"It interests me," said Miss Harman, drawing a long breath, "it interests me greatly; but you will pardon my expressing my real feelings: I think your father was a cruel and unjust man." "I think my brothers, my half-brothers, were cruel and unjust. I don't believe that was my father's real will." "What! you believe there was foul play? This is interesting--if so, if you can prove it, you may be righted yet. Are your half-brothers living?" "Yes." "And you think you have proof that you and your mother were unjustly treated?" "I have no proof, no proof whatever, Miss Harman, I have only suspicions." "Oh! you will tell me what they are?" "Even they amount to very little, and yet I feel them to be certainties. On the night before my father died he told my mother that she and I would be comfortably off; he also said that he wished that I and his son's little daughter, that other Charlotte he called her, should grow up together as sisters. My father was a good man, his mind was not wandering at all, why should he on his deathbed have said this if he knew that he had made such an unjust will, if he knew that he had left my mother and her little child without a sixpence?" "Yes," said Miss Harman slowly and thoughtfully, "it looks strange." After this for a few moments both these young women were silent. Mrs. Home's eyes again sought the fire, she had told her story, the excitement was over, and a dull despair came back over her face. Charlotte Harman, on the contrary, was deep in that fine speculation which seeks to succor the oppressed, her grey eyes glowed, and a faint color came in to her cheeks. After a time she said-- "I should like to help you to get your rights. You saw that gentleman who left the room just now, that younger gentleman, I am to be his wife before long--he is a lawyer, may I tell him your tale?" "No, no, not for worlds." Here Mrs. Home in her excitement rose to her feet. "I have told the story, forget it now, let it die." "What a very strange woman you are, Mrs. Home! I must say I cannot understand you." "You will never understand me. But it does not matter, we are not likely to meet again. I saw you for the first time yesterday. I love you, I thank you. You are a rich and prosperous young lady, you won't be too proud to accept my thanks and my love. Now good-bye." "No, you are not going in that fashion. I do not see why you should go at all; you have told me your story, it only proves that you want money very much, there is nothing at all to prevent your becoming my amanuensis." "I cannot, I must not. Let me go." "But why? I do not understand." "You will never understand. I can only repeat that I must not come here." Mrs. Home could look proud when she liked. It was now Miss Harman's turn to become the suppliant; with a softness of manner which in so noble-looking a girl was simply bewitching, she said gently---- "You confess that you love me." Mrs. Home's eyes filled with tears.