Looking at his watch when he left the house, he found that time had gone faster than he had any idea of. He had now barely an hour to jump into a cab, go to his present most comfortable lodgings, change his morning dress, and reach the Harmans in time for eight o'clock dinner. Little more than these sixty minutes elapsed from the time he left the shabby house in Kentish Town before he found himself in the luxurious abode of wealth, and every refinement, in Prince's Gate. He ran up to the drawing-room, to find Charlotte waiting for him alone.
"Uncle Jasper will dine with us, John," she said, "but my father is not well."
"Not well!" echoed Hinton. Her face only expressed slight concern, and his reflected it in a lesser degree.
"He is very tired," she said, "and he looks badly. But I hope there is not much the matter. He will see you after dinner. But he could not eat, so I have begged of him to lie down; he will be all right after a little rest."
Hinton made no further remark, and Uncle Jasper then coming in, and dinner being announced, they all went downstairs.
Uncle Jasper and Charlotte were merry enough, but Hinton could not get over a sense of depression, which not even the presence of the woman he loved could disperse. He was not sorry when the message came for him to go to Mr. Harman. Charlotte smiled as he rose.
"You will find me in the drawing-room whenever you like to come there," she said to him.
He left the room suppressing the sigh. Charlotte, however, did not hear or notice it. Still, with that light of love and happiness crowning her bright face, she turned to the old Australian uncle.
"I will pour you out your next glass of port, and stay with you for a few moments, for I have something to tell you."
"What is that, my dear?" asked the old man.