How It All Came Round

CHAPTER LVI.

Still, there was a weight on Charlotte Home's mind. Much had been given to her, so much that she could scarcely believe herself to be the same woman, who a few short months ago had pawned her engagement ring to buy her little son a pair of shoes. She was now wealthy beyond her wildest dreams; she was wealthy not only in money but in friends. Charlotte Harman was her almost daily companion. Charlotte Harman clung to her with an almost passionate love. Uncle Sandy, too, had made himself, by his cheerfulness, his generosity, his kindness of nature, a warm place in her affections; and Mr. Harman saw her more than once, and she found that she could love even Mr. Harman. Then—how well, how beautiful her children looked! How nice it was to see them surrounded by those good things of life which, despise them as some people will, still add charms to those who possess them! Above all, how happy her dear husband was! Angus Home's face was like the sun itself, during the days which followed Mr. Harman's confession. This sunshine with him had nothing to say to the altered and improved circumstances of his life; but it had a great deal to say to the altered circumstances of his mind. God had most signally, most remarkably, heard his prayer. He had given to him the soul for which he pleaded. Through all eternity that suffering, and once so sinful, soul was safe. Mr. Home rejoiced over that redeemed soul as one who finds great spoil. Added love to God filled his grateful heart; his faith in God became more and more, day by day, a mighty power. Thus Charlotte Home was surrounded by as much sunshine as often visits a human being in this mortal life; yet still this unreasonable woman was discontented. The fact was, success had made her bold. She had obtained what her heart had pined for. She wanted another little drop of bliss to complete her overflowing cup. Charlotte Home was unselfish in her joy. There was a shadow on another's brow. She wanted that shadow to depart; in short, she wanted Hinton and Charlotte to meet; not only to meet, but as quickly as possible to marry. Charlotte's heart was still with this lover whom she had given up, and who seemed to have forsaken her. Mrs. Home saw this, though on the subject of Hinton Charlotte still refused to speak. She said once, and only once, to her friend:

"We have parted, we have most absolutely parted. There is no use now looking back on the past; he must never share my disgrace. Yes, my dear and beloved father has repented nobly: but the disgrace remains. He must never share it. He sees the wisdom of this himself, so we will not speak of him, dear Charlotte; I can bear it best so."

This little speech was made with great firmness; but there was a strained look about the lips, and a sorrow about the eyes which Mrs. Home understood very well. She must not speak, but no one could prevent her acting. She resolved to leave no stone unturned to bring these two together again. In doing this she would act for the good of two whom she loved, for Hinton was also very dear to her. She could never forget those nights when he sat by the bed of her almost dying child. She could never forget the prompt interference which saved that child's life. She had learned enough of his character, during those few weeks which they had spent together, to feel sure that no disgrace such as Charlotte feared would influence him to cause her pain. It is true she could not in any measure account for his absence and his silence; but she was quite wise enough and quite clever enough to believe that both could be satisfactorily accounted for. She could, however, do nothing without seeing Hinton. How could she see him? She had written to his chambers, she had written to his lodgings; from both addresses had the letters been returned. She thought of advertising. She lay awake at night trying to devise some scheme. At last one night she had a dream; so far curious, in that it conducted her to the desired end. She dreamt that Hinton came to Waterloo station, not to remain in London, but to pass through to another part of England. There was nothing more in her dream; nevertheless, she resolved to go to that station on the next day. Her dream had not even pointed to any particular hour. She looked in Bradshaw, saw when a great express from the south was due, and started off on what might truly be called a wild-goose chase.

Nevertheless, instinct, if nothing higher, had guided Charlotte Home; for the first person she saw stepping out of a carriage of this very train was Hinton. She saw Hinton, he also saw her.

"You must come with me," she said, going up to him and laying her hand on his arm. "You must come with me, and at once, for God has sent me to you."

"But I cannot," he answered, "I am catching another train at Euston. I am going on special business to Scotland. It is important. I cannot put it off. I am ever so sorry; but I must jump into a cab at once." He held out his hand as he spoke.

Mrs. Home glanced into his face. His face was changed; it was pale and worn. There was a hard look about both eyes and mouth, which both altered and considerably spoiled his expression.

"I will not keep you if you still wish to go, after hearing my story," answered Mrs. Home; "but there will be room for two in your hansom. You do not object to my driving with you to Euston?"

Hinton could not say he objected to this, though in his heart he felt both annoyed and surprised.

As they were driving along, Mrs. Home said,—

"Have you heard anything lately of Mr. Harman?"

To this Hinton replied, "I have not; and pardon me, Mr. Harman does not interest me."

"Ah!" said Mrs. Home, "he interests me very much. He—he told my husband a strange tale—a tale about himself."

"Did he confess his guilt? I know that he is a very sinful man."

"He has been a great sinner, but he has repented. He has confessed that early and terrible sin of his youth. He has not only confessed, but he is taking steps to make full reparation."

"Indeed! then you will come into your rights? Let me congratulate you."

"You knew of his sin? You knew what his sin was Mr. Hinton?"

"Yes, I knew."

"Charlotte had hoped to keep that disgrace from you."

"Ah!"

"She gave you another reason for breaking off her engagement?"

"Yes, a weak and futile one. She could not expect me to believe it. I did what she had but done before me. I went to Somerset House and saw that will which has been so greatly abused."

"She never knew that."

"Pardon me, she did."

"I fear I must be rude enough to contradict you. She said most distinctly that you were fully satisfied with the reasons she had given for breaking off the engagement, that perhaps you might never now learn what her father had done."

Hinton looked at his companion in some perplexity.

"But I wrote to her," he said. "I wrote a letter which, it seemed to me, any woman who had a spark even of kindness would have answered. In that letter, I told her that I held her to her promise; that I knew all; that even if she did not write to me I would call and try to see her. She never replied to my letter, and when, after waiting for twenty-four hours, I went to the house, she absolutely refused to see me."

"She never knew you called," answered Mrs. Home, "and she never got your letter."

"Good heavens! how do you know?"

"I know her too well; but I will ask her directly."

Hinton was silent.

After a short pause, Mrs. Home broke out passionately,—

"How dare you insinuate doubts of so noble a creature?"

"I could only believe facts."

"Has a letter never gone astray? Has a letter never failed to reach the hands it was meant for? Mr. Hinton, I am ashamed of you."

"If you can prove that she never got it?"

"I know she never got it. She is changed; her heart is half broken. But I will prove it. I will go to her at once. Are you still going to Scotland?"

"I need not go until I hear from you. You have astonished me greatly."

"Then drive to my house. Ah! you do not know our new address; it is ——; wait for me there, I will be with you in an hour or so."

CHAPTER LVII.

He made none, however; and Anne, with a slight sigh, left him alone. When she did so he rose to his feet and began to pace quickly up and down the room. After a time, half an hour or so, he pulled out his watch. Yes, he had already lost that express to the north. A good piece of business would probably be also lost. But what matter! beyond ascertaining the fact that he had missed his train, he did not give the affair another thought. To tell the truth, his mind was agitated, his heart was full; hope once more peeped upon the horizon of his being. A month ago—for it was quite a month ago now—he had received as sharp and cruel a shock as falls on most men. Fortune, love, and trust had all been dashed from the lips which were already so close to the charmed cup that its very flavor was apparent. The cup had never reached the lips of Hinton. Fortune was gone, love was gone; worst of all, yes, hardest of all, trust was gone. The ideal he had worshipped was but an ideal. The Charlotte he had loved was unworthy. She had rejected him, and cruelly. His letter was unanswered. He himself was refused admittance. Then his pride had risen in revolt. If she could so treat him, he would sue no longer. If she could so easily give him up, he would bow to her decision. She was not the Charlotte of his love and his dream. But what matter! Other men had come to an ideal and found it but a clay idol. He would recover: he would not let his heart break. He found, however, that he could not stay in London. An uncle of his, his only living near relation, was a solicitor in the south of England. Hinton went to visit his uncle. He received him warmly and kindly. He not only promised him work, but kept his word. Hinton took chambers in a fashionable part of the town, and already was not idle. But he was a changed man. That shattered trust was making his spirit very hard. The cynical part of him was being fostered. Mrs. Home, when she looked into his face, was quite right in saying to herself that his expression had not improved. Now, however, again, as he paced up and down, soft thoughts were visiting him. For what doubts, what blessed doubts had Mrs. Home not insinuated? How irregularly his heart beat; how human he felt once more! Ah! what sound was that? A cab had drawn up at the door. Hinton flew to the window; he saw the soft fawn shade of a lady's dress, he could not see the lady. Of course, it was Mrs. Home returning. What news did she bring? How he longed to fly to meet her! He did not do so, however; his feet felt leaden weighted. He leant against the window, with his back to the door. His heart beat harder and harder; he clenched his hands hard. There was a quick step running up the stairs, a quick and springing step. The drawing-room door was opened and then shut. He heard the rustle of soft drapery, then a hand was laid on his arm. The touch of that hand made him tremble violently. He turned his head, and—not Charlotte Home—but his Charlotte, beautiful and true, stood by his side. Their eyes met.

"John!" she said.

"My own, my darling!" he answered.

In an instant they were clasped in each other's arms. That swift glance, which each had given the other, had told all.

"John, I never got your letter."

"No!"

"John, you doubted me."

"I did, I confess it; I confess it bitterly. But not now, not after one glance into your eyes."

"John, what did you say in that letter?"

"That I held you to your sacred promise; that I refused to give you up."

"But—but—you did not know my true reason. You did not know why—why——"

"Yes, I knew all. Before I wrote that letter I went to Somerset house. I read your grandfather's will."

"Ah! did you—did you indeed? Oh! what a dreadful time I have gone through."

"Yes, but it is over now. Mrs. Home told me how your father had repented. The sin is forgiven. The agony is past. What God forgets don't let us remember. Lottie, cease to think of it. It is at an end, and so are our troubles. I am with you again. Oh! how nearly I had lost you."

Charlotte's head was on her lover's shoulder. His arm was round her. "Charlotte, I repeat what I said in that letter which never reached you. I refuse to absolve you from your promise. I refuse to give you up. Do you hear? I refuse to give you up."

"But, John, I am poor now."

"Poor or rich, you are yourself, and you are mine. Charlotte, do you hear me? If you hear me answer me. Tell me that you are mine."

"I am yours, John," she said simply, and she raised her lips to kiss him.

CHAPTER LVIII.

A month after—just one month after, there was a very quiet wedding; a wedding performed in the little church at Kentish Town. The ceremony was thought by the few who witnessed it to be, even for that obscure part, a very poor one. There were no bridesmaids, or white dresses, or, indeed, white favors in any form. The bride wore the plainest gray travelling suit. She was given away by her gray-headed father; Charlotte Home stood close behind her; Mr. Home married the couple, and Uncle Sandy acted as best man. Surely no tamer ending could come to what was once meant to be such a brilliant affair. Immediately after the ceremony, the bride and bridegroom went away for two days and Mrs. Home went back to Prince's Gate with Mr. Harman, for she had promised Charlotte to take care of her father until her return.

Many changes were contemplated. The grand house in Prince's gate was to be given up, and the Hintons were to live in that large southern town where Hinton was already obtaining a young barrister's great ambition—briefs. Mr. Harman, while he lived, was to find his home with his son and daughter.

Mr. Harman was now a peaceful and happy man, and so improved was his health—so had the state of his mind affected his body, that though he could never hope for cure of his malady, yet Sir George Anderson assured him that with care he might live for a very much longer time than he had thought possible a few months before. Thus death stood back, not altogether thrust aside, but biding its time.

On the morning of Charlotte's wedding-day there arrived a letter from Jasper.

"So you have told all?" he said to his brother. "Well, be it so. From the time I knew the other trustee was not dead and had reached England, I felt that discovery was at hand. No, thank you; I shall never come back to England. If you can bear poverty and public disgrace, I cannot. I have some savings of my own, and on these I can live during my remaining days. Good-bye—we shall never meet again on earth! I repent, do you say, of my share? Yes, the business turned out badly in the end. What a heap of money those Homes will come in for! Stolen goods don't prosper with a man! So it seems. Well, I shall stay out of England."

Jasper was true to his word. Not one of those who knew him in this tale ever heard of him again.

Yes, the Homes were now very rich; but both Mr. and Mrs. Home were faithful stewards of what was lent them from the Lord. Nor did the Hintons miss what was taken from them. It is surely enough to say of Charlotte and her husband that they were very happy.

But as sin, however repented of, must yet reap its own reward, so in this instance the great house of Harman Brothers ceased to exist. To pay that unfulfilled trust the business had to be sold. It passed into the hands of strangers, and was continued under another name. No one now remembers even its existence.

THE END

L. T. MEADE SERIES.

Uniform With This Volume.
By MRS. L. T. MEADE.

Price Post-Paid, 50c. each, or any three books for $1.25.

HURST & COMPANY Publishers, New York.

REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD OBTAIN A CATALOGUE OF OUR PUBLICATIONS

A postal to us will place it in your hands

1. You will possess a comprehensive and classified list of all the best standard books published, at prices less than offered by others.

2. You will find listed in our catalogue books on every topic: Poetry, Fiction, Romance, Travel, Adventure, Humor, Science, History, Religion, Biography, Drama, etc., besides Dictionaries and Manuals, Bibles, Recitation and Hand Books, Sets, Octavos, Presentation Books and Juvenile and Nursery Literature in immense variety.

3. You will be able to purchase books at prices within your reach; as low as 10 cents for paper covered books, to $5.00 for books bound in cloth or leather, adaptable for gift and presentation purposes, to suit the tastes of the most critical.

4. You will save considerable money by taking advantage of our Special Discounts, which we offer to those whose purchases are large enough to warrant us in making a reduction.

HURST & CO., Publishers, 395, 397, 399 Broadway, New York.

THE FAMOUS ALGER BOOKS

By Horatio Alger, Jr.
The Boy's Writer

A series of books known to all boys; books that are good and wholesome, with enough "ginger" in them to suit the tastes of the younger generation. The Alger books are not filled with "blood and thunder" stories of a doubtful character, but are healthy and elevating, and parents should see to it that their children become acquainted with the writings of this celebrated writer of boys' books. We publish the titles named below:

Any of these books will be mailed upon receipt of 35c., or three copies for $1.00. Do not fail to procure one or more of these famous volumes.

A Complete Catalogue of Books
Will Be Sent Upon Request.

HURST & CO., Publishers, NEW YORK

HENTY SERIES

An entirely new edition of these famous Books for Boys, by G. A. Henty. This author has reached the hearts of the younger generation by cleverly amalgamating historical events into interesting stories. Every book illustrated. 42 titles. Price, 35c.

ANY OF THESE BOOKS WILL BE MAILED UPON RECEIPT OF 35c., OR THREE COPIES FOR $1.00

Be sure you have one of our complete catalogues; sent anywhere when requested.

HURST & CO. Publishers NEW YORK

Mirthful Books Worth Reading!

Peck's Books of Humor

No author has achieved a greater national reputation for books of genuine humor and mirth than George W. Peck, author of "Peck's Bad Boy and His Pa."

We are fortunate to be able to offer, within everyone's reach, three of his latest books. The titles are:

CLOTH Binding, 60c., Postpaid.          PAPER Binding, 30c., Postpaid.

By failing to procure any one of these books you lose an opportunity to "laugh and grow fat." When you get one you will order the others.

Send for our Illustrated Catalogue of Books.

HURST & CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York.

Helen's Babies

By John Habberton

Interesting!      Entertaining!      Amusing!

A book with a famous reputation. It is safe to say that no book, illustrating the doings of children, has ever been published that has reached the popularity enjoyed by "Helen's Babies." Brilliantly written, Habberton records in this volume some of the cutest, wittiest and most amusing of childish sayings, whims and pranks, all at the expense of a bachelor uncle. The book is elaborately illustrated, which greatly assists the reader in appreciating page by page, Habberton's masterpiece.

Published as follows:

Popular Price Edition, Cloth, 60c., Postpaid.
Quarto Edition, with Six Colored Plates, Cloth, $1.25, Postpaid.

We guarantee that you will not suffer from "the blues" after reading this book.

Ask for our complete catalogue. Mailed upon request.

HURST & CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York.

Elegant Gift Books

Hurst's Presentation Series

A Distinctive Cover Design on Each Book

A beautiful series of Young People's Books to suit the tastes of the most fastidious. The publishers consider themselves fortunate in being able to offer such a marvelous line of choice subjects, made up into attractive presentation volumes. Large type, fine heavy paper, numerous pictures in black, inserted with six lithographic reproductions in ten colors by eminent artists, bound in extra English cloth, with three ink and gold effects.

Price, postpaid, $1.00 per volume.

Books sure to be a delight to every boy and girl who becomes the proud possessor of any or all of them.

Write for our Complete Catalogue.

HURST & CO., Publishers, 395-399 Broadway, New York.