"We had just a delicious time," said Harold, "and I'm very strong again now, ain't I, mother? But it wasn't Mr. Hinton gave us the money to go to Torquay, it was my pretty lady."
"Do you know," said Mrs. Home, "I think you were scarcely, for all your great, great, and real kindness, scarcely perfect even in that respect. I never knew until a few days ago, and then it was in a letter from herself, that you are so soon to marry Charlotte Harman."
"Yes, we are to be married on the twentieth," answered Hinton, "Has she written to you? I am glad."
"I had one letter from her. She wrote to ask about my boy, and to tell me this of you."
"She takes a great interest in you," said Hinton.
"And I in her. I believe I can read character fairly well, and in her I see——"
"What?" asked the lover, with a smile.
"In brow, eyes, and lips I see truth, honor, love, bravery. Mr. Hinton, you deserve it all, but, nevertheless, you are drawing a great prize in your wife."
"I believe I am," answered the young man, deeply moved.
"When can I see my pretty lady again?" asked Harold, suddenly. "If you are going to marry her, do you mean to take her quite, quite away? When may I see her?"