Part 12 (1/2)
”And must this come soon?” repeated Hinton.
”It may not come for some months; it may stay away for a year; but again it may come to-night or to-morrow.”
”Good G.o.d!” repeated Hinton.
”Yes, Mr. Hinton, you are right, in the contemplation of such a solemn and terrible event, to mention the name of your Creator. He is a good G.o.d, but His very goodness makes Him terrible. He is a G.o.d who will see justice done; who will by no means cleanse the guilty. I am going into His presence--a sinful old man. Well, I bow to His decree. But enough of this; you see my reasons for wis.h.i.+ng for an early marriage for my child.”
”Mr. Harman, I am deeply, deeply pained and shocked. May I know the nature of your malady?”
”It is unnecessary to discuss it, and does no good; suffice it to know that I carry a disease within me which by its very nature must end both soon and suddenly; also that there is no cure for the disease.”
”Are you telling me all this as a secret?”
”As a most solemn and sacred secret. My brother suspects something of it, but no one, no one in all the world knows the full and solemn truth but yourself.”
”Then Charlotte is not to be told?”
”Charlotte! Charlotte! It is for her sake I have confided to you all this, that you may guard her from such a knowledge.”
John Hinton was silent for a moment or two; if he disliked Charlotte having a secret from him much more did he protest against the knowledge which now was forced upon him being kept from her. He saw that Mr.
Harman was firmly set on keeping his child in the dark; he disapproved, but he hardly dared, so much did he fear to agitate the old man, to make any vigorous stand against a decree which seemed to him both cruel and unjust. He must say something, however, so he began gently--
”I will respect your most sacred confidence, Mr. Harman; without your leave no word from me shall convey this knowledge to Charlotte; but pardon me if I say a word. You know your own child very well, but I also know Charlotte; she has lived, for all her talent and her five and twenty years, the sheltered life of a child hitherto--but that is nothing; she is a n.o.ble woman, she has a n.o.ble woman's heart; in trouble, such a nature as hers could rise and prove itself great. Don't you suppose, when by and by the end really comes, she will blame me, and even perhaps, you, sir, for keeping this knowledge from her.”
”She will never blame her old father. She will see, bless her, that I did it in love; you will tell her that, be sure you tell her that, when the time comes; please G.o.d, you will be her husband then, and you will have the right to comfort her.”
”I hope to have the right to comfort her, I hope to be her husband; still, I think you are mistaken, though I can urge the matter no further.”
”No, for you cannot see it with my eyes; that child and I have lived the most unbroken life of peace and happiness together; neither storm nor cloud has visited us in one another. The shadow of death must not embitter our last few months; she must be my bright girl to the very last. Some day, if you and she ever have a daughter, you will understand my feelings--at least in part you will understand it.”
”I cannot understand it now, but I can at least respect it,” answered the young man.
CHAPTER XVI.
”VENGEANCE IS MINE.”
When Hinton at last left him, Mr. Harman sat on for a long time by his study fire. The fire burnt low but he did not replenish it, neither did he touch the cold coffee which still remained on his table. After an hour or so of musings, during which the old face seemed each moment to grow more sad and careworn, he stretched out his hand to ring his bell.
Almost instantly was the summons answered--a tall footman stood before him.
”Dennis, has Mr. Jasper left?”
”Yes, sir. He said he was going to his club. I can have him fetched, sir.”
”Do not do so. After Mr. Hinton leaves, ask Miss Harman to come here.”
The footman answered softly in the affirmative and withdrew, and Mr.