ill stay with you. See,
I am going to draw down the blinds, and I will lock the door; you must
not be disturbed."

It was thus that these two spent the morning. When Charlotte Harman
awoke some hours later, quiet and refreshed, they had a long, long talk.
That talk drew their hearts still closer together; it was plain that
such a paltry thing as money could not divide these friends.

CHAPTER XLV.

THE FATE OF A LETTER.

Hinton had left the Harmans' house, after his strange interview with
Charlotte, with a stunned feeling. It is not too much to say of this
young man that he utterly failed to realize what had befallen him. He
walked like one in a dream, and when he reached his lodgings in Jermyn
Street, and sat down at last by his hearth, he thought of himself in a
queer way, as if he were some one else; a trouble had come to some one
else; that some one was a friend of his so he was called on to pity him.
Gradually, however, it dawned upon him that the friend was unpleasantly
close, that the some one else reigned as lord of his bosom. It was
he--he himself he was called on to pity. It was on his hitherto so
prosperous, young head that the storm had burst. Next Tuesday was to
have been his wedding-day. There was to be no wedding. On next Tuesday
he was to have won a bride, a wife; that other one dearer than himself
was to give herself to him absolutely. In addition to this he was to
obtain fortune: and fortune was to lead to far dearer, far nobler fame.
But now all this was at an end; Tuesday was to pass as any other
day--gray, neutral-tinted, indifferent, it was to go over his head. And
why? This was what caused the sharpest sting of the anguish. There
seemed no reason for it all. Charlotte's excuse was a poor one; it had
not the ring of the true metal about it. Unaccustomed to deceive, she
had played her part badly. She had given an excuse; but it was no
excuse. In this Hinton was not blinded, even for a moment. His
Charlotte! There, seemed a flaw in the perfect creature. His Charlotte
had a second time turned away her confidence from him. Yes, here was the
sting; in her trouble she would not let him comfort her. What was the
matter? What was the mystery? What was the hidden wrong?

Hinton roused himself now. As thought and clearness of judgment came
more vividly back to him, his anger grew and his pity lessened. His mind
was brought to bear upon a secret, for there _was_ a hidden secret. His
remembrance t