o be with you," she said. "You
will let me nurse you and care for you. You will not force yourself to
do more than you are able. Now that I know all, I can take such care of
you, and the thought of that will make me happier by and by."

"It is a relief that you know the worst," said Mr. Harman, but he did
not smile or look contented; he, as well as Hinton, felt that there was
more in this strange desire of Charlotte's than met the eye.

CHAPTER XLIII.

"YOU DON'T WANT MONEY?"

Sandy Wilson having again very carefully read Mr. Harman's will, felt
much puzzled how to act. He was an honest, upright, practical man
himself. The greatness of the crime committed quite startled him. He had
no sympathy for the wicked men who had done the deed, and he had the
very keenest sympathy for those against whom the deed was done. His
little orphan and widowed sister and her baby child were the wronged
ones. The men who had wronged her he had never seen. He said to himself
that he had no sympathy, no sympathy whatever for Mr. Harman. What if he
was a dying man, was that fact to screen him? Was he to be allowed to go
down to his grave in peace, his gray head appearing to be to him a crown
of glory, honored by the world, cheered for his great success in life?
Was all this to be allowed to continue when he was worthy not of
applause but of hisses, of the world's most bitter opprobrium?

And yet Sandy felt that, little or indeed no pity as he had for this
most wicked man, even if Charlotte had not come to him and pleaded with
eyes, voice, and manner he could scarcely have exposed Mr. Harman. He
could scarcely, after hearing that great doctor's verdict, have gone up
to the old man and said that which would hurry him without an instant's
time for repentance, to judgment.

Alexander Wilson believed most fully in a judgment to come. When he
thought of it now, a certain sense of relief came over him. He need not
trouble so sorely; he might leave this sinner to his God. It is to be
feared that he thought more of God's justice than of His loving mercy
and forgiveness, as he decided to leave John Harman in His hands.

That evening at six o'clock he was to be again with Charlotte Home. For
Charlotte Harman's sake, he had denied himself that pleasure the night
before; but this evening the solitary man might enjoy the keen pleasure
of being with his very own. Mrs. Home was his nearest living
relation--the child of his own loved sister. He