uestions to ask
concerning Cousin Frank and Mrs. Wellington, and Spruce Street affairs
generally. But after a little, Uncle Landor began to ask the
questions, and then came the confession.

She unfolded the whole story, trying not to spare herself, though
unable to conceal some resentment against Aunt Caroline. Mr. Landor
listened in grave silence, and continued to look at her thoughtfully
after she had finished. Charlotte's eyes fell under his scrutiny, but
she quickly lifted them again.

"Was I deceitful? I did not mean to be."

"What do you think yourself?"

"I--but I tried to tell."

"Things were rather against you, Charlotte. I like to see you loyal.
Do you still think this girl the sort of friend you care to have?"

Charlotte hung her head. "I don't know," she faltered. The truth was,
Lucile's excess of devotion was beginning to grow tiresome. There were
other of her schoolmates who, she could not help seeing, were more
desirable as friends, but they now held aloof. It was hard to
acknowledge that Aunt Caroline had been at least partly right.

Mr. Landor lifted the downcast face, and his gaze was kindly. "I
believe you are learning your lesson, little girl, but it has been a
sharp one. It is always a mistake not to be straightforward. In all
your life I fear you have never truly learned to obey. You are fast
growing up now, and the responsibility will rest more and more upon
yourself. Are you going to listen to the voice that speaks in your
heart, and obey when the conflict comes?" He laid his hand on the
brown head. "In spite of it all, you have improved, Charlotte."

"Do you mean my hair?"

"Have you done anything to your hair? I didn't know; it is very pretty
hair. No, you have grown more gentle and womanly."

"I am happy with Aunt Virginia. She is a dear, and I feel so ashamed
and sorry when I think how she would have felt if I had run away.
Uncle Landor, is it that voice you spoke of--in our hearts--that makes
us feel so dreadfully ashamed sometimes?"

"I suppose we may say it is in this instance. It is the judgment of
the higher self upon the lower self."

Mr. Landor was a reserved and somewhat silent man, and never before
had he talked to Charlotte just as he did this afternoon. Till now
she had been only a child to be petted or reproved. To-day he gently
pointed out her faults, showed her how from now on it rested largely
with herself what she would make of her life; he spoke of the guiding