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 "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 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 "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." |