them at so late an hour had looked sleepy as he had done so. Doubtless
Mr. Harman had desired him not to wait longer. Charlotte felt there was
no use in ringing a bell. She scarcely knew her way about this great
house. Nevertheless she must find Charlotte; she could not wait until
the morning to throw her arms round her neck. She took one of the
candles from the mantelpiece and began her tour through the silent
house. She felt strangely timid as she commenced this midnight
pilgrimage. The softly-carpeted stairs echoed back no footfall; she
passed door after door. At last she recognized Charlotte's own private
sitting-room, she had been there two or three times, but had never seen
the room where her friend slept. A corridor, however, ran directly from
this sitting-room, and Charlotte saw a closed door at the further end.
"That must be the room," she said to herself, and she went straight
towards it. The door was closed, but Charlotte heard a faint sound
within. Instantly on hearing it she knocked lightly, but distinctly.
There was a quick sound of hurried and surprised feet, and Charlotte
Harman opened the door. Her eyes were heavy and red, as though she had
been weeping. Her face was pale. She had not begun to undress.

"Charlotte; Charlotte Home!" she exclaimed. "Oh, what is wrong? My
father!"

"Nothing is wrong, dear Charlotte, dear, dear Charlotte; but may I come
in? I have a great deal to tell you."

"Oh, I shall be glad! but how astonished I am to see you. I could not
sleep. Yes, come in, you shall keep me company. Charlotte, you have been
crying. Charlotte, there _is_ something wrong."

"You may well be surprised to see me here," said Mrs. Home, "but,
strange as it may seem, things are more right than wrong. My husband
came first, then he brought me."

"Yes, I saw Mr. Home early in the evening. I saw him go into my father's
study. When he went away I went there myself; but the door was locked,
and my father called out from within, 'Not to-night, my child; don't sit
up for me, come to me in the morning, I would rather be alone to-night.'
He never before refused to see me to say good-night. I went to my room.
I could not rest. Everything seems very dark. I have been crying, and
now you have come. Oh, Charlotte! what is the meaning of it all?"

"The meaning is good, Charlotte; but good or bad, you have to thank
yourself for it. Why did you take your father to my husband's church on
Sunday?"

"He came to me