"I will not blame my father," said Charlotte. Again that look of relief had stolen over her face. The healthy tint, which was scarcely color, had returned to her cheek; and the tension of her attitude was also withdrawn, for she changed her seat, taking possession now of her favorite easy-chair. "But I like Charlotte Home," she said after a pause. "She is—whatever her mother may have been—quite a lady. I think it is hard that when she is so nearly related to me she should be so poor and I so rich. I will speak to my father. He asked me only this morning what I should like as a wedding present. I know what I shall like. He will give that three thousand pounds to Charlotte Home. The money her mother had for her life she shall have for ever. I know my father won't refuse me."
Charlotte's eyes were on the ground, and she did not see the dark expression which for a moment passed over Jasper Harman's face. Before he answered her he poked the fire into a vigorous flame.
"You are a generous girl, Lottie," he said then. "I admire your spirit. But it is plain, my dear, that money has come as easily to you as the very air you breathe, or you would not speak of three thousand pounds in a manner so light as almost to take one's breath away. But suppose—suppose the money could be given, there is another difficulty. To get that money for Mrs. Home, who, by the way, has her husband to provide for her, you must tell this tale to your father—you must not do that."
"Why not?" asked Charlotte, opening her eyes wide in surprise.
"Simply because he is ill, and the doctors have forbidden him to be in the least agitated."
"Uncle Jasper—I know he is not well, but I did not hear this; and why—why should what I have to say agitate him?"
"Because he cannot bear any allusion to the past. He loved his father; he cannot dwell on those years when they were estranged. My dear," continued old Uncle Jasper. "I am glad you came with this tale to me—it would have done your father harm. The doctors hope soon to make him much better, but at present he must hear nothing likely to give rise to gloomy thoughts; wait until he is better, my dear. And if you want help for this Mrs. Home, you must appeal to me. Promise me that, Lottie."
"I will promise, certainly, not to injure my father, but I confess you puzzle me."
"I am truly sorry, my dear. I will think over your tale, but now I must go to John. Will you come with me?"
"No, thanks; I would rather stay here."