down-stairs,
and greeted Charlotte, radiant and triumphant, and seated himself
opposite her at the table, when her face fell.

"You are certainly ill, papa," said she.

"No, dear," said Carroll. "I am not ill at all." This morning he
tried to eat, to please her, for his appetite of the night before had
gone. He was haggard and pale, and his eyes looked strained.

"You look very ill," said Charlotte. "Let me call the doctor for you,
papa, dear."

Carroll laughed. "Nonsense," he said. "I am as well as ever I was.
You make a baby of your old father, honey."

"Have another chop, then," said Charlotte.

And Carroll passed his plate for the chop, and ate it, although it
fairly nauseated him. He looked at the child opposite as he ate, and
she looked as beautiful as an angel, and as good as one to him. He
thought how the little thing had come back to him, her unfortunate
father, who had made such a muddle of his life, who had been able to
do so little for her; how she had given up the certainty of a happy
and comfortable home for uncertainty, and possibly privation, and the
purest gratitude and love that was so intense possessed him. Looking
at Charlotte, he almost forgot the hatred of the man who had brought
this upon him, and then the hatred awoke to fiercer life because of
the love.

Then, all unconsciously, Charlotte herself, seemingly actuated by a
species of mental telegraphy, spurred him on. "Papa," said she,
viewing him with approbation as he ate his second chop, "is that man
in Acton who treated you so dreadfully still living there?"

Carroll's face contracted. "Yes, dear," he said.

"If I had gone down there, and had seen that man, I should have been
afraid of the way I would have felt when I saw him," said Charlotte.
Her innocent girl's face took on an expression which was the echo of
her father's. "I suppose he is prosperous," she said.

"I think so, honey."

"I feel wicked when I think of him," said Charlotte, still with the
look which echoed her father's, "when I think of all he has made you
suffer, papa."

Carroll made no reply; the two looked at each other for a second. The
girl's soft face became almost terrible.

"I think if I were a man, and met him, and--had a pistol, I should
kill him," she said, slowly.

Carroll made an effort which fairly convulsed him. His face changed.
He sprang up, went over to Charlotte, took hold of her head, bent it
back, and kissed her. "For God's sake, honey, do