nzo, we will go up and see him," said Mrs. Pitkin, excited. "I must
know what all this means."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AN UNSATISFACTORY CONFERENCE.

Mr. Carter was taking articles from a bureau and packing them away in an
open trunk, when Mrs. Pitkin entered with Alonzo. It is needless to
say that his niece regarded his employment with dismay, for it showed
clearly that he proposed to leave the shelter of her roof.

"Uncle Oliver!" she exclaimed, sinking into a chair and gazing at the
old gentleman spell-bound.

Mr. Carter, whose back had been turned, turned about and faced his
niece.

"Oh, it is you, Lavinia!" he said quietly.

"What are you doing?" asked his niece.

"As you see, I am packing my trunk."

"Do you intend to leave us?" faltered Mrs. Pitkin.

"I think it will be well for me to make a change," said Mr. Carter.

"This is, indeed, a sad surprise," said Mrs Pitkin mournfully. "When did
you return from Florida?"

"I have never been there. I changed my mind when I reached Charleston."

"How long have you been in the city?"

"About a week."

"And never came near us. This is, indeed, unkind. In what way have we
offended you?" and Mrs. Pitkin put her handkerchief to her eyes.

There were no tears in them, but she was making an attempt to touch the
heart of her uncle.

"Are you aware that Rebecca Forbush is in the city?" asked the old
gentleman abruptly.

"Ye-es," answered Mrs. Pitkin, startled.

"Have you seen her?"

"Ye-es. She came here one day."

"And how did you treat her?" asked Mr. Carter, severely. "Did you not
turn the poor woman from the house, having no regard for her evident
poverty? Did you not tell her that I was very angry with her, and would
not hear her name mentioned?"

"Ye-es, I may have said so. You know, Uncle Oliver, you have held no
communication with her for many years."

"That is true--more shame to me!"

"And I thought I was carrying out your wishes in discouraging her
visits."

"You also thought that she might be a dangerous rival in my favor, and
might deprive you and Alonzo of an expected share in my estate."

"Oh, Uncle Oliver! how can you think so poorly of me?"

Mr. Carter eyed his niece with a half-smile.

"So I do you injustice, do I, Lavinia?" he returned.

"Yes, great injustice."

"I am glad to hear it. I feel less objection now to telling you what are
my future plans."

"What are they?" asked Mrs. Pitkin apprehensively.

"I have lived