How It All Came Round Part 13

"I want, I pray, I long to make as good a wife as you tell me she did."

"With praying, longing, and striving, it will come Charlotte. That was how she succeeded."

"And there is another thing," continued Charlotte, suddenly changing her position and raising her bright eyes to her old father's face. "You had a good wife and I had a good mother. If ever I die, as my own mother died, and leave behind me a little child, as she did, I pray that my John may be as good a father to it as you have been to me."

But in answer to this little burst of daughterly love, a strange thing happened. Mr. Harman grew very white, so white that he gasped for breath.

"Water, a little water," he said, feebly; and when Charlotte had brought it to him and he raised it to his lips, and the color and power to breathe had come back again, he said slowly and with great pain,--

"Never, never pray that your husband may be like me, Charlotte. To be worthy of you at all, he must be a much better and a very different man."

CHAPTER XVII.

HAPPINESS NOT JUSTICE.

Hinton left Mr. Harman's house in a very perplexed frame of mind. It seemed to him that in that one short day as much had happened to him as in all the course of his previous life, but the very force of the thoughts, the emotions, the hopes, the fears, which had visited him, made him, strong, young and vigorous as he was, so utterly weary, that when he reached his rooms he felt that he must let tired-out nature have its way--he threw himself on his bed and slept the sleep of the young and healthy until the morning.

It was February weather, February unusually mild and genial, and the pet day of yesterday was followed by another as soft and sweet and mild.

When Hinton awoke from his refreshing slumbers, the day was so well and thoroughly risen that a gleam of sunshine lay across his bed. He started up to discover a corresponding glow in his heart. What was causing this glow? In a moment he remembered, and the gleam of heart sunshine grew brighter with the knowledge. The fact was, happiness was standing by the young man's side, holding out two radiant hands, and saying, "Take me, take me to your heart of hearts, for I have come to dwell with you."

Hinton rose, dressed hastily, and went into his sitting-room. All the gloom which had so oppressed him yesterday had vanished. He could not resist the outward sunshine, nor the heart-glow which had come to him.

He stepped lightly, and whistled some gay airs. He ate his breakfast with appet.i.te, then threw himself into an easy-chair which stood near the window; he need not go to his chambers for at least an hour, he might give himself this time to think.

Again happiness stepped up close and showed her beautiful face. Should he take her; should he receive the rare and lovely thing and shut out that stern sense of justice, of relieving the oppressed, of seeing the wronged righted, which had been as his sheet-anchor yesterday, which had been more or less the sheet-anchor of his life. Here was his position.

He was engaged to marry Charlotte Harman; he loved her with his whole heart; she loved him with her whole heart; she was a beautiful woman, a n.o.ble woman, a wealthy woman. With her as his wife, love, riches, power might all be his. What more could the warm, warm feelings of youth desire? what more could the ambitions of youth aspire to? Yesterday, it is true, he had felt some rising of that n.o.ble pride which scorns to receive so much and give so little. He had formed a wild, almost pa.s.sionate determination to obtain his brief before he obtained his bride, but Mr. Harman had soothed that pride to sleep. There was indeed a grave and sad reason why this beautiful and innocent woman whom he had won should receive all the full comfort his love and protection could give her as quickly as possible. Her father was dying, and she must not know of his approaching death. Her father wished to see her Hinton's wife as soon as possible. Hinton felt that this was reasonable, this was fair; for the sake of no pride, true or false, no hoped-for brief, could he any longer put off their wedding. Nay, far from this. Last night he had urged its being completed two months sooner than Charlotte herself had proposed. He saw by the brightness in Charlotte's eyes that, though she did not at once agree to this, her love for him was such that she would marry him in a week if he so willed it. He rejoiced in these symptoms of her great love, and the rejoicings of last night had risen in a fuller tide this morning. Yes, it was the rule of life, the one everlasting law, the old must suffer and die, the young must live and rejoice. Yes; Hinton felt very deep sympathy for Mr. Harman last night, but this morning, his happiness making him more self-absorbed than really selfish, he knew that the old man's dying and suffering state could not take one iota from his present delight.

What then perplexed him? What made him stand aloof from the radiant guest, Happiness, for a brief half hour? That story of Charlotte's; it would come back to him; he wished now he had never heard it. For having heard he could not forget: he could not exorcise this grim Thing which stood side by side with Happiness in his sunny room. The fact was, his acute mind took in the true bearings of the case far more clearly than Charlotte had done. He felt sure that Mrs. Home had been wronged. He felt equally sure that, if he looked into the case, it lay in his power to right her. Over and over he saw her pale, sad face, and he hoped it was not going to haunt him. The tale in his mind lay all in Mrs. Home's favor, all against John and Jasper Harman. Was it likely that their wealthy father would do anything so monstrously unjust as to leave all his money to his two eldest sons with whom he had previously quarrelled, and nothing, nothing at all to his young wife and infant daughter? It would be a meaningless piece of injustice, unlike all that he had gleaned of the previous character of the old man. As to John and Jasper, and their conduct in the affair, that too was difficult to fathom.

Jasper had spent the greater portion of his life in Australia. Of his character Hinton knew little; that little he felt was repugnant to him.

But John Harman--no man in the City bore a higher character for uprightness, for integrity, for honor. John Harman was respected and loved by all who knew him.

Yes, yes: Hinton felt that all this was possible, but also he knew that never in their close intercourse had he been able to fathom John Harman.

A shadow rested over the wealthy and prosperous merchant. Never until now had Hinton even approached the cause; but now, now it seemed to him that he was grappling with the impenetrable mystery, that face to face he was looking at the long and successfully hidden sin. Strong man as he was, he trembled as this fear came over him. Whatever the cause, whatever the sudden and swift temptation, he felt an ever-growing conviction that long ago John and Jasper Harman had robbed the widow and fatherless. Feeling this, being almost sure of this, how then should he act? He knew very well what he could do. He could go to Somerset House and see the will of old Mr. Harman. It was very unlikely that a forged will had been attempted. It was, he felt sure, far, far more probable that the real will was left untampered with, that the deed of injustice had been done in the hope that no one who knew anything about such matters would ever inquire into it.

Hinton could go that very day and set his mind at rest. Why then did he hesitate? Ah! he knew but too well. Never and nearer came that shining form of Happiness. If he did this thing, and found his suspicions correct, as he feared much he should, if he then acted upon this knowledge and gave Mrs. Home her own again, happiness would fly from him, it might be for ever. To give Mrs. Home her rights he must cruelly expose a dying old man. Such a shock, coming now, would most probably kill John Harman. After bringing her father to such shame and dishonor, would Charlotte ever consent to be his wife? would she not indeed in very horror fly from his presence? What was Mrs. Home to him, that he should ruin his whole life for her sake, that he should give up wife, wealth, and fame? Nothing--a complete stranger. Why should he, for her sake, pain and make miserable those he loved, above all break the heart of the woman who was more precious to him than all the rest of the world? He felt he could not do this thing. He must take that bright winged happiness and let justice have her day when she could. Some other hand must inflict the blow, it could not be his hand. He was sorry now that he had taken Mrs. Home's lodgings. But after all what did it signify? He had taken them for a month, he could go there for that short period. His quickly approaching marriage would make it necessary for him to leave very soon after, and he would try amongst his many friends to find her a more permanent tenant, for though he had now quite made up his mind to let matters alone, his heart ached for this woman. Yes, he would, if possible, help her in little ways, though it would be impossible for his hand to be the one to give her her own again. Having come to this determination he went out.

CHAPTER XVIII.

"SUGAR AND SPICE AND ALL THAT'S NICE."

Perhaps for one day Charlotte Harman was selfish in her happiness. But when she awoke on the morning after her interview with her father, her finely balanced nature had quite recovered its equilibrium. She was a woman whom circ.u.mstances could make very n.o.ble; all her leanings were towards the good, she had hitherto been una.s.sailed by temptation, untouched by care. All her life the beautiful and bright things of this world had been showered at her feet. She had the friends whom rich, amiable, and handsome girls usually make. She had the devotion of a most loving father. John Hinton met her and loved her. She responded to his love with her full heart. Another father might have objected to her giving herself to this man, who in the fashionable world's opinion was nothing. But Harman only insisted on a slight delay to their marriage, none whatever to their engagement, and now, after scarcely a year of waiting, the embargo was withdrawn, their wedding-day was fixed, was close at hand. The twentieth of April (Charlotte knew she should not oppose the twentieth of April) was not quite two months away. Very light was her heart when she awoke to this happy fact. Happiness, too, was standing by her bedside, and she made no scruple to press the radiant creature to her heart of hearts. But Charlotte's was too fine a nature to be spoiled by prosperity. Independent of her wealth, she must always have been a favorite. Her heart was frank and generous; she was thoughtful for others, she was most truly unselfish. Charlotte was a favorite with the servants; her maid worshipped her. She was a just creature, and had read too much on social reform to give away indiscriminately and without thought; but where her sense of justice was really satisfied, she could give with a royal hand, and there were many poor whom Ward, her maid, knew, who, rising up, called Miss Harman blessed.

Charlotte had taken a great interest in Mrs. Home. Her face attracted, her manner won, before ever her story touched the heart of this young woman. The greatest pain Charlotte had ever gone through in her life had followed the recital of Mrs. Home's tale, a terrible foreboding the awful shadow which points to wrong done, to sin committed by her best and dearest, had come near and touched her. Uncle Jasper, with his clever and experienced hand, had driven that shadow away, and in her first feeling of intense thankfulness and relief, she had almost disliked the woman who had come to her with so cruel a tale. All yesterday, in the midst of her own happiness, she had endeavored to shut Mrs. Home from her thoughts; but this morning, more calm herself, the remembrance of the poor, pale, and struggling mother rose up again fresh and vivid within her heart. It is true Mrs. Home believed a lie, a cruel and dreadful lie; but none the less for this was she to be pitied, none the less for this must she be helped. Mrs. Home was Charlotte's near relation, she could not suffer her to want. As she lay in bed, she reflected with great thankfulness that John Hinton had said, on hearing the tale, how manifestly it would be his and her duty to help this poor mother. Yes, by and by they would give her enough to raise her above all want, but Charlotte felt she could not wait for that distant time. She must succor Mrs. Home at once. Her father had said last night that, if she married in two months, there would be no time for her to finish her book. He was right; she must give up the book; she would devote this morning to Mrs. Home.

She rose with her determination formed and went downstairs. As usual her father was waiting for her, as usual he came up and kissed her; and as they had done every morning for so many years, they sat down opposite each other to breakfast. Charlotte longed to speak to her father about Mrs. Home, but he looked, even to her inexperienced eyes, very ill and haggard, and she remembered her uncle's words and refrained from the subject.

"You seem so feeble, father, had you not better go into town in the carriage this morning?" she asked, as he rose from his chair.

To her surprise he a.s.sented, even confessed that he had already ordered the carriage. He had never to her knowledge done such a thing before, and little as she knew of real illness, nothing as she knew of danger and death, she felt a sharp pain at her heart as she watched him driving away. The pain, however, was but momentary, lost in the pressing interests of other thoughts. Before eleven o'clock she had started off to see Mrs. Home.

Now it was by no means her intention to go to this newly found relation empty handed. Mrs. Home might or might not be willing to receive a gift of money, but Charlotte hoped so to be able to convey it to her as to save her pride from being too greatly hurt.

Charlotte had a small banking account of her own. She drove now straight to her bank in the city, and drawing fifty pounds in one note slipped it into her purse. From the bank she went to a children's West End shop.

She there chose a lovely velvet frock for the fair-haired little Daisy, two embroidered white dresses for the baby; and going a little farther she bought a smart tailor suit for the eldest boy. After buying the pretty clothes she visited a toy shop, where she loaded herself with toys; then a cake shop to purchase cakes and other goodies; and having at last exhausted her resources; she desired the coachman to drive to Mrs. Home's address in Kentish Town. She arrived, after a drive of a little over half an hour, to find the lady whom she had come to seek, out. The dirty little maid stared with full round eyes at the beautiful young lady and at the handsome carriage, and declared she did not know when her missis would be in.

For a moment Charlotte felt foiled; but she was excited now--she could not go away, laden as she was with fairy gifts, without making some effort to dispense these blessings.

"I am a relation of Mrs. Home's and I want to see the children. Are the children in?" she asked of the little maid.

Rounder and rounder grew that small domestic's eyes.

"They can't be hout without me," she volunteered; "ain't I the nuss and maid-of-all work? Yes, the children is hin."

Then she opened the dining-room door, and Charlotte, first flying to the carriage and returning laden with brown paper parcels, followed her into the little parlor.

The maid, on the swift wings of excitement, flew upstairs. There was the quick patter of eager little feet, and in a very few moments the door was pushed open and a boy and girl entered. Charlotte recognized them at a glance. They were the very handsome little pair whose acquaintance she had made yesterday in Regent's Park. The girl hung back a trifle shyly, but the boy, just saying to his sister, "The pretty lady," came up, and raised his lips for a kiss.

"You don't think me rude?" he said; "you don't mind kissing me, do you."

"I love to kiss you; I am your own cousin," said Charlotte.

"My own cousin! Then I may sit on your knee. Daisy, come here--the pretty lady is our own cousin."

On hearing this, Daisy too advanced. Neither child had any idea what the word cousin meant, but it seemed to include proprietorship. They stroked Charlotte's furs, and both pairs of lips were raised again and again for many kisses. In the midst of this scene entered the little maid with the baby. Pretty as Daisy and Harold were, they were nothing to the baby; this baby of eight months had a most ethereal and lovely face.

"Oh, you beauty! you darling!" said Charlotte, as she clasped the little creature in her arms, and the baby, too young to be shy, allowed her to kiss him repeatedly.

"What a lot of lumber!" said Daisy, touching the brown-paper parcels.

This little child's speech brought Charlotte back to the fact of her cakes and toys. Giving baby to his small nurse, she opened her treasures. Daisy received her doll with a kind of awed rapture, Harold rattled his drum and blew his trumpet in a way most distracting to any weak nerves within reasonable distance, and the baby sucked some rather unwholesome sweets. No child thought of thanking their benefactor, but flushed cheeks, bright eyes, eager little voices, were thanks louder and more eloquent than words.

"I want to see your mother; when will she be in?" asked Charlotte, after a little quiet had been restored.

"Not all day," answered Harold. "Mother has gone with father to nurse a poor sick lady; she won't be back till quite night."

"She said we were to be very good; we are, aren't we?" said Daisy.

"Yes, darling; you are quite perfect," replied the inexperienced Charlotte.

"Did our mother ask you to come and play with us and give us lovely things?" demanded Harold.

"She does not know I am here, my dear little boy; but now, if you will show me where I can get a sheet of paper, I will just write your mother a little note."