"If you please, Miss Harman, the dressmaker has called again. Will you have the wedding dress fitted now?"
At the same instant and before Charlotte could reply, a footman appeared at the head of the stairs—"Mr. Hinton had arrived and was waiting for Miss Harman, in her own sitting-room."
"Say, I will be with him directly," she answered to the man, then she turned to Ward. "I will send you with a message to the dressmaker this evening; tell her I am engaged now."
The two messengers left, and Charlotte turned back into her room. She had to go through another fire. Well! the sooner it was over the better. She scarcely would give herself time for any thought as she ran quickly down the stairs and along the familiar corridor, and in a moment found herself in Hinton's presence. They had not met since yesterday morning, when they had parted in apparent coldness; but Hinton had long forgotten it, and now, when he saw her face, a great terror of pity and love came over him.
"My darling! my own darling!" he said. He came up to her and put his arms round her. "Charlotte, what is it? You are in trouble? Tell me."
Ah! how sweet it was to feel the pressure of his arms, to lay her head on his breast. She was silent for quite a minute, saying to herself, "It is for the last time."
"You are in great trouble, Charlotte? Charlotte, what is it?" questioned her lover.
"Yes, I am in great trouble," she said then, raising her head and looking at him. Her eyes were clear and frank and open as of old, and yet at that moment she meant to deceive him; she would not tell him the real reason which induced her to break off her engagement. She would shelter her father in the eyes of the man she loved, at any cost.
"You are in great trouble," he repeated, seeing that she paused.
"Yes, John—for myself—for my father—for—for you. Dear John, we cannot be married on the twentieth, we must part."