But long before bedtime came each of the runaways felt that concealment
was foolish in the face of the new circumstances, and with some
embarrassment, a tear or two, and a little gentle laughter, the tale was
told.
"Oh, Harry! how could you?" said the stepmother, and went quietly out by
the long window with her arm round her brother's shoulders.
Charling was left alone with her father.
"Why didn't you tell me, father?"
"I wish I had, childie; but I thought--you see--I was going away--I
didn't want to leave you alone for a fortnight to think all sorts of
nonsense. And I thought my little girl could trust me." Charling hid her
face in her hands. "Well! it's all right now! don't cry, my girlie." He
drew her close to him.
"And you'll love Harry very much?"
"I will. He brought you back."
"And I'll love _her_ very much. So that's all settled," said Charling
cheerfully. Then her face fell again. "But, father, don't you love
mother any more? Cook said you didn't."
He sighed and was silent. At last he said, "You are too little to
understand, sweetheart. I have loved the lady who came home to-day all
my life long, and I shall love your mother as long as I live."
"Cook said it was like being unkind to mother. Does mother mind about
it, really?"
He muttered something inaudible--to the cook's address.
"I don't think they either of them mind, my darling Charling," he said.
"You cannot understand it, but I think they both understand."