an 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 n