Since the life of her child had been given back to her, a great softness and sweetness had come to Mrs. Home; she had tasted of a mother's bitterest cup, but God had not asked her to drink it to the dregs. Her dark eyes, always beautiful, had now grown very lovely, being filled with a tenderness which not only took in her own child, but, for his sake, all the other children in the world.
Yes, Charlotte loved God as she had never loved Him before, and it was becoming impossible for her to do that which might pain Him. After a time her husband came in, and the two sat and talked for some time. They had a great deal to say, and the hours flew on as each poured out a full heart to the other.
After a time Charlotte told of her visit from the uncle whom she had supposed for so many years to be dead. Mr. Home was interested, and asked many questions. Charlotte repeated, almost word for word, what Uncle Sandy had said. Her husband regarded her attentively. After a time he spoke.
"Lottie, you remember when first you told me that queer story about your father's will?"
"Yes," she said.
"I own I did not believe it; I own I thought very little about it. I ask your pardon, my dear. I now believe you are right."
"Oh, Angus!" a great flood of color came up to her face. "Oh! why," she added in a voice of pain, "why do you say this to me now?"
"Partly from what your uncle said to-night; partly for another reason. The fact is, my dear wife, while you were away I had a visit from your half-brother, Mr. Jasper Harman.".
"Angus!"
"Yes, he came here one evening. He told a tale, and he made a proposition. His tale was a lame one; his proposition scarcely came well from his lips. He evidently thought of me as of one unworldly and unpractical. I believe I am unpractical, but he never guessed that in my capacity as clergyman I have had much to do with sinners. This man has a conscience by no means void of offence. He is hardened. Charlotte, when I saw him, I instantly believed your story."