MRS. HOME'S DREAM.
Still, there was a weight on Charlotte Home's mind. Much had been given
to her, so much that she could scarcely believe herself to be the same
woman, who a few short months ago had pawned her engagement ring to buy
her little son a pair of shoes. She was now wealthy beyond her wildest
dreams; she was wealthy not only in money but in friends. Charlotte
Harman was her almost daily companion. Charlotte Harman clung to her
with an almost passionate love. Uncle Sandy, too, had made himself, by
his cheerfulness, his generosity, his kindness of nature, a warm place
in her affections; and Mr. Harman saw her more than once, and she found
that she could love even Mr. Harman. Then--how well, how beautiful her
children looked! How nice it was to see them surrounded by those good
things of life which, despise them as some people will, still add charms
to those who possess them! Above all, how happy her dear husband was!
Angus Home's face was like the sun itself, during the days which
followed Mr. Harman's confession. This sunshine with him had nothing to
say to the altered and improved circumstances of his life; but it had a
great deal to say to the altered circumstances of his mind. God had
most signally, most remarkably, heard his prayer. He had given to him
the soul for which he pleaded. Through all eternity that suffering, and
once so sinful, soul was safe. Mr. Home rejoiced over that redeemed soul
as one who finds great spoil. Added love to God filled his grateful
heart; his faith in God became more and more, day by day, a mighty
power. Thus Charlotte Home was surrounded by as much sunshine as often
visits a human being in this mortal life; yet still this unreasonable
woman was discontented. The fact was, success had made her bold. She had
obtained what her heart had pined for. She wanted another little drop of
bliss to complete her overflowing cup. Charlotte Home was unselfish in
her joy. There was a shadow on another's brow. She wanted that shadow to
depart; in short, she wanted Hinton and Charlotte to meet; not only to
meet, but as quickly as possible to marry. Charlotte's heart was still
with this lover whom she had given up, and who seemed to have forsaken
her. Mrs. Home saw this, though on the subject of Hinton Charlotte still
refused to speak. She said once, and only once, to her friend:
"We have parted, we have most absolutely parted. There is no use now
looking back on the past; he must never share my disgrace. Yes, my dear
and beloved father has repented nobly: but the disgrace remains. He must
never share it. He sees the wisdom of this himself, so we will not speak
of him, dear Charlotte; I can bear it best so."
This little speech was made with great firmness; but there was a
strained look about the lips, and a sorrow about the eyes which Mrs.
Home understood very well. She must not speak, but no one could prevent
her acting. She resolved to leave no stone unturned to bring these two
together again. In doing this she would act for the good of two whom she
loved, for Hinton was also very dear to her. She could never forget
those nights when he sat by the bed of her almost dying child. She could
never forget the prompt interference which saved that child's life. She
had learned enough of his character, during those few weeks which they
had spent together, to feel sure that no disgrace such as Charlotte
feared would influence him to cause her pain. It is true she could not
in any measure account for his absence and his silence; but she was
quite wise enough and quite clever enough to believe that both could be
satisfactorily accounted for. She could, however, do nothing without
seeing Hinton. How could she see him? She had written to his chambers,
she had written to his lodgings; from both addresses had the letters
been returned. She thought of advertising. She lay awake at night trying
to devise some scheme. At last one night she had a dream; so far
curious, in that it conducted her to the desired end. She dreamt that
Hinton came to Waterloo station, not to remain in London, but to pass
through to another part of England. There was nothing more in her dream;
nevertheless, she resolved to go to that station on the next day. Her
dream had not even pointed to any particular hour. She looked in
_Bradshaw_, saw when a great express from the south was due, and started
off on what might truly be called a wild-goose chase.
Nevertheless, instinct, if nothing higher, had guided Charlotte Home;
for the first person she saw stepping out of a carriage of this very
train was Hinton. She saw Hinton, he also saw her.
"You must come with me," she said, going up to him and laying her hand
on his arm. "You must come with me, and at once, for God has sent me to
you."
"But I cannot," he answered, "I am catching another train at Euston. I
am going on special business to Scotland. It is important. I cannot put
it off. I am ever so sorry; but I must jump into a cab at once." He held
out his hand as he spoke.
Mrs. Home glanced into his face. His face was changed; it was pale and
worn. There was a hard look about both eyes and mouth, which both
altered and considerably spoiled his expression.
"I will not keep you if you still wish to go, after hearing my story,"
answered Mrs. Home; "but there will be room for two in your hansom. You
do not object to my driving with you to Euston?"
Hinton could not say he objected to this, though in his heart he felt
both annoyed and surprised.
As they were driving along, Mrs. Home said,--
"Have you heard anything lately of Mr. Harman?"
To this Hinton replied, "I have not; and pardon me, Mr. Harman does not
interest me."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Home, "he interests me very much. He--he told my husband
a strange tale--a tale about himself."
"Did he confess his guilt? I know that he is a very sinful man."
"He has been a great sinner, but he has repented. He has confessed that
early and terrible sin of his youth. He has not only confessed, but he
is taking steps to make full reparation."
"Indeed! then you will come into your rights? Let me congratulate you."
"You knew of his sin? You knew what his sin was Mr. Hinton?"
"Yes, I knew."
"Charlotte had hoped to keep that disgrace from you."
"Ah!"
"She gave you another reason for breaking off her engagement?"
"Yes, a weak and futile one. She could not expect me to believe it. I
did what she had but done before me. I went to Somerset House and saw
that will which has been so greatly abused."
"She never knew that."
"Pardon me, she did."
"I fear I must be rude enough to contradict you. She said most
distinctly that you were fully satisfied with the reasons she had given
for breaking off the engagement, that perhaps you might never now learn
what her father had done."
Hinton looked at his companion in some perplexity.
"But I wrote to her," he said. "I wrote a letter which, it seemed to me,
any woman who had a spark even of kindness would have answered. In that
letter, I told her that I held her to her promise; that I knew all; that
even if she did not write to me I would call and try to see her. She
never replied to my letter, and when, after waiting for twenty-four
hours, I went to the house, she absolutely refused to see me."
"She never knew you called," answered Mrs. Home, "and she never got your
letter."
"Good heavens! how do you know?"
"I know her too well; but I will ask her directly."
Hinton was silent.
After a short pause, Mrs. Home broke out passionately,--
"How dare you insinuate doubts of so noble a creature?"
"I could only believe facts."
"Has a letter never gone astray? Has a letter never failed to reach the
hands it was meant for? Mr. Hinton, I am ashamed of you."
"If you can prove that she never got it?"
"I know she never got it. She is changed; her heart is half broken. But
I will prove it. I will go to her at once. Are you still going to
Scotland?"
"I need not go until I hear from you. You have astonished me greatly."
"Then drive to my house. Ah! you do not know our new address; it is ----;
wait for me there, I will be with you in an hour or so."