gave
a thought to the possible sufferings of his family, to their possible
grief at the loss of him. He actually hugged himself with the
contemplation of their comfort and happiness, which would follow upon
his demise, as he hugged himself upon the prospective ecstasy and
oblivion in the bottle in his pocket.

He came in sight of his house, and a bright light shone in the
dining-room window. He looked at it in bewilderment. His first
thought was an unreasoning one that some of his creditors had in some
unforeseen way taken possession. He went wearily around to the side
door. There was a light also behind the drawn curtain of the kitchen.
He opened the door and smelled broiling beefsteak and tea. Then
Charlotte, warm and rosy, laughing and almost weeping at the same
time, ran towards him with her arms held out.

"I have come back, papa," said she.

Chapter XXXIII

For the first time in his life Arthur Carroll had a perfect sense of
the staying power, of the impregnable support, of love and the
natural ties of humanity. Charlotte's slender arms closed around his
neck; she stood, half-weeping, half-laughing, leaning against him,
but in reality he leaned against her, the soul of the man against the
soul of the girl, and he got from it a strength which was stronger
than life or death. He felt that it bent not one whit before his
terrible weight of misery and perplexity. He was stayed.

"I came back, papa," Charlotte repeated. She was herself a little
terrified by what seemed to her a daring action; then, too, she dimly
perceived something beneath the surface which made her tremble. She
felt the despairing weight of the other soul against her own. She
stood still, clinging to her father, saying in her little, quivering
voice that she had come back, and he was quite still, until at last
he made a little sound like a dry sob, and Charlotte straightened
herself and took his hand firmly in her little, soft one. The girl
became all in a second a woman, with the full-fledged instincts of
one. She knew just what to do for a man in a moment of weakness. She
towered, by virtue of the maternal instinct within her, high above
her father in spiritual strength.

"Papa, come into the house," said she, and her voice seemed no longer
Charlotte's, but echoed from the man's far-off childhood. "Come into
the house, papa," she said; "come." And Carroll followed her into the
house, like a child, his hands clasped firmly and commandi