ow more ethereal day by day. At all
such times as these did Charlotte Home's mind and thoughts refer back
to her mother's story, and again and again the idea returned that a
great, great wrong had been done.

In the winter when this story opens, poverty came very close to the
little household. They were, it is true, quite out of debt, but they
were only so because the food was kept so scanty, the fires so low,
dress so very insufficient to keep at a distance the winter's bitter
cold; they were only out of debt because the mother slaved from morning
to night, and the father ate less and less, having, it is to be feared,
less and less appetite to eat.

Then the wife and mother grew desperate, money must be brought in--how
could it be done? The doctor called and said that baby Angus would die
if he had not more milk--he must have what is called in London
baby-milk, and plenty of it. Such milk in Kentish Town meant money.
Lottie resolved that baby Angus should not die. In answering an
advertisement which she hoped would give her employment, she
accidentally found herself in her own half-brother's house. There was
the wealth which had belonged to her father; there were the riches to
which she was surely born. How delicious were those soft carpets; how
nice those cushioned seats; how pleasant those glowing fires; what an
air of refinement breathed over everything; how grand it was to be
served by those noiseless and well-trained servants; how great a thing
was wealth, after all!

She thought all this before she saw Charlotte Harman. Then the gracious
face, the noble bearing, the kindly and sweet manner of this girl of her
own age, this girl who might have been her dearest friend, who was so
nearly related to her, filled her with sudden bitterness; she believed
herself immeasurably inferior to Miss Harman, and yet she knew that she
might have been such another. She left the house with a mingled feeling
of relief and bitterness. She was earning present money. What might she
not discover to benefit her husband and children by and by?

In the evening, unable to keep her thoughts to herself, she told them
and her story for the first time to her husband. Instantly he tore the
veil from her eyes. Was she, his wife, to go to her own brother's house
as a spy? No! a thousand times no! No wealth, however needed, would be
worth purchasing at such a price. If Charlotte could not banish from her
mind these unworthy thoughts, she must g