in a week's time now must stand up before God
and promise solemnly to obey him for all the remainder of her life,
refusing to attend to his most natural desire. She had an engagement,
and she would not tell him what it was; she made a secret of it. Be the
secret little or great, she knew how he disliked all such concealments.

Was it possible that he was deceived in Charlotte after all? No, no, he
was too really loyal to her, too sincerely attached to her: her
frankness and sweetness were too natural, too complete, for him really
to doubt her; but he owned that he was disappointed--he owned that he
had not the greatness which she under similar circumstances would have
exercised. She was keeping him in the dark--in the dark he could not
trust. He recalled, with feelings of anything but pleasure, her last
secret. She thought little of it. But Hinton knew how differently he had
received it; he did not like to be reminded of it now. During the last
few weeks he had managed almost completely to banish it from his
thoughts; but now it came back to his memory with some force; it
reminded him of Mrs. Home. Was it possible that he was acting wrongly
in not searching into her rights? Was it possible that things had
already come to such a pass with him, that he would not do the right
because he feared the consequences? Had riches and wealth and worldly
honor already become dearer to his soul than righteousness and judgment
and truth?

These condemnatory thoughts were very painful to the young man; but they
turned his feelings of indignation from Charlotte to himself.

It was nearly a month now since he had left Mrs. Home. When he went away
he had provided her with another lodger. He remembered that by this time
she must have come back from Torquay. As this thought came to him he
stopped suddenly and pulled out his watch. Webster would not be at
Paddington before two o'clock. He had nothing very special to do that
morning, he would jump into a hansom and go and see Mrs. Home and
Harold. He put his ideas into execution without an instant's delay, and
arrived at Kentish Town and drew up at the well-known door at quite an
early hour. Daisy and the baby were already out, but Harold, still
something of an invalid, stood by the dining-room window. Harold, a
little weary from his journey, a little spoiled by his happy month at
Torquay was experiencing some of that flatness, which must now and then
visit even a little child when he find