ately and quietly as you please. I just glanced my eye over the will.
I took in the right place and saw the shameful truth. I was horrified
enough, but I could not wait to read it all. I gave the will back
intending to go to it another time, for I felt I must follow that girl
at any cost. I came up to her in Somerset House square. I did not care
what she thought; I must speak to her; I did. Poor lass! I think she was
quite stunned. She did not resent the liberty old Sandy had taken. When
I asked her to wait and let me talk to her she turned at once--I have
not lived in the bush so long without being, I pride myself, sharp
enough in reading character. I saw the girl, proud girl enough at
ordinary times, was in that state of despair which makes people do
desperate things. She was defiant, and told more than I expected. She
was Miss Harman--Charlotte Harman, by the way, she said. Yes; her father
had stolen that money; would I like to see him? he lived in such a
place; his name was so-and-so. Yes; she was his only child. Her manner
was so reckless, so defiant, and yet so full of absolute misery, that I
could do nothing but pity her from my very heart. I forgot you, Niece
Lottie, and your rights, and everything but this fine creature stricken
so low through another's sins. I said, 'Hush, you shall say no more
to-day. You are stunned, you are shocked, you must have time to think; I
won't remember a thing you say about your father now. Go home and come
back again to-morrow,' I said; 'sleep over it, and I will sleep over it,
and I will meet you here to-morrow, when you are more calm.' She agreed
to this and went away. I felt a little compunction for my own softness
during that evening and night, Niece Charlotte, I felt that I was not
quite true to you; but then you had not seen her face, poor brave young
thing, poor young thing!"

Here Uncle Sandy paused and looked hard from his niece to her husband.
Charlotte's eyes were full of tears, Mr. Home was smiling at him. There
was something peculiar in this man's rare smiles which turned them into
blessings. They were far more eloquent than words, for they were fed
from some illumination of strong approval within. Uncle Sandy, without
understanding, felt a warm glow instantly kindling in his heart.

Charlotte said, "Go on," in a broken voice.

"To-day, at the appointed hour, I met her again," proceeded the
Australian. "She was changed, she was composed enough now, she was on
her gu