ted 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
knee