wondering whether she had indeed been
as envious and unjust and unkind as Sophia felt her to have been; and
Mrs. Sandal buried her face in her sofa pillow, and had a cry over her
supposed partiality and want of true motherly feeling. "They had been so
misunderstood, Julius and she,--wilfully misunderstood, she feared; and
they were being driven to a foreign land, a deadly foreign land, because
Charlotte and Stephen had raised against them a social hatred they had
not the heart to conquer. If they defended themselves, they must accuse
those of their own blood and house, and they were not mean enough to do
such a thing as that. Oh, no! Sophia Sandal had always done her duty,
and always would do it forever." And broad statements are such
confusing, confounding things, that for one miserable hour the mother
and sister felt as mean and remorseful as Sophia and Julius could
desire. Then the rector read the letter aloud, and dived down into its
depths as if it was a knotty text, and showed the two simple women on
what false conditions all of its accusations rested.

At the same time Julius wrote a letter also. It was to Harry Sandal,--a
very short letter, but destined to cause nearly six years of lonely,
wretched wandering and anxious sorrow.

DEAR HARRY,--There is great trouble about that ten thousand pounds.
It seems you had no right to sell. "Money on false pretences," I
think they call it. I should go West, far West, if I were you.

Your friend,

JULIUS SANDAL.

He read it to Sophia, and she said, "What folly! Let Harry return home.
You have heard that he comes into the Latrigg money. Very well, let him
come home, and then you can make him pay you back. Harry is very
honorable."

"There is not the slightest chance of Harry paying me back. If he had a
million, he wouldn't pay me back. Harry spoke me fair, but I caught one
look which let me see into his soul. He hated me for buying his right.
With my money in his hand, he hated me. He would toss his hat to the
stars if he heard how far I have been over-reached. Next to Charlotte
Sandal, I hate Harry Sandal; and I am going to send him a road that he
is not likely to return. I don't intend Stephen and Harry to sit
together, and chuckle over me. Besides, your mother and Charlotte are
surely calculating upon having 'dear Harry' and 'poor Harry' at home
again very soon. I have no doubt Charlotte is planning about that Emily
Beverley already. For H