at Sir Hugh’s expense—­no comforts provided for any of the poor by Lady Clavering on that special occasion.  Indeed, there was never much of such kindnesses between the lord of the soil and his dependants.  A certain stipulated dole was given at Christmas for coals and blankets; but even for that there was generally some wrangle between the rector and the steward.  “If there’s to be all this row about it,” the rector had said to the steward, “I’ll never ask for it again.”  “I wish my uncle would only be as good as his word,” Sir Hugh had said, when the rector’s speech was repeated to him.  Therefore, there was not much of real rejoicing in the parish on this occasion, though the bells were rung loudly, and though the people, young and old, did cluster round the churchyard to see the lord lead his bride out of the church.  “A puir feckless thing, tottering along like-not half the makings of a man.  A stout lass like she could a’most blow him away wi’ a puff of her mouth.”  That was the verdict which an old farmer’s wife passed upon him, and that verdict was made good by the general opinion of the parish.

But though the lord might be only half a man, Julia Brabazon walked out from the church every inch a countess.  Whatever price she might have paid, she had at any rate got the thing which she had intended to buy.  And as she stepped into the chariot which carried her away to the railway station on her way to Dover, she told herself that she had done right.  She had chosen her profession, as Harry Clavering had chosen his; and having so far succeeded, she would do her best to make her success perfect.  Mercenary!  Of course she had been mercenary.  Were not all men and women mercenary upon whom devolved the necessity of earning their bread?

There was a great breakfast at the park—­for the quality—­and the rector on this occasion submitted himself to become the guest of the nephew whom he thoroughly disliked.

Chapter IV

Florence Burton

It was now Christmas time at Stratton, or rather Christmas time was near at hand; not the Christmas next after the autumn of Lord Ongar’s marriage, but the following Christmas, and Harry Clavering had finished his studies in Mr. Burton’s office.  He flattered himself that he had not been idle while he was there, and was now about to commence his more advanced stage of pupilage, under the great Mr. Beilby, in London, with hopes which were still good, if they were not so magnificent as they once had been.

When he first saw Mr. Burton in his office, and beheld the dusty pigeonholes with dusty papers, and caught the first glimpse of things as they really were in the workshop of that man of business, he had, to say the truth, been disgusted.  And Mrs. Burton’s early dinner, and Florence Burton’s “plain face” and plain ways, had disconcerted him.  On that day he had repented of his intention with regard to Stratton; but he had carried out his purpose like a man, and now he rejoiced greatly that he had done so.  He rejoiced greatly, though his hopes were somewhat sobered, and his views of life less grand than they had been.  He was to start for Clavering early on the following morning, intending to spend his Christmas at home, and we will see him and listen to him as he bade farewell to one of the members of Mr. Burton’s family.