TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT IT.
After the story was finished the husband and wife sat for a long time
side by side, in absolute silence. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on the
glowing embers in the fire; the wife's reflected back both the lights
and the shadows; they were troubled eyes, troubled with possible joy,
troubled also with the dark feelings of anger. The husband's, on the
contrary, were calm and steady. No strong hope was visiting them, but
despair, even disquietude, seemed miles away. Presently the wife's small
nervous fingers were stretched out to meet her husband's, his closed
over them, he turned his head, met her anxious face, smiled and spoke.
"So it seems on the cards that you might have been rich, Lottie. Well,
it was unjust of your father not to have made some provision for your
mother and you, but--but--he has long been dead, the whole thing is
over. Let it pass."
"Angus! do you know what I should like?" asked his wife.
"No. What?"
"I should like to meet those two men, John and Jasper Harman, face to
face, and ask them without the least preamble or preparation, what they
have done with my father's real will?"
"Dear Lottie, you must get this strange idea out of your head. It is not
right of you to harbor such thoughts of any men."
"I should like to look so hard at them," continued Charlotte, scarcely
heeding her husband's words. "I know their eyes would flinch, they would
be startled, they would betray themselves. Angus, I can't help it, the
conviction that is over me is too strong to be silenced. For years, ever
since my mother told me that story, I have felt that we have been
wronged, nay, robbed of our own. But when I entered that house to-day
and found myself face with my half-brother's daughter, when I found
myself in the house that I had been forbidden to enter, I felt--I knew,
that a great wrong had been committed. My father! Why should I think
ill of my father, Angus? Is it likely that he would have made no
provision for my mother whom he loved, or for me? Is it likely that he
would have left everything he possessed to the two sons with whom he had
so bitterly quarrelled, that for years they had not even met? Is it
likely? Angus, you are a just man, and you will own to the truth. Is it
likely, that with his almost dying breath, he should have assured my
mother that all was settled that she could bring me up well, in comfort
and luxury, that Charlotte Harman and I should be friends? No, Angus! I
believe my father; he was a good and just man always; and, even if he
was not, dying men don't tell lies."
"I grant that it seems unlikely, Lottie; but then, on the other hand,
what do you accuse these men of? Why, of no less a crime than forging a
will, of suppressing the real will, and bringing forward one of their
own manufacture. Why, my dear wife, such an act of villainy would be not
only difficult, but, I should say, impossible."
"I don't know _how_ it was done, Angus, but something was done, of that
I am sure, and what that thing was I shall live, please God, to find
out."
"Then you--you, a clergyman's wife--the wife of a man who lives to
proclaim peace on earth, good-will to men, you go into your brother's
house as a spy!"
Mrs. Home colored. Her husband had risen from his chair.
"You shall not do that," he said; "I am your husband, and I forbid it.
You can only go to the Harmans, if they are indeed the near relations
you believe them to be, on one condition."
"And that?" said Charlotte.
"That you see not only Mr. Harman's daughter, but Mr. Harman himself;
that you tell him exactly who you are.... If, after hearing your story,
he allows you to work for his daughter, you can do so without again
alluding to the relationship. If they wish it dropped, drop it, Lottie;
work for them as you would for any other strangers, doing your best work
bravely and well. But begin openly. Above all things thinking no evil in
your heart of them."
"Then I cannot go on these conditions, Angus, for I cannot feel charity
in my heart towards Mr. Harman. It seemed such a good thing this
morning. But I must give it up."
"And something else will come in it's place, never fear; but I did not
know until to-night that my Lottie so pined for riches."
"Angus, I do--I do--I want Harold to go to a good school, Daisy to be
educated, little Angus to get what is necessary for his health, and
above all, you, my dearest, my dearest, to have a warm overcoat, and
port wine: the overcoat when you are cold, the port wine when you are
tired. Think of having these luxuries, not only for yourself, but to
give away to your poor, Angus, and I am sure we ought to have them."
"Ah, Lottie! you are a witch, you try to tempt me, and all these things
sound very pleasant. But don't dream of what we haven't, let us live for
the many, many things we have."