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 gla.s.s 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 la.s.s?"

"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 n.o.blest 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."