SHE COULD NOT POSTPONE HER ENGAGEMENT.
Mr. Harman felt himself growing weaker and weaker. The disease which was
to lay him in his grave was making slow, but steady progress. It was
just possible that, had his mind been at rest, the weakness of body, the
pain of body, the slow decay might have been, not removed, but at least
arrested. Had Mr. Harman been a very happy man, he might have lived,
even with so fatal a malady, for many years. He had lived a life of
almost perfect physical health for over sixty years, and during all that
time he had been able to keep mental pains at bay; but in his present
weakness he found this impossible. His whole nervous system became
affected, and it was apparent even to his daughter's eyes, that he was a
very unhappy man. For her sake, however, he still did wonders. He
dragged himself up to breakfast morning after morning, when he would
have given worlds to remain in bed. He still went every day to his
office in the city, though, when there, he sat in his office chair dull
and unmindful of what was going on. Jasper did the work. Jasper was
here, there, and everywhere; but it had come to such a pass with John
Harman, that he now almost disliked gold. Still, for Charlotte's sake,
he went there. Charlotte on the verge of her marriage must suspect
nothing. In the evenings he sat with his daughter, he looked with
apparent interest at the many presents which came pouring in, he made
her show herself to him in each of the new dresses, and he even went
himself with her to choose her wedding wreath and veil. But all these
things had become such a weariness to the man that, dearly as he loved
this one precious daughter, he began to look forward with almost a sense
of relief to the one week of her absence. During that week he need
disguise nothing, he need not go to the office, he need not put on this
forced cheerfulness. He might stay in bed all day long if he pleased.
That week was near now, for it was the twelfth of April. In another
eight days the wedding morning would dawn.
Charlotte was very busy. What young woman is not busy at such a time?
Friends poured in, presents arrived at all hours. There were dressmakers
and milliners to see and consult, from morning to night. Then Hinton
took up some of his bride-elect's time, and the evening hours were given
to her father. Seeing how much he liked having her all to himself after
dinner each night, Charlotte had begged her lover not to come to see her
at this particular time.
"You will have me for all the rest of my life, John," she would say,
"and I think it does my father good to be quite alone with me. It
reminds him of old times." Then, when Hinton acceded to her request, she
often added, "My father puzzles me. Is it the parting from me makes him
look so ill and sad? I often fear that there is more the matter with him
than he lets appear. I wish he would consult a good doctor."
Hinton dared not tell her that he had consulted the very best. He could
only try to turn her attention, and in this he believed that he
succeeded much better than he really did. For when the night came after
those quiet evenings, Charlotte found that she could not sleep. Was it
excitement at her coming happiness, or was it anxiety?
Anxiety was new to this happy nature--new to this prosperous life. She
shuddered at the grim thing, as it visited her night after night, in the
solitude of her luxurious room. But shut her eyes to it, fight against
it, as she would, it could not be got to depart from her. The fact was,
a dreadful thing had happened to this frank and loving nature, she was
beginning to suspect the father whom she loved. These suspicions had
first come into play on the night when he had fainted in her presence.
Some words he had used that night, some expressions which had fallen
from his lips, had aroused a new and dreadful thought, that thought
would not go to sleep, would not depart. Was it possible that her father
had done something wrong long ago in his life, and that the remembrance
of that wrong--that sin--was what ailed him now? Was it possible that
her uncle Jasper, who always appeared so frank and open, had deceived
her? Was it possible that Hinton knew that she was deceived? These
thoughts did not trouble her much in the daytime, but at night they rose
to agonies. They kept sleep far away: so much so, that in the morning
she often came downstairs heavy-eyed and weary. She blamed herself,
then, for her mean suspicions; she said to herself, as she gave her
father his morning cup of coffee, that no face could be more incapable
of concealing a wrong than that noble old face opposite to her, and she
tried to atone for her feelings by extra tenderness of voice and manner.
But though this revulsion of feeling came with the morning, the night
brought back the same agony. She now disliked even to think of Mrs.
Home, she never spoke of her to John Hinton. He watched for her to do
so, but the name of this young woman which had so intensely interested
her never passed her lips. When Hinton told her that little Harold was
better, and that on a certain day he and his mother would be in Kentish
Town once more, she colored slightly and changed the subject. Hinton
rather wondered at this. Uncle Jasper also remarked it. It was now a
week to the wedding-day, and Charlotte was nerving herself for an
effort. She had firmly resolved that before she really gave herself to
Hinton, she would read her grandfather's will. She felt that nothing
else would completely set her mind at rest. She dreaded doing this as
much as she longed for it. Each day as it dawned she had put off the
task, but when the day just a week before her wedding came, she felt
that she must overcome what she called a weakness. She would learn the
worst that very day. She had little or no idea how to carry out her
design. She only knew that the will was kept at Somerset House, that if
she went there and allowed herself to go through certain forms she
should see it. She had never seen a will in her life, she scarcely knew
even what it would look like. Nevertheless, she could consult no one.
She must just go to the place and trust to circumstances to do the rest.
On the thirteenth of April she resolved, as she put on her dress and
hurried down to meet her father at breakfast, that before that night
came she would carry out her design. Her father seemed better that
morning. The day was a specially lovely one, and Charlotte said to
herself that, before that time to-morrow, her heart would be at rest;
she would not even allow herself to glance at a darker alternative.
Indeed, happy in having at last firmly made up her mind; she became
suddenly scarcely at all fearful, scarcely anything but completely
hopeful. She resolved that nothing should turn her from her purpose
to-day.
Her father kissed her, told her he felt certainly better, and went off
to the city.
Immediately after, her uncle Jasper came in.
"Lottie, child! I can take you to the private view of Mrs. ----'s
pictures; I have just got an invitation. You know how wild you are to
see them. Be ready at two o'clock. I will call for you then."
"I am very sorry, but I cannot go with you this afternoon, Uncle
Jasper."
"Oh! You have made an engagement with Hinton. Can't you put it off? This
is the last day for the pictures. You can go with Hinton to-morrow."
"It is not an engagement with John, Uncle Jasper. It is something else,
and I cannot put it off."
All the time a rather loud voice within was saying to her, "Go and see
the pictures. Put off the reading of the will. Be happy for one more
day." But because this voice, which became so loud, frightened her, she
would not yield to it.
"I am very sorry," she repeated; "I should have liked it greatly. But I
cannot go."
"Well! it is a pity, and I took some trouble about it. However, it can't
be helped."
"No, it can't be helped," repeated Charlotte.
Uncle Jasper went, feeling some annoyance, and also a little curiosity.
"Strange cattle--women," he said to himself. "I confess I don't
understand 'em. Charlotte, wild to get to that private view two days
ago, now won't go because of a whim. Well! I'm glad I never took a wife.
I rather pity Hinton. I would not be tied even to that fine creature,
Lottie, forever."
Jasper Harman had scarcely turned the corner of the street, before a cab
drew up at the house, and Hinton came in. Charlotte had not yet left the
breakfast-room.
"Ah! my dearest, I am afraid you might be out I must hurry away at once;
but I just called to say that I have had a telegram from Webster. You
know how I have longed for you two to meet. Well, he is coming to town
to-day, and I want to bring him here at three o'clock. You will be sure
to be at home."
"I am afraid I can't, John; I have an engagement."
"Oh! but you must put it off, you really _must_ see Webster. He is my
greatest friend, and is to be my best man. You really must, Lottie! and
he telegraphs that he is coming up from Oxford on purpose."
"I am ever so sorry. Could not you telegraph to him to put off his visit
until to-morrow?"
"No, my dear; he has started before this."
"I am very sorry; I am unfortunate," repeated Charlotte. A certain
degree of obstinacy, altogether foreign to her nature, had crept into
her voice.
Hinton looked at her in undisguised astonishment.
"You don't mean to say that you are not going to see Webster, when he is
coming up to town on purpose?"
"John, dear, I will see him at five o'clock, I shall be home then. But I
have an engagement at three."
"I cannot bring Webster here at five, he must be on his way back then.
You must put off your engagement."
"I really cannot. Uncle Jasper has just been here, and he asked me to go
with him to see the private views at Mrs. ----'s studio. He took some
trouble to get the invitation for us both, but I could not go with him,
nor can I stay in. Mr. Webster must wait to make my acquaintance on our
wedding-day, John."
"And I am to tell him that?"
"Say everything as nice and polite as you can. Say that I am most truly
sorry."
Hinton turned his back on his promised bride; there was a cloud on his
brow, he felt both hurt and angry.
"Lottie! what is your engagement?" This was said while pretending to
look down the street.
Charlotte came close and put her hand a little timidly on his shoulder.
"I know you will be vexed," she said "but I cannot tell you."
Hinton held up his hand to a passing hansom.
"Yes, I am vexed," he said, "but I cannot wait any longer now. You know
I hate secrets, and I think you might have obliged me, Charlotte."
"I wish I could," she said, and now her eyes filled with tears.
Hinton scarcely kissed her before he rushed away, and Charlotte sank
down on the nearest chair. The unaccountable feeling which had prompted
her to refuse both her uncle and her lover, and to fix just that hour of
three o'clock to visit Somerset House, was too strange and strong to be
overcome. But the hope which had brightened her breakfast hour had now
all departed. Her heart felt like lead within her breast, she dared not
fully contemplate the realization of her worst fears. But they thronged
like legion round her path.