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.