lining was Charlotte Harman's bright, crisp, fifty-pound note.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+TWO CHARLOTTES.
+
+
+It was a week after; the very day, in fact, on which Hinton was to give
+up his present most comfortable quarters for the chances and changes of
+Mrs. Home's poor little dwelling. That anxious young wife and mother,
+having completed her usual morning duties, set off to Regent's Park to
+meet Miss Harman. It was nearly March now, and the days, even in the
+afternoon, were stretching, and though it was turning cold the feeling
+of coming spring was more decidedly getting into the air.
+
+Mrs. Home had told her children that she was going to meet their pretty
+lady, and Harold had begged hard to come too. His mother would have
+taken him, but he had a cold, and looked heavy, so she started off for
+her long walk alone. Won by her husband's gentler and more Christ-like
+spirit, Mrs. Home had written to Miss Harman to propose this meeting;
+but in agreeing to an interview with her kinswoman she had effected a
+compromise with her own feelings. She would neither go to her nor ask
+her to come to the little house in Kentish Town. The fact was she wanted
+to meet this young woman on some neutral ground. There were certain
+unwritten, but still most stringent, laws of courtesy which each must
+observe in her own home to the other. Charlotte Home intended, as she
+went to meet Miss Harman on this day of early spring, that very plain
+words indeed should pass between them.
+
+By this it will be seen that she was still very far behind her husband,
+and that much of a sore and angry sensation was still lingering in her
+heart.
+
+"Miss Harman will, of course, keep me waiting," she said to herself, as
+she entered the park, and walked quickly towards the certain part where
+they had agreed to meet. She gave a slight start therefore, when she saw
+that young woman slowly pacing up and down, with the very quiet and
+meditative air of one who had been doing so for some little time. Miss
+Harman was dressed with almost studied plainness and simplicity. All the
+rich furs which the children had admired were put away. When she saw
+Mrs. Home she quickened her slow steps into almost a run of welcome, and
+clasped her toil-worn and badly gloved hands in both her own.
+
+"How glad I am to see you! You did not hurry, I hope. You are quite out
+of breath. Why did you walk so fast?"
+
+"I did not walk fast until I saw you under the trees, Miss Harman. I
+thought I should have time enough, for I imagined I should have to wait
+for you."
+
+"What an unreasonable thing to suppose of me! I am the idle one, you the
+busy. No: I respect wives and mothers too much to treat them in that
+fashion." Miss Harman smiled as she spoke.
+
+Mrs. Home did not outwardly respond to the smile, though the gracious
+bearing, the loving, sweet face were beginning very slowly to effect a
+thaw, for some hard little ice lumps in her heart were melting. The
+immediate effect of this was, however, so strong a desire to cry that,
+to steel herself against these untimely tears, she became in manner
+harder than ever.
+
+"And now what shall we do?" said Charlotte Harman. "The carriage is
+waiting for us at the next gate; shall we go for a drive, or shall we
+walk about here?"
+
+"I would rather walk here," said Mrs. Home.
+
+"Very well. Charlotte, I am glad to see you. And how are your children?"
+
+"Harold has a cold. The other two are very well."
+
+"I never saw sweeter children in my life. And do you know I met your
+husband? He and your children both spoke to me in the park. It was the
+day before I came to your house. Mr. Home gave me a very short sermon to
+think over. I shall never forget it."
+
+"He saw you and liked you," answered Mrs. Home. "He told me of that
+meeting."
+
+"And I want another meeting. Such a man as that has never come into my
+life before. I want to see more of him. Charlotte, why did you propose
+that we should meet here? Why not in my house, or in yours? I wanted to
+come to you again. I was much disappointed when I got your note."
+
+"I am sorry to have disappointed you; but I thought it best that we
+should meet here."
+
+"But why? I don't understand."
+
+"They say that rich people are obtuse. I did not want to see your
+riches, nor for you to behold the poverty of my land."
+
+"Charlotte!"
+
+"Please don't think me very hard, but I would rather you did not say
+Charlotte."
+
+"You would rather I did not say Charlotte?"
+
+Two large tears of surprise and pain filled Miss Harman's gray eyes. But
+such a great flood of weeping was so near the surface with the other
+woman that she dared not look at her.
+
+"I would rather you did not say Charlotte," she repeated, "for we call
+those whom we love and are friendly with by their Christian names."
+
+"I thought you loved me. You said so. You can't take back your own
+words."
+
+"I don't want to. I do love you in my heart. I feel I could love you
+devotedly; but for all that we can never be friends."
+
+Miss Harman was silent for a moment or two, then she said slowly, but
+with growing passion in her voice, "Ah! you are thinking of that
+wretched money. I thought love ranked higher than gold all the world
+over."
+
+"So it does, or appears to do, for those who all their lives have had
+plenty; but it is just possible, just possible, I say, that those who
+are poor, poor enough to know what hunger and cold mean, and have seen
+their dearest wanting the comforts that money can buy, it is possible
+that such people may prefer their money rights to the profession of
+empty love."
+
+"Empty love!" repeated Miss Harman. The words stung her. She was growing
+angry, and the anger became this stately creature well. With cheeks and
+eyes both glowing she turned to her companion. "If you and I are not to
+part at once, and never meet again, there must be very plain words
+between us. Shall I speak those words?" she asked.
+
+"I came here that our words might be very plain," answered Mrs. Home.
+
+"They shall be," said Charlotte Harman.
+
+They were in a very quiet part of the park. Even the nurses and children
+were out of sight. Now they ceased walking, and turned and faced each
+other.
+
+They were both tall, and both the poor and the rich young woman had
+considerable dignity of bearing; but Charlotte Home was now the composed
+one. Charlotte Harman felt herself quivering with suppressed anger.
+Injustice was being dealt out to her, and injustice to the child of
+affluence and luxury was a new sensation.
+
+"You came to me the other day," she began, "I had never seen you before,
+never before in all my life ever heard your name. You, however, knew me,
+and you told me a story. It was a painful and very strange story. It
+made you not only my very nearest kin, but also made you the victim of a
+great wrong. The wrong was a large one, and the victim was to be pitied;
+but the sting of it all lay, to me, not in either of the facts, but in
+this, that you gave me to understand that he who had dealt you such a
+blow was--my father. My father, one of the most noble, upright, and
+righteous of men, you made out to me, to me, his only child, to be no
+better than a common thief. I did not turn you from my doors for your
+base words. I pitied you. In spite of myself I liked you; in spite of
+myself I _believed_ you. You went away, and in the agony of mind which
+followed during the next few hours I could have gladly fled for ever
+from the sight of all the wide world. I had been the very happiest of
+women. You came. You went. I was one of the most miserable. I am engaged
+to be married, and the man I am engaged to came into the room. I felt
+guilty before him. I could not raise my eyes to his, for, again I tell
+you, I believed your tale, and my father's bitter shame was mine. I
+could not rest. Happen what would I must learn the truth at once. I have
+an uncle, my father's brother; he must know all. I sent my lover away
+and went to this uncle. I asked to have an interview with him, and in
+that interview I told him all you had told to me. He was not surprised.
+He acknowledged at once the true and real relationship between us; but
+he also explained away the base doubts you had put into my head. My
+father, my own beloved father, is all, and more than all, I have ever
+thought him. He would scorn to be unjust, to rob any one. You have been
+unfortunate; you have been treated cruelly; but the injustice, the
+cruelty have been penetrated by one long years now in his grave. In
+short, your father has been the wicked man, not mine."
+
+Here Mrs. Home tried to speak, but Miss Harman held up her hand.
+
+"You must hear me out," she said. "I am convinced, but I do not expect
+you to be. After my uncle had done speaking, and I had time to realize
+all the relief those words of his had given me, I said, still an
+injustice has been done. We have no right to our wealth while she
+suffers from such poverty. Be my grandfather's will what it may, we must
+alter it. We must so act as if he had left money to his youngest child.
+My uncle agreed with me; perhaps not so fully as I could wish, still he
+did agree; but he made one proviso. My father is ill, I fear. I fear he
+is very ill. The one dark cloud hanging over his whole life lay in those
+years when he was estranged from his own father. To speak of you I must
+bring back those years to his memory. Any excitement is bad for him now.
+My uncle said, 'Wait until your father is better, then we will do
+something for Mrs. Home.' To this I agreed. Was I very unreasonable to
+agree to this delay for my father's sake?"
+
+Here Charlotte Harman paused and looked straight at her companion. Mrs.
+Home's full gaze met hers. Again, the innocent candor of the one pair of
+eyes appealed straight to the heart lying beneath the other. Unconvinced
+she was still. Still to her, her own story held good: but she was
+softened, and she held out her hand.
+
+"There is no unreasonableness in _you_, Charlotte," she said.
+
+"Ah! then you will call me Charlotte?" said the other, her face glowing
+with delight.
+
+"I call you so now. I won't answer for the future."
+
+"We will accept the pleasant present. I don't fear the future. I shall
+win your whole heart yet. Now let us drop all disagreeables and talk
+about those we both love. Charlotte, what a baby you have got! Your baby
+must be an angel to you."
+
+"All my children are that to me. When I look at them I think God has
+sent to me three angels to dwell with me."
+
+"Ah! what a happy thought, and what a happy woman. Then your husband, he
+must be like the archangel Gabriel, so just, so righteous, so noble. I
+love him already: but I think I should be a little afraid of him. He is
+so--so very unearthly. Now you, Mrs. Home, let me tell you, are very
+earthly, very human indeed."
+
+Mrs. Home smiled, for this praise of her best beloved could not but be
+pleasant to her. She told Miss Harman a little more about her husband
+and her children, and Miss Harman listened with that appreciation which
+is the sweetest flattery in the world. After a time she said,--
+
+"I am not going to marry any one the least bit unearthly, but I see you
+are a model wife, and I want to be likewise. For--did I not tell you?--I
+am to be married in exactly two months from now."
+
+"Are you really? Are you indeed?"
+
+Was it possible after this piece of confidence for these two young women
+not to be friends?
+
+Charlotte Home, though so poor, felt suddenly, in experience, in all
+true womanly knowledge, rich beside her companion. Charlotte Harman, for
+all her five and twenty years, was but a child beside this earnest wife
+and mother.
+
+They talked; the one relating her happy experience, the other listening,
+as though on her wedding-day she was certainly to step into the land of
+Beulah. It was the old, old story, repeated again, as those two paced up
+and down in the gray March afternoon. When at last they parted there was
+no need to say that they were friends.
+
+And yet as she hurried home the poor Charlotte could not help reflecting
+that whatever her cause she had done nothing for it. Charlotte Harman
+might be very sweet. It might be impossible not to admire her, to love
+her, to take her to her heart of hearts. But would that love bring back
+her just rights? would that help her children by and by? She reached
+her hall door to find her husband standing there.
+
+"Lottie, where have you been? I waited for you, for I did not like to go
+out and leave him. Harold is ill, and the doctor has just left."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+
+For many days after that interview in Regent's Park, it seemed that one
+of the three, who made the little house in Kentish Town so truly like
+heaven, was to be an angel indeed. Harold's supposed cold had turned to
+scarlet fever, and the doctor feared that Harold would die.
+
+Immediately after her interview with Charlotte Harman, Mrs. Home went
+upstairs to learn from the grave lips of the medical man what ailed her
+boy, and what a hard fight for life or death he had before him. She was
+a brave woman, and whatever anguish might lie underneath, no tears
+filled her eyes as she looked at his flushed face. When the doctor had
+gone, she stole softly from the sick-room, and going to the drawing-room
+where Hinton was already in possession, she tapped at the door.
+
+To his "Come in," she entered at once, and said abruptly without
+preface,--
+
+"I hope you have unpacked nothing. I must ask you to go away at once."
+
+She had her bonnet still on, and, but for the pallor of her face, she
+looked cold, even unmoved.
+
+"I have everything unpacked, and I don't want to go. Why should I?"
+demanded Hinton, in some surprise.
+
+"My eldest boy has scarlet fever. The other two will probably take it.
+You must on no account stay here; you must leave to-night if you wish to
+escape infection."
+
+In an instant Hinton was by her side.
+
+"Your boy has scarlet fever?" he repeated. "I know something of scarlet
+fever. He must instantly be moved to an airy bedroom. The best bedroom
+in the house is mine. Your boy must sleep in my bedroom to-night."
+
+"It is a good thought," said Mrs. Home. "Thank you for suggesting it--I
+will move him down at once; the bed is well aired, and the sheets are
+fresh and clean. I will have him moved whenever you can go."
+
+She was leaving the room when Hinton followed her.
+
+"I said nothing about going. I don't mean to. I can have a blanket and
+sleep on the sofa. I am not going away, Mrs. Home."
+
+"Mr. Hinton, have you no one you care for? Why do you run this risk."
+
+"I have some one I care for very much indeed; but I run no risk. I had
+scarlet fever long ago. In any case I have no fear of infection. Now I
+know your husband is out; let me go upstairs and help you bring down the
+little fellow."
+
+"God bless you," said the wife and mother. Her eyes were beautiful as
+she raised them to the face of this good Samaritan.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The little patient was moved to the large and comfortable room, and
+Hinton found himself in the position of good angel to this poor family.
+He had never supposed himself capable of taking such a post with regard
+to any one; but the thing seemed thrust upon him. An obvious duty had
+come into his life, and he never even for the briefest instant dreamed
+of shirking it. He was a man without physical fear. The hardships of
+life, the roughing of poverty were not worth a passing thought of
+annoyance; but there was one little act of self-denial which he must now
+exercise; and it is to be owned that he felt it with a heart-pang. He
+had never told Charlotte that he was going to live in the house with
+Mrs. Home. He had not meant to keep this fact a secret from her, but
+there was still a soreness over him when he thought of this young woman
+which prevented her name coming readily to his lips. On this first night
+in his new abode he sat down to write to his promised wife; but neither
+now did he give his address, nor tell his landlady's name. He had an
+obvious reason, however, now for his conduct.
+
+This was what Charlotte received from her lover on the following
+morning,--
+
+     "MY DARLING,--Such a strange thing has happened; but one which,
+     thank God, as far as I am concerned, need not cause you the least
+     alarm. I moved from my old lodgings to-day and went a little
+     further into the country. I had just unpacked my belongings and was
+     expecting some tea, for I was hot and thirsty, when my landlady
+     came in and told me that her eldest child is taken very ill with
+     scarlet fever. She has other children, and fears the infection will
+     spread. She is a very poor woman, but is one of those who in their
+     bearing and manner, you, Charlotte, would call noble. She wanted me
+     to leave at once, but this, Charlotte, I could not do. I am staying
+     here, and will give her what little help lies in my power. You know
+     there is no fear for me, for I had the complaint long ago. But,
+     dearest, there is just one thing that is hard. Until this little
+     child is better, I must not see you. You have not had this fever,
+     Charlotte, and for you, for my own sake, and your father's sake, I
+     must run no risk. I will write to you every day, or as much oftener
+     as you wish, for I can disinfect my paper; but I will not go to
+     Prince's Gate at present."
+
+     "Ever, my own true love,
+     "Yours most faithfully,
+     "John Hinton."
+
+This letter was posted that very night, but Hinton did not put his new
+address on it; he meant Charlotte now for prudential reasons to write to
+his chambers. He returned to his lodgings, and for many weary and
+anxious nights to come shared their watch with Mr. and Mrs. Home. So
+quietly, so absolutely had this young man stepped into his office, that
+the father and mother did not think of refusing his services. He was a
+good nurse, as truly tender-hearted and brave men almost always are. The
+sick child liked his touch. The knowledge of his presence was pleasant.
+When nothing else soothed him, he would lie quiet if Hinton held his
+little hot hand in his.
+
+One evening, opening his bright feverish eyes, he fixed them full on
+Hinton's face and said slowly and earnestly,--
+
+"I did kiss that pretty lady."
+
+"He means a lady whom he met in the Park; a Miss Harman, who came here
+and brought him toys," explained Mrs. Home.
+
+"Yes, isn't she a pretty lady?" repeated little Harold.
+
+"Very pretty," answered Hinton, bending low over him.
+
+The child smiled. It was a link between them. He again stole his hand
+into that of the young man. But as days wore on and the fever did not
+abate, the little life in that small frame began to grow feeble. From
+being an impossibility, it grew to be probable, then almost certain,
+that the little lad must die. Neither father nor mother seemed alive to
+the coming danger; but Hinton, loving less than they did, was not
+blinded. He had seen scarlet fever before, he knew something of its
+treatment; he doubted the proper course having ever been pursued here.
+One evening he followed the doctor from the sick-room.
+
+"The child is very ill," he said.
+
+"The child is so ill," answered the medical man, "that humanly speaking
+there is very little hope of his life."
+
+"Good sir!" exclaimed Hinton, shocked at his fears being put into such
+plain language. "Don't you see that those parents' lives are bound up in
+the child's, and they know nothing? Why have you told them nothing? Only
+to-night his mother thought him better."
+
+"The fever is nearly over, and in consequence the real danger beginning;
+but I dare not tell the mother, she would break down. The father is of
+different stuff, he would bear it. But there is time enough for the
+mother to know when all is over."
+
+"I call that cruel. Why don't you get in other advice?"
+
+"My dear sir, they are very poor people. Think of the expense, and it
+would be of no use, no use whatever."
+
+"Leave the expense to me, and also the chance of its doing any good. I
+should never have an easy moment if I let that little lad die without
+having done all in my power. Two heads are better than one. Do you
+object to consulting with Dr. H----?"
+
+"By no means, Mr. Hinton. He is a noted authority on such cases."
+
+"Then be here in an hour from now, doctor, and you shall meet him."
+
+Away flew Hinton, and within the specified time the great authority on
+such cases was standing by little Harold's bedside.
+
+"The fever is over, but the child is sinking from exhaustion. Give him a
+glass of champagne instantly," were the first directions given by the
+great man.
+
+Hinton returned with a bottle of the best his money could purchase in
+ten minutes.
+
+A tablespoonful was given to the child. He opened his eyes and seemed
+revived.
+
+"Ah! that is good. I will stay with the little fellow to-night," said
+Dr. H----. "You, madam," he added, looking at Mrs. Home, "are to go to
+bed. On no other condition do I stay."
+
+Hinton and Dr. H---- shared that night's watch between them, and in the
+morning the little life was pronounced safe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+EMPTY PURSES.
+
+
+It was not until Harold's life was really safe that his mother realized
+how very nearly he had been taken from her. But for Hinton's timely
+interposition, and the arrival of Doctor H---- at the critical moment,
+the face she so loved might have been cold and still now, and the spirit
+have returned to God who gave it.
+
+Looking at the little sleeper breathing in renewed health and life with
+each gentle inspiration, such a rush of gratitude and over-powering
+emotion came over Mrs. Home that she was obliged to follow Hinton into
+his sitting-room. There she suddenly went down on her knees.
+
+"God bless you," she said. "God most abundantly bless you for what you
+have done for me and mine. You are, except my husband, the most truly
+Christian man I ever met."
+
+"Don't," said Hinton, moved and even shocked at her position. "I
+loved--I love the little lad. It is nothing, what we do for those we
+love."
+
+"No; it is, as you express it, nothing to save a mother's heart from
+worse than breaking," answered Charlotte Home. "If ever you marry and
+have a son of your own, you will begin to understand what you have done
+for me. You will be thankful then to think of this day."
+
+Then with a smile which an angel might have given him, the mother went
+away, and Hinton sat down to write to Charlotte. But he was much moved
+and excited by those earnest words of love and approval. He felt as
+though a laurel wreath had been placed on his head, and he wondered
+would his first brief, his first sense of legal triumph, be sweeter to
+him than the look in that mother's face this morning.
+
+"And it was so easily won," he said to himself. "For who but a brute
+under the circumstances could have acted otherwise?"
+
+In writing to Charlotte he told her all. It was a relief to pour out his
+heart to her, though of course he carefully kept back names.
+
+By return of post he received her answer.
+
+"I must do something for that mother. You will not let me come to her.
+But if I cannot and must not come, I can at least help with money. How
+much money shall I send you?"
+
+To this Hinton answered,--
+
+"None. She is a proud woman. She would not accept it."
+
+As he put this second letter in the post, he felt that any money gift
+between these two Charlottes would be impossible. During little Harold's
+illness he had put away all thoughts of the possibility of Mrs. Home
+being entitled to any of his Charlotte's wealth. The near and likely
+approach of death had put far from his mind all ideas of money. But now,
+with the return of the usual routine of life in this small and humble
+house, came back to Hinton's mind the thoughts which had so sorely
+troubled him on the night on which Charlotte had told him Mrs. Home's
+story. For his own personal convenience and benefit he had put away
+these thoughts. He had decided that he could not move hand or foot in
+the matter. But in the very house with this woman, though he might so
+resolve not to act, he could not put the sense of the injustice done to
+her away from his heart. He pondered on it and grew uneasy as to the
+righteousness of his own conduct. As this uneasiness gathered strength,
+he even avoided Mrs. Home's presence. For the first time, too, in his
+life Hinton was beginning to realize what a very ugly thing
+poverty--particularly the poverty of the upper classes--really is. To
+make things easier for this family in their time of illness, he had
+insisted on having what meals he took in the house, in the room with Mr.
+and Mrs. Home. He would not, now that Harold was better, change this
+custom. But though he liked it, it brought him into direct contact with
+the small shifts necessary to make so slender a purse as their's cover
+their necessary expenses. Mr. Home noticed nothing; but Mrs. Home's thin
+face grew more and more worn, and Hinton's heart ached as he watched it.
+He felt more and more compunctions as to his own conduct. These
+feelings were to be quickened into activity by a very natural
+consequence which occurred just then.
+
+Little Harold's life was spared, and neither Daisy nor the baby had
+taken the fever. So far all was well. Doctor H----, too, had ceased his
+visits, and the little invalid was left to the care of the first doctor
+who had been called in. Yes, up to a certain point Harold's progress
+towards recovery was all that could be satisfactory. But beyond that
+point he did not go. For a fortnight after the fever left him his
+progress towards recovery was rapid. Then came the sudden standstill.
+His appetite failed him, a cough came on, and a hectic flush in the pale
+little face. The child was pining for a change of air, and the father's
+and mother's purse had been already drained almost to emptiness by the
+expenses of the first illness. One day when Doctor Watson came and felt
+the feeble, too rapid pulse he looked grave. Mrs. Home followed him from
+the room.
+
+"What ails my boy, doctor? He is making no progress, none whatever."
+
+"Does he sleep enough?" asked Doctor Watson suddenly.
+
+"Not well; he coughs and is restless."
+
+"Ah! I am sorry he has got that cough. How is his appetite?"
+
+"He does not fancy much food. He has quite turned against his beef-tea."
+
+Doctor Watson was silent.
+
+"What is wrong?" asked Mrs. Home, coming nearer and looking up into his
+face.
+
+"Madam, there is nothing to alarm yourself with. Your boy has gone
+through a most severe illness; the natural consequences must follow. He
+wants change. He will be fit to travel by easy stages in a week at
+latest. I should recommend Torquay. It is mild and shielded from the
+spring east winds. Take him to Torquay as soon as possible. Keep him
+there for a month, and he will return quite well."
+
+"Suppose I cannot?"
+
+"Ah! then----" with an expressive shrug of the shoulders and raising of
+the brows, "my advice is to take him if possible. I don't like that
+cough."
+
+Doctor Watson turned away. He felt sorry enough, but he had more acute
+cases than little Harold Home's to trouble him, and he wisely resolved
+that to think about what could not be remedied, would but injure his own
+powers of working. Being a really kind-hearted man he said to himself,
+"I will make their bill as light as I can when I send it in." And then
+he forgot the poor curate's family until the time came round for his
+next visit. Meanwhile Mrs. Home stood still for a moment where he had
+left her, then went slowly to her own room.
+
+"Mother, mother, I want you," called the weak, querulous voice of the
+sick child.
+
+"Coming in a moment, darling," she said. But for that one moment, she
+felt she must be alone.
+
+Locking her door she went down on her knees. Not a tear came to her
+eyes, not a word to her lips. There was an inward groan, expressing
+itself in some voiceless manner after this fashion,--
+
+"My God, my God, must I go through the fiery furnace?" Then smoothing
+her hair, and forcing a smile back to her lips, she went back to her
+little son.
+
+All that afternoon she sat with him, singing to him, telling him
+stories, playing with him. In the evening, however, she sought an
+opportunity to speak to her husband alone.
+
+"Angus, you know how nearly we lost our boy a week ago?"
+
+The curate paused, and looked at her earnestly, surprised at her look
+and manner.
+
+"Yes, my dearest," he said. "But God was merciful."
+
+"Oh! Angus," she said; and now relief came to her, for as she spoke she
+began to weep. "You are good, you are brave, you could have let him go.
+But for me--for me--it would have killed me. I should have died or gone
+mad!"
+
+"Lottie dear--my darling, you are over-strung. The trial, the fiery
+trial, was not sent. Why dwell on what our loving Father has averted?"
+
+"Oh, Angus! but has He--has He," then choking with pent-up emotion, she
+told what the doctor had said to-day, how necessary the expensive change
+was for the little life. "And we have no money," she said in conclusion,
+"our purse is very nearly empty."
+
+"Very nearly empty indeed," answered Angus Home.
+
+He was absolutely silent after this news, no longer attempting to
+comfort his wife.
+
+"Angus, God is cruel if for the sake of wanting a little money our boy
+must die."
+
+"Don't," said the curate--God was so precious to him that these words
+smote on him even now with a sense of agony--"don't," he repeated, and
+he raised his hand as though to motion away an evil spirit.
+
+"He is cruel if He lets our boy die for want of money to save him,"
+repeated the mother in her desperation.
+
+"He won't do that, Lottie--He will never do that, there is not the least
+fear."
+
+"Then how are we to get the money?"
+
+"I don't know, I cannot think to-night. I will go up to Harold now."
+
+He turned and left the room with slow steps. As he mounted the stairs
+his back was so bent, his face so gray and careworn, that though
+scarcely forty he looked like an old man.
+
+This was Harold's one precious hour with his father, and the little
+fellow was sitting up in bed and expecting him.
+
+"Father," he said, noticing the anxious look on his face, which was
+generally as serene and peaceful as the summer sea, "what is the matter?
+You are ill; are you going to have the scarlet fever too?"
+
+"No, my dear, dear boy. I am quite well, quite well at least in body. I
+have a care on my mind that makes me look a little sad, but don't notice
+it, Harold, it will pass."
+
+"_You_ have a care on your mind!" said Harold in a tone of surprise. "I
+know mother often, often has, but I did not think you had cares,
+father."
+
+"How can I help it, boy, sometimes?"
+
+"I thought you gave your cares to God. I don't understand a bit how you
+manage it, but I remember quite well your telling mother that you gave
+your cares away to God."
+
+The father turning round suddenly, stooped down and kissed the boy.
+
+"Thank you, my son, for reminding me. Yes, I will give this care too to
+God, it shall not trouble me."
+
+Then the two began to talk, and the son's little wasted hand was held in
+the father's. The father's face had recovered its serenity, and the
+little son, though he coughed continually, looked happy.
+
+"Father," he said suddenly, "there's just one thing I'm sorry for."
+
+"What's that, my boy?"
+
+"There were a whole lot of other things, father; about my never having
+gone to live in the country, and those gypsy teas that mother told me
+of. You light a fire outside, you know, father, and boil the kettle on
+it, and have your tea in the woods and the fields. It must be just
+delicious. I was sorry about that, for I've never been to one, never
+_even_ to one all my life long; and then there's the pretty lady--I do
+want to see my pretty lady once again. I was sorry about those things
+all day, but not now. 'Tisn't any of those things makes me so sorry
+now."
+
+"What makes you sorry, Harold?"
+
+"Father, I'm just a little bit jealous about Jesus. You see there's
+always such a lot of us little children dying and going to heaven, and
+He can't come for us all, so He has to send angels. Now I don't want an
+angel, I want Him to come for me Himself."
+
+"Perhaps He will, Harold," said his father, "perhaps Jesus will be so
+very loving to His little lamb that He will find time to come for him
+Himself."
+
+"Oh, father! when you are giving Him your new care to-night, will you
+just ask Him not to be so dreadfully busy, but to try and come Himself?"
+
+"Yes, Harold," said the father.
+
+After this promise little Harold went to sleep very happily.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+"THY WILL BE DONE."
+
+
+"You always give your cares to God," little Harold had said to his
+father.
+
+That father, on his knees with his head bowed between his hands, and a
+tempest of agony, of entreaty in his heart, found suddenly that he could
+not give this care away to God. For a moment, when the boy had spoken,
+he had believed that this was possible, but when little Harold had
+himself spoken so quietly of dying and going to Jesus, the father's
+heart rose suddenly in the fiercest rebellion. No; if it meant the
+slaying of his first-born he could not so quietly lay it in the hands of
+God and say, "Thy will be done." This unearthly man, who had always
+lived with a kind of heaven-sent radiance round his path, found himself
+suddenly human after all. His earthly arms clung tightly round the
+earthly form of his pretty little lad and would not unclasp themselves.
+It was to this man who had so serenely and for many years walked in the
+sunshine of God's presence, with nothing to hide his glory from his
+eyes, as though he had come up to a high, a blank, an utterly
+impenetrable wall, which shut away all the divine radiance. He could
+neither climb this wall, nor could he see one glimpse of God at the dark
+side where he found himself. In an agony this brave heart tried to pray,
+but his voice would not rise above his chamber, would not indeed even
+ascend to his lips. He found himself suddenly voiceless and dumb, dead
+despair stealing over him. He did not, however, rise from his knees, and
+in this position his wife found him when, late that night, she came up
+to bed. She had been crying so hard and so long that by very force of
+those tears her heart was lighter, and her husband, when he raised his
+eyes, hollow from the terrible struggle within, to her face, looked now
+the most miserable of the two. The mute appeal in his eyes smote on the
+wife's loving heart, instantly she came over and knelt by his side.
+
+"You must come to bed, Angus dear. I have arranged with Mr. Hinton, and
+he will sit up with our little lad for the next few hours."
+
+"I could not sleep, Lottie," answered the husband. "God is coming to
+take away our child and I can't say, 'Thy will be done.'"
+
+"You can't!" repeated the wife, and now her lips fell apart and she
+gazed at her husband.
+
+"No Lottie; you called God cruel downstairs, and now He looks cruel to
+me. I can't give Him my first-born. I can't say 'Thy will be done;' but
+oh!" continued the wretched man, "this is horrible, this is blasphemous.
+Oh! has God indeed forsaken me?"
+
+"No, no, no!" suddenly almost shrieked the wife; "no, no!" she repeated;
+and now she had flung her arms round her husband and was straining him
+to her heart. "Oh, my darling! my beloved! you were never, never, never,
+so near to me, so dear to me, as now. God does not want you to say that,
+Angus. Angus, it is _not_ God's will that our child should die, it is
+Satan's will, not God's. God is love, and it can't be love to torture
+us, and tear our darling away from us like that. The will of God is
+righteousness, and love, and happiness; not darkness, and death, and
+misery. Oh, Angus! let us both kneel here and say, 'Thy will be done,'
+for I believe the will of God will be to save the child."
+
+A great faith had suddenly come to this woman. She lifted her voice, and
+a torrent of eloquent words, of passionate utterances, rent the air and
+went up to God from that little room, and the husband stole his hand
+into the wife's as she prayed. After this they both slept, and Lottie's
+heart was lighter than it had ever been in all her life before.
+
+The next morning this lightness, almost gayety of heart, was still
+there. For the time she had really changed places with her husband; for,
+believing that the end would be good, she felt strong to endure.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Home went downstairs to find Hinton regarding them
+anxiously. He had not spent a long night with the sick child without
+gathering very clearly how imminent was the peril still hanging over the
+family. Harold's night had been a wretched one, and he was weaker this
+morning. Hinton felt that a great deal more must be done to restore
+Harold to health; but he had not heard what Dr. Watson had said, and was
+therefore as yet in the dark and much puzzled how best to act. Seeing
+the mother's face serene, almost calm, as she poured out the tea, and
+the father's clouded over, he judged both wrongly.
+
+"She is deceived," he said of the one. "He knows," he said of the other.
+Had he, however, reversed the positions it would have been nearer the
+truth.
+
+He went away with a thousand schemes in his head. He would visit the
+doctor. He would--could he--might he, risk a visit to Charlotte? He was
+resolved that in some way he must save the boy; but it was not reserved
+for his hand to do the good deed on this occasion. After breakfast he
+went out, and Mr. Home, feeling almost like a dead man, hurried off to
+the daily service.
+
+For a brief moment Charlotte was alone. The instant she found herself
+so, she went straight down on her knees, and with eyes and heart raised
+to heaven, said, aloud and fervently,--
+
+"Thy holy, loving, righteous Will be done."
+
+Then she got up and went to her little son. In the course of the morning
+the boy said to his mother,--
+
+"How much I should like to see that pretty lady."
+
+"It would not be safe for her to come to you, my darling," said Mrs.
+Home. "You are not yet quite free from infection, and if you saw her
+now she might get ill. You would not harm your pretty lady, Harold?"
+
+"No, indeed, mother, not for worlds. But if I can't see her," he added,
+"may I have her toys to play with?"
+
+The mother fetched them and laid them on the bed.
+
+"And now give me what was in the brown paper parcels, mother. The dear,
+dear, dainty clothes! Oh! didn't our baby look just lovely in his velvet
+frock? Please, mother, _may_ I see those pretty things once again?"
+
+Mrs. Home could not refuse. The baby's pelisse, Daisy's frock, and
+Harold's own hat were placed by his side. He took up the hat with a
+great sigh of admiration. It was of dark purple plush, with a plume of
+ostrich feathers.
+
+"May I put it on, mother?" asked the little lad.
+
+He did so, then asked for a glass to look at himself.
+
+"Ah?" he said, half crying, half frightened at his wasted pale little
+face under this load of finery, "I don't like it now. My pretty, pretty
+lady's hat is much too big for me now. I can't wear it. Oh! mother,
+wouldn't she be disappointed?"
+
+"She shan't be," said the mother, "for I will draw in the lining, and
+then it will fit you as well as possible."
+
+"But oh! mother, do be careful. I saw her put in a nice little bit of
+soft paper; I saw her put it under the lining my own self. You will
+crush that bit of paper if you aren't careful, mother."
+
+The mother did not much heed the little eager voice, she drew in a cord
+which ran round the lining, then again placed the hat on Harold's head.
+
+"Now it fits, darling," she said.
+
+"But I think the bit of paper is injured," persisted the boy. "How funny
+I should never have thought of it until now. I'll take it out, mother,
+and you can put it by with the other things."
+
+The little fingers poked under the lining and drew out something thin
+and neatly folded.
+
+"Look, look, mother!" he said excitedly; "there's writing. Read it,
+mother; read what she said."
+
+Mrs. Home read,--
+
+     "For Harold, with his lady's love."
+
+She turned the paper. There, staring her in the face, lay a fresh, crisp
+Bank of England note for fifty pounds.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+"YOU KEPT A SECRET FROM ME."
+
+
+Hinton, when he went away that morning, was, as I have said, very
+undecided how best to act. He saw very clearly the fresh danger arising
+to Harold. Was he but rescued from the dangerous fever to fall a prey to
+lingering, or, perhaps, rapid consumption? Even his unprofessional eye
+saw the danger the boy was in; and the boy himself, lying awake during
+most of the weary hours of the night, had confided to his friend some
+thoughts which it seemed to Hinton could only come to such a child as
+the precursor of death. He now loved the boy for his own sake, and he
+was determined, even more determined than during the height of the
+fever, to do something to again save his life.
+
+After a brief pause for rapid thought, he determined to visit Dr.
+Watson. That busy man was at home and saw Hinton at once.
+
+"Little Home is no better," said Hinton, going straight, as his wont
+was, to the very heart of his subject.
+
+"He will never be any better unless he has change," replied the doctor.
+"Neither I nor any other man can now do more for him. He requires, nay,
+he is dying for want of nature's remedies, complete change, fresh, mild
+sea-air. I told his mother so most plainly yesterday. I recommended
+Torquay within a week from now, if she wishes to save his life."
+
+"Torquay is an expensive place, and a very long way from London,"
+replied Hinton. "It seems almost cruel to tell Mrs. Home to do that for
+her child which must be utterly impossible."
+
+"There is no other chance for his life," replied the doctor. "I should
+be doing less than my duty, did I for a moment conceal that fact."
+
+Hinton paused for a moment to think, then he abruptly changed the
+subject.
+
+"I want to visit a friend this morning--a friend who has never had
+scarlet fever. It is rather important that we should meet; but I must
+not risk danger. You know I have been a good deal with the little boy.
+Is there a risk to my friend in our meeting now?"
+
+"Change all your clothes," replied the doctor; "wear nothing you have in
+the Homes' house. Perhaps it would also be a wise precaution to take a
+Turkish bath. If you do all this you may meet your friend without the
+slightest risk of evil consequences."
+
+Hinton thanked the doctor, and as the result of this conversation
+entered the dining-room in Prince's Gate just as Charlotte was sitting
+down to her solitary luncheon.
+
+It was over three weeks since these two had met, and the long three
+weeks had seemed like for ever to the loving heart of the woman, who was
+so soon now to be Hinton's wife. She expressed her joy at this
+unexpected meeting, not so much by words, but so effectually with eyes
+and manner, that Hinton, as he folded his arms round her, could not help
+a great throb of thankfulness rising up from his heart.
+
+They sat down to lunch, and then afterwards Hinton told her the story of
+little Harold Home. In telling this tale, however, he omitted again both
+name and address. He had not meant when beginning his tale to keep these
+things any longer a mystery from her, but as the words dropped from him,
+and Charlotte's eyes were fixed on his face, and Charlotte's lips
+trembled with emotion, some undefined sensation prompted him to keep
+back these particulars.
+
+Hinton, in coming to Charlotte, relied on her help, but he meant her
+just now to bestow it as on a stranger. As he had expected, his tale
+aroused her warmest enthusiasm and interest.
+
+"John," she said, "something must be done. The boy must not die!"
+
+"He must go to Torquay," replied Hinton. "That is most manifest. But the
+difficulty will be how. They are very proud people. The difficulty will
+be how to induce them to accept aid from outsiders."
+
+"Do you think they will be proud, John, when their child's life depends
+on their accepting some aid from others? I don't think they will allow
+so false an emotion to sacrifice his little precious life. It seems to
+me, that were I in that mother's place, I would lick the dust off the
+most menial feet that ever walked, to save my child."
+
+"Perhaps you are right," said Hinton: "there is no doubt that one woman
+can best read the heart of another. What I propose is, that I take the
+little boy down to Torquay for a few weeks; I can make an excuse to the
+mother on my own score, and it will not seem so hard for her to send her
+boy. And the little lad loves me, I believe."
+
+"Would it not be best for the mother to take her child herself?"
+
+"It undoubtedly would. But it would be placing her under deeper
+obligation. I want to make it as light as possible to her."
+
+"Then, John, you will give me one happiness? I will provide the money
+for this expedition."
+
+"You shall, my dearest," answered Hinton, stooping down and kissing her.
+
+He meant her to help Charlotte Home in this way, and he did not notice
+the slight sigh scarcely allowed to escape her lips. The fact was,
+Charlotte Harman had grown very hungry, almost starved, for her lover
+during his three weeks' absence, and now the thought that he was going
+still farther away from her, and their wedding-day drawing so quickly
+on, could not but excite a pang; the selfish part of her rose in revolt,
+and struggled to rebel, but with a firm hand she kept it well under, and
+Hinton never noticed her strangled little sigh. They talked for a long
+time of their plans, and Charlotte mentioned what money she had of her
+very own, and which could be immediately at Hinton's disposal. In the
+midst of this conversation, the postman's knock was heard, and a moment
+later a servant brought Charlotte a letter. She did not recognize the
+handwriting, and laid it for a moment unopened by her side. Then some
+confused remembrance of having seen it before, caused her to tear open
+the envelope. This was what her eyes rested on.
+
+     Charlotte--my sister and friend--I have found the little piece of
+     paper you put into my Harold's hat. I never knew it was there until
+     to-day. Thank God I did not know, for had I seen it after your
+     visit, I should certainly, in my mad, ungracious, evil pride, have
+     returned it to you.
+
+     Dear Charlotte--God nearly broke my heart since I saw you. He
+     nearly took my boy away. In that process my pride has gone, though
+     my love and tenderness and gratitude to you remain, for with this
+     fifty pounds you are saving my child's little life. Thank you for
+     it. God will bless you for it. You will never--never regret this
+     deed. It will come back to you, the remembrance of it, in the midst
+     of your own wealth and affluence, or if dark days visit you, you
+     will let your thoughts wander to it as a place of safe anchorage
+     in the storm. It will, all your life long, be a source to you of
+     rejoicing that you saved a father's and mother's hearts from
+     breaking, and kept a precious little life in this world.
+
+     I can add no more now, my dear. For this money must be spent, and
+     at once. Oh! precious, valuable gold, which is to keep Harold with
+     me! I will write to you when we come back from Torquay; do not come
+     to see me before, it would not be safe for you.
+
+     Ever, my dear friend, because of you, the happiest and most
+     grateful mother on God's earth,
+
+     CHARLOTTE HOME.
+
+Charlotte Harman's face was very white when, after reading this letter,
+she raised her eyes to Hinton's. What had been written with all joy and
+thankfulness was received with pain. Why had Hinton kept this thing from
+her? Why had he not told her where he had been staying?
+
+"You kept a secret from me," she said, and her eyes filled with heavy
+tears.
+
+Then as he tried to comfort her, being very compunctious himself at
+having failed utterly to trust one so brave and noble, she suddenly drew
+herself from his embrace.
+
+"John," she said, with some pride in her voice, "did you in any degree
+keep this thing from me because you believed Mrs. Home's story about my
+grandfather's will?"
+
+"I had a thousand nameless reasons for not telling you, Charlotte. My
+principal one after the child got ill was my fear that you would come to
+the house, and so run the risk of infection."
+
+"Then you do not at all believe Mrs. Home's story?"
+
+"I have not investigated it, my darling. I have done nothing but simply
+listen to what you yourself told me. _You_ do not believe it?"
+
+"Certainly not! How could I? It implicates my father."
+
+"We will not think of it, Charlotte."
+
+"We must think of it, for justice must be done to this woman and to her
+children; and besides, I wish to clear it up, for I will not have my
+father blamed."
+
+Hinton was silent. Charlotte gazed at him eagerly, his silence
+dissatisfied her. His whole manner carried the conviction that his faith
+in her father was by no means equal to hers.
+
+"Is it possible to see wills?" she asked suddenly.
+
+"Certainly, dear; anybody can see any will by paying a shilling, at
+Somerset House."
+
+"Would my grandfather's will be kept at Somerset House?"
+
+"Yes. All wills are kept there."
+
+"Then," said Charlotte, rising as she spoke, "before our wedding-day I
+will go to Somerset House and read my grandfather's will."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+THEY RECALL TOO MUCH.
+
+
+Mr. Harman had a hard task before him. He was keeping two things at bay,
+two great and terrible things, Death and Thought. They were pursuing
+him, they were racing madly after him, and sometimes the second of these
+his enemies so far took possession of him as to grasp him by the
+heartstrings. But though he knew well that in the end both one and the
+other would conquer and lay him low, yet still he was in a measure
+victor. That strong nourishment, those potent medicines were keeping the
+life in him; while his still eager absorption in business prevented that
+time for reflection which was worse than death. His medical man, knowing
+nothing of his inner history, had begged of him to rest, to give up
+business, assuring him that by so doing he would prolong his short span
+of life. But Harman had answered, and truly, "If I give up business I
+shall be in my grave in a fortnight;" and there was such solemn
+conviction in his voice and manner, that the physician was fain to bow
+to the dictum of his patient. Except once to his brother Jasper, and
+once to Hinton, Mr. Harman had mentioned to no one how near he believed
+his end to be. The secret was not alluded to, the master of the house
+keeping up bravely, bearing his pains in silence and alone, and that
+subtle element of rejoicing began to pervade this quiet, luxurious home
+which precedes a wedding. Only one in the dwelling ever thought of
+funeral gloom.
+
+Little Harold Home had gone to Torquay with his mother. Hinton was once
+more free to go in and out of the house in Prince's Gate, and he and
+Charlotte were necessarily much occupied with each other. There seemed
+to these two so much to be done, and the time seemed so short until the
+twentieth of April, that had the very sun stood still for them, they
+would have felt no undue sensation of surprise.
+
+When people are about to step into the Garden of Eden even nature must
+sympathize, and marriage seemed that to Charlotte and Hinton. After
+their wedding tour it was arranged that they were to come to the house
+in Prince's Gate. For some time Mr. Harman had begged them to make it
+their home; but though Hinton could not oppose, he had a hope of some
+day settling down in a smaller house. He liked the power which wealth
+could give, but he was so unused to luxuries, that they were in
+themselves almost repellent to him. Charlotte, on the contrary, was
+perfectly happy to live in the old place. Home to this womanly heart was
+wherever her loved ones were; and she also acceded joyfully to another
+question which otherwise might have appeared a little either strange or
+selfish. Her father begged of her not to extend her wedding tour beyond
+a week. "Come back to me," said the old man, "at the end of a week; let
+me feel that comfort when you say good-by on your wedding-day."
+
+Charlotte had promised, with her arms round his neck and her bright hair
+touching his silver locks. And now April had set in, and the days flew
+fast. All was bustle and confusion, and milliners and dressmakers worked
+as though there had never been a bride before, and Charlotte, too,
+believed there had never been so happy, so fortunate, so altogether
+blessed a woman as herself.
+
+One of those spring days, for the weather was particularly lovely, Mr.
+Harman came home earlier than usual and went to his study. For no
+special reason he had found it impossible to settle to any active work
+that morning. He had hastened home, and now taking his accustomed
+medicine, lay back in his armchair to rest. The medicine he had taken
+was partly of a sedative character, but to-day it failed in all soothing
+effects. That bloodhound Thought was near, and with a bound it sprang
+forward and settled its fangs into his heartstrings.
+
+Mr. Harman could not sit still, he rose and began to pace his room.
+Stay--how could he quiet this monster of remorse and reflection? Would
+death do it by and by? He shook his head as this idea came to him. Were
+death but an annihilation he could, would, how gladly, welcome it, but
+all his firmest convictions pointed to a God and a future. A future to
+him meant retribution. He found it absolutely impossible to comfort his
+heart with so false a doctrine as that of annihilation. In the midst of
+his meditations his brother Jasper entered.
+
+"Good Heavens! John, you do look bad!" he exclaimed almost
+involuntarily, noticing the anguish on the fine old face.
+
+"I'm a very miserable man," answered John Harman, and he sank down into
+a chair as he spoke.
+
+"I would not think so much about my health," said Jasper; "doctors are
+the most mistaken fools under the sun. I knew a man out in Australia,
+and the first medical man in Sydney told him he had not a week to live.
+He came home and made his will and bid all his relations good-by. Well,
+what were the consequences? The week came to an end, but not the man; my
+dear John, that man is alive now, and what is more, he is in the
+enjoyment of perfect health. The doctor was all wrong; they are mortal
+like ourselves, man, and by no means infallible. I would not take my
+death for granted, if I were you; I would determine to take out a fresh
+lease of life when Charlotte is married. Determination does wonders in
+such cases."
+
+"I am not thinking of my death," answered Mr. Harman; "were death but
+all, I could almost welcome it. No, it is not death, it is memory.
+Jasper," he added, turning fiercely on his brother, "you were as the
+very devil to me once, why do you come to preach such sorry comfort
+now?"
+
+Jasper Harman had an impenetrable face, but at these words it turned a
+shade pale. He went to the fire and stirred it, he put on more coal, he
+even arranged in a rather noisy way one or two of the chimney ornaments.
+
+"If only that trustee had not died just then--and if only--only you had
+not tempted me," continued the elder man.
+
+"You forget, John," suddenly said Jasper, "what the alternative would
+have been just then, absolute ruin, ruin coupled with disgrace!"
+
+"I do not believe in the disgrace, and as to the ruin, we could have
+started afresh. Oh! to start even now with but sixpence in my pocket,
+and with clean hands! What would have been the old disgrace compared to
+the present misery?"
+
+"Take comfort, John, no one knows of it; and if we are but careful no
+one need ever know. Don't excite yourself, be but careful, and no one
+need ever know."
+
+"God knows," answered the white-headed elder brother. And at these words
+Jasper again turned his face away. After a time, in which he thought
+briefly and rapidly, he turned, and sitting down by John, began to
+speak.
+
+"Something has come to my knowledge which may be a comfort to you. I did
+not mention it earlier, because in your present state of health I know
+you ought not to worry yourself. But as it seems you are so
+over-sensitive, I may as well mention that it will be possible for you
+to make reparation without exposing yourself."
+
+"How?" asked Mr. Harman.
+
+"I know where Daisy Harman's daughter lives--you know we completely lost
+sight of her. I believe she is poor; she is married to a curate, all
+curates are poor; they have three children. Suppose, suppose you
+settled, say, well, half the money her mother had for her lifetime, on
+this young woman. That would be seventy-five pounds a year; a great
+difference seventy-five pounds would make in a poor home."
+
+"A little of the robbery paid back," said Mr. Harman with a dreary
+smile. "Jasper, you are a worse rogue than I am, and I believe you study
+the Bible less. God knows I don't care to confront myself with its
+morality, but I have a memory that it recommends, nay, commands, in the
+case of restoring again, or of paying back stolen goods, that not half
+should be given, but the whole, multiplied fourfold!"
+
+"Such a deed, as Quixotic as unnecessary, could not be done, it would
+arouse suspicion," said Jasper decidedly.
+
+After this the two brothers talked together for some time. Jasper quiet
+and calm, John disturbed and perplexed, too perplexed to notice that the
+younger and harder man was keeping back part of the truth. But
+conversation agitated John Harman, agitated him so much that that
+evening some of the veil was torn from his daughter's eyes, for during
+dinner he fainted away. Then there was commotion and dismay, and the
+instant sending for doctors, and John Hinton and Jasper Harman both felt
+almost needless alarm.
+
+When the old man came to himself he found his head resting on his
+daughter's shoulder. During all the time he was unconscious she had eyes
+and ears for no one else.
+
+"Leave me alone with the child," he said feebly to all the others. When
+they were gone, he looked at her anxious young face. "There is no cause,
+my darling, no cause whatever; what does one faint signify? Put your
+arms round me, Charlotte, and I shall feel quite well."
+
+She did so, laying her soft cheek against his.
+
+"Now you shall see no one but me to-night," she said, "and I shall sit
+with you the whole evening, and you must lie still and not talk. You are
+ill, father, and you have tried to keep it from me."
+
+"A little weak and unfit for much now, I confess," he said in a tone of
+relief. He saw she was not seriously alarmed, and it was a comfort to
+confide so far in her.
+
+"You are weak and tired, and need rest," she said: "you shall see no one
+to-night but me, and I will stay with you the whole evening!"
+
+"What!" said her father, "you will give up Hinton for me, Lottie!"
+
+"Even that I will do for you," she said, and she stooped and kissed his
+gray head.
+
+"I believe you love me, Lottie. I shall think of that all the week you
+are away. You are sure you will only remain away one week?"
+
+"Father, you and I have never been parted before in all my life; I
+promise faithfully to come back in a week," she answered.
+
+He smiled at this, and allowing her still to retain his hand in hers,
+sank into a quiet sleep. While he slept Charlotte sat quietly at his
+feet. She felt perplexed and irresolute. Her father's fainting fit had
+alarmed her, and now, looking into his face, even to her inexperience,
+the ravages which disease, both mental and physical, had brought there
+could not but be apparent to her. She had to acknowledge to herself that
+her father, only one year her Uncle Jasper's senior, looked a very old,
+nay, she could not shut her eyes to the fact, a very unhappy man. What
+brought that look on his face? A look which she acknowledged to herself
+she had seen there all her life, but which seemed to be growing in
+intensity with his added years. She closed her own eyes with a pang as a
+swift thought of great anguish came over her. This thought passed as
+quickly as it came; in her remorse at having entertained it she stooped
+down and kissed the withered old hand which still lay in hers.
+
+It was impossible for Charlotte really to doubt her father; but occupied
+as she was with her wedding preparations, and full of brightness as her
+sky undoubtedly looked to her just now, she had not forgotten Hinton's
+manner when she had asked him what faith he put in Mrs. Home's story.
+Hinton had evaded her inquiry. This evasion was as much as owning that
+he shared Mrs. Home's suspicions. Charlotte must clear up her beloved
+father in the eyes of that other beloved one. If on all hands she was
+warned not to agitate him, there was another way in which she could do
+it: she could read her grandfather's will. But though she had made up
+her mind to do this, she had an unaccountable repugnance to the task.
+For the first time in all her open, above-board life she would be doing
+something which she must conceal from her father. Even John Hinton
+should not accompany her to Somerset House. She must find the will and
+master its contents, and the deed once done, what a relief to her! With
+what joy would she with her own lips chase away the cloud which she felt
+sure rested over her beloved father in her lover's heart!
+
+"It is possible that, dearly as we love each other, such a little doubt
+might divide us by and by," she said to herself. "Yes, yes, it is right
+that I should dissipate it, absolutely right, when I feel so very, very
+sure."
+
+At this moment her father stirred in his sleep, and she distinctly heard
+the words drop from his lips----
+
+"I would make reparation."
+
+Before she had even time to take these words in, he had opened his eyes
+and was gazing at her.
+
+"You are better now," she said, stooping down and kissing him.
+
+"Yes, my darling; much, much better." He sat up as he spoke, and made an
+effort to put on at least a show of life and vigor. "A man of my age
+fainting, Charlotte, is nothing," he said; "really nothing whatever. You
+must not dwell on it again."
+
+"I will not," she said.
+
+Her answer comforted him and he became really brighter and better.
+
+"It is nice to have you all to myself, my little girl; it is very nice.
+Not that I grudge you to Hinton; I have a great regard for Hinton; but,
+my darling, you and I have been so much to each other. We have never in
+all our lives had one quarrel."
+
+"Quarrel, father! of course not. How can those who love as we do
+quarrel?"
+
+"Sometimes they do, Lottie. Thank God, such an experience cannot visit
+you; but it comes to some and darkens everything. I have known it."
+
+"You have, father?" In spite of herself, Charlotte felt her voice
+trembling.
+
+"I had a great and terrible quarrel with my father, Charlotte; my father
+who seemed once as close to me as your father is to you. He married
+again, and the marriage displeased me, and such bitter words passed
+between us, that for years that old man and I did not speak. For years,
+the last years of his life, we were absolutely divided. We made it up in
+the end; we were one again when he died; but what happened then has
+embittered my whole life--my whole life."
+
+Charlotte was silent, though the color was coming into her cheeks and
+her heart began to beat.
+
+"And to-day, Lottie," continued Mr. Harman, "to-day your uncle Jasper
+told me about my father's little daughter. You have never heard of her;
+she was a baby-child when I saw her last. There were many complications
+after my father's death; complications which you must take on trust, for
+I cannot explain them to you. They led to my never seeing that child
+again. Lottie, though she was my little half-sister, she was quite
+young, not older than you, and to-day Jasper told me about her. He knows
+where she lives; she is married and has children, and is poor. I could
+never, never bring myself to look on her face; but some day, not when I
+am alive, but some day you may know her; I should like you to know her
+some day, and to be kind to her. She has been hardly treated, into that
+too I cannot go; but I must set it right. I mean to give her money; you
+will not be quite so rich; you won't mind that?"
+
+"Mind it! mind it! Oh, father!" And Charlotte suddenly began to weep;
+she could not help that sudden, swift shower, though she struggled hard
+to repress it, seeing how her father trembled, and how each moment he
+looked more agitated.
+
+"Do you know," she said, checking her sobs as soon as she possibly
+could, "that Uncle Jasper, too, has told me that story; he asked me not
+to speak of it to you, for you would only be upset. He said how much you
+took to heart, even still, that time when your father was angry with
+you."
+
+"And I angry with him, Lottie; and I with him. Don't forget that."
+
+"Yes, dear father, he told me the tale. I longed to come to you with
+it, for it puzzled me, but he would not let me. Father, I, too, have
+seen that little sister; she is not little now, she is tall and
+noble-looking. She is a sweet and brave woman, and she has three of the
+most lovely children I ever saw; her children are like angels. Ah! I
+shall be glad to help that woman and those children. I cannot thank you
+enough for doing this."
+
+"Don't thank me, child; in God's name don't thank me."
+
+"If you could but see those children."
+
+"I would not see them; I would not; I could not. Charlotte, you don't
+know what bygone memories are to an old man like me. I could never see
+either the mother or the children. Lottie, tell me nothing more about
+them; if you love me never mention their names to me. They recall too
+much, and I am weak and old. I will help them; yes, before God I promise
+to help them; but I can never either see or speak of them, they recall
+too much."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+HAD HE SEEN A GHOST?
+
+
+At this time Jasper Harman was a very perplexed man. Unlike his brother
+John, he was untroubled by remorse. Though so outwardly good-tempered
+and good-natured, his old heart was very hard; and though the arrows of
+past sins and past injustices might fly around him, they could not visit
+the inner shrine of that adamantine thing which he carried about instead
+of a heart of flesh within him.
+
+What the painful process must be which would restore to Jasper Harman
+the warm living heart of a little child, one must shudder even to
+contemplate. At present that process had not begun. But though he felt
+no remorse whatever, and stigmatized his brother as an old fool, he had
+considerable anxiety.
+
+There was an ugly secret in the back parts of these two brothers' lives;
+a secret which had seemed all these years safe and buried in the grave,
+but over which now little lights were beginning to pour. How could
+Jasper plaster up the crevices and restore the thing to its silent
+grave? Upon this problem he pondered from morning to night.
+
+He did not like that growing anxiety of his brother's; he could not tell
+to what mad act it would lead him; he did not like a new look of fear
+which, since her father's fainting fit, he had seen on Charlotte's
+smooth brow; he did not like Mrs. Home coming and boldly declaring that
+an injustice had been done; he felt that between them these foolish and
+miserable people would pull a disgraceful old secret out of its grave,
+unless he, Jasper Harman, could outwit them. What a blessing that that
+other trustee was dead and buried, and that he, Jasper Harman, had
+really stood over his grave. Yes, the secret which he and his brother
+had guarded so faithfully for over twenty years might remain for ever
+undiscovered if only common sense, the tiniest bit of common sense, was
+exercised. Jasper paced his room as he thought of this. Yes, there could
+be no fear, unless--here he stood still, and a cold dew of sudden terror
+stole over him--suppose that young woman, that wronged young woman,
+Charlotte Home, should take it into her head to go and read her father's
+will. The will could not be put away. For the small sum of one shilling
+she might go and master the contents, and then the whole fraud would be
+laid bare. Was it likely that Mrs. Home would do this? Jasper had only
+seen her for a moment, but during that brief glance he read
+determination and fixity of purpose in her eyes and mouth. He must trust
+that this thought would not occur to her; but what a miserable
+uncertainty this was to live in! He did not know that the graver danger
+lay still nearer home, and that his own niece Charlotte was already
+putting the match to this mine full of gunpowder. No, clever as he
+thought himself, he was looking for the danger at the front door, when
+it was approaching him by the back.
+
+After many days of most anxious thought he resolved to go and see the
+Homes, for something must be done, and he could feel his way better if
+he knew something of his opponents.
+
+Getting Mr. Home's address in the Post Office Directory, for he would
+not betray himself by questioning Charlotte, he started off one evening
+to walk to Kentish Town. He arrived in the dusk, and by good fortune or
+otherwise, as he liked best to term it, the curate was at home, and so
+far disengaged as to be able to give him a little leisure time.
+
+Jasper sent in his card, and the little maid, Anne, showed him into the
+small parlor. There was a musty, unused smell in the dingy little room,
+for Mrs. Home was still at Torquay, and the curate during her absence
+mostly occupied his study. The maid, however, turned on the gas, and as
+she did so a small girl of four slipped in behind her. She was a very
+pretty child, with gray eyes and black eyelashes, and she stared in the
+full, frank manner of infancy at old Jasper. She was not a shy child,
+and felt so little fear of this good-natured, cherry-cheeked old man,
+that when Anne withdrew she still remained in the room.
+
+Jasper had a surface love for children; he would not take any trouble
+about them, but they amused him, and he found pleasure in watching their
+unsophisticated ways. His good-natured, smiling face appealed to a
+certain part of Daisy Home, not a very high part certainly, but with the
+charming frankness of babyhood, the part appealed to gave utterance to
+its desire.
+
+"Have 'ou brought me a present?" she demanded, running up to old Jasper
+and laying her hand on his knee.
+
+"No, my dear," he replied quickly. "I'm so sorry; I forgot it."
+
+"Did 'ou?" said Daisy, puckering her pretty brows; "Then 'ou're not like
+our pretty lady; she did not forget; she brought lots and lots and
+lots."
+
+"I am very sorry," replied Jasper; "I will think of it next time." And
+then Mr. Home coming in, the two went into the little study.
+
+"I am your wife's half-brother," said Jasper, introducing himself
+without preface, for he had marked out his line of action before he
+came.
+
+"Indeed!" replied Mr. Home. He was not a man easily surprised, but this
+announcement did bring a slight color into his face. "You are Mr.
+Harman," he repeated. "I am sorry my wife is away. She is staying at
+Torquay with our eldest boy, who has been ill. She has seen your
+daughter."
+
+"Not my daughter, sir, my niece--a fine girl, but Quixotic, a little
+fanciful and apt to take up whims, but a fine girl for all that."
+
+"I, too, have seen Miss Harman," answered Mr. Home. "I met her once in
+Regent's Park, and, without knowing anything about us, she was good to
+our children. You must pardon me, sir, if in expressing the same opinion
+about her we come to it by different roads. It seems to me that the
+fine traits in Miss Harman's character are _due_ to her Quixotic or
+unworldly spirit."
+
+For a moment Jasper Harman felt puzzled, then he chuckled inwardly. "The
+man who says that, is unworldly himself, therefore unpractical. So much
+the better for my purpose." Aloud he said, "Doubtless you put the case
+best, sir; but I will not take up your valuable time discussing my
+niece's virtues. I have come to talk to you on a little matter of
+business. Your wife has told you her story?"
+
+"My wife has certainly concealed nothing from me," replied Mr. Home.
+
+"She has mentioned her father's very curious will?"
+
+"His very unjust will," corrected Mr. Home.
+
+"Yes, sir, I agree with you, it was unjust. It is to talk to you about
+that will I have come to you to-night."
+
+"Sit nearer to the fire," replied Mr. Home, poking up the handful in the
+grate into as cheerful a blaze as circumstances would permit.
+
+"It was, as you say, an unjust will," proceeded old Jasper, peering hard
+with his short-sighted eyes at the curate, and trying to read some
+emotion beneath his very grave exterior. Being unable to fathom the
+depths of a character which was absolutely above the love of money, he
+felt perplexed, he scarcely liked this great self-possession. Did this
+Home know too much? "It was an unjust will," he repeated, "and took my
+brother and myself considerably by surprise. Our father seemed fond of
+his young wife, and we fully expected that he would leave her and her
+child well provided for. However, my dear sir, the facts could not be
+disputed. Her name was not mentioned at all. The entire property was
+left principally to my elder brother John. He and I were partners in
+business. Our father's money was convenient, and enabled us to grow
+rich. At the time our father died we were very struggling. Perhaps the
+fact that the money was so necessary to us just then made us think less
+of the widow than we should otherwise have done. We did not, however,
+forget her. We made provision for her during her life. But for us she
+must have starved or earned her own living."
+
+"The allowance you made was not very ample," replied Mr. Home, "and such
+as it was it ceased at her death."
+
+"Yes, sir; and there I own we--my brother and I--were guilty of an act
+of injustice. I can only exonerate us on the plea of want of thought.
+Our father's widow was a young woman--younger than either of us. The
+child was but a baby. The widow's death seemed a very far off
+contingency. We placed the money we had agreed to allow her the interest
+on, in the hands of our solicitor. We absolutely forgot the matter. I
+went to Australia, my brother grew old at home. When, five or six years
+ago, we heard that Mrs. Harman was dead, and that our three thousand
+pounds could return to us, we had absolutely forgotten the child. In
+this I own we showed sad neglect. Your wife's visit to my niece, through
+a mere accident, has recalled her to our memory, and I come here
+to-night to say that we are willing, willing and anxious, to repay that
+neglect, and to settle on your wife the sum of three thousand pounds;
+that sum to be hers unconditionally, to do what she pleases with."
+
+When Jasper ceased to speak, Mr. Home was quite silent for a moment,
+then he said, "My wife is away at present. I would rather not trouble
+her with money matters during her short holiday. When she returns I will
+tell her what you say and communicate to you the result."
+
+There was neither exultation nor annoyance in the quiet manner in which
+these few words were spoken. Uncle Jasper found it impossible to
+understand this man. He spoke as indifferently as if three thousand
+pounds were nothing to him and yet, to judge from appearances, his whole
+yearly income seemed hardly to represent the interest on so much
+capital. Did this quiet manner but hide deep designs? Jasper Harman
+fidgeted in his chair as this thought occurred to him.
+
+"There is just one thing more to add," he said. "I will leave you my
+club address. Kindly communicate with me there. I should like, while
+carrying out my elder brother's wish, to act entirely on it without
+troubling him in any way. He is, I am sorry to say, very ill, so ill
+that the least, the very least, agitation is dangerous to him. He feels
+with me the unintentional injustice done to your wife, but he cannot
+bear the subject alluded to.
+
+"Would it not rather be an ease to his mind to feel that what he looks
+on and perhaps dwells on as a sin has been expiated, as far as his own
+earthly act can expiate it?" inquired the clergyman gently.
+
+"He shall know it, but from my lips. I should like him best to hear it
+from me," said Jasper Harman.
+
+A few moments after, he went away, Mr. Home accompanying him to the hall
+door. The strong light of the gas lamp fell on his ruddy face and sandy
+hair. He bade his host good-bye, and hurried down the street, never
+observing that a man, much larger and much rougher than himself, was
+bearing down upon him. It was raining, and the large man had an umbrella
+up. The two came full tilt against each other. Jasper felt his breath
+taken away, and could only gasp out a word of remonstrance and apology.
+
+But the other, in a full, round, cheery voice, replied, "I'm home from
+the Colonies, stranger--you need not mention a tiff like that to _me_.
+Bless you! I guess you got the worst of it."
+
+He passed on with a laugh, never noticing that he had left Jasper
+standing in the middle of the road, gasping indeed now, but from a
+different cause. He put his hand to his heart. He felt his breath come
+too fast for comfort. What had come to him? Had he seen a ghost?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+THE CHILDREN'S GREAT-UNCLE.
+
+
+It was a few days after this that, the morning being very bright and
+sunshiny, the little maid, Anne, determined to give Daisy and the baby a
+long morning in the park. Mrs. Home was expected back in a few days.
+Harold was very much better, and Anne, being a faithful and loving
+little soul, was extremely anxious that Daisy and the baby should show
+as rosy faces as possible to greet their mother's return. Hinton, who
+still occupied the drawing-rooms, was absent as usual for the day. Mr.
+Home would not come in until tea time. So Anne, putting some dinner for
+the children and herself, in the back of the perambulator, and the house
+latch-key in her pocket, started off to have what she called to Daisy, a
+"picnic in the park."
+
+The baby was now nearly ten months old. His beauty had increased with
+his growing months, and many people turned to look at the lovely little
+fellow as Anne gayly wheeled him along. He had a great deal of hair,
+which showed in soft golden rings under his cap, and his eyes, large and
+gentle as a gazelle's, looked calmly out of his innocent face. Daisy,
+too, was quite pretty enough to come in for her share of admiration,
+and Anne felt proud of both her little charges.
+
+Reaching the park, she wheeled the perambulator under the shade of a
+great tree, and sitting down herself on a bench, took little Angus in
+her arms. Daisy scampered about and inquired when her namesakes, the
+starry daisies of the field, would be there for her to gather.
+
+As the little child played and shouted with delight, and the baby and
+small maid looked on, a stout, florid-faced man of foreign appearance,
+passing slowly by, was attracted by the picturesque group. Daisy had
+flung off her shabby little hat. Her bright hair was in wild confusion.
+Her gray eyes looked black beneath their dark lashes. Running full tilt
+across the stranger's path, she suddenly stumbled and fell. He stooped
+to pick her up. She hardly thanked him, but flew back to Anne. The
+foreign-looking man, however, stood still. Daisy's piquant little face
+had caused him to start and change color.
+
+"Good gracious! what a likeness," he exclaimed, and he turned and sat
+down on the bench beside Anne and the baby.
+
+"I hope the little thing didn't get hurt by that fall," he said to the
+small maid.
+
+Anne, who was accustomed to having all admiration bestowed on her baby,
+replied briefly that missy was right enough. As she spoke she turned
+baby Angus round so that the stranger might see his radiant little face.
+The dark eyes, however, of the pretty boy had no attraction for the man.
+He still watched Daisy, who had resumed her amusements at a little
+distance.
+
+Anne, who perceived that Daisy had attracted the stranger's admiration,
+was determined to stay to watch the play out. She pretended to amuse
+little Angus, but her eyes took furtive glances at the foreign-looking
+man. Presently Daisy, who was not at all shy, came up.
+
+"You never thanked me for picking you up from the ground," said the
+stranger to the little girl.
+
+Four year old Daisy turned up her eyes to his face.
+
+"I wor _so_ busy," she apologized. "T'ank 'ou now."
+
+The light on her face, her very expression, caused this rough-looking
+man's heart to beat strangely. He held out his hand. Daisy put her soft
+little palm into his.
+
+"Come and sit on my knee," he said.
+
+Daisy accepted the invitation with alacrity. She dearly liked
+attention, and it was not often, with baby by, that she came in for the
+lion's share.
+
+"What a funny red beard you have!" she said, putting up a small finger
+to touch it delicately.
+
+This action, however, scandalized Anne, who, awaking to a sudden sense
+of her responsibilities, rose to depart.
+
+"Come along, Miss Daisy," she exclaimed; "'tis time we was a-moving
+home, and you mustn't trouble the gentleman no further, missy."
+
+"I s'ant go home, and I will stay," responded Daisy, her face growing
+very red as she clung to her new friend. The man put his arm round her
+in delight.
+
+"Sit down, my girl," he said, addressing Anne, "the little miss is not
+troubling me. Quite the contrary, she reminds me of a little lassie I
+used to know once, and she had the same name too, Daisy. Daisy Wilson
+was her name. Now this little kid is so like her that I shouldn't a bit
+wonder if she was a relation--perhaps her daughter. Shall I tell you
+what your two names are, little one?"
+
+Daisy nodded her head and looked up expectantly. Anne, hoping no harm
+was done, and devoured with curiosity, resumed her seat.
+
+"Your mamma's name was Daisy Wilson. You are her dear little daughter,
+and your name is Daisy Harman. Well, I'm right, ain't I?" The man's face
+was now crimson, and he only waited for Daisy's reply to clasp her to
+his breast. But Daisy, in high delight at his mistake, clapped her
+pretty hands.
+
+"No, no," she said, "you're quite wrong. Guess again, guess again."
+
+Instantly his interest and excitement died out. He pushed the child a
+trifle away, and said,--
+
+"I made a mistake. I can't guess."
+
+"I'm Daisy Home," replied Daisy, "and my mamma was never no Daisy
+Wilson. Her name is Sarlotte Home."
+
+The stranger put Daisy gently from his lap, and the discovery which was
+to affect so many people might never have been made but for Anne, who
+read the _Family Herald_, was burning with anxiety and wonder. Many
+kinds of visions were flashing before her romantic young eyes. This man
+might be very rich--very, very rich. He must have something to say to
+them all. She had long ago identified herself with the Home family. This
+man was coming to give them gold in abundance. He was not so beautiful
+to look at, but he might be just as valuable as the pretty lady of
+Harold's dreams. That pretty lady had not come back, though Anne had
+almost prayed for her return. Yes, she was sure this man was a relation.
+It was highly probable. Such things were always happening in the _Family
+Herald_. Raising her shrill, high-pitched voice, she exclaimed,--
+
+"Miss Daisy, you're too young to know, or may be you furgets. But I
+think the gen'leman is near right. Yer mamma's name wos Harman afore she
+married yer papa, missy, and I ha' seen fur sure and certain in some old
+books at the house the name o' Daisy Wilson writ down as plain as could
+be, so maybe that wor yer grandma's name afore she married too."
+
+At these words the stranger caught Daisy up and kissed her.
+
+"I thought that little face could only belong to one related to Daisy
+Wilson," he said. "Little one, put yer arms round me. I'm your
+great-uncle--your great-uncle! I never thought that Daisy Wilson could
+have a daughter married, and that that daughter could have little ones
+of her own. Well, well, well, how time does fly! I'm your grandmother's
+brother--Sandy Wilson, home from Australia, my little pet; and when
+shall I see you all? It does my old heart good to see my sister over
+again in a little thing like you."
+
+"My great-uncle?" repeated Daisy. She was an affectionate little thing,
+and the man's agitation and delight so far touched her baby heart as to
+induce her to give him one very slight, dainty kiss. Then she sidled
+down to the ground.
+
+"Ef you please, sir," said Anne again, who felt absolutely certain that
+she had now made the fortune of her family, and who thought that that
+fact ought to be recognised--"ef you please, sir, 'tis but right as you
+should know as my missis's mother have long bin dead. My missis as is
+her living model is away, and won't be back afore Thursday. She's down
+by the seaside wid Master Harold wot' ad the scarlet fever, and wor like
+to die; and the fam'ly address, please sir, is 10, Tremins Road, Kentish
+Town."
+
+At the news of his sister's death so curtly announced by Anne, the man's
+rough, weatherbeaten face grew white. He did not touch Daisy again, or
+even look at little Angus; but going up to Anne, he slipped a sovereign
+into her hand.
+
+"Take those children safely home now," he said; "the day is turning
+chilly, and--and--thank you for what you told me of, my good lass. I'll
+come and see your missis on Thursday night."
+
+Then, without another word, he hurried away.
+
+Quickly this big, rough man, who had nearly knocked down Jasper Harman
+the night before, hurried through the park. The exultation had died out
+of his face; his heart had ceased to beat wildly. Little Daisy's pretty
+figure was still before his eyes; but, weatherbeaten and lifebeaten man
+that he was, he found himself looking at it through a mist of tears.
+"'Tis a bit of a shock," he said to himself. "I'll take it quietly, of
+course. Sandy Wilson learned long ago to take everything quietly; but
+it's a rare bit of a shock. I never guessed as my little Daisy would
+die. Five and twenty years since we met, and all that time I've never
+once clasped the hand of a blood-relation--never had one belonging to
+me. I thought I was coming back to Daisy, and Daisy has died. She was
+very young to die--quite five years younger than me. A pretty, pretty
+lass; the little 'un is her image. How odd I should have knocked up
+against Daisy's grandchild, and should find her out by the likeness.
+Well, well, I'll call at 10, Tremins Road. I'll call, of course; not
+that I care much now, as my little sister Daisy Wilson is dead."
+
+He pressed his hand before his eyes; they felt weak and dim. The rough
+man had got a considerable shock; he did not care to look at London
+sights again to-day; he returned to the Commercial Hotel in the Strand,
+where for the present he was staying.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+CUT OFF WITH A SHILLING.
+
+
+Never was a little maid-of-all-work more excited than Anne on the night
+on which her mistress was expected home from Torquay. A secret--quite a
+great secret--had been burning a hole in her heart ever since Monday,
+and to-night she expected this secret to result in something grand. Anne
+felt that the days of poverty for the family were over; the days for
+scraping and toiling were at an end. The uncle from Australia would
+give her missis everything that money could buy; he must be a very rich
+man indeed, for had he not given her a sovereign? Whoever before had
+even dreamed of giving little hard-worked Anne a sovereign? It meant
+unheard-of wealth to this childish soul of sixteen; it filled her with
+delight, and, carefully put away in a little gingham bag, it lay golden
+and warm now against her heart.
+
+But Anne's honest little heart had another and less selfish cause for
+rejoicing. It was she who was bringing this uncle and niece to meet
+again; but for her prompt interference Daisy and her great-uncle would
+never have discovered their relationship; but for her the uncle, so
+blessed with riches, would not have known where to seek for his niece.
+In a big place like London was it likely, was it at all likely, that
+they would meet? No, no, he would look for his poor dead sister for a
+little while, and then go back to Australia, and perhaps give his money
+to some one else. Anne felt that the family owed her a great deal; but
+she had full confidence in them, and felt sure that in their rise in
+life they would not forget her. Missis could keep plenty of servants
+now; she would have a cook and a housemaid, and probably some one to
+help in the nursery. This was what a family whom Anne thought immensely
+wealthy, did in a house just round the corner. In that case she, Anne,
+would be promoted to the proud position of head nurse--head nurse with
+wages--well, say wages as high as L13 a year. Even to think of being
+raised to so dazzling a height made Anne's head a trifle giddy. On the
+strength of it, and all the riches in prospect, she became quite
+reckless in preparing missis's tea. She put out the best table-linen,
+and all the silver the house possessed, and she filled a great dish with
+water-cresses, and had hot buttered scones and a seed-cake and
+eggs--rather fresh for London--and finally half a pound of sliced ham.
+
+She was standing contemplating her well-laden board when the cab drove
+up, and out stepped her master and mistress and little Harold--Harold
+looking white and thin even yet, but still with an altogether improved
+expression on his little face. Anne was so excited, knowing all that was
+to come, that she caught Harold up in her arms and kissed him, which
+proceeding he bore with more patience than appreciation. Then ensued
+bustle and confusion and pleasant excitement. Charlotte Home felt so
+well and rested from her change, her husband was so delighted to have
+her back, and little Harold was so manifestly better, that Anne flew
+about nearly wild with delight. "They'll be a deal, deal 'appier
+by-and-by, and 'tis hall 'long of HAnne," she kept whispering to
+herself.
+
+And now, tea being over, and Harold tucked up comfortably once more in
+his own little cot in the nursery, the small maid began to be devoured
+with impatience for the expected ring. It came at last; Anne with her
+own hands unfastened the door, showed the rich uncle into the
+dining-room, and danced upstairs to find her mistress. Charlotte Home
+was unpacking a trunk in her own room.
+
+"What do you say, Anne? A gentleman is downstairs, and wants to see me?
+But I am so dreadfully busy. What does he want? Do you think he has come
+about the drawing-rooms? They will be vacant next week."
+
+"I don't think 'tis about the drawing-rooms, 'em," answered Anne as
+demurely as she could speak. "I 'avent put no card hup yet. Please, 'em,
+he looks a most benevolent gen'leman, and he axed fur you, yer hown
+self, 'em, most partic'lar bad."
+
+"I wish he had not come this evening, everything is in such confusion.
+Anne, are you sure your master is out?"
+
+"Yes, 'em, sure and certain; and ef you please, 'em, it wor fur you as
+the strange gen'leman axed."
+
+"Well, I suppose I must go down. He may have heard of the drawing-rooms
+through Mr. Hinton, and it would not do to lose a good lodger."
+
+Charlotte went to the looking-glass to smooth her hair. She felt
+travel-stained and dusty; she was only a worn, pale-looking woman at the
+best of times. She ran downstairs, and Anne's heart beat as she heard
+the dining-room door shut behind her.
+
+Mr. Wilson--Sandy Wilson as he preferred to be called--had got himself
+up with due care for his interview with his niece. He had a perfectly
+new and shining broadcloth suit on, a diamond pin was in his necktie,
+and a very massive gold chain could be seen dangling from his vest
+pocket. His full face, always florid, was now flushed with extra color
+from agitation. Yes, Daisy might be dead, but the next best thing was to
+see Daisy's child. When the door opened he came forward eagerly, with
+outstretched hands. A pale, slight, cold-looking woman had come in. He
+drew back in dismay. She showed but too plainly by one swift glance that
+she thought him a stranger, and a vulgar one. He owned to himself that
+he looked at her with a kind of shock. This Daisy Wilson's Daughter?
+This pale, dark, thin woman the child of that little, bright,
+curly-locked, golden-headed sister, whose face was as the sun, whose
+gay, rounded figure he had seen flitting before his eyes during all the
+weary years of his exile? It could scarcely be possible. Perhaps it was
+not possible?
+
+"I have come to see Mrs. Home," he began.
+
+"And I am Mrs. Home," answered the distinct, quiet voice.
+
+No, there was no hope; his Daisy's daughter was not in the least like
+her. Well, she was at least her child. He must take what comfort he
+could out of the relationship without the likeness.
+
+"You are Daisy's Wilson's child?" he said, and now again his hands were
+outstretched, and the smiles had returned to his face.
+
+But Mrs. Home, completely in the dark, rather startled than otherwise,
+made no gesture of welcome. Her hands were not held out, her lips
+remained unsmiling.
+
+"My mother's name was Wilson," she admitted. "Yes, it was Daisy Wilson.
+I did not recognize it at first, as of course she was never called it to
+me."
+
+"Ay, ay, likely enough; but she was never anything else to me, just
+always little bright Daisy Wilson. I thought I'd find her before me,
+something as she used to be, a bit stoutened, perhaps, but not greatly
+altered. I have pictured her for the last six and twenty years just as I
+saw her last the bonniest bit of a thing the sun ever shone on."
+
+"You knew my mother then?" said Charlotte.
+
+"Knew her, lass, knew her! good heavens, what next? Did Daisy never
+speak to you about me? I don't believe it. Before I left it was 'Sandy,
+Sandy,' from morning to night. It was not in her to forget. Tell me,
+lass, did you never hear of your mother's big brother, Sandy Wilson who
+went to Australia?"
+
+Charlotte's eyes began to dilate.
+
+"My mother often spoke of this brother," she said slowly. "My mother
+would have liked to have met you, had you known him. She never fretted
+for any one so much, except when my father died. My mother's brother is
+dead for many, many years. They are together now."
+
+"In spirit, lass, in spirit, I doubt not, but not otherwise. Why, is it
+possible you don't know me? Aren't you prepared? Did not your little
+lass tell you? I am your mother's brother, I am alive, as you see; I am
+Sandy Wilson."
+
+"You!" Charlotte looked at him half incredulous, half pained; but then a
+sudden joy came over her, she forgot the vulgarity in the love for her
+dead mother which still shone out of those honest blue eyes. She glanced
+up again; those eyes were her mother's eyes; instantly they acted as
+open sesame to her heart. She held out her own hands now and her eyes
+filled with tears. "Forgive me, Uncle Sandy; if you are indeed he. I did
+not know you, I could not know you; I have believed you dead for many,
+many years. But you have a look of my mother. She would welcome you
+to-night, so I must in her name."
+
+"Will you kiss me in her name, my lassie? Ah! that's good; 'tis long
+since I kissed one of my own. Yes, I've come back. I never did die, you
+see, though I knew that the report had reached England. I let it be, I
+did not trouble to contradict it."
+
+"But it was wrong of you, Uncle Sandy. You said you loved my mother, and
+that report of your death gave her terrible pain."
+
+"I am sorry for it, lass; I never guessed about the pain, though I might
+have thought of it, sweet soul; but I knew she was married to a very
+rich man. I was poor, so poor as to know what hunger meant, I thought
+she could do without me. I went up into the bush and stayed there until
+I had made my fortune. After a time I got accustomed to knowing that
+every one in England would think me dead. I used to laugh in my sleeve
+at the surprise I meant to give Daisy when I walked in rich some day.
+Well, well, what an old fool I made of myself! I never once thought of
+_her_ dying. She is dead, and I am left; there's no one to welcome me
+back, after all."
+
+"She has been dead for over six years now; but come to the fire, uncle.
+I welcome you in my mother's name, and my children will love you. Now
+you must sit there and I will ring for Anne to bring in some tea."
+
+After this the uncle and niece talked together for some time. Anne
+brought in the tea, and looked at them with eyes rendered round and
+large from excitement. They both nodded to her, for both felt pleased.
+Uncle Sandy had discovered that his niece had a voice like her mother,
+if not a face. It was delicious to him to sit so close to his own flesh
+and blood, and Charlotte, who had heard of Uncle Sandy during all her
+early days, who had seen her mother's eyes filling with tears when she
+mentioned him, felt now that for her mother's sake she could not make
+enough of this newly recovered relation. His rough, honest, kindly
+nature was finding its way too, very straight, to her heart. There was
+nothing innately common or vulgar about Uncle Sandy. Charlotte was a
+keen observer of character, and she detected the ring of the true metal
+within.
+
+"To think I should have mistaken my uncle for some one going to see
+after the drawing-rooms!" she said after a pause.
+
+"Ay, lass, you looked fairly dazed when I came up with my hand stretched
+out, hoping for a kiss," he said; "but no wonder: I never reckoned that
+that little maid-servant of yours would have told you nothing--nothing
+whatever. But what is that about drawing-rooms? You don't mean to tell
+me that you, Daisy Wilson's child, let lodgings?"
+
+The color flew into Charlotte's pale, proud face.
+
+"We do not need all the room in this house, so I generally have some one
+in the drawing-room," she answered--"the drawing-room and the bedroom
+beyond."
+
+"Are your rooms free now, Charlotte?"
+
+"No; but in a week they will be."
+
+"Suppose you let the old uncle have them? I will pay any rent you like
+to ask. The fact is, I have lost my whole heart to that little Daisy of
+yours. I want to be near the child. I won't spoil her more than I can
+help."
+
+"Then I _was_ called down to my drawing-room lodger," answered Charlotte
+with a faint sweet smile.
+
+"Yes, and I don't expect he will want to leave in a hurry. The fact is I
+have been so utterly friendless and homeless for such a number of years,
+that it is _nearly_ as good as finding Daisy to be with her child. But,
+my dear lass, you will forgive a frank old man asking you a frank
+question. It's all moonshine about the house being too big for you.
+These houses are not so very monstrous, to judge by the looks of them.
+You have three children, so you tell me; if you let two rooms you must
+be a bit crippled, put as good a face on it as you will."
+
+"We also want the money. The want of the help this brings in, in the
+matter of rent, is our true reason for letting," replied Charlotte. "You
+see, Uncle Sandy, my husband is a clergyman--a clergyman and curate.
+Such men are never over-burdened with money."
+
+Sandy Wilson had small, penetrating, but very bright blue eyes; they
+were fixed now earnestly on his niece. He took a glance round the little
+parlor where they sat. He was an old Australian, accustomed to bush
+life, but even he noticed how threadbare was the carpet, how poor and
+meagre the window curtains. Charlotte herself, too, how thin and worn
+she was! Could those pale and hollow cheeks mean insufficient food?
+
+"How old are you, niece Charlotte?" he suddenly demanded.
+
+"I was twenty-five my last birthday."
+
+"Forgive me, my lass, you look very old for that; I should have taken
+you for thirty. The fact is you are poor, nothing ages like poverty. And
+the greater fact remains that it was full time for old Uncle Sandy to
+come home and prove himself of some use in the world."
+
+"We are poor," answered Charlotte; "we certainly are very poor. But
+poverty is not the greatest of troubles."
+
+"No, but it puzzles me why you should be poor. When I left my little
+sister, she had been married about three months to that rich old Mr.
+Harman. He seemed devoted to her. He had surrounded her with wealth; and
+he assured me when I came to bid her good-bye, and she put her dear arms
+round my neck, that my little darling should never want for anything. He
+was a good old man, ages too old of course for my bright little Daisy.
+But it seemed better than leaving her as a governess. It was my one
+comfort when parting with Daisy, to feel that she could never want for
+anything that money could get her."
+
+"My mother has told me that during my father's life she lived as a rich
+woman," answered Charlotte.
+
+"That means she did not afterwards. Did the old gentleman die bankrupt?
+I don't see how he could, for he had retired from business."
+
+"No, my father died a very wealthy man."
+
+"Then he did not leave her well off! You don't surely mean to tell me,
+Charlotte Home, that that old man dared to do anything but leave a large
+sum of money to your pretty young mother and to you? Why, be told me
+with his own lips that he would make most ample provision for her."
+
+At these words Charlotte's white face grew yet whiter, and a piteous
+look of terror came into her eyes, but all she said was,--
+
+"Nevertheless, after my father's death we were poor."
+
+"Oh! the scoundrel! 'Tis well he's out of Sandy Wilson's power. To think
+of my Daisy not profiting by his wealth at least. How much did he leave
+to your mother, Charlotte?
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Nothing!" Here Uncle Sandy sprang to his feet. "Mr. Harman left my
+Daisy nothing--nothing whatever! Then he did die bankrupt?"
+
+"No, Uncle Sandy, he died rich."
+
+"And her name was not mentioned in the will?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Ah! there was a will. Have you seen it?"
+
+"No; why should I? It all happened long, long ago."
+
+"And your mother never saw the will?"
+
+"I don't think she did."
+
+"Then to whom, may I ask, did he leave all his wealth?"
+
+"You forget, Uncle Sandy, that my father was married before. He had two
+sons by his first marriage. These sons came in for his fortune. They
+were--they said they were, sorry for my mother, and they settled on her
+one hundred and fifty pounds a year for her life."
+
+"Ay, I suppose you have got that pittance now?"
+
+"No, it was only for my mother. When she died six years ago it ceased."
+
+Sandy Wilson began to pace up and down the little parlor.
+
+"Nothing left to Daisy. Daisy's name not mentioned in the will. Brothers
+sorry--pretend to be. Give my Daisy a pittance for her life--nothing to
+the child. Charlotte," he suddenly stopped in front of his niece, "don't
+you think you are a good bit of a fool?"
+
+"Perhaps I am, Uncle Sandy. But I never recognized the fact before."
+
+"You believe that story about the will?"
+
+"I tell you the tale as my own mother told it to me."
+
+"Ay, Daisy was always too credulous, a foolish little thing, if you
+like. But you--you are of different metal. You believe that story?"
+
+"I--I--Don't ask me, Uncle Sandy."
+
+"You do not believe it?"
+
+"If you will have it so, I do not believe it."
+
+"Ay, my lass, shake hands on that. You are not a fool. Oh! it was full
+time Sandy Wilson came home. Sandy can see to your rights, late as it is
+in the day."
+
+Mrs. Home was silent. The old Australian was stamping his feet on the
+hearthrug. His face was now crimson from excitement and anger.
+
+"Charlotte," he repeated, "why don't you speak to me? I have come back
+to see to your rights. Do you hear me, niece?"
+
+Charlotte put her hand into his.
+
+"Thank you, Uncle Sandy." Then she added, "You can do nothing. I mean
+you can take no legal steps without my knowledge and sanction."
+
+"Well, it is not likely you will withhold your sanction from getting
+back what is your own. Charlotte, where are these half-brothers of
+yours? Why, they were a good bit older than Daisy. They must be old men
+now. Where are they, Charlotte? Are they alive?"
+
+"They are alive. I will tell you about them to-morrow. I want to think
+to-night."
+
+"And so do I want to think. I will run away now, my dear niece. I am
+staggered by this tale, perfectly staggered. I will look in to-morrow
+evening, and you shall tell me more. Ay, I guess they never reckoned
+that Sandy Wilson would turn up. They thought with the rest of you that
+old Sandy--sharp old Sandy was safe in his grave, and they said to
+themselves that dead men tell no tales. If I remember aright, your
+father told me I should be one of the trustees to my sister. He _did_
+mention it; though, just like me, I never thought of it until this
+minute. Is it likely that he would speak of trustees if he meant to cut
+off that poor darling with a shilling? Oh! it's preposterous,
+preposterous. But I'll sleep over it. We'll think how best to expose the
+villains!"
+
+"Uncle Sandy, you will promise me one thing: you will do nothing until
+you see me again?"
+
+"Well, child, I can scarcely do much. I don't want to be long away from
+you, niece Charlotte. I'll look in to-morrow, about six o'clock. See
+that little Daisy is up, and introduce me to your husband. Oh! it was
+plain to be seen that Sandy Wilson was wanting in this country. Bless my
+old heart, what a Providence is over everything! Oh, the scoundrels! But
+Sandy will expose them. My Daisy cut off with a shilling!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+"SOMETHING BETTER FOR THE CHILDREN THAN MONEY."
+
+
+After her newly found uncle had left her, Charlotte Home sat on by the
+fire; her face was very pale; she looked a quite broken-down and
+troubled woman. Little Anne, almost on tiptoe, crept into the room. She
+was all quivering with excitement. She expected her mistress to turn to
+her--almost to fling her arms around her neck--to thank her with the
+warmest expressions for what she had done.
+
+"Anne," rehearsed the little maid, imagining Charlotte's words, "you
+have saved us all; you are our lifelong benefactor. Henceforth partake
+of our wealth. Be not only our servant, but our friend."
+
+This was how matters would have been managed in the _Family Herald_.
+Anne raised expectant eyes to her mistress's face, but one glance at it
+scattered her golden visions. She softly lifted up the tea-tray and
+withdrew. Her faith and hope had gone down to zero. She was a very
+dispirited little girl as she returned to her kitchen. That uncle from
+Australia was not a rich uncle. Missis would never look so miserable if
+he was rich. As a poor relation he was no use whatever; and Anne had
+done nothing for the family she loved. Oh, how _very_ disappointing life
+was after all!
+
+Meanwhile what now troubled Charlotte Home had very little to do with
+Uncle Sandy's possible gold. She was solving another problem, and the
+task was a difficult one.
+
+For the past month Charlotte had been making up her mind to a certain
+line of action. Before she left Torquay her resolution was formed. She
+had been over four weeks there, and during those four weeks she and her
+boy had lived on Charlotte Harman's money. That money had saved the life
+of her child. When she first saw it and thanked for it, and each
+succeeding day, each succeeding hour, as she saw the color which was
+health, and the appetite which was life, returning to her darling, the
+conviction was growing upon her, that her hand could never inflict a
+blow upon the woman who had done so much for her. Her children wanted
+money, and her husband wanted money, and she herself too! A little dip
+into this world's softnesses, she owned, would be very pleasant; but,
+for all that, her hand must be still; her lips could not speak to cause
+pain and agony to one who had done so much for her. Miss Harman was
+going to be married. Was it possible that on the eve of her marriage
+she, Charlotte Home, could deal to her so cruel a blow? No, it was not
+possible. For Charlotte's sake, her father and uncle might keep their
+ill-gotten wealth. Mrs. Home believed more and more firmly that she and
+hers were robbed of their money. But now she could do nothing. She had
+been so treated by her enemy's daughter that to appear against that
+daughter's father would be impossible. As this conviction came to her,
+and she resolved to act upon it, and to let all chance of recovering her
+lost wealth go, a wonderful peace and calm stole over her. She almost
+used to fancy she heard the voice of God saying to her,--
+
+"I will provide for your children, I can give them riches. There are
+better things to be won for those little ones than what money can give.
+There is such a thing as a heavy purse and a poor and empty heart.
+Suppose I fill those hearts with goodness, and greatness, and
+generosity, and love; is not that a better portion for these creatures
+who are to live for all eternity than the gold which lasts only for a
+time?"
+
+Yes, Charlotte felt that it was a better portion. And such peace and
+contentment came to this woman during the last week at Torquay that she
+thought it the happiest week of her whole life. But now--now she sat by
+her own hearth in troubled maze. She had come back to find her resolve
+sorely shaken. With no one to help her, she had resolved to let her
+chance of riches go. She came back to find an unexpected deliverer come
+to her. A strong, brave, practical man had appeared. This man was her
+own uncle--her beloved mother's brother. He knew how to act. While she
+alone must stumble in the dark, he would know what to do. He would--he
+could get her back her own. It seemed hard to reject such help; and yet
+her resolve was scarcely shaken, and the temptation, though severe, was
+not allowed to prevail. The voice of God was still talking to the woman,
+and she was not turning from Him.
+
+Since the life of her child had been given back to her, a great softness
+and sweetness had come to Mrs. Home; she had tasted of a mother's
+bitterest cup, but God had not asked her to drink it to the dregs. Her
+dark eyes, always beautiful, had now grown very lovely, being filled
+with a tenderness which not only took in her own child, but, for his
+sake, all the other children in the world.
+
+Yes, Charlotte loved God as she had never loved Him before, and it was
+becoming impossible for her to do that which might pain Him. After a
+time her husband came in, and the two sat and talked for some time. They
+had a great deal to say, and the hours flew on as each poured out a full
+heart to the other.
+
+After a time Charlotte told of her visit from the uncle whom she had
+supposed for so many years to be dead. Mr. Home was interested, and
+asked many questions. Charlotte repeated, almost word for word, what
+Uncle Sandy had said. Her husband regarded her attentively. After a time
+he spoke.
+
+"Lottie, you remember when first you told me that queer story about your
+father's will?"
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"I own I did not believe it; I own I thought very little about it. I ask
+your pardon, my dear. I now believe you are right."
+
+"Oh, Angus!" a great flood of color came up to her face. "Oh! why," she
+added in a voice of pain, "why do you say this to me now?"
+
+"Partly from what your uncle said to-night; partly for another reason.
+The fact is, my dear wife, while you were away I had a visit from your
+half-brother, Mr. Jasper Harman.".
+
+"Angus!"
+
+"Yes, he came here one evening. He told a tale, and he made a
+proposition. His tale was a lame one; his proposition scarcely came well
+from his lips. He evidently thought of me as of one unworldly and
+unpractical. I believe I am unpractical, but he never guessed that in my
+capacity as clergyman I have had much to do with sinners. This man has a
+conscience by no means void of offence. He is hardened. Charlotte, when
+I saw him, I instantly believed your story."
+
+Mr. Home then told his wife the whole of his interview with Jasper
+Harman, and the proposal he had made to settle on Charlotte and on her
+children the three thousand pounds which had been her mother's for that
+mother's lifetime.
+
+"I gave him no answer, my Lottie," he said in conclusion. "I told him
+you were away--that I would tell you all on your return."
+
+"Then the decision is to rest with me, Angus?"
+
+"Yes, I think it must."
+
+"You do not mind whether I decline or accept?"
+
+"I trust you absolutely. You shall do as you think best."
+
+After this Mrs. Home was silent for a moment or two; then she got up,
+went on her knees by her husband's side, and laying her head against his
+breast, said,--
+
+"We will be poor, my darling--poor and blessed. I will not touch their
+gold."
+
+"My Lottie!" he answered. He did not quite understand her, but his heart
+began to beat.
+
+"I will tell you all in a few words, Angus. I longed for money--be my
+reason base or noble, I longed for money. A month ago how sorely we
+needed it! God saw our need and sent it to us. He sent it through a
+channel and by a means which tried my proud heart. I accepted the
+gracious boon, and, when I accepted it, instantly I loved the giver; I
+loved--I love Charlotte Harman. She is innocent of all wrong. Angus, I
+cannot disturb her peace. My uncle has come home. My uncle, with his
+knowledge and his worldly skill, could now win my cause for me, and get
+back for me and mine what is ours. I will not let him. These old men may
+keep their ill-gotten wealth, for I cannot break the daughter's heart. I
+made my resolve at Torquay, Angus; and, though I own I have been tempted
+to-night--yes, I believe I have been tempted--still I must let this
+money go. I will leave those wicked men to God; but I cannot take their
+punishment into my own hands. And, Angus, dearest, neither can I take
+that small sum of money; for, though I cannot prosecute, neither can I
+accept a bribe. This money comes as a bribe. Is it not so?"
+
+"Yes, Lottie, I fear it is so."
+
+"I am right not to take it?"
+
+"You are absolutely right."
+
+"Then we will not touch it. I and mine can live without it."
+
+"You and yours can live well and nobly without it, my most precious
+wife."
+
+"Ah! there is rest and peace in my heart; and the little house, though
+so poor and shabby, seems very home-like. Angus, I am so tired after all
+this! I will go to bed."
+
+Long after his wife had left him, the husband remained up. He had gone
+down on his knees, and he remained there for some hours. He had to thank
+God for his Charlotte, but even while he thanked a weight was heavy on
+his heart. Sin was very terrible to this man, and he feared that a very
+grievous sin had been committed. Long, long, into the night he cried to
+God for these sinners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+SHE COULD NOT POSTPONE HER ENGAGEMENT.
+
+
+Mr. Harman felt himself growing weaker and weaker. The disease which was
+to lay him in his grave was making slow, but steady progress. It was
+just possible that, had his mind been at rest, the weakness of body, the
+pain of body, the slow decay might have been, not removed, but at least
+arrested. Had Mr. Harman been a very happy man, he might have lived,
+even with so fatal a malady, for many years. He had lived a life of
+almost perfect physical health for over sixty years, and during all that
+time he had been able to keep mental pains at bay; but in his present
+weakness he found this impossible. His whole nervous system became
+affected, and it was apparent even to his daughter's eyes, that he was a
+very unhappy man. For her sake, however, he still did wonders. He
+dragged himself up to breakfast morning after morning, when he would
+have given worlds to remain in bed. He still went every day to his
+office in the city, though, when there, he sat in his office chair dull
+and unmindful of what was going on. Jasper did the work. Jasper was
+here, there, and everywhere; but it had come to such a pass with John
+Harman, that he now almost disliked gold. Still, for Charlotte's sake,
+he went there. Charlotte on the verge of her marriage must suspect
+nothing. In the evenings he sat with his daughter, he looked with
+apparent interest at the many presents which came pouring in, he made
+her show herself to him in each of the new dresses, and he even went
+himself with her to choose her wedding wreath and veil. But all these
+things had become such a weariness to the man that, dearly as he loved
+this one precious daughter, he began to look forward with almost a sense
+of relief to the one week of her absence. During that week he need
+disguise nothing, he need not go to the office, he need not put on this
+forced cheerfulness. He might stay in bed all day long if he pleased.
+
+That week was near now, for it was the twelfth of April. In another
+eight days the wedding morning would dawn.
+
+Charlotte was very busy. What young woman is not busy at such a time?
+Friends poured in, presents arrived at all hours. There were dressmakers
+and milliners to see and consult, from morning to night. Then Hinton
+took up some of his bride-elect's time, and the evening hours were given
+to her father. Seeing how much he liked having her all to himself after
+dinner each night, Charlotte had begged her lover not to come to see her
+at this particular time.
+
+"You will have me for all the rest of my life, John," she would say,
+"and I think it does my father good to be quite alone with me. It
+reminds him of old times." Then, when Hinton acceded to her request, she
+often added, "My father puzzles me. Is it the parting from me makes him
+look so ill and sad? I often fear that there is more the matter with him
+than he lets appear. I wish he would consult a good doctor."
+
+Hinton dared not tell her that he had consulted the very best. He could
+only try to turn her attention, and in this he believed that he
+succeeded much better than he really did. For when the night came after
+those quiet evenings, Charlotte found that she could not sleep. Was it
+excitement at her coming happiness, or was it anxiety?
+
+Anxiety was new to this happy nature--new to this prosperous life. She
+shuddered at the grim thing, as it visited her night after night, in the
+solitude of her luxurious room. But shut her eyes to it, fight against
+it, as she would, it could not be got to depart from her. The fact was,
+a dreadful thing had happened to this frank and loving nature, she was
+beginning to suspect the father whom she loved. These suspicions had
+first come into play on the night when he had fainted in her presence.
+Some words he had used that night, some expressions which had fallen
+from his lips, had aroused a new and dreadful thought, that thought
+would not go to sleep, would not depart. Was it possible that her father
+had done something wrong long ago in his life, and that the remembrance
+of that wrong--that sin--was what ailed him now? Was it possible that
+her uncle Jasper, who always appeared so frank and open, had deceived
+her? Was it possible that Hinton knew that she was deceived? These
+thoughts did not trouble her much in the daytime, but at night they rose
+to agonies. They kept sleep far away: so much so, that in the morning
+she often came downstairs heavy-eyed and weary. She blamed herself,
+then, for her mean suspicions; she said to herself, as she gave her
+father his morning cup of coffee, that no face could be more incapable
+of concealing a wrong than that noble old face opposite to her, and she
+tried to atone for her feelings by extra tenderness of voice and manner.
+But though this revulsion of feeling came with the morning, the night
+brought back the same agony. She now disliked even to think of Mrs.
+Home, she never spoke of her to John Hinton. He watched for her to do
+so, but the name of this young woman which had so intensely interested
+her never passed her lips. When Hinton told her that little Harold was
+better, and that on a certain day he and his mother would be in Kentish
+Town once more, she colored slightly and changed the subject. Hinton
+rather wondered at this. Uncle Jasper also remarked it. It was now a
+week to the wedding-day, and Charlotte was nerving herself for an
+effort. She had firmly resolved that before she really gave herself to
+Hinton, she would read her grandfather's will. She felt that nothing
+else would completely set her mind at rest. She dreaded doing this as
+much as she longed for it. Each day as it dawned she had put off the
+task, but when the day just a week before her wedding came, she felt
+that she must overcome what she called a weakness. She would learn the
+worst that very day. She had little or no idea how to carry out her
+design. She only knew that the will was kept at Somerset House, that if
+she went there and allowed herself to go through certain forms she
+should see it. She had never seen a will in her life, she scarcely knew
+even what it would look like. Nevertheless, she could consult no one.
+She must just go to the place and trust to circumstances to do the rest.
+
+On the thirteenth of April she resolved, as she put on her dress and
+hurried down to meet her father at breakfast, that before that night
+came she would carry out her design. Her father seemed better that
+morning. The day was a specially lovely one, and Charlotte said to
+herself that, before that time to-morrow, her heart would be at rest;
+she would not even allow herself to glance at a darker alternative.
+Indeed, happy in having at last firmly made up her mind; she became
+suddenly scarcely at all fearful, scarcely anything but completely
+hopeful. She resolved that nothing should turn her from her purpose
+to-day.
+
+Her father kissed her, told her he felt certainly better, and went off
+to the city.
+
+Immediately after, her uncle Jasper came in.
+
+"Lottie, child! I can take you to the private view of Mrs. ----'s
+pictures; I have just got an invitation. You know how wild you are to
+see them. Be ready at two o'clock. I will call for you then."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I cannot go with you this afternoon, Uncle
+Jasper."
+
+"Oh! You have made an engagement with Hinton. Can't you put it off? This
+is the last day for the pictures. You can go with Hinton to-morrow."
+
+"It is not an engagement with John, Uncle Jasper. It is something else,
+and I cannot put it off."
+
+All the time a rather loud voice within was saying to her, "Go and see
+the pictures. Put off the reading of the will. Be happy for one more
+day." But because this voice, which became so loud, frightened her, she
+would not yield to it.
+
+"I am very sorry," she repeated; "I should have liked it greatly. But I
+cannot go."
+
+"Well! it is a pity, and I took some trouble about it. However, it can't
+be helped."
+
+"No, it can't be helped," repeated Charlotte.
+
+Uncle Jasper went, feeling some annoyance, and also a little curiosity.
+
+"Strange cattle--women," he said to himself. "I confess I don't
+understand 'em. Charlotte, wild to get to that private view two days
+ago, now won't go because of a whim. Well! I'm glad I never took a wife.
+I rather pity Hinton. I would not be tied even to that fine creature,
+Lottie, forever."
+
+Jasper Harman had scarcely turned the corner of the street, before a cab
+drew up at the house, and Hinton came in. Charlotte had not yet left the
+breakfast-room.
+
+"Ah! my dearest, I am afraid you might be out I must hurry away at once;
+but I just called to say that I have had a telegram from Webster. You
+know how I have longed for you two to meet. Well, he is coming to town
+to-day, and I want to bring him here at three o'clock. You will be sure
+to be at home."
+
+"I am afraid I can't, John; I have an engagement."
+
+"Oh! but you must put it off, you really _must_ see Webster. He is my
+greatest friend, and is to be my best man. You really must, Lottie! and
+he telegraphs that he is coming up from Oxford on purpose."
+
+"I am ever so sorry. Could not you telegraph to him to put off his visit
+until to-morrow?"
+
+"No, my dear; he has started before this."
+
+"I am very sorry; I am unfortunate," repeated Charlotte. A certain
+degree of obstinacy, altogether foreign to her nature, had crept into
+her voice.
+
+Hinton looked at her in undisguised astonishment.
+
+"You don't mean to say that you are not going to see Webster, when he is
+coming up to town on purpose?"
+
+"John, dear, I will see him at five o'clock, I shall be home then. But I
+have an engagement at three."
+
+"I cannot bring Webster here at five, he must be on his way back then.
+You must put off your engagement."
+
+"I really cannot. Uncle Jasper has just been here, and he asked me to go
+with him to see the private views at Mrs. ----'s studio. He took some
+trouble to get the invitation for us both, but I could not go with him,
+nor can I stay in. Mr. Webster must wait to make my acquaintance on our
+wedding-day, John."
+
+"And I am to tell him that?"
+
+"Say everything as nice and polite as you can. Say that I am most truly
+sorry."
+
+Hinton turned his back on his promised bride; there was a cloud on his
+brow, he felt both hurt and angry.
+
+"Lottie! what is your engagement?" This was said while pretending to
+look down the street.
+
+Charlotte came close and put her hand a little timidly on his shoulder.
+"I know you will be vexed," she said "but I cannot tell you."
+
+Hinton held up his hand to a passing hansom.
+
+"Yes, I am vexed," he said, "but I cannot wait any longer now. You know
+I hate secrets, and I think you might have obliged me, Charlotte."
+
+"I wish I could," she said, and now her eyes filled with tears.
+
+Hinton scarcely kissed her before he rushed away, and Charlotte sank
+down on the nearest chair. The unaccountable feeling which had prompted
+her to refuse both her uncle and her lover, and to fix just that hour of
+three o'clock to visit Somerset House, was too strange and strong to be
+overcome. But the hope which had brightened her breakfast hour had now
+all departed. Her heart felt like lead within her breast, she dared not
+fully contemplate the realization of her worst fears. But they thronged
+like legion round her path.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+WHERE HAD THE MONEY CARES VANISHED TO?
+
+
+Hinton felt thoroughly angry; perhaps he had some cause. Webster, his
+college chum, his greatest friend, was coming up to town. He had heard
+many times and often of Hinton's promised bride, and he was coming to
+town, Hinton knew well at some personal inconvenience, to see her, and
+she refused to see him.
+
+Hinton, as well as Uncle Jasper, considered it a whim of Charlotte's. He
+was surprised. Nay, he was more than surprised. He was really angry.
+Here was the woman, who in a week's time now must stand up before God
+and promise solemnly to obey him for all the remainder of her life,
+refusing to attend to his most natural desire. She had an engagement,
+and she would not tell him what it was; she made a secret of it. Be the
+secret little or great, she knew how he disliked all such concealments.
+
+Was it possible that he was deceived in Charlotte after all? No, no, he
+was too really loyal to her, too sincerely attached to her: her
+frankness and sweetness were too natural, too complete, for him really
+to doubt her; but he owned that he was disappointed--he owned that he
+had not the greatness which she under similar circumstances would have
+exercised. She was keeping him in the dark--in the dark he could not
+trust. He recalled, with feelings of anything but pleasure, her last
+secret. She thought little of it. But Hinton knew how differently he had
+received it; he did not like to be reminded of it now. During the last
+few weeks he had managed almost completely to banish it from his
+thoughts; but now it came back to his memory with some force; it
+reminded him of Mrs. Home. Was it possible that he was acting wrongly
+in not searching into her rights? Was it possible that things had
+already come to such a pass with him, that he would not do the right
+because he feared the consequences? Had riches and wealth and worldly
+honor already become dearer to his soul than righteousness and judgment
+and truth?
+
+These condemnatory thoughts were very painful to the young man; but they
+turned his feelings of indignation from Charlotte to himself.
+
+It was nearly a month now since he had left Mrs. Home. When he went away
+he had provided her with another lodger. He remembered that by this time
+she must have come back from Torquay. As this thought came to him he
+stopped suddenly and pulled out his watch. Webster would not be at
+Paddington before two o'clock. He had nothing very special to do that
+morning, he would jump into a hansom and go and see Mrs. Home and
+Harold. He put his ideas into execution without an instant's delay, and
+arrived at Kentish Town and drew up at the well-known door at quite an
+early hour. Daisy and the baby were already out, but Harold, still
+something of an invalid, stood by the dining-room window. Harold, a
+little weary from his journey, a little spoiled by his happy month at
+Torquay was experiencing some of that flatness, which must now and then
+visit even a little child when he finds he must descend from a pedestal.
+For a very long time he had been first in every one's thoughts. He had
+now to retire from the privileges of an invalid to the everyday
+position, the everyday life of a healthy child. While at Torquay his
+mother had no thought for any one but him; but now, this very morning,
+she had clasped the baby in such an ecstasy of love to her heart, that
+little spoiled Harold felt quite a pang of jealousy. It was with a shout
+therefore of almost ecstasy that he hailed Hinton. He flew to open the
+door for him himself, and when he entered the dining-room he instantly
+climbed on his knee. Hinton was really fond of the boy, and Harold
+reflected with satisfaction that he was altogether his own friend, that
+he scarcely knew either Daisy or the baby.
+
+In a moment entered the happy, smiling mother.
+
+"Ah! you have come to see your good work completed," she said. "See what
+a healthy little boy I have brought back with me."
+
+"We had just a delicious time," said Harold, "and I'm very strong again
+now, ain't I, mother? But it wasn't Mr. Hinton gave us the money to go
+to Torquay, it was my pretty lady."
+
+"Do you know," said Mrs. Home, "I think you were scarcely, for all your
+great, great, and real kindness, scarcely perfect even in that respect.
+I never knew until a few days ago, and then it was in a letter from
+herself, that you are so soon to marry Charlotte Harman."
+
+"Yes, we are to be married on the twentieth," answered Hinton, "Has she
+written to you? I am glad."
+
+"I had one letter from her. She wrote to ask about my boy, and to tell
+me this of you."
+
+"She takes a great interest in you," said Hinton.
+
+"And I in her. I believe I can read character fairly well, and in her I
+see----"
+
+"What?" asked the lover, with a smile.
+
+"In brow, eyes, and lips I see truth, honor, love, bravery. Mr. Hinton,
+you deserve it all, but, nevertheless, you are drawing a great prize in
+your wife."
+
+"I believe I am," answered the young man, deeply moved.
+
+"When _can_ I see my pretty lady again?" asked Harold, suddenly. "If you
+are going to marry her, do you mean to take her quite, quite away? When
+may I see her?"
+
+"Before very long, I hope, my dear boy," answered Hinton.
+
+"He has talked of her so often," said the mother. "I never saw any one
+who in so short a time so completely won the heart of a little child; I
+believe the thought of her helped to make him well. Ah! how thankful I
+am when I look at him; but Mr. Hinton, there is another thing which
+gives me great joy just now."
+
+"And that?" said Hinton.
+
+"Last night something very wonderful happened. I was at home not two
+hours, when I was surprised by a visit from one whom I had never seen
+before and whom I had supposed to be in his grave for over twenty years.
+My dear mother had one brother who went to Australia shortly after her
+marriage. From Australia the news reached her of his death. He was not
+dead; he came back again. I had a visit from that uncle last night."
+
+"How strange!" said Hinton.
+
+"Yes; I have not heard his story yet. He met my little Daisy in Regent's
+Park, and found out who she was through her likeness to my mother. Is it
+not all like a romance? I had not an idea who the dear old man was when
+he came to visit me last night; but how glad I am now to feel that my
+own mother's brother is still alive!"
+
+Hinton asked a few more questions; then after many promises of effecting
+a meeting very soon between Charlotte and little Harold he went away. He
+was puzzled by Mrs. Home. The anxious woman he had thought of, whose sad
+face often haunted him, was gone, and another peaceful, happy, almost
+beautiful in her serenity, had come in her place. Her joy at Harold's
+recovery was both natural and right; but where had the money cares
+vanished to? Surely Charlotte's fifty pounds could not have done more
+than pay the Torquay trip. As to her delight over her Australian uncle's
+return, he rather wondered at it, and then forgot it. He little guessed,
+as he allowed it to vanish from his mind, how it was yet to influence
+the fate of more lives than his.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+JASPER'S TERROR.
+
+
+Uncle Jasper, too, left Charlotte on that special morning with some
+displeasure, some surprise, and some anxiety. Remorse, as I have said,
+did not visit the man. Long ago, a very long time ago now, he and his
+brother John had touched an evil thing. For both men the natural
+consequences followed; but how differently? John wanted to fling the
+base defilement from his soul; Jasper wanted so to bury it there, so
+deftly, so cleverly to hide it within his very heart of hearts, that it
+should not appear to dishonor him in the eyes of his fellow-men. Of the
+final judgment and its disclosure he never thought. It was his inability
+to cover up the secret; it was his ever-growing knowledge that the
+garment was neither long enough nor broad enough to wrap it round, that
+caused his anxiety from day to day. In spite of his cheerful and ruddy
+face he was feeling quite worn and old. If this continues, if these
+people will insist on pulling the house down over their heads, I shall
+fall ill like John, he reflected. He was very angry with these stupid
+and silly people, who were bringing such shame and dishonor on
+themselves. He often found himself wishing that his niece Charlotte had
+not been the fine and open character she was. Had Charlotte been
+different he might have ventured to confide in her. He felt that with
+Charlotte on his side all might yet be well. This, however, was
+absolutely impossible. To tell Charlotte would be to tell the world. Bad
+as her father was in keeping this ugly secret quiet, Charlotte would be
+ten times, twenty times, worse. What an unfortunate thing it was that
+Charlotte had put that advertisement in the papers, and that Mrs. Home
+had answered it! Mrs. Home of all people! Well, well, it came of that
+dreadful meddling of women in literature. _He_, Jasper, had known no
+peace since the day that Charlotte had wished for an amanuensis to help
+her with her silly book.
+
+Jasper on this particular morning, as he hurried off from the Harman
+house, felt less and less comfortable. He was sure, by Charlotte's
+manner, that her engagement was something very particular. He feared she
+was going to meet Mrs. Home. He came, with all his surmises, very far
+short of the real truth, but he was in that state of mind when the
+guilty fly, with no man pursuing. It had been an awful moment for old
+Jasper Harman when, a week ago, he had suddenly knocked up against that
+solitary, foreign-looking man. He had heard his voice and seen his face,
+and he had felt his own heart standing still. Who _was_ this man? Was he
+a ghost? the ghost of the long-dead trustee? Jasper began to hope that
+it was but an accidental likeness in voice and manner. For was not this
+man, this Alexander Wilson, named in his father's will, dead and buried
+for many a day? Had not he, Jasper, not, indeed, seen him die, but had
+he not stood on his grave? Had not he travelled up some hundreds of
+miles in that wild Australian country for the sole purpose of standing
+on that special grave? And had not he read name and age, and date of
+death, all fully corroborating the story which had been sent to him?
+Yes, Jasper hoped that it was but a very remarkable likeness--a ghost of
+the real man. How, indeed, could it be anything but a ghost when he had
+stood upon the man's very grave? He hoped this. He had brought himself
+almost to believe it; but for all that, fear and uneasiness were
+becoming more and more his portion, and he did not like to dwell even in
+thought upon that night's adventures. He walked on fast. He disliked
+cabs, and never took them. One of his great secrets of health was
+exercise, and plenty of it; but he was rather in a hurry; he had an
+appointment in town for a comparatively early hour, and he wanted to
+call at his club for letters. He reached his destination, entered the
+building, and found a little pile awaiting him. He turned slowly into
+the reading-room to read them. One after the other he tore them open.
+They were not very interesting, and a rapid glance of his quick, deep
+eye was sufficient to enable him to master the contents. In ten minutes
+he had but one letter left to read, and that was in a strange
+handwriting. "Another begging epistle," he said to himself. He felt
+inclined to tear it up without going to the trouble of opening it. He
+had very nearly slipped it into his pocket, to take its chance at some
+future time, for he remembered that he was already late. Finally he did
+neither; he opened the letter and read it where he sat. This was what
+his eyes rested on--
+
+     10, TREMINS ROAD, KENTISH TOWN.
+     SIR:--
+
+     According to your wish I write to you at your club. My wife
+     returned from Torquay last night, and I told her of your visit and
+     your proposal. She desires me to say, and this I do, both from her
+     and myself, that she will not accept your offer, for reasons which
+     we neither of us care to explain. We do not wish for the three
+     thousand pounds you are willing to settle on my wife.
+
+     I remain, sir,
+     Yours faithfully,
+     ANGUS HOME.
+
+     _To_ JASPER HARMAN, ESQ.
+
+This letter fell from the hands of Jasper. His lips came a little apart,
+and a new look of terror came into his eyes. So absorbed was he, so
+thoroughly frightened by this letter, that he forgot where he was. He
+neither saw the looks of surprise, nor heard the words of astonishment
+made by those about him. Finally he gathered up envelope and paper and
+hurried out. As he walked down the street he looked by no means so young
+as he had done when he got up that morning. His hat was put on crooked,
+his very gait was uncertain. Jasper had got a shock. Being utterly
+unable to read the minds of the people who had written to him, he could
+but imagine one meaning to their words. They were not so unworldly as he
+had hoped. They saw through his bribe; they would not accept it,
+because--because--_they knew better_. Mrs. Home had read that will. Mrs.
+Home meant to prosecute. Yes, yes, it was all as plain as that the sun
+was shining overhead. Mrs. Home meant to go to law. Exposure, and
+disgrace, and punishment were all close at hand. There was no doubt of
+it, no doubt whatever now. Those were the reasons which neither Mr. nor
+Mrs. Home cared to explain. Turning a corner he came suddenly full tilt
+against Hinton. The young man turned and walked down the street with
+him.
+
+"You are on your way to Charlotte?" remarked the old man.
+
+"No: I have been to her already. She has an engagement this afternoon.
+Did she not tell you? She said you wanted her to go somewhere with you,
+and this same engagement prevented it. No, I am not going to Prince's
+Gate, but I am off to Paddington in about an hour to meet a friend."
+
+Hinton spoke cheerfully, for his passing annoyance with Charlotte had
+absolutely vanished under Mrs. Home's words of loving praise. When Mrs.
+Home spoke as she had done of his brave and noble Charlotte the young
+man had felt quite ashamed of having doubted her even for a brief
+moment.
+
+Jasper had, however, been told of little Harold's illness, and Hinton,
+knowing this, continued,--
+
+"I have just come from the Homes. You know whom I mean? Their little boy
+was the one I helped to nurse through scarlet fever. Mother and boy have
+come back from Torquay like different creatures from the pleasant
+change. Mrs. Home looked absolutely bright. Charlotte will like to hear
+of her; and by the way, a curious thing, a little bit of a romance has
+happened to her. An uncle from Australia, whom she had supposed to be
+dead and in his grave for over twenty years, walked in alive and hale
+last night. She did not know him at first, but he managed to prove his
+identity. He----good heavens! Mr. Harman, what is the matter? You are
+ill; come in here."
+
+Hinton led Jasper into a chemist's shop, which they happened to be
+passing at the moment, for his ruddy face had suddenly become ghastly
+white, and he had to clutch the young man's arm to keep himself from
+falling.
+
+"It is nothing," he explained, when he had been given a restorative.
+"Yes, I felt faint. I hope I am not going to be taken bad like my
+brother. What do you say? a hansom? Well, yes, perhaps I had better have
+one."
+
+Jasper was bowled rapidly out of sight and Hinton walked on. No dust had
+been thrown in his eyes as to the cause of Jasper's agitation. He had
+observed the start of almost terror with which he had turned on him when
+he had first mentioned the long-lost Australian uncle of Mrs. Home's. He
+had often seen how uneasy he was, however cleverly he tried to hide it,
+when the Homes were mentioned. What did it all mean? Hinton felt very
+uncomfortable. Much as he loved Charlotte, it was not nice to marry into
+a family who kept concealed an ugly secret. Hinton was more and more
+convinced that there was a secret, and that this uncle who was supposed
+to be dead was in some way connected with it. Hinton was too acute, too
+clever, to put down Jasper's agitation to any other cause. Instantly he
+began to see a reason for Mrs. Home's joy in the recovery of this
+long-lost relation. It was a reason unworthy of her, unworthy and
+untrue; but nevertheless it took possession of the mind of this young
+man. The uncle ceased to be an object of little interest to him. He
+walked on, feeling downcast and perplexed. This day week would be his
+wedding-day, and Charlotte--Charlotte, beautiful and noble, nothing
+should part them. But what was this secret? Could he, dare he, fathom
+it? No, because of Charlotte he must not--it would break Charlotte's
+heart; because of Charlotte's father he must not, for it would cause his
+death; and yet, because of Jasper, he longed to, for he owned to himself
+that he disliked Jasper more and more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE READING OF THE WILL.
+
+
+Charlotte's depression did not remain with her all through the day. She
+was a healthy creature, healthy both in body and mind. It was impossible
+for her, with the bright spring sun shining, and with her wedding-day
+but one week absent, not to turn again to hope. She saw that she had
+vexed Hinton. She still felt that queer and uncomfortable desire to be
+at Somerset House, just at the very hour when her lover had pleaded for
+her society. But she reflected that when she told him the story, when
+she proudly cleared her father in his eyes, he would most abundantly
+forgive her.
+
+"He hates secrets," she said to herself; "and it is the last, the very
+last, little, tiny secret I shall ever have from my darling."
+
+By this it will be seen that she had ceased to fear her grandfather's
+will. She had ordered the carriage immediately after lunch, and now
+asked the coachman to drive to the Strand. As she lay back at her ease
+she reflected how soon now her anxiety would be over.
+
+"Dear father," she whispered to her heart, "how extra loving and tender
+I must be to him to-night! I believe him now--fully and absolutely
+believe him now. I am only doing this for John's sake."
+
+When she reached the Strand she desired the coachman to stop. She would
+not have him drive to Somerset House. Her secret was a secret, even the
+old coachman, who had known her from her birth, must not guess it. She
+told him that she had some business to transact, but that he might meet
+her at a certain part of the Embankment in an hour.
+
+The carriage rolled out of sight. Now she was alone. She was not
+accustomed to walking the London streets by herself. Certainly she had
+never been in the Strand before alone. She had dressed herself with
+studied plainness, and now, with her veil drawn tightly over her face,
+she hurried on. She had consulted the map, and knew exactly where
+Somerset House was. She also had obtained a little, a very little
+information as to how she was to act for the pursuit of her purpose,
+from a young barrister who had visited at her home with Hinton some few
+weeks before. She considered that she had gained her knowledge with
+considerable skill; and now, with a beating heart, she proceeded to act
+on it. She turned into the great square which Somerset House encloses,
+found the particular building where wills are kept, and entered. She was
+now in a large room, or entrance-hall. There were many desks about, and
+some clerks, who did not seem particularly busy. Charlotte went up to
+one of the desks, a clerk lent an attentive ear, she told her errand.
+
+"Ah! you want to read a will," said the gentleman. "You must first
+produce the proper stamp. Yes, yes, you can certainly see any will you
+desire. Just go through that door to your right, walk down the passage;
+you will see a door with such a direction written on it; ask for a
+search stamp. It will cost you a shilling. Bring it back to me."
+
+Charlotte did as she was desired. The clerk she had appealed to,
+attracted by her appearance and manner, was willing to be both helpful
+and polite.
+
+"Whose will do you want, madam?"
+
+"I want my grandfather's will. His name was Harman."
+
+"What year did he die?"
+
+"Twenty-three years ago."
+
+"Ah! just so. This is 1880. So he died in the year 1857. Do you see
+those catalogues to your left? Go up to those marked 1857. Look under
+letter H, until you find Harman. Bring the book open at that name to
+me."
+
+Charlotte was clever at carrying out her instructions. She quickly
+returned with the book opened at the desired name. The clerk wrote Mr.
+Harman's name and a number of a folio on a small piece of blue paper.
+This he gave to Charlotte.
+
+"Take this piece of paper to room number 31, along the passage," he
+said. "You will have the will very soon now."
+
+She bowed, thanked him, and went away. At room 31 she was desired to
+wait in the reading-room. She found it without difficulty. It was a
+small room, with a long table in the middle, and benches round it. At
+one end sat a clerk at a desk. Charlotte seated herself at the table.
+There were other people about, some reading wills, some others waiting
+like herself. She happened just then to be the only woman in the room.
+She drew up her veil, pressed her hand to her pale face, and waited with
+what patience she could. She was too much excited to notice how she was
+looked at and her appearance commented upon. Sitting there and waiting
+with what courage she could muster, her fear returned. What stealthy
+thing was this she was doing in the dark? What march was she stealing on
+her father, her beloved and honored father? Suddenly it appeared to her
+that she had done wrong. That it would be better, more dignified, more
+noble, to ask from his own lips the simple truth, than to learn it by
+such underhand means as these. She half rose to go away; but at this
+moment a clerk entered, gave a piece of folded paper to the man at the
+desk, who read aloud the one word,--
+
+"Harman."
+
+Charlotte felt herself turning deadly white as she stood up to receive
+it. But when she really held her grandfather's will in her hand all
+desire not to read it had left her. She opened the folio with her
+shaking fingers, and began to read as steadily as she could. Her eyes
+had scarcely, however, turned over the page, and most certainly her mind
+had failed to grasp the meaning of a single word, before, for some
+unaccountable reason, she raised her head. A large man had come in and
+had seated himself opposite to her. He was a man on an immense scale,
+with a rough, red, kind face, and the longest, most brilliantly colored
+beard Charlotte had ever seen. His round, bright blue eyes were fixed
+earnestly on the young lady. She returned his glance, in her own
+peculiar full and open way, then returned to her interrupted task. Ah!
+what a task it was after all. Hard to understand, how difficult to
+follow! Charlotte, unused to all law phraseology, failed to grasp the
+meaning of what she read. She knit her pretty brows, and went over each
+passage many times. She was looking for certain names, and she saw no
+mention of them. Her heart began to leap with renewed joy and hope. Ah!
+surely, surely her grandfather had been unjust, and her own beloved
+father was innocent. Mrs. Home's story was but a myth. She had read for
+such a long, long time, and there was no mention of her or of her
+mother. Surely if her grandfather meant to leave them money he would
+have spoken of it before now. She had just turned another page, and was
+reading on with a light heart, when the clerk again entered. Charlotte
+raised her head, she could not tell why. The clerk said something to the
+clerk at the desk, who, turning to the tall foreign-looking man said,--
+
+"The will of the name of Harman is being read just now by some one in
+the room."
+
+"I will wait then," answered the man in his deep voice.
+
+Charlotte felt herself turning first crimson, then pale. She saw that
+the man observed her. A sudden sense of fright and of almost terror
+oppressed her. Her sweet and gracious calm completely deserted her. Her
+fingers trembled so that she could scarcely turn the page. She did not
+know what she feared. A nightmare seemed pressing on her. She felt that
+she could never grasp the meaning of the will. Her eyes travelled
+farther down the page. Suddenly her finger stopped; her brain grew
+clear, her heart beat steadily. This was what she read,--
+
+     "I will and bequeath all the residue of my real and personal
+     estate and effects to the said John Harman, Jasper Harman, and
+     Alexander Wilson, in trust to sell and realize the same, and out of
+     the proceeds thereof to invest such a sum in public stocks or
+     funds, or other authorized securities, as will produce an annual
+     income of L1,200 a year, and to hold the investment of the said sum
+     in trust to pay the income thereof to my dear wife for her life:
+     and after her decease to hold the said investment in trust for my
+     daughter Charlotte to her sole and separate use, independently of
+     any husband with whom she may intermarry."
+
+Charlotte Harman was not the kind of woman who faints. But there is a
+heart faintness when the muscles remain unmoved, and the eyes are still
+bright. At that moment her youth died absolutely. But though she felt
+its death pang, not a movement of her proud face betrayed her. She saw,
+without looking at him, that the red-faced man was watching her. She
+forced herself to raise her eyes, and saying simply, "This is Mr.
+Harman's will," handed it to him across the table. He took it, and began
+to devour the contents with quick and practised eyes. What she had taken
+so long to discover he took it in at a glance. She heard him utter a a
+smothered exclamation of pain and horror. She felt not the least
+amazement or curiosity. All emotion seemed dead in her. She drew on her
+gloves deliberately, pulled down her veil, and left the room. That dead,
+dead youth she was dragging away with her had made her feel so cold and
+numb that she never noticed that the red faced man had hastily folded up
+the will, had returned it to the clerk at the desk, and was following
+her. She went through the entrance hall, glancing neither to the left or
+right. The man came near. When they both got into the square he came to
+her side, raised his hat and spoke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+TRUSTEES.
+
+
+"Madam," said the stranger, "you will pardon my intruding on you, but I
+saw it in your face. You are interested in that will you have just
+read."
+
+"Yes," answered Charlotte simply.
+
+At another time she would have given an indignant retort to what she
+would have considered a liberty. Now she turned her eyes with a mute
+appeal in them to this stranger, for she recognized kindness in his
+tones.
+
+"It was my grandfather's will," she said, responding yet farther to the
+full, kind gaze he gave her back.
+
+"Ah! then that sets me right," said Sandy Wilson, for it was he. "That
+sets me right, young lady. Now I saw you got a considerable bit of a
+shock just then. You ain't, you'll forgive me for saying so, but you
+ain't quite fit to meet any of your people for a bit; you may want them
+not to guess, but any one with half an eye can see you're not the young
+lady you were even when I entered that reading-room not half an hour
+back. I'm a rough, plain man, but I'm very much interested in that will
+too, and I'd like to have a little bit of a talk with you about it, if
+you'll allow me. Suppose, miss, that you and I just take a turn round
+the square for a few moments."
+
+Charlotte's answer to this was to turn her face again towards the
+particular building where she had read the will, and her companion,
+turning with her, began to talk eagerly.
+
+"You see, miss, it was quite a little bit of luck brought you and me
+together to-day. The gentleman who made that will was your grandfather;
+your name is----"
+
+"Harman," answered Charlotte.
+
+"Ah! yes, I see; and I--I am Alexander Wilson. I don't suppose you ever
+saw me before; but I, too, am much interested in that will. I have been
+abroad, and--and--supposed to be dead almost ever since that will was
+made. But I was not dead, I was in Australia; I came home a week ago,
+and found out my one living relation, my niece, my sister's child. She
+is married and is a Mrs. Home now, but she is the Charlotte named in Mr.
+Harman's will, the Charlotte to whom, and to her mother before her, Mr.
+Harman left L1,200 a year."
+
+"Yes," said Charlotte Harman. She found difficulty in dragging this one
+word from her lips.
+
+"Madam, I find my niece very poor; very, very poor. I go and look at her
+father's will. I see there that she is entitled to wealth, to what she
+would consider riches. I find also that this money is left for her
+benefit in the hands of trustees; two of the trustees are called Harman,
+the other, madam, is--is I--myself; I--Alexander Wilson, am the other
+trustee, supposed to be dead. I could not hitherto act, but I can act
+now. I can get that wronged woman back her own. Yes, a monstrous piece
+of injustice has been done. It was full time for Sandy Wilson to come
+home. Now the first thing I must do is to find the other trustees; I
+must find the Harmans, wherever they are, for these Harmans have robbed
+my niece."
+
+"I can give you their addresses," answered Charlotte, suddenly pausing
+in her walk and turning and facing her companion. "John Harman, the
+other trustee, who, as you say, has robbed Mrs. Home, is my father. I am
+his only child. His address is Prince's Gate, Kensington."
+
+"Good heavens!" said Wilson, shocked and frightened by her manner; "I
+never guessed that you were his child--and yet you betray him."
+
+"I am his only child. When do you wish to see him?"
+
+To this question Wilson made no answer for a few moments. Though a just
+man, he was a kind one. He could read human nature with tolerable
+accuracy. It was despair, not want of feeling, which put those hard
+tones into that young voice. He would not, he could not, take advantage
+of its bewilderment.
+
+"Miss Harman," he said after a pause, "you will pardon me, but I don't
+think you quite know what you are saying; you have got a considerable
+bit of a shock; you were not prepared for this baseness--this baseness
+on your father's part."
+
+Here her eyes, turned with a sudden swift flash of agony upon him, said
+as plainly as eyes could speak--
+
+"Need you ask?"
+
+"No, you could not have guessed it," continued Sandy, replying to this
+mute, though beautiful appeal, almost with tears. "You are Mr. Harman's
+only child. Now I daresay you are a good bit of an idol with him. I know
+how I'd worship a fine lassie like you if I had her. Well, well, miss: I
+don't want to pain you, but when young things come all on a heap on a
+great wrong like you have done to-day, they're apt, whatever their
+former love, to be a bit, just a bit, too hard. They do things, in their
+first agony, that they are sorry enough for by and by. Now, miss, what I
+want to say is this, that I won't take down your father's address to-day
+nor listen indeed to anything you may tell me about him. I want you to
+sleep it over, miss. Of course something must be done, but if you will
+sleep it over, and I, Sandy Wilson sleep it over too, we'll come
+together over the business with our heads a deal clearer than we could
+when we both felt scared, so to speak, as we doubtless do just at
+present. I won't move hand or foot in the matter until I see you again,
+Miss Harman, When do you think you will be able to see me again?"
+
+"Will this hour to-morrow do?"
+
+"Yes; I shall be quite at your service. And as we may want to look at
+that will again, suppose we meet just here, miss?"
+
+"I will be here at this hour to-morrow," said Charlotte, and as she
+spoke she pulled out her watch to mark the exact time. "It is a quarter
+past four now," she said; "I will meet you here at this hour to-morrow,
+at a quarter past four."
+
+"Very well, young lady, and may God help you! If I might express a wish
+for you, it is that you may have a good hard cry between now and then.
+When I was told, and quite sudden like too, that my little sister, Daisy
+Wilson, was dead nothing took off the pressure from my heart and brain
+like a good hearty cry. So I wish you the same. They say women need it
+more than men."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DAN'S WIFE
+
+
+Charlotte watched Wilson out of the square, then she slowly followed
+him. The numbness of that dead youth was still oppressing her heart and
+brain. But she remembered that the carriage must be waiting for her on
+the Embankment, also that her father--she gasped a little as the thought
+of her father came to her--that her father would have returned from the
+city; that he might ask for her, and would wonder and grow uneasy at her
+absence. She must go home, that was her first thought. She hurried her
+steps, anxious to take the first turning which would lead to the
+Embankment.
+
+She had turned down a side street and was walking rapidly, when she
+heard her name called suddenly and eagerly, and a woman, very shabbily
+dressed, came up to her.
+
+"Oh, Miss Harman--Miss Harman--don't you know me?"
+
+Charlotte put her hand to her brow.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I know you now; you are Hester Wright. Is your husband
+out of prison yet?"
+
+"He is, Miss, and he's dying; he's dying 'ard, 'ard; he's allers saying
+as he wants to see either you or his master. We are told that the master
+is ill; but oh! miss, miss, ef you would come and see him, he's dreadful
+anxious--dreadful, dreadful anxious. I think it's jest some'ut on his
+mind; ef he could tell it, I believe as he'd die easy. Oh! my beautiful,
+dear young lady, every one has a good word for you. Oh! I was going to
+make bold to come to Prince's Gate, and ask you to come to see him.
+You'll never be sorry, miss, if you can help a poor soul to die easy."
+
+"You say he is really dying?" said Charlotte.
+
+"Yes, indeed, indeed, miss; he never held up his head since he saw the
+inside of the prison. He's dying now of a galloping waste, so the
+doctors say. Oh! Miss Harman, I'll bless you for ever if you'll come and
+see him."
+
+"Yes, I will come," said Charlotte. "Where do you live?"
+
+"Away over at Poplar, miss. Poor place enough, and unfit for one like
+you, but I'll come and fetch you my own self, and not a pin's worth of
+harm shall come to you; you need have no cause to fear. When shall I
+come for you, my dear, dear young lady?"
+
+"The man is dying, you say," said Charlotte. "Death doesn't wait for our
+convenience; I will come with you now. My carriage is waiting quite
+near, I must go and give directions to the coachman: you can come with
+me: I will then get a cab and drive to see your husband."
+
+After this the two women--the rich and the poor--walked on side by side,
+quickly and in silence. The heart of the one was dry and parched with
+the sudden fire of that anguish and shame, the heart of the other was so
+soothed, so thankful, that soft tears came, to be wiped stealthily away.
+
+"Ain't she an angel?" she said to herself, knowing nothing, guessing
+less, of the storm which raged within her companion's soul; "and won't
+my poor Dan die easy now?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+AN OLD WEDDING-RING.
+
+
+Once in Charlotte's life before now, she had remembered her father doing
+what she considered a strangely hard thing. A valet in whom he had
+always reposed full confidence had robbed him of one hundred pounds. He
+had broken open his master's desk at night and taken from thence notes
+to that amount. The deed had been clumsily done, and detection was very
+easy. The name of this valet was Wright. He was young and good-looking,
+and had been lately married; hitherto he had been considered all that
+was respectable. When his crime was brought home to him, he flew to seek
+Charlotte, then a very young girl; he flung himself on his knees in her
+presence, and begged of her to ask her father to show mercy to him.
+Scarcely half a dozen words of passionate, terrified entreaty had passed
+his trembling lips, before there came a tap at the door and the young
+wife rushed in to kneel by his side. Together they implored; their words
+were poor and halting, but the agony of their great plea for mercy went
+straight to the young generous heart they asked to intercede for them.
+Charlotte promised to do what she could. She promised eagerly, with hope
+in her tones.
+
+Never afterwards did she forget that day. Long indeed did the faces of
+those two continue to haunt her, for she had promised in vain; her
+father was obdurate to all her entreaties; even her tears, and she had
+cried passionately, had failed to move him. Nothing should save Wright
+from the full penalty of his crime. He was arrested, convicted, and sent
+to prison.
+
+From that moment the Harmans lost sight of the couple. Charlotte had
+tried, it is true, to befriend Hester Wright, but the young woman with
+some pride had refused all assistance from those whom she considered
+strangely hard and cruel. It was some years now since anything had been
+heard of either of them. Charlotte, it is true, had not forgotten them,
+but she had put them into a back part of her memory, for her father's
+conduct with regard to Wright had always been a sore puzzle to her. And
+now, on this day of all days, she was driving in a cab by the side of
+Hester Wright to see her dying husband. She had sent a message home by
+the coachman which would allay all immediate anxiety on her account, and
+she sat back in the cab by the side of the poor and sad woman with a
+sense of almost relief, for the present. For an hour or two she had
+something outside of herself and her home to turn her thoughts to. After
+what seemed a very long drive, they reached the shabby court and
+shabbier house where the Wrights lived.
+
+Charlotte had heard of such places before, but had never visited them.
+Shabby women, and dirty and squalid children surrounded the young lady
+as she descended to the pavement. The children came very close indeed,
+and some even stroked her dress. One mite of three years raised, in the
+midst of its dirt and neglect, a face of such sweetness and innocence,
+that Charlotte suddenly stooped down and kissed it. That kiss, though it
+left a grimy mark on her lips, yet gave the first faint touch of
+consolation to her sorely bruised heart. There was something good still
+left on God's earth, and she had come to this slum, in the East end of
+London, to see it shine in a baby's eyes.
+
+"Ef you please, Miss, I think we had better keep the cab," said Hester
+Wright; "I don't think there's any cabstand, not a long way from yere."
+
+Charlotte spoke to the cabby, desired him to wait, then she followed
+Hester into the house.
+
+"No, I have no children," said the woman in answer to a question of the
+young lady's; "thank God fur that; who'd want to have young 'uns in a
+hole like this?"
+
+By this time they had reached their destination. It was a cellar; Hester
+was not so very far wrong in calling it a hole. It was damp, dirty, and
+ill-smelling, even to the woman who was accustomed to it; to Charlotte
+it was horrible beyond words. For a time, the light was so faint she
+could distinguish nothing, then on some straw in a corner she saw a man.
+He was shrunken, and wasted, and dying, and Charlotte, prepared as she
+was for a great change, could never have recognized him. His wife,
+taking Charlotte's hand in hers, led her forward at once.
+
+"You'd never ha' guessed, Dan, as I'd have so much luck," she said. "I
+met our young lady in the street, and I made bold to 'ax her and come
+and see you, and she come off at once. This is our Miss Harman, Dan
+dear."
+
+"Our Miss Harman," repeated the dying man, raising his dim eyes. "She's
+changed a goodish bit."
+
+"Don't call me yours," said Charlotte. "I never did anything for you."
+
+"Ay, but you tried," said the wife. "Dan and me don't furget as we heerd
+you cryin' fit to break yer heart outside the study door, and him
+within, wid a heart as hard as a nether mill-stone, would do nought. No,
+you did yer werry best; Dan and me, we don't furget."
+
+"No, I don't furget," said the man. "It wor a pity as the old man were
+so werry 'ard. I wor young and I did it rare and clumsy; it wor to pay a
+debt, a big, big debt. I 'ad put my 'and to a bit of paper widhout
+knowing wot it meant, and I wor made to pay for it, and the notes they
+seemed real 'andy. Well, well, I did it badly, I ha' larnt the right way
+since from some prison pals. I would not be found out so easy now."
+
+He spoke in an indifferent, drawling kind of voice, which expressed no
+emotion whatever.
+
+"You are very ill, I fear," said Charlotte, kneeling by his side.
+
+"Ill! I'm dying, miss dear."
+
+Charlotte had never seen death before. She noticed now the queer shade
+of grey in the complexion, the short and labored breath. She felt
+puzzled by these signs, for though she had never seen death, this
+grayness, this shortness of breath, were scarcely unfamiliar.
+
+"I'm dying," continued the man. "I don't much care; weren't it fur Hetty
+there, I'd be rayther glad. I never 'ad a chance since the old master
+sent me to prison. I'd ha' lived respectable enough ef the old master
+'ad bin merciful that time. But once in prison, always in prison fur a
+friendless chap like me. I never wanted to steal agen, but I jest 'ad
+to, to keep the life in me. I could get no honest work hanywhere; then
+at last I took cold, and it settled yere," pointing to his sunken chest,
+"and I'm going off, sure as sure!"
+
+"He ain't like to live another twenty-four hours, so the doctor do say,"
+interrupted the wife.
+
+"No, that's jest it. Yesterday a parson called. I used ter see the jail
+chaplain, and I never could abide him, but this man, he did speak hup
+and to the point. He said as it wor a hawful thing to die unforgiven. He
+said it over and over, until I wor fain to ax him wot I could do to get
+furgiven, fur he did say it wor an hawful thing to die without having
+parding."
+
+"Oh, it must be, it must be!" said Charlotte, suddenly clasping her
+hands very tightly together.
+
+"I axed him how I could get it from God h'Almighty, and he told me, to
+tell him, the parson, first of all my whole story, and then he could
+_adwise_ me; so I hup and telled him heverything, hall about that theft
+as first tuk me to prison and ruined me, and how 'ard the old master
+wor, and I telled him another thing too, for he 'ad sech a way, he
+seemed to draw yer werry 'art out of you. Then he axed me ef I'd
+furgiven the old master, and I said no, fur he wor real, real 'ard; then
+he said so solemn-like, 'That's a great, great pity, fur I'm afraid as
+God can't furgive you, till you furgives.' Arter that he said a few more
+words, and prayed awhile, and then he went away. I could not sleep hall
+night, and to-day I called Hetty there, over, and she said as she'd do
+her werry best to bring either the old master yere, or you miss, and you
+see you are come; 'tis an awful thing to die without parding, that's why
+I axed you to come."
+
+"Yes," said Charlotte very softly.
+
+"Please, miss, may a poor dying feller, though he ain't no better nor a
+common, common thief, may he grip, 'old of yer and?"
+
+"With all my heart."
+
+"There now, it don't seem so werry 'ard. _Lord Jesus, I furgives Mr.
+Harman._ Now I ha' said it. Wife dear, bring me hover that little box,
+that as I allers kep' so close."
+
+His wife brought him a tiny and very dirty cardboard box.
+
+"_She_ kep' it when I wor locked up; I allers call it my bit o' revenge.
+I'll give it back now. Hetty, open it."
+
+Hetty did so, taking from under a tiny bit of cotton-wool a worn,
+old-fashioned wedding-ring.
+
+"There, miss dear," said Wright, handing it to her, "that wor the old
+master's wife's ring. I knew as he set more prize to it nor heverything
+else he had, he used to wear it on a bit of ribbon round his neck. One
+day he did not put it on, he furgot it, and I, when I found he meant to
+be so werry, werry 'ard, I took it and hid it, and took it away wid me.
+It comforted me when I wor so long in prison to think as he might be
+fretting fur it, and never guess as the lad he were so 'ard on had it. I
+never would sell it, and now as I has furgiven him, he may have it back
+agen. You tell him arter I'm dead, tell him as I furgives him, and
+yere's the ring back agen."
+
+Charlotte slipped the worn little trinket on her finger.
+
+"I will try and give my father your message," she said. "I may not be
+able at once, but I will try. I am glad you have forgiven him; we all
+stand in sore, sore need of that, not only from our fellow-men, but much
+more from our God. Now good-bye, I will come again." She held out her
+hand.
+
+"Ah, but miss dear, I won't be yere fur no coming again, I'll be far
+away. Hetty knows that, poor, poor, gal! Hetty'll miss me, but only fur
+that I could be real glad, fur now as I ha' furgiven the old master, I
+feels real heasy. I ain't nothing better nor a common thief, but fur
+hall that, I think as Jesus 'ull make a place for me somehow nigh of
+hisself."
+
+"And, miss," said Hester, "I'm real sorry, and so will Dan be when I
+tell him how bad the old master is."
+
+"My father is not well; but how do you know?" said Charlotte.
+
+"Well, miss, I went to the house to-day, a-looking fur you and the
+servant she told me, she said as there worn't never a hope, as the old
+master were safe to die."
+
+"Then maybe I can tell himself hup in heaven as I quite furgives him,"
+said Dan Wright.
+
+Charlotte glanced from one speaker to the other in a kind of terrible
+astonishment. Suddenly she knew on whose brow she had seen that awful
+grayness, from whose lips she had heard that short and hurried breath. A
+kind of spasm of great agony suddenly contracted her heart. Without a
+word, however, she rose to her feet, gave the wife money for her present
+needs, bade the dying husband good-bye, and stepped into the cab which
+still waited for her. It was really late, and all daylight had faded as
+she gave the direction for her own luxurious home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+THREE FACTS.
+
+
+Dinner was more than half over when she reached Prince's Gate. She was
+glad of this. She went straight up to her own room and sent for her
+maid.
+
+"Ward, I am very tired and not very well. I shall not go down again
+to-night, nor do I wish to see any one. Please bring up a cup of strong
+tea here, and a little dry toast, and then you may leave me. I shall not
+want you again to-night."
+
+"You won't see Mr. Harman again to-night, miss. Am I to take him that
+message?"
+
+"Yes; say that I have a headache and think I had better stay quiet. I
+will be down to breakfast as usual."
+
+Ward went away, to return in a few moments with the tea and toast.
+
+"If you please, Miss Harman, they have just sent the wedding dress and
+veil from ----. Are you too tired to be fitted to-night?"
+
+Charlotte gave a little involuntary shudder.
+
+"Yes, I am much too tired," she said; "put everything away, I do not
+want even to look at them. Thank you, Ward, this tea looks nice. Now you
+need not come in again. Good-night."
+
+"Good night, Miss Harman," said the maid, going softly to the door and
+closing it behind her.
+
+Charlotte got up at once and turned the key. Now, at last, thank God,
+she was quite alone. She threw off her bonnet and cloak and going
+straight to her bed flung herself upon it. In this position she lay
+still for over an hour. The strong tension she had put on herself gave
+way during that hour, for she groaned often and heavily, though tears
+were very far from her eyes. At the end of about an hour she got up,
+bathed her face and hands in cold water, drank a cup of tea, and put
+some coals on a fire in the grate. She then pulled out her watch. Yes;
+she gave a sigh of relief--it was not yet ten o'clock, she had the best
+part of twelve hours before her in which to prepare to meet her father
+at breakfast. In these hours she must think, she must resolve, she must
+prepare herself for action. She sat down opposite the little cheerful
+fire which, warm though the night was, was grateful to her in her
+chilled state of mind and body. Looking into its light she allowed
+thought to have full dominion over her. Hitherto, from the moment she
+had read those words in her grandfather's will until this present
+moment, she had kept thought back. In the numbness which immediately
+followed the first shock, this was not so difficult. She had heard all
+Sandy Wilson's words, but had only dimly followed out their meaning. He
+wanted to meet her on the morrow. She had promised to meet him, as she
+would have promised also to do anything else, however preposterous, at
+that moment. Then she had felt a desire, more from the force of habit
+than from any stronger motive, to go home. She had been met by Hester
+Wright, and Hester had taken her to see her dying husband. She had stood
+by the deathbed and looked into the dim and terrible eyes of death, and
+felt as though a horrible nightmare was oppressing her, and then at last
+she had got away, and at last, at last she was at home. The luxuries of
+her own refined and beautiful home surrounded her. She was seated in the
+room where she had slept as a baby, as a child, as a girl; and now, now
+she must wake from this semi-dream, she must rouse herself, she must
+think it out. Hinton was right in saying that in a time of great trouble
+a very noble part of Charlotte would awake; that in deep waters such a
+nature as hers would rise, not sink. It was awakening now, and putting
+forth its young wings, though its birth-throes were causing agony. "I
+_will_ look the facts boldly in the face," she said once aloud, "even my
+own heart shall not accuse me of cowardice." There were three facts
+confronting this young woman, and one seemed nearly as terrible as the
+other. First, her father was guilty. During almost all the years of her
+life he had been not an honorable, but a base man; he had, to enrich
+himself, robbed the widow and the fatherless; he had grown wealthy on
+their poverty; he had left them to suffer, perhaps to die. The will
+which he had thought would never be read was there to prove his
+treachery. Believing that his fellow-trustee was dead, he had betrayed
+his sacred trust. Charlotte could scarcely imagine a darker crime. Her
+father, who looked so noble, who was so tender and good to her, who bore
+so high a character in the eyes of the world, was a very bad man. This
+was her first fact. Her second seemed, just because of the first, even a
+shade darker. This father, whom she had loved, this poor, broken-down,
+guilty father, who, like a broken idol, had fallen from his high estate
+in her heart, was _dying_. Ah! she knew it now; that look on his old
+face could only belong to the dying. How blind she had been! how
+ignorant! But the Wrights' words had torn the veil from her eyes; the
+guilty man was going fast to judgment. The God whom he had sinned
+against was about to demand retribution. Now she read the key to his
+unhappiness, his despair. No wonder, no wonder, that like a canker it
+had eaten into his heart. Her father was certainly dying; God himself
+was taking his punishment into His own hands. Charlotte's third fact,
+though the most absolutely personal of the whole, scarcely tortured her
+as the other two did to-night. It lay so clearly and so directly in her
+path, that there was no pausing how best to act. The way for action was
+too clear to be even for an instant disobeyed. Into this fire she must
+walk without hesitation or pause. Her wedding-day could not be on the
+twentieth; her engagement must be broken off; her marriage at an end.
+What! she, the daughter of a thief, ally herself to an upright,
+honorable man! Never! never! Whatever the consequences and the pain to
+either, Hinton and she must part. She did not yet know how this parting
+would be effected. She did not know whether she would say farewell to
+her lover telling him all the terrible and bitter disgrace, or with a
+poor and lame excuse on her lips. But however she did it, the thing must
+be done. Never, never, never would she drag the man she loved down into
+her depths of shame.
+
+To-night she scarcely felt the full pain of this. It was almost a
+relief, in the midst of all the chaos, to have this settled line of
+action around which no doubt must linger. Yes, she would instantly break
+off her engagement. Now she turned her thoughts to her two former facts.
+Her father was guilty. Her father was dying. She, in an underhand way,
+for which even now she hated herself had discovered her father's
+long-buried crime. But she had not alone discovered it. Another had also
+gone to see that will in Somerset House; another with eyes far more
+practised than hers had read those fatal words. And that other, he could
+act. He would act; he would expose the guilty and dying old man, for he
+was _the other trustee_.
+
+Charlotte was very ignorant as to how the law would act with regard to
+such a crime as her father's. Doubtless there would be a public trial, a
+public disgrace. He would be dragged into the prisoner's dock; his old
+white head would be bowed low there, and he was a dying man.
+
+In the first shock and horror of finding that the father she had always
+almost worshipped could be guilty of such a terrible crime, a great rush
+of anger and almost hardness had steeled her heart against him; but now
+tenderer feelings came back. Pity, sad-eyed and gentle, knocked at her
+heart, and when she let in pity, love quickly resumed its throne. Yes;
+whatever his crime, whatever his former life, she loved that old man.
+That white-headed, broken-hearted man, so close to the grave, was her
+father, and she his only child. When she spoke to Sandy Wilson to-day
+she had felt no desire to save the guilty from his rightful fate. But
+now her feelings were different. A great cry arose in her heart on his
+behalf. Could she screen him? could she screen him from his fate? In her
+agony she rose and flung herself on her knees. "My God, help me; my God,
+don't forsake me; save my father. Save him, save him, save him."
+
+She felt a little calmer after this broken prayer, and something to do
+occurred to her with its instant power of tranquillizing. She would find
+out the doctor whom her father consulted. She would ask Uncle Jasper.
+She would make him tell her, and she would visit this man early in the
+morning, and, whatever the consequence, learn the exact truth from his
+lips. It would help her in her interview later on with Mr. Wilson.
+Beyond this little immediate course of action, there was no light
+whatever; but she felt so far calmed, that, about two o'clock, she lay
+down and sleep came to her--healthy and dreamless sleep, which was sent
+direct from God to put strength into the brave heart, to enable it to
+suffer and endure. Many weeks before Mr. Home had said to Charlotte
+Harman, "You must keep the Christ bright within you." Was His likeness
+to shine henceforth through all the rest of her life, in those frank
+eyes, that sweet face, that noble woman's heart, because of and through
+that great tribulation? We have heard tell of the white robes which they
+wear who go through it. Is it not worth while for so sacred a result to
+heat the furnace seven times?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE DOCTOR'S VERDICT.
+
+
+In her terrible anger and despair Charlotte had almost forgotten Uncle
+Jasper; but when she came down to breakfast the following morning and
+saw him there, for he had come to Prince's Gate early, and was standing
+with her father on the hearthrug, she suddenly remembered that he too
+must have been guilty; nay, worse, her father had never tried to deceive
+her, and Uncle Jasper had. She remembered the lame story he had told
+her about Mrs. Home; how fully she had believed that story, and how it
+had comforted her heart at the time! Now she saw clearly its many flaws,
+and wondered at her own blindness. Charlotte had always been considered
+an open creature--one so frank, so ingenuous, that her secrets, had she
+ever tried to have any, might be read like an open book; but last night
+she had learned to dissemble. She was glad when she entered the cheerful
+breakfast-room to find that she was able to put her hardly learned
+lesson in practice. Knowing what she did, she could yet go up and kiss
+her father, and allow her uncle to put his lips to her cheek. She
+certainly looked badly, but that was accounted for by the headache which
+she confessed still troubled her. She sat down opposite the tea-urn, and
+breakfast was got through in such a manner that Mr. Harman noticed
+nothing particular to be wrong. He always drove to the City now in his
+own private carriage, and after he had gone Charlotte turned to Jasper.
+
+"Uncle Jasper," she said, "you have deceived me."
+
+"Good heavens! how, Charlotte?" said the old uncle.
+
+"My father is _very_ ill. You have given me to understand that there was
+nothing of serious consequence the matter with him."
+
+Uncle Jasper heaved a slight but still audible sigh of relief. Was this
+all? These fears he might even yet quiet.
+
+"I have not deceived you, Charlotte," he said, "for I do not believe
+your father to be seriously ill."
+
+He fixed his keen gray eyes on her face as he spoke. She returned his
+gaze without shrinking.
+
+"Still you do think him ill?" she said.
+
+"Well, any one to look at him must admit that he is not what he was."
+
+"Just so, Uncle Jasper. So you have told me very many times, when you
+have feared my troubling him on certain matters. Now it has come to me
+from another source that he is very ill. My eyes have been opened, and I
+see the fact myself. I wish to learn the simple and exact truth. I wish
+to see the doctor he has consulted."
+
+"How do you know he has consulted any?"
+
+"Has he?"
+
+Uncle Jasper was silent for a moment. He felt in a difficulty. Did
+Charlotte know the worst, she might postpone her marriage, the last
+thing to be desired just now; and yet where had she got her information?
+It was awkward enough, though he felt a certain sense of relief in thus
+accounting for the change in her appearance since yesterday morning. He
+got up and approached her side softly.
+
+"My dear, I do own that your father is ill. I own, too, that I have, by
+his most express wish, made as light of the matter to you as I could.
+The fact is, Charlotte, he is anxious, very anxious, about himself. He
+thinks himself much worse than I believe him to be; but his strongest
+desire is, that now, on the eve of your marriage, you should not be
+alarmed on his account. I firmly believe you have no cause for any
+special fear. Ought you not to respect his wishes, and rest satisfied
+without seeking to know more than he and I tell you? I will swear,
+Charlotte, if that is any consolation to you, that I am not immediately
+anxious about your father."
+
+"You need not swear, Uncle Jasper. Your not being anxious does not
+prevent my being so. I am determined to find out the exact truth. If he
+thinks himself very ill he has, of course, consulted some medical man.
+If you will not tell me his name I will myself ask my father to do so
+to-night."
+
+"By so doing you will shock him, and the doctor does not wish him to be
+shocked."
+
+"Just so, Uncle Jasper, and you can spare him that by telling me what
+you know."
+
+"My dear niece, if you _will_ have it?"
+
+"I certainly am quite resolved, uncle."
+
+"Well, well, you approach this subject at your peril. If you _must_ see
+the doctor you must. Wilful woman over again. Would you like me to go
+with you?"
+
+"No, thank you; I prefer to go alone. What is the doctor's name?"
+
+"Sir George Anderson, of B---- Street."
+
+"I will go to him at once," said Charlotte.
+
+She left the room instantly, though she heard her uncle calling her
+back. Yes, she would go to Sir George at once. She pulled out her watch,
+ran upstairs, put on some out-door dress, and in ten minutes from the
+time she had learned the name of the great physician was in a hansom
+driving to his house. This rapid action was a relief to her. Presently
+she arrived at her destination. Yes, the doctor was at home. He was
+engaged for the present with another patient, but if Charlotte liked to
+wait he would see her in her turn. Certainly she would wait. She gave
+her card to the man who admitted her, and was shown into a room, very
+dark and dismal, where three or four patients were already enduring a
+time of suspense waiting for their interviews. Charlotte, knowing
+nothing of illness, knew, if possible, still less of doctors' rooms. A
+sense of added depression came over her as she seated herself on the
+nearest chair, and glanced, from the weary and suffering faces of those
+who waited anxiously for their doom, to the periodicals and newspapers
+piled on the table. A gentleman seated not far off handed her the last
+number of the _Illustrated London News_. She took it, turning the pages
+mechanically. To her dying day she never got over the dislike to that
+special paper which that half hour created.
+
+One by one the patients' names were called by the grave footman as he
+came to summon them. One by one they went away, and at last, at last,
+Charlotte's turn came. She had entered into conversation with a little
+girl of about sixteen, who appeared to be in consumption, and the little
+girl had praised the great physician in such terms that Charlotte felt
+more than ever that against his opinion there could be no appeal. And
+now at last she was in the great man's presence, and, healthy girl that
+she was, her heart beat so loud, and her face grew so white, that the
+practised eyes of the doctor might have been pardoned for mistaking her
+for a _bona-fide_ patient.
+
+"What are you suffering from?" he asked of her.
+
+"It is not myself, Sir George," she said, then making a great effort to
+control her voice--"I have come about my father--my father is one of
+your patients. His name is Harman."
+
+Sir George turned to a large book at his side, opened it at a certain
+page, read quietly for a moment, then closing it, fixed his keen eyes on
+the young lady.
+
+"You are right," he said, "your father, Mr. Harman, is one of my
+patients. He came to see me no later than last week."
+
+"Sir," said Charlotte, and her voice grew steadier and braver as she
+spoke, "I am in perfect health, and my father is ill. I have come here
+to-day to learn from your lips the exact truth as to his case."
+
+"The exact truth?" said the doctor. "Does your father know you have come
+here, Miss--Miss Harman?"
+
+"He does not, Sir George. My father is a widower, and I am his only
+child. He has endeavored to keep this thing from me, and hitherto has
+partially succeeded. Yesterday, through another source, I learned that
+he is very seriously ill. I have come to you to know the truth. You will
+tell it to me, will you not?"
+
+"I certainly _can_ tell it to you."
+
+"And you will?"
+
+"Well, the fact is, Miss Harman, he is anxious that you should not know.
+I am scarcely prepared to fathom your strength of character. Any shock
+will be of serious consequence to him. How can I tell how you will act
+when you know all?"
+
+"You are preparing me for the worst now, Sir George. I solemnly promise
+you in no way to use my knowledge so as to give my father the slightest
+shock."
+
+"I believe you," answered the doctor. "A brave woman can do wonders.
+Women are unselfish; they can hide their own feelings to comfort and
+succor another. Miss Harman, I am sorry for you, I have bad news for
+you."
+
+"I know it, Sir George. My father is very ill."
+
+"Your father is as seriously ill as a man can be to be alive; in short,
+he is--dying."
+
+"Is there no hope?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Must he die soon?" asked Charlotte, after a brief pause.
+
+"That depends. His malady is of such a nature that any sudden shock, any
+sudden grief will probably kill him instantly. If his mind is kept
+perfectly calm, and all shocks are kept from him, he may live for many
+months."
+
+"Oh! terrible!" cried Charlotte.
+
+She covered her face. When she raised it at last it looked quite haggard
+and old.
+
+"Sir George," she said, "I do not doubt that in your position as a
+doctor you have come across some secrets. I am going to confide in you,
+to confide in you to a certain measure."
+
+"Your confidence shall be sacred, my dear young lady."
+
+"Yesterday, Sir George, I learned something, something which concerns my
+father. It concerns him most nearly and most painfully. It relates to an
+old and buried wrong. This wrong relates to others; it relates to those
+now living most nearly and most painfully."
+
+"Is it a money matter?" asked the doctor.
+
+"It is a money matter. My father alone can set it right. I mean that
+during his lifetime it cannot possibly in any way be set right without
+his knowledge. Almost all my life, he has kept this thing a secret from
+me and--and--from the world. For three and twenty years it has lain in a
+grave. If he is told now, and the wrong cannot be repaired without his
+knowledge, it will come on him as a--disgrace. The question I ask of you
+is this: can he bear the disgrace?"
+
+"And my answer to you, Miss Harman, is, that in his state of health the
+knowledge you speak of will instantly kill him."
+
+"Then--then--God help me! what am I to do? Can the wrong never be
+righted?"
+
+"My dear young lady, I am sincerely sorry for you. I cannot enter into
+the moral question, I can only state a fact. As your father's physician
+I forbid you to tell him."
+
+"You forbid me to tell him?" said Charlotte. She got up and pulled down
+her veil. "Thank you," she said, holding out her hand. "I have that to
+go on--as my father's physician you forbid him to know?"
+
+"I forbid it absolutely. Such a knowledge would cause instant death."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX
+
+PUZZLED.
+
+
+The old Australian Alexander Wilson, had left his niece, Charlotte Home,
+after his first interview with her, in a very disturbed state of mind.
+More disturbed indeed was he than by the news of his sister's death. He
+was a rich man now, having been successful in the land of his
+banishment, and having returned to his native land the possessor of a
+moderate fortune. He had never married, and he meant to live with Daisy
+and share his wealth with her. But in these day-dreams he had only
+thought of his money as giving some added comforts to his rich little
+sister, enabling her to have a house in London for the season, and,
+while living in the country, to add more horses to her establishment and
+more conservatories to build and tend. His money should add to her
+luxuries and, consequently, to her comforts. He had never heard of this
+unforgotten sister for three and twenty years, the strange dislike to
+write home having grown upon him as time went on but though he knew
+nothing about her, he many a time in his own wild and solitary life
+pictured her as he saw her last. Daisy never grew old to him. Death and
+Daisy were not connected. Daisy in his imagination was always young,
+always girlish always fresh and beautiful. He saw her as he saw her last
+in her beautiful country home standing by her rich husband's side,
+looking more like his daughter than his wife. No, Sandy never dreamed
+that Daisy would or could die, but in thinking of her he believed her to
+be a widow. That husband, so old, when he went away, must be dead.
+
+On his arrival in England, Sandy went down into Hertfortshire. He
+visited the place where he had last seen his sister. It was in the hands
+of strangers--sold long ago. No one even remembered the name of Harman.
+Then he met little Daisy Home, and learned quite by accident that his
+Daisy was dead, and that the pretty child who reminded him of her was
+her grandchild. He went to visit Charlotte Home, and there made a fresh
+discovery. Had his Daisy been alive she would have wanted far more from
+his well-filled purse than horses and carriages. She would have needed
+not the luxuries of life, but the necessities. He had imagined her rich,
+while she had died in poverty. She had died poor, and her child, her
+only child, bore evident marks of having met face to face with the
+sorest of all want, that which attacks the gently born. Her face, still
+young, but sadly thin and worn, the very look in her eyes told this fact
+to Sandy.
+
+Yes; his pretty Daisy, whom he had imagined so rich, so bountifully
+provided for, had died a very poor and struggling woman. Doubtless this
+sad and dreadful fact had shortened her days. Doubtless but for this
+monstrous injustice she would be alive now, ready to welcome her
+long-lost brother back to his native land.
+
+All that night Sandy Wilson lay awake. He was a hale and hearty man, and
+seldom knew what it was to toss for any time on his pillow; but so
+shocked was he, that this night no repose would visit him. An injustice
+had been done, a fraud committed, and it remained for him to find out
+the evil thing, to drag it to the light, to set the wronged right once
+more. Charlotte Home was not at all the character he could best
+understand. She was not in the least like her mother. She told the tale
+of her wrongs with a strange and manifest reluctance. She believed that
+a fraud had been committed. She was fully persuaded that not her
+long-dead father but her living half-brothers were the guilty parties.
+In this belief Sandy most absolutely shared. He longed to drag these
+villains into the glaring light of justice, to expose them and their
+disgraceful secret to the shameful light of day. But in this longing he
+saw plainly that Charlotte did not share. He was puzzled, scarcely
+pleased that this was so. How differently little Daisy would have acted
+had she been alive. Dear little innocent Daisy, who all alone could do
+nothing, would in his strong presence have grown so brave and fearless.
+She would have put the case absolutely and once for all into his hands.
+Now this her daughter did not seem disposed to do. She said to him, with
+most manifest anxiety, "You will do nothing without me. You will do
+nothing until we meet again."
+
+This he had promised readily enough, for what _could_ he do in the short
+hours which must elapse between now and their next meeting? As he was
+dressing, however, on the following morning, a sudden idea did occur to
+him, and on this idea he resolved to act before he saw Charlotte at six
+o'clock in the evening. He would go to Somerset House and see Mr.
+Harman's will. What Daisy first, and now Charlotte, had never thought of
+doing during all these years he would do that very day. Thus he would
+gain certain and definite information. With this information it would be
+comparatively easy to know best how to act.
+
+He went to Somerset House. He saw the will; he saw the greatness of the
+robbery committed so many years ago; he saw and he felt a wild kind of
+almost savage delight in the fact that he could quickly and easily set
+the wrong right, for he was one of the trustees. He saw all this, and
+yet--and yet--he went away a very unhappy and perplexed man, for he had
+seen something else--he had seen a woman's agony and despair. Sandy
+Wilson possessed the very softest soul that had ever been put into a big
+body. He never could bear to see even a dog in pain. How then could he
+look at the face of this girl which, all in a moment, under his very
+eyes, had been blanched with agony? He could not bear it. He forgot his
+fierce longing for revenge, he forgot his niece Charlotte's wrongs, in
+this sudden and passionate desire to succor the other Charlotte, the
+daughter of the bad man who had robbed his own sister, his own niece; he
+became positively anxious that Miss Harman should not commit herself;
+he felt a nervous fear as each word dropped from her lips; he saw that
+she spoke in the extremity of despair. How could he stop the words which
+told too much? He was relieved when the thought occurred to him to ask
+her to meet him again--again when they both were calmer. She had
+consented, and he found himself advising her, as he would have advised
+his own dear daughter had he been lucky enough to have possessed one. He
+promised her that nothing, nothing should be done until they met again,
+and so afraid was he that in his interview that evening with his niece,
+Mrs. Home, he might be tempted to drop some word which might betray ever
+so little that other Charlotte, that instead of going to Tremin's Road
+as he had intended, he wrote a note excusing himself and putting off his
+promised visit until the following evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+CHARLOTTE'S PLEA.
+
+
+When at last the time drew near for him to bend his steps in the
+direction of Somerset House he had by no means made up his mind how to
+act. His sympathies were still with Miss Harman. Her face had haunted
+him all night long; but he felt that every sense of justice, every sense
+of right, called upon him to befriend Mrs. Home. His dearly loved dead
+sister seemed to call to him from her grave and to ask him to rescue
+those belonging to her, to give again to these wronged ones what was
+rightfully theirs. In any case, seeing the wrong as he so plainly did,
+he would have felt called upon to take his sister's part in the matter.
+But as circumstances now stood, even had Mrs. Home been no relation to
+him whatever, he still must have acted for her and her alone. For was he
+not the _other trustee_? and did not the very law of the land of his
+birth demand that he should see that the terms of the will were carried
+out?
+
+He arrived at the square of Somerset House, and found Miss Harman
+waiting for him.
+
+She came up to him at once and held out her hand. His quick eye
+detected at a glance that she was now quite calm and collected, that
+whatever she might have done in the first agony of her despair
+yesterday, to-day she would do nothing to betray herself. Strange to
+say, he liked her far less well in this mood than he had done yesterday,
+and his heart and inclination veered round again to his wronged niece
+and her children with a sense of pleasure and almost triumph.
+
+They began to walk up and down, and Miss Harman, finding that her
+companion was silent, was the first to speak.
+
+"You asked me to meet you here to-day. What do you want to say to me?"
+
+Good heavens! was she going to ride the high horse over him in this
+style? Sandy's small eyes almost flashed as he turned to look at her.
+
+"A monstrous wrong has been done, Miss Harman," he answered. "I have
+come to talk about that."
+
+"I know," replied Charlotte. "I have thought it all out. I know exactly
+what has been done. My grandfather died and left a sum of twelve
+hundred a year to my--to his wife. He left other moneys to my father
+and his brother. My father and his brother, my uncle, disregarded the
+claims of the widow and the orphan child. They appropriated the
+money--they--_stole it_--giving to my grandfather's widow a small sum
+during her life, which small sum they did not even allow to be retained
+by her child."
+
+"That is pretty much the case, young lady. You have read the will with
+tolerable accuracy."
+
+"I do not know in the least how the deed was done," continued Charlotte.
+"How such a crime could be committed and yet lie hidden all these years
+remains a terrible and mysterious thing to me. But that it was done, I
+can but use my own eyes in reading my grandfather's will to see."
+
+"It was done easily enough, Miss Harman. They thought the other trustee
+was dead. Your father and his brother were false to their trust, and
+they never reckoned that Sandy Wilson would come back all alive and
+blooming one fine morning--Sandy, whose duty it is to see this great
+wrong put right."
+
+"Yes, it is your duty," said Charlotte; and now, again, she grew very
+white; her eyes sought the ground and she was silent.
+
+"It is my most plain duty," repeated Wilson, shuffling with his great
+feet as he walked by her side.
+
+"I should like to know what steps you mean to take," continued
+Charlotte, suddenly raising her eyes to his face.
+
+"Steps! Good gracious! young lady, I have not had time to go into the
+law of the thing. Besides, I promised to do nothing until we met again.
+But one thing is plain enough, and obvious enough--my niece, that young
+woman who might have been rich, but who is so poor--that young woman
+must come in for her own again. It is three-and-twenty years since her
+father died. She must receive from your father that money with all back
+interest for the last three and twenty years. That means a goodish bit
+of money I can tell you."
+
+"I have no doubt it does," replied Charlotte. "Mrs. Home shall have it
+all."
+
+"Well, I hope so, young lady, and soon, too. It seems to me she has had
+her share of poverty."
+
+"She has had, as you say, her share of that evil. Mr. Wilson," again
+raising her eyes to his face, "I know Mrs. Home."
+
+"You know her? You know my niece Charlotte personally? She did not tell
+me that."
+
+"Yes, I know her. I should like to see her now."
+
+"You would?--I am surprised! Why?"
+
+"That I might go down on my knees to her."
+
+"Well, good gracious! young lady, I supposed you might feel sorry, but I
+did not know you would humble yourself to that extent. It was not _your_
+sin."
+
+"Hush! It was my father's sin. I am his child. I would go lower than my
+knees--I would lie on the ground that she might walk over me, if the
+better in that position I might plead for mercy."
+
+"For mercy? Ay, that's all very well, but Charlotte must have her
+rights. Sandy Wilson must see to that."
+
+"She shall have her rights! And yet I would see her if I could, and if I
+saw her I would go on my knees and plead for mercy."
+
+"I don't understand you, Miss Harman."
+
+"I do not suppose you do. Will you have patience with me while I explain
+myself?"
+
+"I have come here to talk to you and to listen to you," said Wilson.
+
+"Sir, I must tell you of my father, that man whom you (and I do not
+wonder) consider so bad--so low! When I read that will yesterday--when I
+saw with my own eyes what a fraud had been committed, what a great,
+great evil had been done, I felt in my first misery that I almost hated
+my father! I said to myself, 'Let him be punished!' I would have helped
+you then to bring him to punishment. I think you saw that?"
+
+"I did, Miss Harman. I can see as far through a stone wall as most
+people. I saw that you were a bit stunned, and I thought it but fair
+that you should have time to calm down."
+
+"You were kind to me. You acted as a good man and a gentleman. Then I
+scarcely cared what happened to my father; now I do."
+
+"Ay, ay, young lady, natural feelings must return. I am very sorry for
+you."
+
+"Mr. Wilson, I hope to make you yet more sorry. I must tell you more.
+When I saw you yesterday I knew that my father was ill--I knew that he
+was in appearance an old man, a broken down man, a very unhappy man; but
+since I saw you yesterday I have learned that he is a dying man--that
+old man against whom I hardened my heart so yesterday is going fast to
+judgment. The knowledge of this was kept from me, for my father so loved
+me, so guarded me all my life that he could not bear that even a pin's
+point of sorrow should rest upon me. After seeing you yesterday, and
+leaving you, I visited some poor people who, not knowing that the truth
+was hidden from me, spoke of it as a well known fact. I went away from
+them with my eyes opened. I only wondered they had been closed so long.
+I went away, and this morning I did more. I visited one of the greatest
+and cleverest doctors in London. This doctor my father, unknown to me,
+had for some time consulted. I asked him for his candid opinion on my
+father's case. He gave it to me. Nothing can save my father. My father
+must die! But he told me more; he said that the nature of his complaint
+was such that any shock must instantly kill him. He said without that
+shock he may live for months; not many months, but still for a few.
+Hearing this, I took the doctor still further into my confidence. I told
+him that a wrong had been committed--that during my father's lifetime
+that wrong could not be set right without his knowledge. I said that he
+must know something which would disgrace him. His answer was this: 'As
+his medical man, I forbid him to know; such a knowledge will cause
+certain and instant death.'"
+
+Charlotte paused. Wilson, now deeply interested, even appalled, was
+gazing at her earnestly.
+
+"I know Charlotte Home," continued Miss Harman; "and, as I said just
+now, I would see her now. Yes, she has needed money; she has longed for
+money; she has been cruelly wronged--most cruelly treated! Still, I
+think, if I pleaded long enough and hard enough, she would have mercy;
+she would not hurry that old man to so swift a judgment; she would spare
+him for those few, few months to which his life is now limited. It is
+for those months I plead. He is a dying man. I want nothing to be done
+during those months. Afterwards--afterwards I will promise, if necessary
+sign any legal paper you bring to me, that all that should have been
+hers shall be Charlotte Home's--I restore it all! Oh, how swiftly and
+how gladly! All I plead for are those few months."
+
+Wilson was silent.
+
+Charlotte suddenly looking at him almost lost her self-control.
+
+"Must I go down on my knees to you, sir? I will if it is necessary. I
+will here--even here do so, if it is necessary."
+
+"It is not, it is not, my dear Miss Harman. I believe you; from my soul
+I pity you! I will do what I can. I can't promise anything without my
+niece's permission; but I am to see her this evening."
+
+"Oh, if you plead with her, she will have mercy; for I know her--I am
+sure of her! Oh! how can I thank you?--how can I thank you both?"
+
+Here some tears rose to Charlotte's eyes, and rolled fast and heavily
+down her cheeks. She put up her handkerchief to wipe them away.
+
+"You asked me to cry yesterday, but I could not; now I believe I shall
+be able," she said with almost a smile. "God bless you!"
+
+Before Wilson could get in another word she had left him and, hurrying
+through the square, was lost to sight.
+
+Wilson gazed after her retreating form; then he went into Somerset
+House, and once more long and carefully studied Mr. Harman's will.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+NO WEDDING ON THE TWENTIETH.
+
+
+Charlotte was quite right in saying that now she could cry; a great
+tension had been removed, an immediate agony lightened. From the time
+she had left the doctor's presence until she had met Sandy Wilson, most
+intolerable had been her feelings. She would sink all pride when she saw
+him; for her father's sake, she would plead for mercy; but knowing
+nothing of the character of the man, how could she tell that she would
+be successful? How could she tell that he might not harden his heart
+against her plea? When she left him, however, she knew that her cause
+was won. Charlotte Home was to be the arbitrator of her fate; she had
+never in all her life seen such a hunger for money in any eyes as she
+had done in Charlotte's, and yet she felt a moral certainty that with
+Charlotte she was safe. In the immediate relief of this she could cry,
+and those tears were delicious to her. Returning from her drive, and in
+the solitude of her own room, she indulged in them, weeping on until no
+more tears would flow. They took the maddening pressure of heart and
+brain, and after them she felt strong and even calm. She had washed her
+face and smoothed her hair, and though she could not at once remove all
+trace of the storm through which she had just passed, she still looked
+better than she had done at breakfast that morning, when a tap came to
+her door, and Ward, her maid, waited outside.
+
+"If you please, Miss Harman, the dressmaker has called again. Will you
+have the wedding dress fitted now?"
+
+At the same instant and before Charlotte could reply, a footman appeared
+at the head of the stairs--"Mr. Hinton had arrived and was waiting for
+Miss Harman, in her own sitting-room."
+
+"Say, I will be with him directly," she answered to the man, then she
+turned to Ward. "I will send you with a message to the dressmaker this
+evening; tell her I am engaged now."
+
+The two messengers left, and Charlotte turned back into her room. She
+had to go through another fire. Well! the sooner it was over the better.
+She scarcely would give herself time for any thought as she ran quickly
+down the stairs and along the familiar corridor, and in a moment found
+herself in Hinton's presence. They had not met since yesterday morning,
+when they had parted in apparent coldness; but Hinton had long forgotten
+it, and now, when he saw her face, a great terror of pity and love came
+over him.
+
+"My darling! my own darling!" he said. He came up to her and put his
+arms round her. "Charlotte, what is it? You are in trouble? Tell me."
+
+Ah! how sweet it was to feel the pressure of his arms, to lay her head
+on his breast. She was silent for quite a minute, saying to herself, "It
+is for the last time."
+
+"You are in great trouble, Charlotte? Charlotte, what is it?" questioned
+her lover.
+
+"Yes, I am in great trouble," she said then, raising her head and
+looking at him. Her eyes were clear and frank and open as of old, and
+yet at that moment she meant to deceive him; she would not tell him the
+real reason which induced her to break off her engagement. She would
+shelter her father in the eyes of the man she loved, at any cost.
+
+"You are in great trouble," he repeated, seeing that she paused.
+
+"Yes, John--for myself--for my father--for--for you. Dear John, we
+cannot be married on the twentieth, we must part."
+
+"Charlotte!" he stepped back a pace or two in his astonishment, and her
+arms fell heavily to her sides. "Charlotte!" he repeated; he had failed
+to understand her. He gave a short laugh.
+
+She began to tremble when she heard him laugh, and seeing a chair near,
+she sunk into it. "Yes, John, we must part," she repeated.
+
+He went down on his knees then by her side, and looked into her face.
+"My poor darling, you are really not well; you are in trouble, and don't
+know what you are saying. Tell me all your trouble, Charlotte, but don't
+mind those other words. It is impossible that you and I can part. Have
+we not plighted our troth before God? We cannot take that back.
+Therefore we cannot part."
+
+"In heart we may be one, but outwardly we must part," she repeated, and
+then she began to cry feebly, for she was all unstrung. Hinton's words
+were too much for her.
+
+"Tell me all," he said then, very tenderly.
+
+"John, a dark thing was kept from me, but I have discovered it. My
+father is dying. How can I marry on the twentieth, when my father is
+dying?"
+
+Hinton instantly felt a sense of relief. Was this all the meaning of
+this great trouble? This objection meant, at the most, postponement,
+scarcely that, when Charlotte knew all.
+
+"How did you learn that about your father?" he said.
+
+"I went to see some poor people yesterday, and they told me; but that
+was not enough. To-day I visited the great doctor. My father has seen
+Sir George Anderson; he told me all. My father is a dying man. John, can
+you ask me to marry when my father is dying?"
+
+"I could not, Charlotte, if it were not his own wish."
+
+"His own wish?" she repeated.
+
+"Yes! some time ago he told me of this; he said the one great thing he
+longed for was to see you and me--you and me, my own Charlotte--husband
+and wife before he died."
+
+"Why did he keep his state of health as a secret from me?"
+
+"I begged of him to tell you, but he wanted you to be his own bright
+Charlotte to the end."
+
+Then Hinton told her of that first interview he had with her father. He
+told it well, but she hardly listened. Must she tell him the truth after
+all? No! she would not. During her father's lifetime she would shield
+him at any cost. Afterwards, ah! afterwards all the world would know.
+
+When Hinton had ceased speaking, she laid her hand on his arm.
+"Nevertheless, my darling, I cannot marry next week. I know you will
+fail to understand me. I know my father will fail to understand me. That
+is hard--the hardest part, but I am doing right. Some day you will
+acknowledge that. With my father dying I cannot stand up in white and
+call myself a bride. My marriage-day was to have been the entrance into
+Paradise to me. With a funeral so near, and so certain, it cannot be
+that. John--John--I--cannot--I cannot. We must not marry next week."
+
+"You put it off, then? You deny your dying father his dearest wish? That
+is not like you, Charlotte."
+
+"No, it is unlike me. Everything, always, again, will be unlike me. If
+you put it so, I deny my father his dearest wish."
+
+"Charlotte, I fail to understand you. You will not marry during your
+father's lifetime. But it may be very quiet--very--very quiet, I can
+manage that; and you need not leave him, you can still be altogether his
+daughter, and yet make him happy by letting him feel that you are also
+my wife; that I have the right to shield you, the right to love and
+comfort you. Come, Charlotte! come, my darling! we won't have any
+outward festivity, any outward rejoicing. This is but natural, this can
+be managed, and yet we may have that which is above and beyond it
+all--one another. We may be one in our sorrow instead of our joy."
+
+"Oh! if it could be," she sobbed; and now again she laid her head on his
+shoulder.
+
+"It shall be, Charlotte; we will marry like that on the twentieth. I
+will manage it with your father."
+
+"No John! no, my dearest, my best beloved, I cannot be your wife. Loving
+you as I never--never--loved you before, I give you up; it is worse than
+the agony of death to me. But I give you up."
+
+"You postpone our marriage during your father's lifetime?"
+
+"I postpone it--I do more--I break it off. Oh! John, don't look at me
+like that; pity me--pity me, my heart will break."
+
+But he had pushed her a little away from him. Pale as death he rose to
+his feet. "Charlotte! you are deceiving me; you have another reason for
+this?"
+
+"If you will have it so," she said.
+
+"You are keeping a secret from me."
+
+"I do not say so, but you are likely enough to think this," she
+repeated.
+
+"Can you deny it?"
+
+"I will not try, I know we must part."
+
+"If this is so, we must. A secret between husband and wife is fatal."
+
+"It would be, but I admit nothing, we cannot be husband and wife."
+
+"Never, Charlotte?"
+
+"Never!" she said.
+
+Hinton thought for a moment, and then he came up and again took her
+hand. "Lottie, tell me that secret; trust me; I know there is a secret,
+tell it to me, all of it, let me decide whether it must part us."
+
+"I cannot, my darling--my darling--I can say nothing, explain nothing,
+except that you and I must part."
+
+"If that is so, we must," he said.
+
+He was pained, shocked, and angry, beyond words. He left the room and
+the house without even another look.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+"I LOVE HIM," SHE ANSWERED.
+
+
+That evening Charlotte came softly into her father's study and sat down
+by his side. She had not appeared at dinner-time, sending another
+excuse. She was not very well, she said; she would see her father later
+in the evening. But as she could not eat, she did not care to come to
+dinner. She would like to see her father quite alone afterwards.
+Charlotte had worded this verbal message with great care, for she wished
+to prepare her father for something of extra importance. Even with the
+tenderest watching it was impossible to avoid disturbing him a little,
+and she wished to prepare him for the very slight but unavoidable shock
+she must give. Jasper dined at Prince's Gate as usual. But after dinner
+he went away. And Charlotte, when she knew this, instantly went down to
+her father. She was now perfectly calm. For the time being had forgotten
+herself absolutely. Nothing gives outward composure like
+self-forgetfulness, like putting yourself in your fellow-man's place.
+Charlotte had done this when she stepped up to her old father's side.
+She had dressed herself, too, with special thought for him. There was a
+muslin frock, quite clear and simple, which he had loved. It was a soft
+Indian fabric, and clung to her fine figure in graceful folds. She had
+made Ward iron it out, and had put it on. Of late she had considered it
+too girlish, but to-night she appeared in it knowing it would please the
+eyes for which it was worn.
+
+Mr. Harman was chilly and sat by the fire. As usual the room was softly
+but abundantly lit by candles. Charlotte loved light, and, as a rule,
+hated to talk to any one without looking at that person fully. But
+to-night an opposite motive caused her to put out one by one all the
+candles.
+
+"Does not the room look cosy with only the firelight?" she said. And
+then she sat down on a low stool at her father's feet.
+
+"You are better now, my love. Tell me you are better," he said, taking
+her hand in his.
+
+"I am well enough to sit and talk to you, father," she said.
+
+"But what ailed you, Lottie? You could not come to dinner either
+yesterday or to-day; and I remember you looked ill this morning. What is
+wrong?"
+
+"I felt troubled, and that has brought on a headache. But don't let us
+talk about me. I mean, I suppose we must after a little, but not at
+first."
+
+"Whom shall we talk about first? Who is more important? Is it Hinton?
+You cannot get _me_ to think that Charlotte."
+
+"You are more important. I want to talk about you."
+
+Now she got hold of his hand, and, turning round, gazed firmly into his
+face.
+
+"Father, you have troubled me. You have caused my headache."
+
+Instantly a startled look came into his eyes; and she, reading him
+now--as, alas! she knew how to do but too well--hastened to soothe it.
+
+"You wanted to send me away, to make me less your own, if that were
+possible. Father, I have come here to-night to tell you that I am not
+going away--that I am all your own, even to the end."
+
+"My own to the end? Yes, you must always be that. But what do you mean?"
+
+She felt the hand she held trembling, and hastened to add,--
+
+"Why did you keep the truth from me? Why did you try to deceive me, your
+nearest and dearest, as to your state of health? But I know it all now.
+I am not going away from you."
+
+"You mean--you mean, Charlotte, you will not marry Hinton next week?"
+
+"No, father."
+
+"Have you told him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Charlotte, do you know the worst about me?"
+
+"I know all about you. I went to see Sir George Anderson this morning. I
+forced from him the opinion he has already given to you. He says that I
+cannot keep you long. But while I can, we will never part."
+
+Mr. Harman's hand had now ceased to tremble. It lay warm and quiet in
+his daughter's clasp. After a time he said--
+
+"Put your arms round me darling."
+
+She rose to her feet, clasped her hands round his neck, and laid her
+head on his shoulder. In this position he kissed first her bright hair,
+then her cheek and brow.
+
+"But I want my little girl to leave me," he said. "Illness need not make
+me selfish. You can still be my one only dear daughter, and yet be
+Hinton's wife."
+
+"I am your only dear daughter," she repeated. "Never mind about my being
+any man's wife." She tried to smile as she resumed her seat at his feet.
+
+Mr. Harman saw the attempt at a smile, and it instantly strengthened him
+to proceed.
+
+"Charlotte, I am not sorry that you know that which I had not courage
+either to tell you or to cause another to tell you. I am--yes, I am
+dying. Some day before long I must leave you, my darling. I must go away
+and return no more. But before I die I want to see you Hinton's wife. It
+will make me happier to see this, for you love him, and he can make you
+happy. You do love him, Charlotte?"
+
+"Yes, I love him," she answered.
+
+"Then we will not postpone the marriage. My child shall marry the man
+she loves, and have the strength of his love in the dark days that must
+follow; and in one week you will be back with me, no less my child
+because you are Hinton's wife."
+
+"Father, I cannot."
+
+"Not if I wish it, dear--if I have set my heart on it?"
+
+"I cannot," she repeated.
+
+She felt driven to her wits' end, and pressed her hands to her face.
+
+"Charlotte, what is the meaning of this? There is more here than meets
+the eye. Have you and Hinton quarrelled?"
+
+"No, except over this. And even over this it takes two to make a
+quarrel. I cannot marry next week; I have told him so. He is vexed, and
+you--you are vexed. Must I break my heart and leave you? You have always
+given me my own way; give it now. Don't send me away from you. It would
+break my heart to marry and leave you now."
+
+"Is this indeed so, Charlotte?" he said. "Would you with your whole
+heart rather put it off?"
+
+"With my whole, whole heart, I would rather," she said.
+
+"I will not urge it. I cannot; and yet it destroys a hope which I
+thought might cheer me on my dying bed."
+
+"Never mind the hope, father; you will have me. I shall not spend that
+week away from you."
+
+"No, that week did seem long to look forward to."
+
+"Ah! you are glad after all that I am to be with you," she said. "You
+will let me nurse you and care for you. You will not force yourself to
+do more than you are able. Now that I know all, I can take such care of
+you, and the thought of that will make me happier by and by."
+
+"It is a relief that you know the worst," said Mr. Harman, but he did
+not smile or look contented; he, as well as Hinton, felt that there was
+more in this strange desire of Charlotte's than met the eye.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+"YOU DON'T WANT MONEY?"
+
+
+Sandy Wilson having again very carefully read Mr. Harman's will, felt
+much puzzled how to act. He was an honest, upright, practical man
+himself. The greatness of the crime committed quite startled him. He had
+no sympathy for the wicked men who had done the deed, and he had the
+very keenest sympathy for those against whom the deed was done. His
+little orphan and widowed sister and her baby child were the wronged
+ones. The men who had wronged her he had never seen. He said to himself
+that he had no sympathy, no sympathy whatever for Mr. Harman. What if he
+was a dying man, was that fact to screen him? Was he to be allowed to go
+down to his grave in peace, his gray head appearing to be to him a crown
+of glory, honored by the world, cheered for his great success in life?
+Was all this to be allowed to continue when he was worthy not of
+applause but of hisses, of the world's most bitter opprobrium?
+
+And yet Sandy felt that, little or indeed no pity as he had for this
+most wicked man, even if Charlotte had not come to him and pleaded with
+eyes, voice, and manner he could scarcely have exposed Mr. Harman. He
+could scarcely, after hearing that great doctor's verdict, have gone up
+to the old man and said that which would hurry him without an instant's
+time for repentance, to judgment.
+
+Alexander Wilson believed most fully in a judgment to come. When he
+thought of it now, a certain sense of relief came over him. He need not
+trouble so sorely; he might leave this sinner to his God. It is to be
+feared that he thought more of God's justice than of His loving mercy
+and forgiveness, as he decided to leave John Harman in His hands.
+
+That evening at six o'clock he was to be again with Charlotte Home. For
+Charlotte Harman's sake, he had denied himself that pleasure the night
+before; but this evening the solitary man might enjoy the keen pleasure
+of being with his very own. Mrs. Home was his nearest living
+relation--the child of his own loved sister. He did not know yet whether
+he could love her at all as he had loved his little Daisy; but he felt
+quite sure that her children would twine themselves round his heart; for
+already the remembrance of Daisy Home was causing it to beat high with
+pleasure.
+
+As the hour approached for his visit, he loaded himself with presents
+not only for the children, but for the whole family. He said to himself
+with much delight, that however much Mr. Harman's will might be tied up
+for the present, yet Sandy Wilson's purse was open. He had far less idea
+than Charlotte Harman what children really liked, but he loaded himself
+with toys, cakes, and sweeties; and for his special pet Daisy over and
+above the other two he bought the very largest doll that a Regent Street
+shop could furnish him with. This doll was as heavy as a baby, and by no
+means so beautiful to look at as its smaller companions. But Sandy was
+no judge in such matters.
+
+With his presents for the adults of the party he was more fortunate. For
+his niece he purchased a black silk, which in softness, lustre, and
+quality could not be surpassed; for Mr. Home he bought two dozen very
+old port; for Anne, a bright blue merino dress.
+
+These goods were packed into a four-wheeler, and, punctually at six
+o'clock, that well-laden cab drew up at 10, Tremins Road. Three eager
+pairs of eyes watched the unpacking, for the three pretty children,
+dressed in their best, were in the dining-room; Mr. Home was also
+present, and Charlotte had laid her tea-table with several unwonted
+dainties in honor of her uncle's visit. Anne, the little maid, was
+fluttering about; that well-laden cab had raised her spirits and her
+hopes. She flew in and out, helping the cabby to bring the numerous
+parcels into the hall.
+
+"Ah! Annie, my girl, here's something for you," said Uncle Sandy,
+tossing her dress to her. After which, it is to be feared, Anne went off
+her head for a little bit.
+
+The children, headed by their mother, came into the little hall to meet
+and welcome their uncle. He entered the dining-room with Daisy riding on
+his shoulder. Then before tea could even be thought of, the presents
+must be discussed. The cakes, the sweeties, the toys were opened out;
+the children scampered about, laughed, shouted, and kissed the old
+Australian. Never in all his life had Uncle Sandy felt so happy.
+
+Over an hour passed in this way, then the mother's firm voice was heard.
+The little heads were raised obediently. Good-night kisses were given,
+and Harold, Daisy, and little Angus were led off to their nursery by the
+highly flushed and excited Anne.
+
+The tea which followed and the quiet talk were nearly as pleasant, and
+Uncle Sandy so enjoyed himself, that for a time he completely forgot old
+Harman's will, his own half promise, Charlotte Harman's despair.
+
+It was all brought back to him, however, and by the Homes themselves.
+The tea things had been removed, the gas was lit, the curtains drawn,
+and Charlotte Home had insisted on her old uncle seating himself in the
+one easy-chair which the room possessed. She herself stood on the
+hearthrug, and glancing for a moment at her husband she spoke.
+
+"Uncle Sandy, it is so good to have you back again, and Angus and I are
+so truly glad to welcome my dear mother's brother to our home, that we
+think it hard to have to touch on anything the least gloomy to-night.
+Just a word or two will be sufficient, and then we must drop the subject
+for ever."
+
+Uncle Sandy raised his wrinkled old face.
+
+"Ah," he said. "If there's anything unpleasant, have it cut by all
+means--out and over--that's my own motto."
+
+"We spoke the other night," continued Charlotte, "about my dear mother.
+I told you that she was poor--that she had to do with poverty, from the
+hour of my father's death until the end of her own life. It is all over
+for her now, she is at rest. If plenty of money could be found for her
+she would not need it. When I told you the story you expressed a doubt
+that all was not right; you said it was absolutely impossible that my
+father could have left my mother nothing; you said that either the will
+was tampered with or not acted on. Well, Uncle Sandy, I agree with you.
+I had long felt that something was not right."
+
+"Ay, ay, my girl; I said before, you had a brain in your head and a head
+on your shoulders. Trust Uncle Sandy not to know a clever woman when he
+sees her."
+
+"Well, uncle, I can say all the rest in a very few words. You said you
+could investigate the matter; that you could discover whether any foul
+play had been committed. I asked you not to do so until I saw you again;
+I now ask you not to do so at all; to let the whole matter rest always.
+In this I have my husband's sanction and wish."
+
+"Yes, Lottie has my full approval in this matter," said Mr. Home, coming
+forward and laying his hand on his wife's shoulder. "We don't want
+money, we would rather let the matter rest."
+
+"You don't want money!" said Uncle Sandy, gazing hard from the ethereal
+worn-looking man, to the woman, tall and thin, in her rusty dress, with
+every mark of poverty showing in thin cheek, in careworn eyes, in
+labor-stained hands. "You don't want money!" he repeated. "Niece
+Charlotte, I retract what I said of you--I thought you were not quite a
+fool. As to you, Home, I don't pretend to understand you. You don't want
+money?"
+
+Mr. Home smiled. Charlotte bent down and kissed her old uncle's brow.
+
+"Nevertheless, you will do what we wish, even though you don't
+understand," she said.
+
+Uncle Sandy took her hand.
+
+"Sit down near me, Niece Charlotte," he said. "And as to you, Home, you
+have a long story to hear. After you have heard it, it will be time
+enough to discuss your proposition. The fact is, Charlotte, I disobeyed
+you in part. You asked me to do nothing in this matter until we met
+again. I did nothing to compromise you; but, nevertheless, I was not
+idle, I wanted to set my own mind at rest. There was an easy way of
+doing this which I knew of, and which I wondered had not occurred to
+you. Charlotte, I went yesterday to Somerset House; doubtless, you know
+nothing of what took me there. I can soon enlighten you. In a certain
+part of that vast pile, all wills are obliged to be kept. Anyone who
+likes may go there, and, by paying the sum of one shilling, read any
+will they desire. I did so. I went to Somerset House and I saw your
+father's will."
+
+"Yes," said Charlotte. Whatever her previous resolution, she no doubt
+felt keenly excited now. "Yes," she repeated, "you read my father's
+will."
+
+"I read it. I read it in a hurry yesterday; to-day I saw it again and
+read it carefully. There is no flaw in it; it is a will that must stand,
+that cannot be disputed. Charlotte, you were right in your forebodings.
+Niece Charlotte, you and your mother, before you, were basely robbed,
+cruelly wronged; your dead father was just and upright; your living
+brothers are villains; your father left, absolutely to your mother
+first, and to you at her death, the sum of twelve hundred a year. He
+left to you both a large enough sum of money to realize that large
+yearly income. You were robbed of it. Do you know how?"
+
+"No," said Charlotte. She said that one little word almost in a whisper.
+Her face was deadly pale.
+
+"That money was left in your father's will in trust; it was confided to
+the care of three men, whose solemn duty it was to realize it for your
+mother first, afterwards for you and your children. Those men were
+called trustees; two of them, Charlotte, were your half-brothers, John
+and Jasper Harman; the other was your mother's only living brother,
+Sandy Wilson. These trustees were false to you: two of them by simply
+ignoring the trust and taking the money to themselves; the other, by
+pretending to be dead when he ought to have been in England attending to
+his duty. The Harmans, the other trustees, so fully believed me to be
+dead that they thought their sin would never be found out. But they
+reckoned without their host, for Sandy has returned, and the missing
+trustee can act now. Better late than never--eh, Niece Charlotte?"
+
+"My poor mother!" said Charlotte, "my poor, poor mother!"
+
+She covered her face with her hands. The suddenness and greatness of the
+crime done had agitated her. She was very much upset. Her husband came
+again very near and put his hand on her shoulder. His face, too, was
+troubled.
+
+"It was a terrible sin," he said, "a terrible sin to lie on these men's
+breasts for three and twenty years. God help these sinners to
+repentance!"
+
+"Yes, God help them," repeated Uncle Sandy, "and also those they have
+wronged. But now look up, Charlotte, for I have not told you all. A man
+never sins for himself alone; if he did it would not so greatly matter,
+for God and the pangs of an evil conscience would make it impossible for
+him to get off scot free; but--I found it out in the bush, where, I can
+tell you, I met rough folks enough--the innocent are dragged down with
+the guilty. Now this is the case here. In exposing the guilty the
+innocent must suffer. I don't mean you, my dear, nor my poor little
+wronged Daisy. In both your cases the time for suffering, I trust, is
+quite at an end, but there is another victim." Here Uncle Sandy paused,
+and Charlotte, having recovered her composure, stood upright on the
+hearthrug ready to listen. "When I went to Somerset House yesterday, I
+had, in order to obtain a sight of Mr. Harman's will, to go through a
+little ceremony. It is not necessary to go into it. I had to get certain
+papers, and take orders to certain rooms. All this was the little form
+imposed on me by the Government for my curiosity. At last I was told to
+go to a room, called the reading room, and asked to wait there until the
+will was brought to me. It was a small room, and I sat down prepared to
+wait patiently enough. There were about half-a-dozen people in the room
+besides myself, some reading wills, others waiting until they were
+brought. One woman sat at the table exactly opposite to me. She was the
+only woman in the room at the time, and perhaps that fact made me first
+notice her; but when I looked once, I could not have been old Sandy
+Wilson without wanting to look again. I have a weakness for fine women,
+and this woman was fine, in the sense that makes you feel that she is
+lovable. She was young, eager-looking. I have no doubt her features were
+handsome, but it was her open, almost childlike expression which
+attracted most. She was essentially a fine creature, and yet there was a
+peculiar childish innocence about her, that made old Sandy long to
+protect her on the spot. I was looking at her, and hoping she would not
+notice it and think old Sandy Wilson a bore, when a man came into the
+room and said something to the clerk at the desk. The clerk turned to me
+and said, 'The will of the name of Harman is being read at this moment
+by some one else in the room.' Instantly this girl looked up, her eyes
+met mine, her face grew all one blaze of color, though she was a pale
+enough lass the moment before, and a frightened expression came into her
+eyes. She looked down again at once, and went on reading in a hurried,
+puzzled way, as if she was scarcely taking in much. Of course I knew she
+had the will, and I did not want to hurry or confuse her, so I
+pretended to turn my attention to something else. It must have been
+quite a couple of minutes before I looked again, and then--I confess
+that I am not easily startled, but I did have to smother an
+exclamation--the poor girl must have discovered the baseness and the
+fraud in those two minutes. Had she been any other but the plucky lass
+she is, she would have been in a dead faint on the floor, for I never,
+never in all my pretty vast experience, saw a living face so white. I
+could not help looking at her then, for I was completely fascinated. She
+went on reading for half a minute longer; then she raised her eyes and
+gazed straight and full at me. She had big, open gray eyes, and a moment
+before, they were full of innocence and trust like a child's, now there
+was a wild anger and despair in them. She was quite quiet however, and
+no one else in the room noticed her. She pushed the will across the
+table to me and said, "That is Mr. Harman's will," then she put on her
+gloves quite slowly and drew down her veil, and left the room as
+sedately and quietly as you please. I just glanced my eye over the will.
+I took in the right place and saw the shameful truth. I was horrified
+enough, but I could not wait to read it all. I gave the will back
+intending to go to it another time, for I felt I must follow that girl
+at any cost. I came up to her in Somerset House square. I did not care
+what she thought; I must speak to her; I did. Poor lass! I think she was
+quite stunned. She did not resent the liberty old Sandy had taken. When
+I asked her to wait and let me talk to her she turned at once--I have
+not lived in the bush so long without being, I pride myself, sharp
+enough in reading character. I saw the girl, proud girl enough at
+ordinary times, was in that state of despair which makes people do
+desperate things. She was defiant, and told more than I expected. She
+was Miss Harman--Charlotte Harman, by the way, she said. Yes; her father
+had stolen that money; would I like to see him? he lived in such a
+place; his name was so-and-so. Yes; she was his only child. Her manner
+was so reckless, so defiant, and yet so full of absolute misery, that I
+could do nothing but pity her from my very heart. I forgot you, Niece
+Lottie, and your rights, and everything but this fine creature stricken
+so low through another's sins. I said, 'Hush, you shall say no more
+to-day. You are stunned, you are shocked, you must have time to think; I
+won't remember a thing you say about your father now. Go home and come
+back again to-morrow,' I said; 'sleep over it, and I will sleep over it,
+and I will meet you here to-morrow, when you are more calm.' She agreed
+to this and went away. I felt a little compunction for my own softness
+during that evening and night, Niece Charlotte, I felt that I was not
+quite true to you; but then you had not seen her face, poor brave young
+thing, poor young thing!"
+
+Here Uncle Sandy paused and looked hard from his niece to her husband.
+Charlotte's eyes were full of tears, Mr. Home was smiling at him. There
+was something peculiar in this man's rare smiles which turned them into
+blessings. They were far more eloquent than words, for they were fed
+from some illumination of strong approval within. Uncle Sandy, without
+understanding, felt a warm glow instantly kindling in his heart.
+
+Charlotte said, "Go on," in a broken voice.
+
+"To-day, at the appointed hour, I met her again," proceeded the
+Australian. "She was changed, she was composed enough now, she was on
+her guard, she did not win my sympathy so much as in her despair. She
+was quite open, however, as to the nature of the crime committed, and
+told me she knew well what a sin her father had been guilty of. Suddenly
+she startled me by saying that she knew you, Charlotte. She said she
+wished she could see you now. I asked her why. She said, 'That I might
+go down on my knees to her.' I was surprised at such words coming from
+so proud a creature. I said so. She repeated that she would go down on
+her knees that she might the better plead for mercy. I was beginning to
+harden my old heart at that, and to think badly of her, when she stopped
+me, by telling me a strange and sad thing. She said that she had
+discovered something, something very terrible, between that hour and
+yesterday. Her father had been ill for some time, but the worst had been
+kept from her. She said yesterday that a poor person let her know quite
+accidentally that he was not only ill but dying. She went alone that
+morning to consult a doctor, one of those first-rate doctors whose word
+is law. Mr. Harman, it seemed, unknown to her, was one of this man's
+patients. He told her that he was hopelessly ill; that he could only
+live for a few months, and that any shock might end his days in a
+moment. She then told this doctor in confidence something of what she
+had discovered yesterday. He said, 'As his medical man, I forbid you to
+tell to your father this discovery you have made; if you do so he will
+die instantly.' Miss Harman told me this strange tale, and then she
+began to plead with me. She begged of me to show mercy; not to do
+anything in this matter during the few months which still remained of
+her father's life. Afterwards, she promised to restore all, and more
+than all of what had been stolen. I hesitated; I scarcely knew how to
+proceed. She saw it and exclaimed, 'Do you want me to go on my knees to
+you? I will this moment, and here.' Then I said I could do nothing
+without consulting you, I could do nothing without your consent.
+Instantly the poor thing's whole face changed--I never saw such a change
+from despair to relief. She held out her hand to me; she said she was
+safe; she said she knew you; and that with you she was safe. She said
+she never saw any one in her life seem to want money so badly as you;
+but for all that, with you she was quite safe. She looked so thankful.
+'I can cry now,' she said as she went away." Uncle Sandy paused again,
+and again looked at his niece and her husband. "I told her that I would
+come to you to-night," he said, "that I would plead her cause, and I
+have, have I not?"
+
+"Well and nobly," answered Mrs. Home. "Angus, think of her trusting me!
+I am so glad she could trust me. Indeed she is safe with us."
+
+"How soon can you go to her in the morning, Lottie?" asked the curate.
+
+"With the first dawn I should like to go, I only wish I could fly to her
+now. Oh, Angus! what she must suffer; and next Tuesday is to be her
+wedding-day. How my heart does ache for her! But I am glad she trusts
+me."
+
+Here Mrs. Home become so excited that a great flood of tears came into
+her eyes. She must cry them away in private. She left the room, and the
+curate, sitting down, told to Uncle Sandy how Charlotte Harman had saved
+little Harold's life.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+LOVE BEFORE GOLD.
+
+
+For the first time in all her life, Mrs. Home laid her head on her
+pillow with the knowledge that she was a rich woman. Those good things
+which money can buy could be hers; her husband need want no more; her
+children might be so trained, so nurtured, so carefully tended that
+their beauty, their beauty both physical and moral, would be seen in
+clearest lustre. How often she had dreamed of the possibility of such a
+time arriving, and now at last it had come. Ever since her dying mother
+had told her own true history, she had dwelt upon this possible moment,
+dwelt upon it with many murmurings, many heart frettings. Could it be
+realized, she would be the happiest of women. Then she had decided to
+give it all up, to put the golden dream quite out of her life and,
+behold! she had scarcely done so before it had come true, the dream was
+a reality, the riches lay at her feet. In no way through her
+interference had this come about. Yes, but in the moment of her victory
+the woman who had so longed for money was very miserable; like Dead Sea
+apples was the taste of this eagerly desired fruit. She was enriched
+through another's anguish and despair, through the wrecking of another's
+happiness, and that other had saved the life of her child. Only one
+thing comforted Charlotte Home during the long hours of that weary
+night; Charlotte Harman had said.--
+
+"With her I am safe; dearly as she loves money, with her I am quite
+safe."
+
+Mrs. Home thought the slow moments would never fly until she was with
+the sister friend, who in her own bitter humiliation and shame could
+trust her. In the morning, she and her husband had a talk together. Then
+hurrying through her household duties, she started at a still very early
+hour for Prince's Gate. She arrived there before ten o'clock, and as she
+mounted the steps and pulled the ponderous bell she could not help
+thinking of her last visit; she had felt sore and jealous then, to-day
+she was bowed down by a sense of unworthiness and humility. Then, too,
+she had gone to visit this rich and prosperous young woman dressed in
+her very best, for she said to herself that whatever her poverty, she
+would look every inch the lady; she looked every inch the lady to-day,
+though she was in her old and faded merino. But that had now come to her
+which made her forget the very existence of dress. The grand footman,
+however, who answered her modest summons, being obtuse and uneducated,
+saw only the shabby dress; he thought she was a distressed workwoman, he
+had forgotten that she had ever come there before. When she asked for
+Miss Harman, he hesitated and was uncertain whether she could see his
+young lady; finally looking at her again, he decided to trust her so
+far as to allow her to wait in the hall while he went to inquire.
+Charlotte gave her name, Mrs. Home, and he went away. When he returned
+there was a change in his manner. Had he begun to recognize the lady
+under the shabby dress; or had Charlotte Harman said anything? He took
+Mrs. Home up to the pretty room she had seen before, and left her there,
+saying that Miss Harman would be with her in few moments. The room
+looked just as of old. Charlotte, as she waited, remembered that she had
+been jealous of this pretty room. It was as pretty to-day, bright with
+flowers, gay with sunshine; the same love-birds were in the same cage,
+the same canary sang in the same window, the same parrot swung lazily
+from the same perch. Over the mantelpiece hung the portrait in oils of
+the pretty baby, who yet was not so pretty as hers. Charlotte remembered
+how she had longed for these pretty things for her children, but all
+desire for them had left her now. There was the rustling of a silk dress
+heard in the passage, and Charlotte Harman carelessly, but richly
+attired, came in. There was, even in their outward appearance, the full
+contrast between the rich and the poor observable at this moment, for
+Charlotte Harman, too, had absolutely forgotten her dress, and had
+allowed Ward to put on what she chose. When they were about to reverse
+positions, this rich and this poor woman stood side by side in marked
+contrast. Charlotte Harman looked proud and cold; in the moment when she
+came to plead, she held her head high. Charlotte Home, who was to grant
+the boon, came up timidly, almost humbly. She took the hands of this
+girl whom she loved, held them firmly, then gathering sudden courage,
+there burst from her lips just the last words she had meant at this
+moment to say.
+
+"How much I love you! how much I love you!"
+
+As these fervent, passionate words were almost flung at her, Charlotte
+Harman's eyes began suddenly to dilate. After a moment she said under
+her breath, in a startled kind of whisper?
+
+"You know all?"
+
+"I know everything."
+
+"Then you--you will save my father?"
+
+"Absolutely. You need fear nothing from me or mine; in this we are but
+quits. Did not you save Harold?"
+
+"Ah," said Charlotte Harman; she took no notice of her friend and guest,
+she sat down on the nearest chair and covered her face. When she raised
+her head, Mrs. Home was kneeling by her side.
+
+"Charlotte," said Miss Harman--there was a change in her, the proud look
+and bearing were gone--"Charlotte," she said, "you and I are one age,
+but you are a mother; may I lay my head on your breast just for a
+moment?"
+
+"Lay it there, my darling. As you have got into my heart of hearts, so
+would I comfort you."
+
+"Ah, Charlotte, how my heart has beat! but your love is like a cool hand
+laid upon it, it is growing quiet."
+
+"Charlotte, you are right in reminding me that I am a mother. I must
+treat you as I would my little Daisy. Daisy trusts me absolutely and has
+no fear; you must trust me altogether, and fear nothing."
+
+"I do. I fear nothing when I am with you. Charlotte, next Tuesday was to
+have been my wedding-day."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"But it is all on an end now; I broke off my engagement yesterday. And
+yet, how much I love him! Charlotte, don't look at me so pityingly."
+
+"Was I doing so? I was wondering if you slept last night."
+
+"Slept! No, people don't sleep when their hearts beat as hard as mine
+did, but I am better now."
+
+"Then, Charlotte, I must prescribe for you, as a mother. For the next
+two hours you are my child and shall obey me; we have a great deal to
+say to each other; but first of all, before we say a single word, you
+must lie on this sofa, and I will hold your hand. You shall try and
+sleep."
+
+"But can you spare the time from your children?"
+
+"You are my child now; as long as you want me I will stay with you. See,
+I am going to draw down the blinds, and I will lock the door; you must
+not be disturbed."
+
+It was thus that these two spent the morning. When Charlotte Harman
+awoke some hours later, quiet and refreshed, they had a long, long talk.
+That talk drew their hearts still closer together; it was plain that
+such a paltry thing as money could not divide these friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+THE FATE OF A LETTER.
+
+
+Hinton had left the Harmans' house, after his strange interview with
+Charlotte, with a stunned feeling. It is not too much to say of this
+young man that he utterly failed to realize what had befallen him. He
+walked like one in a dream, and when he reached his lodgings in Jermyn
+Street, and sat down at last by his hearth, he thought of himself in a
+queer way, as if he were some one else; a trouble had come to some one
+else; that some one was a friend of his so he was called on to pity him.
+Gradually, however, it dawned upon him that the friend was unpleasantly
+close, that the some one else reigned as lord of his bosom. It was
+he--he himself he was called on to pity. It was on his hitherto so
+prosperous, young head that the storm had burst. Next Tuesday was to
+have been his wedding-day. There was to be no wedding. On next Tuesday
+he was to have won a bride, a wife; that other one dearer than himself
+was to give herself to him absolutely. In addition to this he was to
+obtain fortune: and fortune was to lead to far dearer, far nobler fame.
+But now all this was at an end; Tuesday was to pass as any other
+day--gray, neutral-tinted, indifferent, it was to go over his head. And
+why? This was what caused the sharpest sting of the anguish. There
+seemed no reason for it all. Charlotte's excuse was a poor one; it had
+not the ring of the true metal about it. Unaccustomed to deceive, she
+had played her part badly. She had given an excuse; but it was no
+excuse. In this Hinton was not blinded, even for a moment. His
+Charlotte! There, seemed a flaw in the perfect creature. His Charlotte
+had a second time turned away her confidence from him. Yes, here was the
+sting; in her trouble she would not let him comfort her. What was the
+matter? What was the mystery? What was the hidden wrong?
+
+Hinton roused himself now. As thought and clearness of judgment came
+more vividly back to him, his anger grew and his pity lessened. His mind
+was brought to bear upon a secret, for there _was_ a hidden secret. His
+remembrance travelled back to all that had happened since the day their
+marriage was fixed--since the day when he first saw a troubled look on
+Charlotte's face--and she had told him, though unwillingly, that queer
+story of Mrs. Home's. Yes, of course, he knew there was a mystery--a
+strange and dark mystery; like a coward he had turned away from
+investigating it. He had seen Uncle Jasper's nervous fear; he had seen
+Mrs. Home's poverty; he had witnessed Mr. Harman's ill-concealed
+disquietude--all this he had seen, all this he had known. But for
+Charlotte's sake, he had shut his eyes; Charlotte's sake he had
+forbidden his brain to think or his hands to work.--
+
+And now--now--ah! light was dawning. Charlotte had fathomed what he had
+feared to look at. Charlotte had seen the dread reality. The secret was
+disgraceful. Nothing else could so have changed his one love. Nothing
+but disgrace, the disgrace of the one nearest to her, could bring that
+look to her face. Scarcely had he thought this before a memory came to
+him. He started to his feet as it came back. Charlotte had said, "Before
+our wedding-day I will read my grandfather's will." Suppose she had done
+so, and her grandfather's will had been--what? Hinton began to see
+reason now in her unaccountable determination not to see Webster. She
+had doubtless resolved on that very day to go to Somerset House and read
+that fatal document. Having made up her mind she would not swerve from
+her purpose. Then, though she was firm in her determination, her face
+had been bright, her brow unfurrowed, she had still been his own dear
+and happy Charlotte. He had not seen her again until she knew all. She
+knew all, and her heart and spirit were alike broken. As this fact
+became clear to Hinton, a sense of relief and peace came over him; he
+began once more to understand the woman he loved. Beside the darkness of
+misunderstanding _her_, all other misunderstandings seemed light. She
+was still his love, his life; she was still true to herself, to the
+beautiful ideal he had enthroned in his heart of hearts. Poor darling!
+she would suffer; but he must escape. Loving him as deeply, as devotedly
+as ever, she yet would give him up, rather than that he should share in
+the downfall of her house. Ah! she did not know him. She could be great;
+but so also could he. Charlotte should see that her love was no light
+thing for any man to relinquish: she would find that it weighed heavier
+in the balance than riches, than fame; that disgrace even could not
+crush it down. Knowing all, he would go to her; she should not be alone
+in her great, great trouble; she should find out in her hour of need the
+kind of man whose heart she had won. His depression left him as he came
+to this resolve, and he scarcely spent even an anxious night. On the
+next day, however, he did not go to Charlotte; but about noon he sat
+down and wrote her the following letter:--
+
+     MY DARLING:
+
+     You gave me up yesterday. I was--I don't mind telling you this
+     now--stunned, surprised, pained. Since then, however, I have
+     thought much; all my thought has been about you. Thought sometimes
+     leads to light, and light has come to me. Charlotte, a contract
+     entered into by two takes two to undo. I refuse to undo this
+     contract. Charlotte, I refuse to give you up. You are my promised
+     wife; our banns have been read twice in church already. Have you
+     forgotten this? In the eyes of both God and man you are almost
+     mine. To break off this engagement, unless I, too, wished it, would
+     be, whatever your motive, a _sin_. Charlotte, the time has come,
+     when we may ruin all the happiness of both our lives, unless very
+     plain words pass between us. I use very plain words when I tell you
+     that I most absolutely refuse to give you up. That being so,
+     _whatever_ your motive, you are committing a sin in refusing to
+     give yourself to me. My darling, it is you I want, not your
+     money--you--not--not--But I will add no more, except one thing.
+     Charlotte, I went this morning to Somerset House, and I _read your
+     grandfather's will_.
+
+     Now, what hour shall I come to you? Any hour you name I will fly
+     to you. It is impossible for you to refuse what I demand as a
+     right. But know that, if you do refuse, I will come
+     notwithstanding.
+
+     Yours ever,
+     JOHN HINTON.
+
+This letter, being directed, was quickly posted, and in due time reached
+its address at Prince's Gate.
+
+Then a strange thing happened to it. Jasper Harman, passing through the
+hall, saw the solitary letter waiting for his niece. It was his habit to
+examine every letter that came within his reach; he took up this one for
+no particular reason, but simply from the force of this long
+established habit. But having taken it in his hand, he knew the
+writing. The letter was from Hinton, and Charlotte had told him--had
+just told him--that her engagement with Hinton was broken off, that her
+wedding was not to be. Old Jasper was beset just now by a thousand
+fears, and Charlotte's manner and Charlotte's words had considerably
+added to his alarm. There was a mystery; Charlotte could not deny that
+fact. This letter might elucidate it--might throw light where so much
+was needed. Jasper Harman felt that the contents of Hinton's letter
+might do him good and ease his mind. Without giving himself an instant's
+time for reflection, he took the letter into the dining-room, and,
+opening it, read what was meant for another. He had scarcely done so
+before Charlotte unexpectedly entered the room. To save himself from
+discovery, when he heard her step, he dropped the letter into the fire.
+Thus Charlotte never got her lover's letter.
+
+Hinton, bravely as he had spoken, was, nevertheless, pained at her
+silence. After waiting for twenty-four hours he, however, resolved to be
+true to his word. He had said to Charlotte, "If you refuse what I demand
+as a right, nevertheless I shall exercise my right. I will come to you."
+But he went with a strange sinking of heart, and when he got to Prince's
+Gate and was not admitted he scarcely felt surprised.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+"THE WAY OF TRANSGRESSORS."
+
+
+It is one of those everlasting truths, which experience and life teach
+us every day, that sin brings its own punishment, virtue its own reward:
+peace, the great divine reward of conscience to the virtuous; misery and
+despair, and that constant apprehension which dreads discovery, and yet
+which in itself is worse than discovery, to the transgressors.
+
+"The way of transgressors is hard."
+
+That Bible text was proving itself once more now in the cases of two old
+men. John Harman was sinking into his grave in anguish at the thought of
+facing an angry God: Jasper Harman was preparing to fly from what, alas!
+he dreaded more, the faces of his angry fellow-creatures.
+
+Yes; it had come to this with Jasper Harman; England had become too hot
+to hold him; better fly while he could. Ever since the day Hinton had
+told him that he had really and in truth heard of the safe arrival of
+the other trustee, Jasper's days and nights had been like hell to him.
+In the morning, he had wondered would the evening find him still a free
+man; in the evening, he had trembled at what might befall him before the
+morning dawned. Unaccustomed to any mental anguish, his health began to
+give way; his heart beat irregularly, unevenly, he lost his appetite; at
+night he either had bad dreams or he could not sleep. This change began
+to tell upon his appearance; his hair grew thinner and whiter, he
+stooped as he walked, there was very little apparent difference now
+between him and John.
+
+He could not bear the Harmans' house, for there he might meet Hinton. He
+dreaded his office in the City, for there the other trustee might follow
+him and publicly expose him. He liked his club best; but even there he
+felt scarcely safe, some one might get an inkling of the tale, there was
+no saying how soon such a story, so strange, so disgraceful, pertaining
+to so well-known a house as that of Harman Brothers, might get bruited
+about. Thus it came to pass that there was no place where this wretched
+old man felt safe; it became more and more clear to him day by day that
+England was too hot to hold him. All these growing feelings culminated
+in a sudden accession of terror on the day that Charlotte, with her
+strangely changed face, had asked him the truth with regard to her
+father's case, when, with the persistence of almost despair, she had
+insisted on knowing the very worst; then had quickly followed the
+announcement that her marriage had been broken off by herself; that it
+was postponed, her father thought, simply for the short remaining span
+of his own life; but Charlotte had taken little pains to conceal from
+Uncle Jasper that she now never meant to marry Hinton. What was the
+reason of it all? Jasper Harman, too, as well as Hinton, was not
+deceived by the reason given. There was something more behind. What was
+that something more?
+
+In his terror and perplexity, Jasper opened Hinton's letter. One
+sentence in that letter, never meant for him, burnt into the unhappy man
+as the very fire of hell.
+
+"I went this morning to Somerset House, and I read your grandfather's
+will."
+
+Then Jasper's worst fears had come true; the discovery was made; the
+hidden sin brought to the light, the sinners would be dragged any moment
+to punishment.
+
+Jasper must leave England that very night. Never again could he enter
+his brother's house. He must fly; he must fly at once and in secret, for
+it would never do to take any one into his confidence. Jasper Harman had
+a hard and evil heart; he was naturally cold and unloving; but he had
+one affection, he did care for his brother. In mortal terror as he was,
+he could not leave that dying brother without bidding him good-bye.
+
+John Harman had not gone to the City that day, and when Charlotte left
+the room, Jasper, first glancing at the grate to make sure that Hinton's
+letter was all reduced to ashes, stole, in his usual soft and gliding
+fashion, to John's study. He was pleased to see his brother there, and
+alone.
+
+"You are early back from the City, Jasper," said the elder brother.
+
+"Yes; there was nothing to keep me this afternoon, so I did not stay."
+
+The two old men exchanged a few more commonplaces. They were now
+standing by the hearth. Suddenly John Harman, uttering a half-suppressed
+groan, resumed his seat.
+
+"It is odd," he said, "how the insidious something which men call Death
+seems to grow nearer to me day by day. Now, as we stood together, I felt
+just a touch of the cold hand; the touch was but a feather weight, but
+any instant it will come down like a giant on its prey. It is terrible
+to stand as I do, looking into the face of Death; I mean it is terrible
+for one like me."
+
+"You are getting morbid, John," said Jasper; "you always were given to
+look on the dismals. If you must die, as I suppose and fear you must,
+why don't you rouse yourself and enjoy life while you may?"
+
+To this John Harman made no answer. After a moment or two of silence,
+during which Jasper watched him nervously, he said;--
+
+"As you have come back so early from the City, can you give me two hours
+now? I have a great deal I want to say to you."
+
+"About the past?" questioned Jasper.
+
+"About the past."
+
+Jasper Harman paused and hesitated; he knew well that he should never
+see his brother again; that this was his last request. But dare he stay?
+Two hours were very precious, and the avenger might even now be at the
+door. No; he could not waste time so precious in listening to an old,
+old tale.
+
+"Will two hours this evening do equally well, John?"
+
+"Yes, if you prefer it. I generally give the evening to Charlotte; but
+this evening, if it suits you better."
+
+"I will go now, then," said Jasper.
+
+"Charlotte has told you of her resolve?"
+
+"Yes, and I have spoken to her; but she is an obstinate minx."
+
+"Do not call her so; it is because of her love for me. I am sorry that
+she will not marry at once; but it is not, after all, a long
+postponement and it is I own, a relief, not to have to conceal my state
+of health from her."
+
+"It is useless arguing with a woman," said Jasper. "Well, good-bye,
+John."
+
+"Good-bye," said the elder Harman, in some surprise that Jasper's hand
+was held out to him.
+
+Jasper's keen eyes looked hard into John's for a moment. He wrung the
+thin hand and left the room. He had left for ever the one human being he
+loved, and even in his throat was a lump caused by something else than
+fear. But in the street and well outside that luxurious home, his love
+sank out of sight and his fear returned; he must get out of England that
+very night, and he had much to do.
+
+He pulled out his watch. Yes, there was still time. Hailing a passing
+hansom he jumped into it, and drove to his bank. There, to the
+astonishment of the cashier, he drew all the money he kept there. This
+amounted to some thousands. Jasper buttoned the precious notes into a
+pocket-book. Then he went to his lodgings and began the task of tearing
+up letters and papers which he feared might betray him. Hitherto, all
+through his life he had kept these things precious; but now they all
+went, even to his mother's portrait and the few letters she had written
+to him when a boy at school. Even he sighed as he cast these treasures
+into the fire and watched them being reduced to ashes; but though they
+had gone with him from place to place in Australia, and he had hoped
+never to part from them, he must give them up now, for, innocent as they
+looked, they might appeal against him. He must give up all the past,
+name and all, for was he not flying from the avengers? flying because of
+his sin? Oh! surely the way of transgressors was hard!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+CHARLOTTE HARMAN'S COMFORT.
+
+
+Jasper Harman did not come to his brother's house that night, but about
+the time he might be expected to arrive there came a note from him
+instead. It was plausibly written, and gave a plausible excuse for his
+absence. He told John of sudden tidings with regard to some foreign
+business. These tidings were really true. Jasper said that a
+confidential clerk had gone to the foreign port where they dealt to
+inquire into this special matter, but that he thought it best, as the
+stakes at issue were large, to go also himself, to inquire personally.
+He would not be long away, &c. &c. He would write when to expect his
+return. It was a letter so cleverly put together, as to cause no alarm
+to any one. John Harman read it, folded it up, and told Charlotte that
+they need not expect Jasper in Prince's Gate for at least a week. The
+week passed, and though Jasper had neither come nor written, there was
+no anxiety felt on his account. In the mean time affairs had outwardly
+calmed down in Prince's Gate. The agitation, which had been felt even by
+the humblest servant in the establishment had ceased. Everything had
+returned to its accustomed groove. The nine days' wonder of that put off
+wedding had ceased to be a wonder. It still, it is true, gave zest to
+conversation in the servants' hall, but upstairs it was never mentioned.
+The even routine of daily life had resumed its sway, and things looked
+something as they did before, except that Mr. Harman grew to all eyes
+perceptibly weaker, that Charlotte was very grave and pale and quiet,
+that old Uncle Jasper was no longer in and out of the house, and that
+John Hinton never came near it. The luxurious house in Prince's Gate was
+unquestionably very dull; but otherwise no one could guess that there
+was anything specially amiss there.
+
+On a certain morning, Charlotte got up, put on her walking things, and
+went out. She had not been out of doors for a week, and a sudden longing
+to be alone in the fresh outer world came over her too strongly to be
+rejected. She called a hansom and once more drove to her favorite
+Regent's Park. The park was now in all the full beauty and glory of its
+spring dress, and Charlotte sat down under the green and pleasant shade
+of a wide spreading oak-tree. She folded her hands in her lap and gazed
+straight before her. She had lived through one storm, but she knew that
+another was before her. The sky overhead was still gray and lowering;
+there was scarcely even peace in this brief lull in the tempest. In the
+first sudden fierceness of the storm she had acted nobly and bravely,
+but now that the excitement was past, there was coming to her a certain
+hardening of heart, and she was beginning to doubt the goodness of God.
+At first, most truly she had scarcely thought of herself at all, but it
+was impossible as the days went on for her not to make a moan over her
+own altered life. The path before her looked very dark, and Charlotte's
+feet had hitherto been unaccustomed to gloom. She was looking forward to
+the death, the inevitable and certainly approaching death of her father.
+That was bad, that was dreadful; but bad and dreadful as it would be to
+say good-bye to the old man, what must follow would be worse; however
+she might love him, however tenderly she might treat him, during his few
+remaining days or weeks of life, when all was over and he could return
+no more to receive men's praise or blame, then she must disgrace him,
+she must hold him up for the world's scorn. It would be impossible even
+to hope that the story would not be known, and once known it would heap
+dishonor on the old head she loved. For Charlotte, though she saw the
+sin, though the sin itself was most terrible and horrible to her, was
+still near enough to Christ in her nature to forgive the sinner. She had
+suffered; oh, how bitterly through this man! but none the less for this
+reason did she love him. But there was another cause for her heartache;
+and this was more personal. Hinton and she were parted. That was right.
+Any other course for her to have pursued would have been most distinctly
+wrong. But none the less did her heart ache and feel very sore; for how
+easily had Hinton acquiesced in her decision! She did not even know of
+his visit to the house. That letter, which would have been, whatever its
+result, like balm to her wounded spirit, had never reached her. Hinton
+was most plainly satisfied that they should meet no more. Doubtless it
+was best, doubtless in the end it would prove the least hard course; but
+none the less did hot tears fall now; none the less heavy was her
+heart. She was wiping away a tear or two, and thinking these very sad
+thoughts, when a clear little voice in her ear startled her.
+
+"My pretty lady!" said the sweet voice, and looking round Charlotte saw
+little Harold Home standing by her side. Charlotte had not seen Harold
+since his illness. He had grown taller and thinner than of old, but his
+loving eyes were fixed on her face, and now his small brown hands beat
+impatiently upon her knees.
+
+"Daisy and Angus are just round the corner," he whispered. "Let us play
+a game of hide and seek, shall we?"
+
+He pulled her hand as he spoke, and Charlotte got up to humor him at
+once. They went quickly round to the other side of the great oak-tree,
+Harold sitting down on the grass pulled Charlotte to his side.
+
+"Ah! don't speak," he said, and he put his arms round her neck.
+
+She found the feel of the little arms strangely comforting, and when a
+moment or two afterwards the others discovered them and came close with
+peals of merry laughter, she yielded at once to Harold's eager request.
+
+"May they go for a walk for half an hour, and may I stay with you,
+pretty lady?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, stooping down to kiss him.
+
+Anne promised to return at the right time, and Charlotte and Harold were
+alone. The boy, nestling close to her side, began to chatter
+confidentially.
+
+"I'm _so_ glad I came across you," he said; "you looked very dull when I
+came up, and it must be nice for you to have me to talk to, and 'tis
+very nice for me too, for I am fond of you."
+
+"I am glad of that, Harold," said Charlotte.
+
+"But I don't think you are quite such a pretty lady as you were,"
+continued the boy, raising his eyes to her face and examining her
+critically. "Mr. Hinton and I used to think you were perfectly lovely!
+You were so _bright_--yes, bright is the word. Something like a dear
+pretty cherry, or like my little canary when he's singing his very, very
+best. But you ain't a bit like my canary to-day; you have no sing in you
+to-day; ain't you happy, my pretty lady?"
+
+"I have had some trouble since I saw you last, Harold," said Charlotte.
+
+"Dear, dear!" sighed Harold, "everybody seems to have lots of trouble. I
+wonder why. No; I don't think Mr. Hinton would think you pretty to-day.
+But," as a sudden thought and memory came over him--"I suppose you are
+married by this time? Aren't you married to my Mr. Hinton by this time?"
+
+"No, dear," answered Charlotte.
+
+"But why?" questioned the inquisitive boy.
+
+"I am afraid I cannot tell you that, Harold."
+
+Harold was silent for about half a minute. He was sitting down on the
+grass close to Charlotte, and his head was leaning against her shoulder.
+After a moment he continued with a sigh,--
+
+"I guess _he's_ very sorry. He and I used to talk about you so at night
+when I had the fever. I knew then he was fond of you, nearly as fond as
+I am myself."
+
+"I am glad little Harold Home loves me," said Charlotte, soothed by the
+pretty boy's talk, and again she stooped down to kiss him.
+
+"But everybody does," said the boy. "There's father and mother, and my
+Mr. Hinton and me, myself, and above all, the blessed Jesus."
+
+A strange feeling, half pleasure, half surprise, came over Charlotte.
+
+"How do you know about that last?" she whispered.
+
+"Of course I know," replied Harold. "I know quite well. I heard father
+and mother say it; I heard them say it quite plainly one day; 'She's one
+of those blessed ones whom Jesus Christ loves very much.' Oh dear! I
+wish the children weren't back so dreadfully soon."
+
+Yes, the children and Anne had returned, and Harold had to say good-bye,
+and Charlotte herself had to retrace her steps homewards. But her walk
+had not been for nothing, and there was a new peace, a new quiet, and a
+new hope in her heart. The fact was, she just simply, without doubt or
+difficulty, believed the child. Little Harold Home had brought her some
+news. The news was strange, new, and wonderful; she did not doubt it.
+Faithful, and therefore full of faith, was this simple and upright
+nature. There was no difficulty in her believing a fact. What Harold
+said was a fact. She was one of those whom Jesus loved. Straight did
+this troubled soul fly to the God of consolation. Her religion, from
+being a dead thing, began to live. She was not friendless, she was not
+alone, she had a friend who, knowing absolutely all, still loved. At
+that moment Charlotte Harman put her hand into the hand of Christ.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+THE CHILDREN'S ATTIC.
+
+
+It was one thing for Alexander Wilson to agree to let matters alone for
+the present, and by so doing to oblige both Charlotte Home and Charlotte
+Harman, but it was quite another thing for him to see his niece, his own
+Daisy's child, suffering from poverty. Sandy had been accustomed to
+roughing it in the Australian bush. He had known what it was to go many
+hours without food, and when that food could be obtained it was most
+generally of the coarsest and commonest quality. He had known, too, what
+the cold of lying asleep in the open air meant. All that an ordinary man
+could endure had Sandy pulled through in his efforts to make a fortune.
+He had never grumbled at these hardships, they had passed over him
+lightly. He would, he considered, have been less than man to have
+complained. But nevertheless, when he entered the Home's house, and took
+possession of the poorly-furnished bedroom, and sat down day after day
+to the not too abundant meals; when he saw pretty little Daisy cry
+because her mother could not give her just what was most nourishing for
+her breakfast, and Harold, still pale and thin, having to do without the
+beef-tea which the doctor had ordered for him; when Sandy saw these
+things his heart waxed hot, and a great grumbling fit took possession of
+his kindly, genial soul. This grumbling fit reached its culminating
+point, when one day--mother, children, and maid all out--he stole up
+softly to the children's nursery. This small attic room, close to the
+roof, low, insufficiently ventilated, was altogether too much for Sandy.
+The time had come for him to act, and he was never the man to shirk
+action in any way. Charlotte Harman was all very well; that dying father
+of hers, whom he pronounced a most atrocious sinner, and took pleasure
+in so thinking him, he also was well enough, but everything could not
+give way to them. Though for the present Mr. Harman's money could not be
+touched for the Home's relief, yet Sandy's own purse was open, and that
+purse, he flattered himself, was somewhat comfortably lined. Yes, he
+must do something, and at once. Having examined with marked disgust the
+children's attic, he marched down the street. Tremins Road was long and
+narrow, but leading out of it was a row of fine new houses. These houses
+were about double the size of number ten, were nicely finished, and
+though many of them were already taken, two or three had boards up,
+announcing that they were still to let. Sandy saw the agent's name on
+the board, and went off straight to consult with him. The result of this
+consultation was that in half an hour he and the agent were all over the
+new house. Sandy went down to the basement, and thought himself
+particularly knowing in poking his nose into corners, in examining the
+construction of the kitchen-range, and expecting a copper for washing
+purposes to be put up in the scullery. Upstairs he selected a large and
+bright room, the windows of which commanded a peep of distant country.
+Here his pretty little Pet Daisy might play happily, and get back her
+rosy cheeks, and sleep well at night without coming downstairs
+heavy-eyed to breakfast. Finally he took the house on the spot, and
+ordered in paperers and painters for the following Monday.
+
+He was asked if he would like to choose the papers. "Certainly," he
+replied, inwardly resolving that the nursery should be covered with
+pictures. He appointed an hour on Monday for his selections. This day
+was Saturday. He then went to the landlord of No. 10, Tremins Road, and
+made an arrangement for the remainder of the Homes' lease. This
+arrangement cost him some money, but he reflected again with
+satisfaction that his purse was well lined. So far he had conducted his
+plans without difficulty. But his next step was not so easy; without
+saying a word to either Charlotte or her husband, he had deprived them
+of one home, while providing them with another. No doubt the new home
+was vastly superior to the old. But still it came into his mind that
+they might consider his action in the light of a liberty; in short, that
+this very peculiar and unworldly couple might be capable of taking huff
+and might refuse to go at his bidding. Sandy set his wits to work over
+this problem, and finally he concocted a scheme. He must come round this
+pair by guile. He thought and thought, and in the evening when her
+husband was out he had a long talk with his niece. By a few judiciously
+chosen words he contrived to frighten Charlotte about her husband's
+health. He remarked that he looked ill, worn, very much older than his
+years. He said, with a sigh, that when a man like Home broke down he
+never got up again. He was undermining his constitution. When had he had
+a change?
+
+"Never once since we were married," answered the wife with tears in her
+eyes.
+
+Sandy shook his head very sadly and gravely over this, and after a
+moment of reflection brought out his scheme.
+
+Easter was now over, there was no special press of parish work. Surely
+Homes' Rector would give him a holiday, and allow him to get away from
+Monday to Saturday night? Why not run away to Margate for those six
+days, and take his wife and three children with him? No, they need take
+no maid, for he, Uncle Sandy, having proposed this plan must be
+answerable for the expense. He would put them all up at a good hotel,
+and Anne could stay at home to take care of him. Of course to this
+scheme there were many objections raised. But, finally, the old
+Australian overruled them each and all. The short leave was granted by
+the Rector. The rooms at the hotel which commanded the best sea-view
+were taken by Sandy, and the Homes left 10 Tremins Road, little guessing
+that they were not to return there. When he had seen father, mother, and
+three happy little children off by an early train, Sandy returned
+quickly to Tremins Road. There he called Anne to him, and unfolded to
+the trembling and astonished girl his scheme.
+
+"We have to be in the new house as snug as snug by Saturday night, my
+girl," he said in conclusion. "We have to bring away what is worth
+moving of this furniture, and it must all be clean and fresh, for a
+clean new house. And, look here, Anne, you can't do all the work; do you
+happen to know of a good, hard-working girl, who would come and help
+you, and stay altogether if Mrs. Home happened to like her, just a
+second like yourself, my lass?"
+
+"Oh, please, sir, please, sir," answered Anne, "there's my own sister,
+she's older nor me, and more knowing. She's real 'andy, and please, sir,
+she'd like it real awful well."
+
+"Engage her by all means," said Wilson, "go at once for her. See; where
+does she live? I will pay the cab fare."
+
+"Oh, was anything so exactly like the _Family Herald_," thought Anne as
+she drove away.
+
+Uncle Sandy then went to a large West End furniture shop, and chose some
+sensible and nice furniture. The drawing-room alone he left untouched,
+for he could not pretend to understand how such a room should be rigged
+out--that must be Charlotte's province. But the nice large dining-room,
+the bedrooms, the stairs and hall, were made as sweet and gay and pretty
+as the West End shopman, who had good taste and to whom Uncle Sandy gave
+carte blanche, could devise. Finally, on Saturday, he went to a
+florist's and from there filled the windows with flowers, and Anne had
+orders to abundantly supply the larder and store-room; and now at last,
+directions being given for tea, the old man went off to meet his niece,
+her husband and her children, to conduct them to their new home.
+
+"Oh, we did have such a time," said Harold, as, brown as a berry, he
+looked up at his old great-uncle. "Didn't we, Daisy?" he added,
+appealing to his small sister, who clung to his hand.
+
+"Ess, but we 'onted 'oo, Uncle 'Andy," said the small thing, looking
+audaciously into his face, which she well knew this speech would please.
+
+"You're just a dear, little, darling duck," said Sandy, taking her in
+his arms and giving her a squeeze. But even Daisy could not quite
+monopolize him at this moment. All the success of his scheme depended on
+the next half-hour, and as they all drove back to Kentish Town, Sandy on
+the box-seat of the cab, and the father, mother, and three children
+inside, his heart beat so loud and hard, that he had to quiet it with
+some sharp inward admonitions.
+
+"Sandy Wilson, you old fool!" he said to himself more than once; "you
+have not been through the hardships of the Australian bush to be afraid
+of a moment like this. Keep yourself quiet; I'm ashamed of you."
+
+At last they drew up at the address Sandy had privately given. How
+beautiful the new house looked! The hall door stood open, and Anne's
+smiling face was seen on the threshold. The children raised a shout at
+sight of her and the flowers, which were so gay in the windows. Mr. Home
+in a puzzled kind of way was putting out his head to tell the cabby that
+he had made a mistake, and that he must just turn the corner. Charlotte
+was feeling a queer little sensation of surprise, when Uncle Sandy, with
+a face almost purple with emotion, flung open the door of the cab, took
+Daisy in his arms, and mounting her with an easy swing on to his
+shoulder said to Charlotte,--
+
+"Welcome, in the name of your dear, dead mother, Daisy Wilson, to your
+new home, Niece Lottie."
+
+The children raised a fresh shout.
+
+"Oh, come, Daisy," said Harold; she struggled to the ground and the two
+rushed in. Anne came down and took the baby, and Mr. and Mrs. Home had
+no help for it but to follow in a blind kind of way. Uncle Sandy pushed
+his niece down into one of the hall chairs.
+
+"There!" he said; "don't, for Heaven's sake, you two unpractical,
+unworldly people, begin to be angry with me. That place in Tremins Road
+was fairly breaking my heart, and I could not stand it, and
+'tis--well--I do believe 'tis let, and you _can't_ go back to it, and
+this house is yours, Niece Charlotte, and the furniture. As to the rent,
+I'll be answerable for that, and you won't refuse your own mother's
+brother. The fact was, that attic where the children slept was too much
+for me, so I had to do something. Forgive me if I practised a little bit
+of deception on you both. Now, I'm off to an hotel to-night, but
+to-morrow, if you're not too angry with your mother's brother, I'm
+coming back for good. Kept a fine room for myself, I can tell you. Anne
+shall show it to you. Trust Sandy Wilson to see to his own comforts. Now
+good-bye, and God bless you both."
+
+Away he rushed before either of the astonished pair had time to get in a
+word.
+
+"But I do think they'll forgive the liberty the old man took with them,"
+were his last waking thoughts as he closed his eyes that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+HE WEPT.
+
+
+Mr. Harman was beginning to take the outward circumstances of his life
+with great quietness. What, three months before, would have caused both
+trouble and distress, now, was received with equanimity. The fact was,
+he felt himself day by day getting so near eternity, that the things of
+time, always so disproportionately large to our worldly minds, were
+assuming to him their true proportions.
+
+John Harman was being led by a dark road of terrible mental suffering to
+his God; already he was drawing near, and the shadow of that forgiveness
+which would yet encircle him in its perfect rest and peace was at hand.
+
+Days, and even weeks, went by, and there was no news of Jasper. John
+Harman would once have been sorely perplexed, but now he received the
+fact of his brothers absence with a strange quietness, even apathy.
+Charlotte's postponed marriage, a little time back, would have also
+fretted him, but believing surely that she would be happy after his
+death, he did not now trouble; and he could not help owning to himself
+that the presence of his dearly loved daughter was a comfort too great
+to be lightly dispensed with. He was too much absorbed with himself to
+notice the strangeness of Hinton's absence, and he did not perceive, as
+he otherwise would have done, that Charlotte's face was growing thin and
+pale, and that there was a subdued, almost crushed manner about the
+hitherto spirited creature, which not even his present state of health
+could altogether account for.
+
+Yes, John Harman lived his self-absorbed life, going day by day a little
+further into the valley of the shadow of death. The valley he was
+entering looked very dark indeed to the old man, for the sin of his
+youth was still unforgiven, and he could not see even a glimpse of the
+Good Shepherd's rod and staff. Still he was searching day and night for
+some road of peace and forgiveness; he wanted the Redeemer of all the
+world to lay His hand upon his bowed old head. The mistake he was still
+making was this--he would not take God's way of peace, he must find his
+own.
+
+One evening, after Charlotte had left him, he sat for a long time in his
+study lost in thought. After a time he rose and took down once more from
+the shelf the Bible which he had opened some time before; then it had
+given him the reverse of comfort, and he scarcely, as he removed it from
+the place where he had pushed it far back out of sight, knew why he
+again touched it. He did, however, take it in his hand, and return with
+it to his chair. He drew the chair up to the table and laid the old
+Bible upon it. He opened it haphazard; he was not a man who had ever
+studied or loved the Bible; he was not acquainted with all its contents
+and the story on which his eyes rested came almost with the freshness of
+novelty.
+
+"Two men went up into the Temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the
+other a publican.
+
+"The publican would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but
+smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me, a sinner.
+
+"I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the
+other."
+
+John Harman read the story twice.
+
+"This man went down to his house justified rather than the other."
+
+The other! he fasted, and gave alms, and thanked God that he was not as
+this publican--this publican, who was a sinner.
+
+But the Bible words were clear enough and plain enough. He, the sinner,
+was justified.
+
+John Harman covered his face with his hands. Suddenly he fell on his
+knees.
+
+"God be merciful to me a sinner," he said.
+
+He said the few words twice aloud, in great anguish of spirit, and as he
+prayed he wept.
+
+Afterwards he turned over the Bible pages again. This time he read the
+story of Zacchaeus.
+
+"If I have taken anything from any man, I restore him fourfold."
+
+It was very late when Mr. Harman at last went to bed, but he slept
+better that night than he had done for years. He was beginning to see
+the possible end.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+HOME'S SERMON.
+
+
+It was impossible for the Homes to refuse Uncle Sandy's kindness. Their
+natural pride and independence of character could not stand in the way
+of so graciously and gracefully offered a gift. When the old man came to
+see them the next day, he was received with all the love and gratitude
+he deserved. If he could give well, Charlotte and her husband knew how
+to receive well. He now told his niece plainly that he had come to pass
+the remainder of his days with her and hers; and father, mother, and
+children welcomed him with delight.
+
+Charlotte was now a very happy woman. The new and pretty house was
+delightful to her. She began to understand what it was not to have to
+look twice at a pound, for Uncle Sandy's purse was for ever at her
+command. When she went with her old uncle to choose the furniture for
+the new drawing room, she laughed so merrily and seemed so gay that
+Uncle Sandy informed her that she had already lost five years of her
+age. Harold and Daisy used to look into her face at this time, and say
+to one another, "Isn't our mother pretty?" For, indeed, the peace in her
+heart, and the little unexpected glow of worldly prosperity which had
+come into her life, had wonderfully softened and beautified her face.
+Her eyes, when she looked at her children's blooming faces, were often
+bright as stars. At all times now they were serene and happy. She had
+one little cross, however, one small shadow in her happy time. She
+wanted to be much--daily, if possible--with Charlotte Harman. Her heart
+yearned over Charlotte, and she would have almost neglected her children
+to give her one ray of comfort just now. But Charlotte herself had
+forbidden this daily intercourse.
+
+"I love you, Charlotte," she had said, "and I know that you love me. But
+at present we must not meet. I cannot leave my father to go to see you,
+and you must not come here, for I cannot risk the chance of seeing you.
+He may question me, and I shall not be able to answer his questions. No,
+Charlotte, we must not meet."
+
+Charlotte Home felt much regret at this. Failing Charlotte Harman, she
+turned her attention to Hinton. She was fully resolved that no stone
+should remain unturned by her to enable those two yet to marry, and she
+thought she might best effect her object by seeing the young man. She
+wrote to him, asking him to call, telling him that she had much of
+importance to tell him; but both from his private address and also from
+his chambers the letters were, in due course of time, returned. Hinton
+was not in town, and had left no clue to his whereabouts. Thus she was
+cut off from helping, in any way, those who were in great darkness, and
+this fact was an undoubted sorrow to her. Yes, Mrs. Home was full of
+pity for Charlotte, full of pity for Charlotte's lover. But it is to be
+feared that both she and Uncle Sandy retained a strong sense of
+indignation towards the one who had caused the anguish--towards the one,
+therefore, on whom the heaviest share of the punishment fell. Very
+terrible was it for Charlotte, very terrible for Hinton. But were they
+asked to tell their true feeling towards old John Harman, they might
+have whispered, "Serve him right." There was one, however, besides his
+daughter, whose warmest sympathies, whose most earnest and passionate
+prayers were beginning day by day and night by night, to centre more and
+more round the suffering and guilty man, and that one was the curate,
+Home. Angus Home had never seen John Harman, but his sin and his
+condition were ever before him. He was a dying man, and--he was a
+sinner. With strong tears and lamentation did this man cry to God for
+his fellow man. His tears and his prayers brought love for the sinner.
+Angus Home would have gladly died to bring John Harman back to God.
+
+One Saturday night he sat up late over his sermon. He was not an
+eloquent preacher, but so earnest was his nature, so intense his
+realization of God's love and of the things unseen, that it was
+impossible for his words not to be winged with the rare power of
+earnestness. He was neither gifted with language nor with imagination;
+but he could tell plain truths in such a way that his hearers often
+trembled as they listened. At such times he looked like an avenging
+angel. For the man, when he felt called on to rebuke sin, was very
+jealous for his God. Then, again, he could whisper comfort; he could
+bring down Heaven, and looked, when he spoke of the land which is very
+far off, as though even now, and even here, his eyes were seeing the
+King in His beauty. Nevertheless, so little was that real power of his
+understood, so much better were empty words gracefully strung together
+preferred, that Home was seldom asked to preach in the large parish
+church. His congregation were generally the very poorest of his flock.
+These very poor folks learned to love their pastor, and for them he
+would very gladly spend and be spent. He was to preach to-morrow in a
+small iron building to these poor people. He now sat up late to prepare
+his sermon. He found himself, however, sadly out of tune for this work.
+He took his Bible in hand and turned page after page; he could find no
+suitable text; he could fix his attention on no particular line of
+argument. He unlocked a drawer, and took from thence a pile of old
+sermons; should he use one of these? He looked through and through his
+store. None pleased, none satisfied him. Finally, overcome by a sudden
+feeling, he forgot his sermon of to-morrow. He pushed his manuscripts
+aside, and fell on his knees. He was in terror about the soul of John
+Harman, and he prayed for him in groans that seemed almost as though
+they must rend the heavens in their pleadings for a reply. "Lord, spare
+the man. Lord, hear me; hear me when I plead with Thee. It was for
+sinners such as he Thou didst die. Oh, spare! oh, save!--save this great
+sinner. Give me his soul, Lord. Lord, give me his soul to bring to Thee
+in Heaven." He went up to bed in the early hours of the May morning
+quite exhausted. He had absolutely forgotten his sermon. He had not
+prepared a word for his congregation for the next day. Before he went to
+church he remembered this. There was no help for it now. He could but
+put two of his already prepared sermons in his pocket and set out. He
+was to read the service as well as to preach the sermon. There were
+about sixty poor people present. Charlotte and the children went to the
+parish church. There was not a really well-dressed person in all his
+congregation. He had just finished reading the Absolution when a slight
+stir near the door attracted his attention. He raised his eyes to see
+the verger leading up the centre aisle an old man with bowed head and
+silver hair, accompanied by a young woman. The young woman Home
+recognized at a glance. She was Charlotte Harman; the old man then was
+her father. He did not ask himself why they had come here or how, but
+instantly he said to his own heart, with a great throb of ecstatic joy,
+"God has heard my prayer; that soul is to be mine." When he mounted the
+pulpit stairs he had absolutely forgotten his written sermons. For the
+first time he stood before his congregation without any outward aid of
+written words, or even notes. He certainly did not need them, for his
+heart was full. Out of that heart, burning with love so intense as to be
+almost divine, he spoke. I don't think he used any text, but he told
+from beginning to end the old, old tale of the Prodigal Son. He told it
+as, it seemed to his congregation, that wonderful story had never been
+told since the Redeemer Himself had first uttered the words. He
+described the far country, the country where God was not; and the people
+were afraid and could scarcely draw their breath. Then he told of the
+Father's forgiveness and the Father's welcome home; and the
+congregation, men and women alike, hid their faces and wept. Added to
+his earnestness God had given to him the great gift of eloquence to-day.
+The people said afterwards they scarcely knew their pastor. There was
+not a dry eye in his church that morning.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+A SINNER.
+
+
+Home went back to his new and pretty house and sat down with his wife
+and children, and waited. He would not even tell Charlotte of these
+unlooked-for additions to his small congregation. When she asked him if
+he had got on well, if his sermon had been a difficulty, he had
+answered, with a light in his eyes, that God had been with him. After
+this the wife only took his hand and pressed it. She need question no
+further: but even she wondered at the happy look on his face.
+
+He had two more services for that day, and also schools to attend, and
+through all his duties, which seemed to come without effort or
+annoyance, he still waited. He knew as well as if an angel had told him
+that he should see more of Mr. Harman. Had he been less assured of this
+he would have taken some steps himself to secure a meeting; he would
+have gone to the daughter, he would have done he knew not what. But
+having this firm assurance, he did not take any steps; he believed what
+God wished him to do was quietly to wait.
+
+When he went out on Monday morning he left word with his wife where he
+might be found without trouble or delay, if wanted.
+
+"Is any one ill in the congregation?" she inquired.
+
+"Some one is ill, but not in the congregation," he answered.
+
+He came home, however, late on Monday night, to find that no one had
+sent, no one in particular had inquired for him. Still his faith was not
+at all shaken; he still knew that Harman's soul was to be given to him,
+and believing that he would like to see him, he felt that he should yet
+be summoned to his side.
+
+On Tuesday morning prayers were to be read in the little iron church.
+Never full even on Sundays, this one weekday service was very miserably
+attended. Home did not often take it, the duty generally devolving on
+the youngest curate in the place. He was hurrying past to-day, having
+many sick and poor to attend to, when he met young Davenport--a curate
+only just ordained.
+
+"I am glad I met you," said the young man, coming up at once and
+addressing the older clergyman with a troubled face. "There would not
+have been time to have gone round to your place. See, I have had a
+telegram; my father is ill. I want to catch a train at twelve o'clock to
+go and see him; I cannot if I take this service. Will it be possible for
+you to do the duty this morning?"
+
+"Perfectly possible," answered Home heartily. "Go off at once, my dear
+fellow; I will see to things for you until you return."
+
+The young man was duly grateful, and hurried away at once, and Home
+entered the little building. The moment he did so he saw the reason of
+it all. Mr. Harman was in the church; he was in the church and alone.
+His daughter was not with him. There was no sermon that day, and the
+short morning prayers were quickly over. The half-dozen poor who had
+come in went out again; but Mr. Harman did not stir. Home took off his
+surplice, and hurried down the church. He meant now to speak to Mr.
+Harman, if Mr. Harman did not speak to him; but he saw that he would
+speak. As he approached the pew the white-headed old man rose slowly and
+came to meet him.
+
+"Sir, I should like to say a few words to you."
+
+"As many as you please, my dear sir; I am quite at your service."
+
+Home now entered the pew and sat down.
+
+"Shall we talk here or in the vestry?" he inquired, after a moment's
+silence.
+
+"I thought perhaps you would come to my house later on," said Mr.
+Harman. "I have a long story to tell you; I can tell it best at home. I
+am very ill, or I would come to you. May I expect you this evening?"
+
+"I will certainly come," answered Home. "What is your address?"
+
+Mr. Harman gave it. Then, after a pause, he added--
+
+"I seek you as a minister."
+
+"And I come to you as a servant of God," replied the curate, now fixing
+his eyes on his companion.
+
+Mr. Harman's gaze did not quail before that steady look. With an
+unutterable sadness he returned it fully. Then he said,
+
+"I came here on Sunday."
+
+"I saw you," answered Home.
+
+"Ah! can it be possible that you preached to me?"
+
+"To you, if you think so. I spoke to every sinner in the congregation."
+
+"You spoke of a land where God is not; you described the terrible
+country well."
+
+"An arid land?" answered Home.
+
+"Ay, a thirsty land."
+
+"Those that find it so generally find also that they are being led back
+to a land where God is."
+
+"You believe, then, in the forgiveness of sin?"
+
+"If I did not I should go mad."
+
+"My good sir, you are not much of a sinner."
+
+"I am a sinner, sir; and if I were not--if I dared to lift up my eyes to
+a holy, a righteous God, and say, 'I am pure'--I yet, if I did not
+believe as fully as I am now sitting by your side in the perfect
+forgiveness of sin, I yet should go mad; for I have seen other men's
+sins and other men's despair; I should lose my reason for their sakes,
+if not for my own."
+
+"Should you, indeed? You see now before you a despairing man and a dying
+man."
+
+"And a sinner?" questioned Home.
+
+"Ay, ay, God knows, a sinner."
+
+"Then I see also before me a man whose despair can be changed to peace,
+and his sin forgiven. What hour shall I call upon you this evening?"
+
+Mr. Harman named the hour. Then he rose feebly; Home gave him his arm
+and conducted him to his carriage; afterwards he re-entered the church
+to pray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+A HIDDEN SIN.
+
+
+Nine o' clock in the evening was the hour named by Mr. Harman, and
+punctually at that hour Home arrived at Prince's Gate. He was a man who
+had never been known to be late for an appointment; for in little things
+even, this singular man was faithful to the very letter of the trust.
+This nice observance of his passed word, in a great measure counteracted
+his otherwise unpractical nature. Home was known by all his
+acquaintances to be a most dependable man.
+
+Mr. Harman had told Charlotte that he was expecting a friend to visit
+him. He said he should like to see that friend alone; but, contrary to
+his wont, he did not mention his name. This cannot be wondered at, for
+Mr. Harman knew of no connection between the Homes and Charlotte. He had
+chosen this man of God, above his fellow-men, because he had been
+haunted and impressed by his sermon, but he scarcely himself even knew
+his name. It so happened, however, that Charlotte saw Mr. Home entering
+her father's study. It is not too much to say that the sight nearly took
+her breath away, and that she felt very considerable disquietude.
+
+"Sit here," said Mr. Harman to his guest.
+
+The room had been comfortably prepared, and when Home entered Mr. Harman
+got up and locked the door; then, sitting down opposite to Home, and
+leaning a little forward, he began at once without preface or preamble.
+
+"I want to tell you without reservation the story of my life."
+
+"I have come to listen," answered Home.
+
+"It is the story of a sin."
+
+Home bent his head.
+
+"It is the story of a successfully hidden sin--a sin hidden from all the
+world for three and twenty years."
+
+"A crushing weight such a sin must have been," answered the clergyman.
+"But will you just tell me all from the beginning?"
+
+"I will tell you all from the beginning. A hidden sin is, as you say,
+heavy enough to crush a man into hell. But I will make no more preface.
+Sir, I had the misfortune to lose a very noble mother when I was young.
+When I was ten years old, and my brother (I have one brother) was eight,
+our mother died! We were but children, you will say; but I don't, even
+now that I am a dying, sinful old man, forget my mother. She taught us
+to pray and to shun sin. She also surrounded us with such high and holy
+thoughts--she so gave us the perfection of all pure mother love, that we
+must have been less than human not to be good boys during her lifetime.
+I remember even now the look in her eyes when I refused on any childish
+occasion to follow the good, and then chose the evil. I have a
+daughter--one beloved daughter, something like my mother. I have seen
+the same high and honorable light in her eyes, but never since in any
+others. Well, my mother died, and Jasper and I had only her memory to
+keep us right. We used to talk about her often, and often fretted for
+her as, I suppose, few little boys before or since have fretted for a
+mother. After her death we were sent to school. Our father even then was
+a rich man: he was a self-made man; he started a business in a small way
+in the City, but small beginnings often make great endings, and the
+little business grew, and grew, and success and wealth came almost
+without effort. Jasper and I never knew what poverty meant. I loved
+learning better than my brother did, and at the age of eighteen, when
+Jasper went into our father's business, I was sent to Oxford. At
+twenty-two I had taken my degree, and done so, not perhaps brilliantly,
+but with some honor. Any profession was now open to me, and my father
+gave me full permission to choose any walk in life I chose; at the same
+time he made a proposal. He was no longer so young as he had been; he
+had made his fortune; he believed that Jasper's aptitude for business
+excelled his own. If we would become partners in the firm which he had
+made, and which was already rising into considerable eminence, he would
+retire altogether. We young men should work the business in our own way.
+He was confident we should rise to immense wealth. While making this
+proposal our father said that he would not give up his business to
+Jasper alone. If both his sons accepted it, then he would be willing to
+retire, taking with him a considerable sum of money, but still leaving
+affairs both unencumbered and flourishing. 'You are my heirs
+eventually.' he said to us both; 'and now I give you a week to decide.'
+At the end of the allotted time we accepted the offer. This was
+principally Jasper's doing, for at that time I knew nothing of business,
+and had thought of a profession. Afterwards I liked the counting-house,
+and became as absorbed as others in the all-engrossing accumulation of
+wealth. Our father had taken a very large sum of money out of the
+business, and it was impossible for us not to feel for a time a
+considerable strain; but Jasper's skill and talent were simply
+wonderful, and success attended all our efforts.
+
+"Two years after I joined the business, I married my Charlotte's mother.
+I was a wealthy man even then. Though of no birth in particular, I was
+considered gentlemanly. I had acquired that outward polish which a
+university education gives; I was also good-looking. With my money, good
+looks, and education, I was considered a match for the proud and very
+poor daughter of an old Irish baronet. She had no money; she had nothing
+but her beautiful face, her high and honorable spirit, her blue blood.
+You will say, 'Enough!' Ay, it was more than enough. She made me the
+best, the truest of wives. I never loved another woman. She was a little
+bit extravagant. She had never known wealth until she became my wife,
+and wealth, in the most innocent way in the world, was delightful to
+her. While Jasper saved, I was tempted to live largely. I took an
+expensive house--there was no earthly good thing I would not have given
+to her. She loved me; but, as I said, she was proud. Pride in birth and
+position was perhaps her only fault. I was perfect in her eyes, but she
+took a dislike to Jasper. This I could have borne, but it pained me when
+I saw her turning away from my old father. I dearly loved and respected
+my father, and I wanted Constance to love him, but she never could be
+got to care for him. It was at that time, that that thing happened which
+was the beginning of all the after darkness and misery.
+
+"My father, finding my proud young wife not exactly to his taste, came
+less and less to our house. Finally, he bought an old estate in
+Hertfordshire, and then one day the news reached us that he had engaged
+himself to a very young girl, and that he would marry at once. There was
+nothing wrong in this marriage, but Jasper and I chose to consider it a
+sin. We had never forgotten our mother, and we thought it a dishonor to
+her. We forgot our father's loneliness. In short, we were unreasonable
+and behaved as unreasonably as unreasonable men will on such occasions.
+Hot and angry words passed between our father and ourselves. We neither
+liked our father's marriage nor his choice. Of course, we were scarcely
+likely to turn the old man from his purpose, but we refused to have
+anything to do with his young wife. Under such circumstances we had an
+open quarrel. Our father married, and we did not see him for years. I
+was unhappy at this, for I loved my father. Before his second marriage,
+he always spent from Saturday to Monday at our house, and though my own
+wife not caring for him greatly marred our pleasure, yet now that the
+visits had absolutely ceased I missed them--I missed the gray head and
+the shrewd, old, kindly face; and often, very often, I almost resolved
+to run down into Hertfordshire and make up my quarrel. I did not do so,
+however; and as the years went on, I grew afraid to mention my father's
+name to either my wife or brother. Jasper and I were at this time deeply
+absorbed in speculation; our business was growing and growing; each
+thing we embarked in turned out well; we were beginning quite to recover
+from the strain which our father's removal of so large a sum of money
+had caused. Jasper was a better man of business than I was. Jasper,
+though the junior partner, took the lead in all plans. He proposed that
+an Australian branch of our business should be opened. It was done, and
+succeeded well.
+
+"About this time we heard that a little son had arrived at the Hermitage
+in Hertfordshire. He did not live long. We saw his birth announced in
+_The Times_. It may have been some months later, though, looking back on
+it, it seems but a few days, that the birth was followed by the death. A
+year or two passed away, and my wife and I were made happy by the
+arrival of our first child. The child was a daughter. We called her
+Charlotte, after my much-loved mother. Time went on, until one day a
+telegram was put into my hand summoning my brother and myself to our
+father's deathbed. The telegram was sent by the young wife. I rushed off
+at once; Jasper followed by the next train.
+
+"The hale old man had broken up very suddenly at last, and the doctor
+said he had but a few days to live. During those few days, Jasper and I
+scarcely left his bedside; we were reconciled fully and completely, and
+he died at last murmuring my own mother's name and holding our hands.
+
+"It was during this visit that I saw the little wife for the first time.
+She was a commonplace little thing, but pretty and very young; it was
+impossible to dislike the gentle creature. She was overpowered with
+grief at her husband's death. It was impossible not to be kind to her,
+not to comfort her. There was one child, a girl of about the age of my
+own little Charlotte. This child had also been named Charlotte. She was
+a pale, dark-eyed child, with a certain strange look of my mother about
+her. She was not a particle like her own. My father loved this little
+creature, and several times during those last days of his he spoke of
+her to me.
+
+"'I have called her after your own mother,' he said. 'I love my second
+wife; but the Charlotte of my youth can never be forgotten. I have
+called the child Charlotte; you have called your daughter Charlotte.
+Good! let the two be friends.'
+
+"I promised readily enough, and I felt pity and interest for the little
+forlorn creature. I also, as I said, intended to be good to the mother,
+who seemed to me to be incapable of standing alone.
+
+"Immediately after my father's death and before the funeral, I was
+summoned hastily to town. My wife was dangerously ill. A little dead
+baby had come into the world, and for a time her life was despaired of;
+eventually she got better; but for the next few days I lived and thought
+only for her. I turned over all business cares to Jasper. I was unable
+even to attend our father's funeral. I never day or night left
+Constance's bedside. I loved this woman most devotedly, most
+passionately. During all those days when her life hung in the balance,
+my time seemed one long prayer to God. 'Spare her, spare her precious
+life at any cost, at any cost.' Those were the words, forever on my
+lips. The prayer was heard; I had my wife again. For a short time she
+was restored to me. I have often thought since, was even that precious
+life worth the price I paid for it?"
+
+Here Mr. Harman paused. Some moisture had gathered on his brow; he took
+out his handkerchief to wipe it away. A glass of water stood by his
+side; he drank a little.
+
+"I am approaching the sin," he said addressing the clergyman. "The
+successfully buried sin is about to rise from its grave; pardon me if I
+shrink from the awful sight."
+
+"God will strengthen you, my dear sir," answered Home. "By your
+confession, you are struggling back into the right path. What do I say?
+Rather you are being led back by God himself. Take courage. Lean upon
+the Almighty arm. Your sin will shrink in dimensions as you view it; for
+between you and it will come forgiveness."
+
+Mr. Harman smiled faintly, After another short pause, he continued.
+
+"On the day on which my dear wife was pronounced out of danger, Jasper
+sent for me. My brother and I had ever been friends, though in no one
+particular were we alike. During the awful struggle through which I had
+just passed. I forgot both him and my father. Now I remembered him and
+my father's death, and our own business cares. A thousand memories came
+back to me. When he sent for me I left my wife's bedside and went down
+to him. I was feeling weak and low, for I had not been in bed for many
+nights, and a kind of reaction had set in. I was in a kind of state when
+a man's nerves can be shaken, and his whole moral equilibrium upset. I
+do not offer this as an excuse for what followed. There is no excuse for
+the dark sin; but I do believe enough about myself to say that what I
+then yielded to, I should have been proof against at a stronger physical
+moment. I entered my private sitting-room to find Jasper pacing up and
+down like a wild creature. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair tossed. He
+was a calm and cheerful person generally. At this instant, he looked
+like one half bereft of reason. 'Good heavens! what is wrong?' I said. I
+was startled out of myself by his state of perturbation.
+
+"'We are ruined; that is what is wrong,' answered Jasper.
+
+"He then entered into particulars with which I need not trouble you. A
+great house, one of the greatest and largest houses in the City, had
+come to absolute grief; it was bankrupt. In its fall many other houses,
+ours amongst them, must sink.
+
+"I saw it all quite plainly. I sat down quiet and stunned; while Jasper
+raved and swore and paced up and down the room, I sat still. Yes we
+were, beggars, nothing could save the house which our father had made
+with such pride and care.
+
+"After a time I left Jasper and returned to my wife's room. On the way I
+entered the nursery and paid my pretty little Charlotte a visit. She
+climbed on my knee and kissed me, and all the time I kept saying to
+myself, 'The child is a beggar, I can give her no comforts; we are
+absolutely in want.' It was the beginning of the winter then, and the
+weather was bitterly cold. The doctor met me on the threshold of my
+wife's room; he said to me, 'As soon as ever she is better, you must
+either take or send her out of England. She may recover abroad; but to
+winter in this climate, in her present state, would certainly kill her.'
+How bitter I felt; for was I not a beggar? How could I take my wife
+away? I sat down again in the darkened room and thought over the past.
+Hitherto the wealth, which was so easily won, seemed of comparatively
+small importance. It was easy with a full purse to wish, then to obtain.
+I had often wondered at Constance's love for all the pretty things with
+which I delighted to surround her, her almost childish pleasure in the
+riches which had come to her. She always said to me at such times:
+
+"'But I have known such poverty; I hate poverty, and I love, I love the
+pretty things of life.'
+
+"This very night, as I sat by her bedside, she opened her lovely eyes
+and looked at me and said:
+
+"'John, I have had such a dream so vivid, so, so terrible. I thought we
+were poor again--poorer than I ever was even with my father; so poor,
+John, that I was hungry, and you could give me nothing to eat. I begged
+you to give me food. There was a loaf in a shop window, such a nice
+crisp loaf; and I was starving. When you said you had no money, I begged
+of you to steal that loaf. You would not, you would not, and at last I
+lay down to die. Oh! John, say it was a dream.'
+
+"'Of course it was only a dream, my darling!' I answered, and I kissed
+her and soothed her, though all the time my heart felt like lead.
+
+"That evening Jasper sent for me again. His manner now was changed. The
+wildness and despair had left it. He was his old, cool, collected self.
+He was in the sort of mood when he always had an ascendency over me--the
+sort of mood when he showed that wonderful business faculty for which I
+could not but admire him.
+
+"'Sit down, John,' he said, 'I have a great deal to say to you. There is
+a plan in my head. If you will agree to act with me in it, we may yet be
+saved.'
+
+"Thinking of my Constance lying so ill upstairs, my heart leaped up at
+these words.
+
+"'What is your plan?' I said. 'I can stay with you for some time. I can
+listen as long as you like.'
+
+"'You hate poverty?' said Jasper.
+
+"'Yes,' I said, thinking of Constance, 'I hate it.'
+
+"'If you will consent to my scheme; if you will consent before you leave
+this room, we need not sink with Cooper, Cooper and Bennett.'
+
+"'I will listen to you,' I said.
+
+"'You have always been so absorbed lately in your wife,' continued
+Jasper, 'that you have, I really believe, forgotten our father's death:
+his funeral was last Thursday. Of course you could not attend it. After
+the funeral I read the will.'
+
+"'Yes,' I said, 'I had really forgotten my father's will. He left us
+money?' I said. 'I am glad; it will keep us from absolute want.
+Constance need not be hungry after all.'
+
+"My brother looked at me.
+
+"'A little money has been left to us,' he said, 'but so little that it
+must go with the rest. In the general crash those few thousands must
+also go. John, you remember when our father took that very large sum out
+of the business, he promised that we should be his heirs. It was a loan
+for his lifetime.'
+
+"'He had not married then,' I said.
+
+"'No,' answered Jasper, 'he had not married. Now that he has married he
+has forgotten all but this second wife. He has left her, with the
+exception of a few thousands, the whole of that fine property. In short,
+he has left her a sum of money which is to realize an income of twelve
+hundred a year.'
+
+"'Yes,' I said, wearily.
+
+"Jasper looked at me very hard. I returned his gaze.
+
+"'That money, if left to us, would save the firm. _Quite absolutely save
+the firm in this present crisis_,' he said, slowly and emphatically.
+
+"'Yes,' I said again. I was so innocent, so far from what I since
+became, at that moment, that I did not in the least understand my
+brother. 'The money is not ours,' I said, seeing that his eyes were
+still fixed on me with a greedy intense light.
+
+"'If my father were alive now,' said Jasper, rising to his feet and
+coming to my side, 'if my father were alive now, he would break his
+heart, to see the business which he made with such pride and skill, come
+to absolute grief. If my father were still alive; if that crash had come
+but a fortnight ago, he would say, 'Save the firm at any cost.'
+
+"'But he is dead,' I said, 'we cannot save the firm. What do you mean,
+Jasper? I confess I cannot see to what you are driving.'
+
+"'John,' said my brother, 'you are stupid. If our father could speak to
+us now, he would say, 'Take the money, all the money I have left, and
+save the firm of Harman Brothers.'
+
+"'You mean,' I said, 'you mean that we--we are to _steal_ that money,
+the money left to the widow, and the fatherless?'
+
+"I understood the meaning now. I staggered to my feet. I could have
+felled my brother to the ground. He was my brother, my only brother; but
+at that moment, so true were my heart's instincts to the good and
+right, that I loathed him. Before however, I could say a word, or utter
+a reproach, a message came to me from my wife. I was wanted in my wife's
+room instantly, she was excited, she was worse. I flew away without a
+word.
+
+"'Come back again, I will wait for you here,' called after me my
+brother.
+
+"I entered Constance's room. I think she was a little delirious. She was
+still talking about money, about being hungry and having no money to buy
+bread. Perhaps a presentiment of _the_ evil news had come to her. I had
+to soothe, to assure her that all she desired should be hers. I even
+took my purse out and put it into her burning hand. At last she believed
+me; she fell asleep with her hand in mine. I dared not stir from her;
+and all the time as I sat far into the night, I thought over Jasper's
+words. They were terrible words, but I could not get them out of my
+head, they were burning like fire into my brain. At last Constance
+awoke; she was better, and I could leave her. It was now almost morning.
+I went to my study, for I could not sleep. To my surprise, Jasper was
+still there. It was six hours since I had left him, but he had not
+stirred.
+
+"'John,' he said, seeing that I shrank from him, 'you must hear me out.
+Call my plan by as ugly a name as you like, no other plan will save the
+firm. John, will you hear me speak?'
+
+"'Yes, I will hear you,' I said. I sank down on the sofa. My head was
+reeling. Right and wrong seemed confused. I said to myself, My brain is
+so confused with grief and perplexity that it is no matter what Jasper
+says just now, for I shall not understand him. But I found to my
+surprise, almost to my horror, that I understood with startling
+clearness every word. This was Jasper's plan. There were three trustees
+to the will; I was one, my brother Jasper another, a third was a man by
+the name of Alexander Wilson. He was brother to my father's second wife.
+This Alexander Wilson I had never seen. Jasper had seen him once. He
+described him to me as a tall and powerful man with red hair. 'He is the
+other trustee,' said my brother, 'and he is dead.'
+
+"'Dead!' I said, starting.
+
+"'Yes, he is without doubt dead; here is an account of his death.'
+
+"Jasper then opened an Australian paper and showed me the name, also
+the full account of a man who answered in all particulars to the
+Alexander Wilson named as a third trustee. Jasper then proceeded to
+unfold yet further his scheme.
+
+"That trustee being dead, we were absolute masters of the situation, we
+could appropriate that money. The widow knew nothing yet of her
+husband's will; she need never know. The sum meant for her was, under
+existing circumstances, much too large. She should not want, she should
+have abundance. But we too should not want. Were our father living he
+would ask us to do this. We should save ourselves and the great house of
+Harman Brothers. In short, to put the thing in plain language, we
+should, by stealing the widow's money, save ourselves. By being
+faithless to our most solemn trust, we could keep the filthy lucre. I
+will not say how I struggled. I did struggle for a day; in the evening I
+yielded. I don't excuse myself in the very least. In the evening I fell
+as basely as a man could fall. I believe in my fall I sank even lower
+than Jasper. I said to him, 'I cannot bear poverty, it will kill
+Constance, and Constance must not die; but you must manage everything. I
+can go into no details; I can never, never as long as I live, see that
+widow and child. You must see them, you must settle enough, abundance on
+them, but never mention their names to me. I can do the deed, but the
+victims must be dead to me.'
+
+"To all this Jasper promised readily enough. He promised and acted. All
+went, outwardly, smoothly and well; there was no hitch, no outward flaw,
+no difficulty, the firm was saved; none but we two knew how nearly it
+had been engulfed in hopeless shipwreck. It recovered itself by means of
+that stolen money, and flew lightly once again over the waters of
+prosperity. Yes, our house was saved, and from that hour my happiness
+fled. I had money, money in abundance and to spare; but I never knew
+another hour, day or night, of peace. I had done the deed to save my
+wife, but I found that, though God would give me that cursed wealth, He
+yet would take away my idol for whom I had sacrificed my soul. Constance
+only grew well enough to leave England. We wintered abroad, and at
+Cannes, surrounded by all that base money could supply, she closed her
+eyes. I returned home a widower, and the most wretched man on the face
+of the earth. Soon after, the Australian branch of our business growing
+and growing, Jasper found it well to visit that country. He did so, and
+stayed away many years. Soon after he landed, he wrote to tell me that
+he had seen the grave of Alexander Wilson; that he had made many
+inquiries about him, and that now there was not the least shadow of
+doubt that the other trustee was dead. He said that our last fears of
+discovery might now rest.
+
+"Years went by, and we grew richer and richer; all we put our hands to
+prospered. Money seemed to grow for us on every tree. I could give my
+one child all that wealth could suggest. She grew up unsullied by what
+was eating into me as a canker. She was beautiful alike in mind and
+body; she was and is the one pure and lovely thing left to me. She
+became engaged to a good and honorable man. He had, it is true, neither
+money nor position, but I had learned, through all these long years of
+pain, to value such things at their true worth. Charlotte should marry
+where her heart was. I gave her leave to engage herself to Hinton.
+Shortly after that engagement, Jasper, my brother, returned from
+Australia. His presence, reminding me, as it did, day and night, of my
+crime, but added to my misery of soul. I was surprised, too, to see how
+easily what was dragging me to the very gate of hell seemed to rest on
+him. I could never discover, narrowly as I watched him, that he was
+anything but a happy man. One evening, after spending some hours in his
+presence, I fainted away quite suddenly. I was alone when this fainting
+fit overtook me. I believe I was unconscious for many hours. The next
+day I went to consult a doctor. Then and there, in that great
+physician's consulting-room, I learned that I am the victim of an
+incurable complaint; a complaint that must end my life, must end it
+soon, and suddenly. In short, the doctor said to me, not in words, but
+by look, by manner, by significant hand pressure, and that silent
+sympathy which speaks a terrible fact. 'Prepare to meet thy God.' Since
+the morning I left the doctor's presence I have been trying to prepare;
+but between God and me stands my sin. I cannot get a glimpse of God. I
+wait, and wait, but I only see the awful sin of my youth. In short, sir,
+I am in the far country where God is not."
+
+"To die so would be terrible," said Mr. Home.
+
+"To die so will be terrible, sir; in, short, it will be hell."
+
+"Do not put it in the future tense, Mr. Harman, for you that day is
+past."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that even now, though you know it not, you are no longer in the
+far country. You are the prodigal son if you like, but you are on the
+road back to the Father. You are on the homeward road, and the Father is
+looking out for you. When you come to die you will not be alone, the
+hand of God will hold yours, and the smile of a forgiving God will say
+to you, as the blessed Jesus said once to a poor sinful woman, who yet
+was not _half_ as great a sinner as you are, 'Thy sins, which are many,
+are forgiven thee.'"
+
+"You believe then in the greatness of my sin?"
+
+"I believe, I _know_ that your sin was enormous; but so also is your
+repentance."
+
+"God knows I repent," answered Mr. Harman.
+
+"Yes; when you asked me to visit you, and when you poured out that story
+in my ears, your long repentance and anguish of heart were beginning to
+find vent."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you will make reparation."
+
+"Ay, indeed I am more than willing. Zacchaeus restored fourfold."
+
+"Yes, the road for you, straight to the bosom of the Father, is very
+prickly and full of sharp thorns. You have held a high character for
+honor and respectability. You have a child who loves you, who has
+thought you perfect. You must step down from your high pedestal. You
+must renounce the place you have held in your child's heart. In short,
+you must let your only child, and also the cold, censorious world, see
+you as God has seen you for so long."
+
+"I don't mind the world, but--my child--my only child," said Mr. Harman,
+and now he put up his trembling hands and covered his face. "That is a
+very hard road," he said after a pause.
+
+"There is no other back to the Father," answered the clergyman.
+
+"Well, I will take it then, for I _must_ get back to Him. You are a man
+of God. I put myself in your hands. What am I to do?"
+
+"You put yourself not into my hands, sir, but into the loving and
+merciful hands of my Lord Christ. The course before you is plain. You
+must find out those you have robbed; you must restore all, and ask these
+wronged ones' forgiveness. When they forgive, the peace of God will
+shine into your heart."
+
+"You mean the widow and the child. But I do not know anything of them; I
+have shut my eyes to their fate."
+
+"The widow is dead, but the child lives; I happen to know her; I can
+bring her to you."
+
+"Can you? How soon?"
+
+"In an hour and a half from now if you like. I should wish you to rest
+in that peace I spoke of before morning. Shall I bring her to-night?"
+
+"Yes, I will see her; but first, first, will you pray with me?"
+
+Mr. Home knelt down at once. The gray-headed and sinful man knelt by his
+side. Then the clergyman hurried away to fetch his wife.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+THE PRINCE OF PEACE.
+
+
+It was very nearly midnight when Mr. Home, entering the sitting-room
+where his wife waited up for him, asked her to come with him at once.
+
+"There is a hansom at the door," he said, "put on your bonnet and come.
+I will tell you all as we drive along; come at once, we have not a
+moment to lose."
+
+Charlotte Home, accustomed as Home's wife to imperative demands, only
+thought of a night's nursing of some specially poor patient. She rose
+without a word, and in two minutes they were driving, as fast as a fleet
+horse could take them to Prince's Gate.
+
+"Charlotte," said her husband, taking her hand, "God has heard my
+prayer, God has given me the man's soul."
+
+"Whose soul, my dearest?"
+
+"The soul of John Harman. Charlotte, I have prayed as I never prayed
+before in all my life for that guilty and troubled sinner's soul. I have
+been in an agony for it; it has seemed to me at times that for this lost
+and suffering brother I could lay down my very life. On Sunday last I
+went to conduct service in the small iron church. I tried the night
+before to prepare a sermon; no thought would come to me. I tried at last
+to look up an old one; no old sermon would commend itself. Finally I
+dropped all thought of the morrow's sermon and spent the greater part of
+the night in prayer. My prayer was for this sinner, and it seemed to me,
+that as I struggled and pleaded, God the Father and God the Son drew
+nigh. I went to bed with a wonderfully close sense of their presence. At
+morning prayers the next day, Miss Harman and her father entered the
+church. You may well look at me in surprise, Charlotte, but when I saw
+them I felt quiet enough; I only knew that God had sent them. For the
+first time in my life I preached without note or written help. I felt,
+however, at no loss for words; my theme was the Prodigal Son. I thought
+only of Mr. Harman; I went home and continued to pray for him. On
+Tuesday morning--that is, this morning--he was again at the church.
+After the prayers were over he waited to speak to me: he asked me to
+visit him at his own house this evening. I went there; I have been with
+him all the evening; he told me his life story, the bitter story of his
+fall. I am now come for you, for he must confess to you--you are the
+wronged one."
+
+"I am going to see John Harman, my half-brother who has wronged me?"
+said Mrs. Home; "I am going to him now without preparation? Oh! Angus, I
+cannot, not to-night, not to-night."
+
+"Yes, dear, it must be to-night; if there is any hardness left in your
+heart it will melt when you see this sinner, whom God has forgiven."
+
+"Angus, you are all tenderness and love to him; I cannot aspire to your
+nature, I cannot. To this man, who has caused such misery and sin, I
+feel hard. Charlotte I pity, Charlotte I love; but this man, this man
+who deliberately could rob my dead mother! It is against human nature to
+feel very sorry for him."
+
+"You mean to tell me, Charlotte, that you refuse to forgive him?"
+
+"No; eventually you will conquer me; but just now, I confess, my heart
+is not full of pity."
+
+Mr. Home thought for a moment. He was pained by his wife's want of
+sympathy. Then he reflected that she had not seen Mr. Harman. It was
+plain, however, that they must not meet until her spirit towards him had
+changed.
+
+"Do not stop at Prince's Gate," he called out to the cabby, "drive on
+until I ask you to stop."
+
+During the drive that followed, he told his wife Mr. Harman's story. He
+told it well, for when he had finished, Charlotte turned to him eyes
+which had shed some tears.
+
+"Does Charlotte know of this?" she said.
+
+"I do not think so. Will you come to Mr. Harman now?"
+
+"Yes. I will come on one condition!"
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That I may see Charlotte afterwards."
+
+"I am sure that can be managed."
+
+Then Mr. Home desired the cabby to stop at Prince's Gate. A
+sleepy-looking servant waited up for them. He manifested no surprise at
+sight of the lady and gentleman at such an hour. Mr. Home took his
+wife's hand, and the servant led them straight to his master's study.
+
+"I have told her the story," said Mr. Home; "she is your father's child,
+she comes to----" Here the clergyman paused and looked at his wife, he
+wanted the word "forgive" to come from her own lips. Mrs. Home had grown
+white to her very lips. Now instead of replying, she fell upon her knees
+and covered her face.
+
+"Charlotte," said Mr. Harman, "can you do what this clergyman wants? Can
+you forgive the sin?" There was no answer; Mrs. Home was sobbing aloud.
+"I have robbed you, I have robbed you most cruelly. My dying father
+asked me to be good to you; I have been worse than cruel. You see before
+you an old, old man, as great a sinner as can be found on God's earth.
+Can you forgive me? Dare I ask it? At last, at last I make full
+reparation; I repent me, in dust and ashes; I repent, and I restore all
+fourfold." But here Charlotte Home had risen suddenly to her feet. She
+came up close to Mr. Harman, and taking his hand raised it to her lips.
+
+"My husband has told me all. I, I quite forgive you," she said.
+
+Mr. Harman glanced at the clergyman. "Your husband?" he said.
+
+"Yes; she is my wife," answered Mr. Home. "Sir, you heard my wife say
+that she quite forgives. You may go to rest to-night, with a very
+peaceful heart; the peace of God which passes all understanding may
+encompass your pillow to-night. It is late and you have gone through
+much, may I go with you to your room? There will be many explanations
+yet to make; but though a clergyman, I am also in some measure a
+physician. I see you can go through no more emotion to-night, rest
+satisfied that all explanations can wait till to-morrow."
+
+"I will go with you," answered Mr. Harman, "but may I first thank your
+wife?" Charlotte Home's bonnet had fallen off as she knelt on the floor,
+now suddenly a withered and trembling hand was placed on her head. "God
+bless you! Even from a sinner like me, such words from a full heart must
+be heard."
+
+"Ay," said Mr. Home, in a loud, exultant voice, "the Prince of peace and
+forgiveness has come into this house to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+CHARLOTTE'S ROOM.
+
+
+Mr. Home and Mr. Harman went away together, and Charlotte was left alone
+in the study. By the profound stillness which now reigned in the house
+she guessed that every one had gone to bed. The servant who had admitted
+them at so late an hour had looked sleepy as he had done so. Doubtless
+Mr. Harman had desired him not to wait longer. Charlotte felt there was
+no use in ringing a bell. She scarcely knew her way about this great
+house. Nevertheless she must find Charlotte; she could not wait until
+the morning to throw her arms round her neck. She took one of the
+candles from the mantelpiece and began her tour through the silent
+house. She felt strangely timid as she commenced this midnight
+pilgrimage. The softly-carpeted stairs echoed back no footfall; she
+passed door after door. At last she recognized Charlotte's own private
+sitting-room, she had been there two or three times, but had never seen
+the room where her friend slept. A corridor, however, ran directly from
+this sitting-room, and Charlotte saw a closed door at the further end.
+"That must be the room," she said to herself, and she went straight
+towards it. The door was closed, but Charlotte heard a faint sound
+within. Instantly on hearing it she knocked lightly, but distinctly.
+There was a quick sound of hurried and surprised feet, and Charlotte
+Harman opened the door. Her eyes were heavy and red, as though she had
+been weeping. Her face was pale. She had not begun to undress.
+
+"Charlotte; Charlotte Home!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what is wrong? My
+father!"
+
+"Nothing is wrong, dear Charlotte, dear, dear Charlotte; but may I come
+in? I have a great deal to tell you."
+
+"Oh, I shall be glad! but how astonished I am to see you. I could not
+sleep. Yes, come in, you shall keep me company. Charlotte, you have been
+crying. Charlotte, there _is_ something wrong."
+
+"You may well be surprised to see me here," said Mrs. Home, "but,
+strange as it may seem, things are more right than wrong. My husband
+came first, then he brought me."
+
+"Yes, I saw Mr. Home early in the evening. I saw him go into my father's
+study. When he went away I went there myself; but the door was locked,
+and my father called out from within, 'Not to-night, my child; don't sit
+up for me, come to me in the morning, I would rather be alone to-night.'
+He never before refused to see me to say good-night. I went to my room.
+I could not rest. Everything seems very dark. I have been crying, and
+now you have come. Oh, Charlotte! what is the meaning of it all?"
+
+"The meaning is good, Charlotte; but good or bad, you have to thank
+yourself for it. Why did you take your father to my husband's church on
+Sunday?"
+
+"He came to me on Sunday morning," answered Miss Harman. "He said he
+would like to go to church with me. He never did go to church with
+me--never, for many months. I asked him where he would go. He said he
+would leave it to me. Then it flashed across me that he did not know Mr.
+Home, also that I had never heard Mr. Home preach. I resolved to go to
+his church. We drove to Kentish Town. I made a few inquiries. I found
+out the little church where your husband told the people of his
+congregation how best to live, how best to die. Ah, Charlotte! he _did_
+preach to us. What a man he is!"
+
+"He realizes the absolute daily presence of God more perfectly than any
+man I ever met," answered the wife. "My dear, it was God himself led you
+to my husband's church on Sunday. Your father went there again to-day.
+After the service he stopped to speak to Angus. He asked him to come to
+him this evening. This evening he told my husband all; all the story of
+his sin, his repentance. Angus heard all, and when it was over he sent
+for me. I saw your father. Charlotte, your father may have been a
+sinner, but with such sinners, as he was once, the New Jerusalem will be
+filled by and by. Ah! thank God for the peace I saw on his face before I
+left him. Do you know that he put his hand on my head and blessed me.
+Angus is with him now, and I have come to you."
+
+"My father has told all!" said Charlotte Harman. Her face could scarcely
+grow any whiter. She made no further exclamation, but sat quiet.
+Charlotte Home, having told her story, watched her face. Suddenly, with
+tears springing to her eyes, she turned to the wife and mother who stood
+by her side.
+
+"Charlotte, how hard my heart has been! I have passed through some
+dreadful weeks. Oh! how heavy was my burden, how heavy was my heart! My
+heart was growing very hard; but the hardness has gone now. Now,
+Charlotte, I believe, I believe fully what your little Harold said to me
+some weeks ago."
+
+"What did he say to you, dearest?"
+
+"He said that Jesus Christ loved me very much. Yes, I believe Jesus does
+love me very much. Oh, Charlotte! do you know that I am tired and
+rested, and I want to sleep altogether. Will you lie down beside me? You
+will not leave me to-night?"
+
+"No, darling; I will not leave you to-night."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+HOW SANDY WILSON SPEAKS OUT HIS MIND.
+
+
+Early in the morning, the father and daughter met. Not very many words
+passed between them. Mr. Harman knew that Mrs. Home had told Charlotte
+all. Now, coming to his side, she put her arms about him, and knelt,
+looking into his face.
+
+"Charlotte, you know what I have been," he said.
+
+"Father, I know what you are now," she answered.
+
+After these few words, she would scarcely allow him to speak again, for
+he was very weak, too weak to leave his bed; but later on, in the course
+of the day, they had a long talk together, and Charlotte told her father
+of her own suffering during the past weeks. There was no longer need of
+concealment between them, and Charlotte made none. It was a very few
+days later that two trustees of the late Mr. Harman's will saw each
+other for the first time.
+
+Sandy Wilson had often looked forward to the moment when he could speak
+out his mind as to the enormity of the crime committed by Mr. Harman.
+Hitherto, this worthy man had felt that in this respect circumstances
+had been hard on him. _His_ Daisy, his pretty little gentle sister, had
+been treated as hardly, as cruelly, as woman could be treated, and yet
+the robber--for was he not just a common robber?--had got off scot free;
+he was to get off scot free to the very end; he was to be let die in
+peace; and afterwards, his innocent child, his only daughter, must bear
+the brunt of his misdeeds. She must be put to grief and shame, while he,
+the one on whose head the real sin lay, escaped. Sandy felt that it
+would have been some slight relief to his wounded feelings if he could
+find some one to whom he could thoroughly and heartily abuse Mr. Harman.
+But even this satisfaction was denied him. Mr. Home was a man who would
+listen to abuse of none; and even Charlotte, though her eyes did flash
+when his name was mentioned, even she was simply silent, and to all the
+rest of the world Sandy must keep the thing a secret.
+
+There was no doubt whatever that when, the day after Mr. Harman's
+confession, the Homes came to Uncle Sandy and told him, not only all,
+but also that at any moment he might receive a summons to visit Mr.
+Harman, he felt a sense of exultation; also that his exultation was
+caused, not by the fact that his niece would now get back her own, for
+he had supplied her immediate need for money, but by the joyful sense
+that at last, at last, he, Sandy, could speak out his full mind. He
+could show this bad man, about whom every one was so strangely, so
+absurdly silent, what _he_ thought of his conduct to his dear little
+sister. He went away to Prince's Gate, when at last the summons came,
+bristling over with a quite delightful sense of power. How well he would
+speak! how cleverly he would insert the arrow of remorse into that cruel
+heart! As he entered the house he was met by Miss Harman. She held out
+her hand to him without a word, and led him to the door of her father's
+study. Her eyes, however, as she looked at him for a moment, were
+eloquent. Those eyes of hers had exercised a power over him in Somerset
+House; they were full of pleading now. He went into Mr. Harman's
+presence softened, a little confused, and with his many excellent, to
+the point, and scathing remarks running riot in his brain.
+
+Thus it came to pass that Sandy said no word of reproach to the
+broken-down man who greeted him. Nay, far from reproaching, he felt
+himself sharing in the universal pity. Where God's hand was smiting
+hard, how could man dare to raise his puny arm?
+
+The two trustees, meeting for the first time after all these years,
+talked long over that neglected, that unfulfilled trust, and steps were
+put in train to restore to Charlotte Home what had for so many years
+been held back from her. This large sum, with all back interest, would
+make the once poor Charlotte very rich indeed. There would still be,
+after all was settled, something left for Charlotte Harman, but the
+positions of the two were now virtually reversed.
+
+"There is one thing which still puzzles me," said Mr. Harman before they
+parted. "Leaving my terrible share in this matter alone, my brother and
+I could never have carried out our scheme if you had not been supposed
+to be dead. How is it you gave no sign of your existence for three and
+twenty years? My brother even wrote me word from Australia that he had
+himself stood on your grave."
+
+"He stood on the grave of Sandy Wilson, but never on mine," answered the
+other trustee. "There was a fellow bearing my name, who was with me in
+the Bush. He was the same age. He was like me too in general outline;
+big, with red hair and all that kind of thing. His name was put into the
+papers, and I remember wondering if the news would reach home, and if my
+little Daisy--bless her!--would think it was me. I was frightfully poor
+at the time, I had scarcely sixpence to bless myself with, and somehow,
+your father, sir, though he did eventually trust me, as circumstances
+proved, yet he gave me to understand that in marrying the sister he by
+no means intended to take the brother to his bosom. I said to myself, 'A
+poor lost dog like Sandy may as well appear to be dead to those at home.
+I love no one in England but my little Daisy, and she does not need me,
+she has abundance without me.' So I ceased to write. I had gone to a
+part of the country where even an English paper reached us but once or
+twice a year. I heard nothing of the old home; and by degrees I got out
+of the habit of writing. I was satisfied to be considered dead. I did
+wrong, I confess."
+
+"By coming back, by proclaiming your existence, you could have exposed
+me years ago," said Mr. Harman; "how I dreaded exposure; how little I
+knew, when it did come, that it would fall lightly in comparison
+with----"
+
+"What?" asked Wilson.
+
+"The awful frown of God's displeasure. Man, to be shut away from God
+through your own sin is to be in hell. I have dwelt there for three and
+twenty years. Until two nights ago, I have known no peace; now, I know
+God can forgive even such a sin as mine."
+
+"I believe you have suffered, Mr. Harman," answered Wilson. "For the
+matter of that, we are all poor sinners. God have mercy upon us all!"
+
+"Amen," said Mr. Harman.
+
+And that was all the reproof Sandy ever found in his heart to give to
+his fellow trustee.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+MRS. HOME'S DREAM.
+
+
+Still, there was a weight on Charlotte Home's mind. Much had been given
+to her, so much that she could scarcely believe herself to be the same
+woman, who a few short months ago had pawned her engagement ring to buy
+her little son a pair of shoes. She was now wealthy beyond her wildest
+dreams; she was wealthy not only in money but in friends. Charlotte
+Harman was her almost daily companion. Charlotte Harman clung to her
+with an almost passionate love. Uncle Sandy, too, had made himself, by
+his cheerfulness, his generosity, his kindness of nature, a warm place
+in her affections; and Mr. Harman saw her more than once, and she found
+that she could love even Mr. Harman. Then--how well, how beautiful her
+children looked! How nice it was to see them surrounded by those good
+things of life which, despise them as some people will, still add charms
+to those who possess them! Above all, how happy her dear husband was!
+Angus Home's face was like the sun itself, during the days which
+followed Mr. Harman's confession. This sunshine with him had nothing to
+say to the altered and improved circumstances of his life; but it had a
+great deal to say to the altered circumstances of his mind. God had
+most signally, most remarkably, heard his prayer. He had given to him
+the soul for which he pleaded. Through all eternity that suffering, and
+once so sinful, soul was safe. Mr. Home rejoiced over that redeemed soul
+as one who finds great spoil. Added love to God filled his grateful
+heart; his faith in God became more and more, day by day, a mighty
+power. Thus Charlotte Home was surrounded by as much sunshine as often
+visits a human being in this mortal life; yet still this unreasonable
+woman was discontented. The fact was, success had made her bold. She had
+obtained what her heart had pined for. She wanted another little drop of
+bliss to complete her overflowing cup. Charlotte Home was unselfish in
+her joy. There was a shadow on another's brow. She wanted that shadow to
+depart; in short, she wanted Hinton and Charlotte to meet; not only to
+meet, but as quickly as possible to marry. Charlotte's heart was still
+with this lover whom she had given up, and who seemed to have forsaken
+her. Mrs. Home saw this, though on the subject of Hinton Charlotte still
+refused to speak. She said once, and only once, to her friend:
+
+"We have parted, we have most absolutely parted. There is no use now
+looking back on the past; he must never share my disgrace. Yes, my dear
+and beloved father has repented nobly: but the disgrace remains. He must
+never share it. He sees the wisdom of this himself, so we will not speak
+of him, dear Charlotte; I can bear it best so."
+
+This little speech was made with great firmness; but there was a
+strained look about the lips, and a sorrow about the eyes which Mrs.
+Home understood very well. She must not speak, but no one could prevent
+her acting. She resolved to leave no stone unturned to bring these two
+together again. In doing this she would act for the good of two whom she
+loved, for Hinton was also very dear to her. She could never forget
+those nights when he sat by the bed of her almost dying child. She could
+never forget the prompt interference which saved that child's life. She
+had learned enough of his character, during those few weeks which they
+had spent together, to feel sure that no disgrace such as Charlotte
+feared would influence him to cause her pain. It is true she could not
+in any measure account for his absence and his silence; but she was
+quite wise enough and quite clever enough to believe that both could be
+satisfactorily accounted for. She could, however, do nothing without
+seeing Hinton. How could she see him? She had written to his chambers,
+she had written to his lodgings; from both addresses had the letters
+been returned. She thought of advertising. She lay awake at night trying
+to devise some scheme. At last one night she had a dream; so far
+curious, in that it conducted her to the desired end. She dreamt that
+Hinton came to Waterloo station, not to remain in London, but to pass
+through to another part of England. There was nothing more in her dream;
+nevertheless, she resolved to go to that station on the next day. Her
+dream had not even pointed to any particular hour. She looked in
+_Bradshaw_, saw when a great express from the south was due, and started
+off on what might truly be called a wild-goose chase.
+
+Nevertheless, instinct, if nothing higher, had guided Charlotte Home;
+for the first person she saw stepping out of a carriage of this very
+train was Hinton. She saw Hinton, he also saw her.
+
+"You must come with me," she said, going up to him and laying her hand
+on his arm. "You must come with me, and at once, for God has sent me to
+you."
+
+"But I cannot," he answered, "I am catching another train at Euston. I
+am going on special business to Scotland. It is important. I cannot put
+it off. I am ever so sorry; but I must jump into a cab at once." He held
+out his hand as he spoke.
+
+Mrs. Home glanced into his face. His face was changed; it was pale and
+worn. There was a hard look about both eyes and mouth, which both
+altered and considerably spoiled his expression.
+
+"I will not keep you if you still wish to go, after hearing my story,"
+answered Mrs. Home; "but there will be room for two in your hansom. You
+do not object to my driving with you to Euston?"
+
+Hinton could not say he objected to this, though in his heart he felt
+both annoyed and surprised.
+
+As they were driving along, Mrs. Home said,--
+
+"Have you heard anything lately of Mr. Harman?"
+
+To this Hinton replied, "I have not; and pardon me, Mr. Harman does not
+interest me."
+
+"Ah!" said Mrs. Home, "he interests me very much. He--he told my husband
+a strange tale--a tale about himself."
+
+"Did he confess his guilt? I know that he is a very sinful man."
+
+"He has been a great sinner, but he has repented. He has confessed that
+early and terrible sin of his youth. He has not only confessed, but he
+is taking steps to make full reparation."
+
+"Indeed! then you will come into your rights? Let me congratulate you."
+
+"You knew of his sin? You knew what his sin was Mr. Hinton?"
+
+"Yes, I knew."
+
+"Charlotte had hoped to keep that disgrace from you."
+
+"Ah!"
+
+"She gave you another reason for breaking off her engagement?"
+
+"Yes, a weak and futile one. She could not expect me to believe it. I
+did what she had but done before me. I went to Somerset House and saw
+that will which has been so greatly abused."
+
+"She never knew that."
+
+"Pardon me, she did."
+
+"I fear I must be rude enough to contradict you. She said most
+distinctly that you were fully satisfied with the reasons she had given
+for breaking off the engagement, that perhaps you might never now learn
+what her father had done."
+
+Hinton looked at his companion in some perplexity.
+
+"But I wrote to her," he said. "I wrote a letter which, it seemed to me,
+any woman who had a spark even of kindness would have answered. In that
+letter, I told her that I held her to her promise; that I knew all; that
+even if she did not write to me I would call and try to see her. She
+never replied to my letter, and when, after waiting for twenty-four
+hours, I went to the house, she absolutely refused to see me."
+
+"She never knew you called," answered Mrs. Home, "and she never got your
+letter."
+
+"Good heavens! how do you know?"
+
+"I know her too well; but I will ask her directly."
+
+Hinton was silent.
+
+After a short pause, Mrs. Home broke out passionately,--
+
+"How dare you insinuate doubts of so noble a creature?"
+
+"I could only believe facts."
+
+"Has a letter never gone astray? Has a letter never failed to reach the
+hands it was meant for? Mr. Hinton, I am ashamed of you."
+
+"If you can prove that she never got it?"
+
+"I know she never got it. She is changed; her heart is half broken. But
+I will prove it. I will go to her at once. Are you still going to
+Scotland?"
+
+"I need not go until I hear from you. You have astonished me greatly."
+
+"Then drive to my house. Ah! you do not know our new address; it is ----;
+wait for me there, I will be with you in an hour or so."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+JOHN.
+
+
+Hinton went to Mrs. Home's house. The children were out, Mr. Home was
+not visible. Anne, now converted into a neat parlor-maid, received him
+with broad grins of pleasure. She ushered him into the pretty,
+newly-furnished drawing-room, and asked him to wait for her mistress.
+
+"Missis 'ull be back afore long," she said, lingering a little to
+readjust the blinds, and half hoping, half expecting, Hinton to make
+some surprised and approving remark on the changed circumstances of the
+Homes' surroundings.
+
+He made none, however; and Anne, with a slight sigh, left him alone.
+When she did so he rose to his feet and began to pace quickly up and
+down the room. After a time, half an hour or so, he pulled out his
+watch. Yes, he had already lost that express to the north. A good piece
+of business would probably be also lost. But what matter! beyond
+ascertaining the fact that he had missed his train, he did not give the
+affair another thought. To tell the truth, his mind was agitated, his
+heart was full; hope once more peeped upon the horizon of his being. A
+month ago--for it was quite a month ago now--he had received as sharp
+and cruel a shock as falls on most men. Fortune, love, and trust had all
+been dashed from the lips which were already so close to the charmed cup
+that its very flavor was apparent. The cup had never reached the lips
+of Hinton. Fortune was gone, love was gone; worst of all, yes, hardest
+of all, trust was gone. The ideal he had worshipped was but an ideal.
+The Charlotte he had loved was unworthy. She had rejected him, and
+cruelly. His letter was unanswered. He himself was refused admittance.
+Then his pride had risen in revolt. If she could so treat him, he would
+sue no longer. If she could so easily give him up, he would bow to her
+decision. She was not the Charlotte of his love and his dream. But what
+matter! Other men had come to an ideal and found it but a clay idol. He
+would recover: he would not let his heart break. He found, however, that
+he could not stay in London. An uncle of his, his only living near
+relation, was a solicitor in the south of England. Hinton went to visit
+his uncle. He received him warmly and kindly. He not only promised him
+work, but kept his word. Hinton took chambers in a fashionable part of
+the town, and already was not idle. But he was a changed man. That
+shattered trust was making his spirit very hard. The cynical part of him
+was being fostered. Mrs. Home, when she looked into his face, was quite
+right in saying to herself that his expression had not improved. Now,
+however, again, as he paced up and down, soft thoughts were visiting
+him. For what doubts, what blessed doubts had Mrs. Home not insinuated?
+How irregularly his heart beat; how human he felt once more! Ah! what
+sound was that? A cab had drawn up at the door. Hinton flew to the
+window; he saw the soft fawn shade of a lady's dress, he could not see
+the lady. Of course, it was Mrs. Home returning. What news did she
+bring? How he longed to fly to meet her! He did not do so, however; his
+feet felt leaden weighted. He leant against the window, with his back to
+the door. His heart beat harder and harder; he clenched his hands hard.
+There was a quick step running up the stairs, a quick and springing
+step. The drawing-room door was opened and then shut. He heard the
+rustle of soft drapery, then a hand was laid on his arm. The touch of
+that hand made him tremble violently. He turned his head, and--not
+Charlotte Home--but _his_ Charlotte, beautiful and true, stood by his
+side. Their eyes met.
+
+"John!" she said.
+
+"My own, my darling!" he answered.
+
+In an instant they were clasped in each other's arms. That swift
+glance, which each had given the other, had told all.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"John, I never got your letter."
+
+"No!"
+
+"John, you doubted me."
+
+"I did, I confess it; I confess it bitterly. But not now, not after one
+glance into your eyes."
+
+"John, what did you say in that letter?"
+
+"That I held you to your sacred promise; that I refused to give you up."
+
+"But--but--you did not know my true reason. You did not know
+why--why----"
+
+"Yes, I knew all. Before I wrote that letter I went to Somerset house. I
+read your grandfather's will."
+
+"Ah! did you--did you indeed? Oh! what a dreadful time I have gone
+through."
+
+"Yes, but it is over now. Mrs. Home told me how your father had
+repented. The sin is forgiven. The agony is past. What God forgets don't
+let us remember. Lottie, cease to think of it. It is at an end, and so
+are our troubles. I am with you again. Oh! how nearly I had lost you."
+
+Charlotte's head was on her lover's shoulder. His arm was round her.
+"Charlotte, I repeat what I said in that letter which never reached you.
+I refuse to absolve you from your promise. I refuse to give you up. Do
+you hear? I refuse to give you up."
+
+"But, John, I am poor now."
+
+"Poor or rich, you are yourself, and you are mine. Charlotte, do you
+hear me? If you hear me answer me. Tell me that you are mine."
+
+"I am yours, John," she said simply, and she raised her lips to kiss
+him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM.
+
+
+A month after--just one month after, there was a very quiet wedding; a
+wedding performed in the little church at Kentish Town. The ceremony was
+thought by the few who witnessed it to be, even for that obscure part, a
+very poor one. There were no bridesmaids, or white dresses, or, indeed,
+white favors in any form. The bride wore the plainest gray travelling
+suit. She was given away by her gray-headed father; Charlotte Home stood
+close behind her; Mr. Home married the couple, and Uncle Sandy acted as
+best man. Surely no tamer ending could come to what was once meant to be
+such a brilliant affair. Immediately after the ceremony, the bride and
+bridegroom went away for two days and Mrs. Home went back to Prince's
+Gate with Mr. Harman, for she had promised Charlotte to take care of her
+father until her return.
+
+Many changes were contemplated. The grand house in Prince's gate was to
+be given up, and the Hintons were to live in that large southern town
+where Hinton was already obtaining a young barrister's great
+ambition--briefs. Mr. Harman, while he lived, was to find his home with
+his son and daughter.
+
+Mr. Harman was now a peaceful and happy man, and so improved was his
+health--so had the state of his mind affected his body, that though he
+could never hope for cure of his malady, yet Sir George Anderson assured
+him that with care he might live for a very much longer time than he had
+thought possible a few months before. Thus death stood back, not
+altogether thrust aside, but biding its time.
+
+On the morning of Charlotte's wedding-day there arrived a letter from
+Jasper.
+
+"So you have told all?" he said to his brother. "Well, be it so. From
+the time I knew the other trustee was not dead and had reached England,
+I felt that discovery was at hand. No, thank you; I shall never come
+back to England. If you can bear poverty and public disgrace, I cannot.
+I have some savings of my own, and on these I can live during my
+remaining days. Good-bye--we shall never meet again on earth! I repent,
+do you say, of my share? Yes, the business turned out badly in the end.
+What a heap of money those Homes will come in for! Stolen goods don't
+prosper with a man! So it seems. Well, I shall stay out of England."
+
+Jasper was true to his word. Not one of those who knew him in this tale
+ever heard of him again.
+
+Yes, the Homes were now very rich; but both Mr. and Mrs. Home were
+faithful stewards of what was lent them from the Lord. Nor did the
+Hintons miss what was taken from them. It is surely enough to say of
+Charlotte and her husband that they were very happy.
+
+But as sin, however repented of, must yet reap its own reward, so in
+this instance the great house of Harman Brothers ceased to exist. To pay
+that unfulfilled trust the business had to be sold. It passed into the
+hands of strangers, and was continued under another name. No one now
+remembers even its existence.
+
+THE END.
+
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