the cold coffee which still remained on his table. After an
hour or so of musings, during which the old face seemed each moment to
grow more sad and careworn, he stretched out his hand to ring his bell.

Almost instantly was the summons answered--a tall footman stood before
him.

"Dennis, has Mr. Jasper left?"

"Yes, sir. He said he was going to his club. I can have him fetched,
sir."

"Do not do so. After Mr. Hinton leaves, ask Miss Harman to come here."

The footman answered softly in the affirmative and withdrew, and Mr.
Harman still sat on alone. He had enough to think about. For the first
time to-day death had come and stared him in the face; very close indeed
his own death was looking at him. He was a brave man, but the sight of
the cold, grim thing, brought so close, so inevitably near, was scarcely
to be endured with equanimity. After a time, rising from his seat, he
went to a bookcase and took down, not a treatise on medicine or
philosophy, but an old Bible.

"Dying men are said to find comfort here," he said faintly to himself.
He put one of the candles on the table and opened the book. It was an
old Bible, but John Harman was not very well acquainted with its
contents.

"They tell me there is much comfort here," he said to himself. He turned
the old and yellow leaves.

"_Vengeance is mine. I will repay._" These were the words on which his
eyes fell.

Comfort! He closed the book with a groan and returned it to the
bookshelf. But in returning it he chose the highest shelf of all and
pushed it far back and well out of sight.

He had scarcely done so before a light quick step was heard at the door,
and Charlotte, her eyes and cheeks both bright, entered.

"My dearest, my darling," he said. He came to meet her, and folded her
in his arms. He was a dying man, and a sin-laden one, but not the less
sweet was that young embrace, that smooth cheek, those bright, happy
eyes.

"You are better, father; you look better," said his daughter.

"I have been rather weak and low all the evening, Lottie; but I am much
better for seeing you. Come here and sit at my feet, my dear love."

"I am very happy this evening," said Charlotte, seating herself on her
father's footstool, and laying her hand on his knee.

"I can guess the reason, my child; your wedding-day is fixed."

"This morning, father, I said it should be the twentieth of June; John
seemed quite satisfied, and four months were not a bit too long for o