aptain's eyes,
as he only made an interrogative sound as though to give himself time to
think, and she proceeded it broken sentences--'If their uncle and aunt
did not so very much wish for them--perhaps--I could--'

'Well,' said Captain Charteris, apparently so little aided by his
thoughts as to see no hope of overcoming his perplexity without
expressing it, 'the truth is that, though I had not meant to say anything
of it, for I think relations should come first, I believe poor Sandbrook
would have preferred it.' And while her colour deepened, and she locked
her trembling fingers together to keep them still, he went on. 'Yes! you
can't think how often I called myself a dozen fools for having parted him
from his children! Never held up his head again! I could get him to
take interest in nothing--every child he saw he was only comparing to one
or other of them. After the year turned, and he talked of coming home,
he was more cheerful; but strangely enough, for those last days at
Hyeres, though he seemed better, his spirits sank unaccountably, and he
_would_ talk more of the poor little thing that he lost than of these!
Then he had a letter from you which set him sighing, and wishing they
could always have such care! Altogether, I thought to divert him by
taking him on that expedition, but-- Well, I've been provoked with him
many a time, but there was more of the _real thing_ in him than in the
rest of us, and I feel as if the best part of our family were gone.'

'And this was all? He was too ill to say much afterwards?'

'Couldn't speak when he rang in the morning! Was gone by that time next
day. Now,' added the captain, after a silence, 'I tell you candidly that
my feeling is that the ordinary course is right. I think Charles ought
to take the children, and the children ought to be with Charles.'

'If you think so,' began Honor, with failing hopes.

'At the same time,' continued he, 'I don't think they'll be so happy or
so well cared for as by you, and knowing poor Owen's wishes, I should not
feel justified in taking them away, since you are so good as to offer to
keep them.'

Honor eagerly declared herself much obliged, then thought it sounded
ironical.

'Unless,' he proceeded, 'Charles should strongly feel it his duty to take
them home, in which case--'

'Oh, of course I could say nothing.'

'Very well, then we'll leave it to his decision.'

So it remained, and in trembling Honora awaited the answ