dark
expression which for a moment passed over Jasper Harman's face. Before
he answered her he poked the fire into a vigorous flame.

"You are a generous girl, Lottie," he said then. "I admire your spirit.
But it is plain, my dear, that money has come as easily to you as the
very air you breathe, or you would not speak of three thousand pounds in
a manner so light as almost to take one's breath away. But
suppose--suppose the money could be given, there is another difficulty.
To get that money for Mrs. Home, who, by the way, has her husband to
provide for her, you must tell this tale to your father--you must not do
that."

"Why not?" asked Charlotte, opening her eyes wide in surprise.

"Simply because he is ill, and the doctors have forbidden him to be in
the least agitated."

"Uncle Jasper--I know he is not well, but I did not hear this; and
why--why should what I have to say agitate him?"

"Because he cannot bear any allusion to the past. He loved his father;
he cannot dwell on those years when they were estranged. My dear,"
continued old Uncle Jasper. "I am glad you came with this tale to me--it
would have done your father harm. The doctors hope soon to make him much
better, but at present he must hear nothing likely to give rise to
gloomy thoughts; wait until he is better, my dear. And if you want help
for this Mrs. Home, you must appeal to me. Promise me that, Lottie."

"I will promise, certainly, not to injure my father, but I confess you
puzzle me."

"I am truly sorry, my dear. I will think over your tale, but now I must
go to John. Will you come with me?"

"No, thanks; I would rather stay here."

"Then we shall not meet again, for in an hour I am off to my club.
Good-night, my dear."

And Charlotte could not help noticing how soft and catlike were the
footsteps of the old Australian uncle as he stole away.

CHAPTER X.

JOHN AND JASPER HARMAN.

Jaspar Harman was sixty years old at this time, but the days of his
pilgrimage had passed lightly over him, neither impairing his frame nor
his vigor. At sixty years of age he could think as clearly, sleep as
comfortably, eat as well--nay, even walk as far as he did thirty years
ago. His life in the Antipodes seemed to have agreed with him. It is
true his hair was turning gray, and his shrewd face had many wrinkles on
it, but these seemed more the effects of climate than of years. He
looked like a man whom no heart-trouble had ever touched and in t