“But you will be in no one’s way, Flo,
unless it be in hers.”
“And I will not be in hers,” said Florence,
speaking somewhat louder, and raising her head in
pride as she spoke. “I will be neither in
hers nor in his. I think I will go back at once.”
Cecilia upon this ventured to look around at her,
and saw that she was very pale, but that her eyes
were dry and her lips pressed close together.
It had not occurred to Mrs. Burton that her sister-in-law
would take it in this way, that she would be willing
to give way, and at once surrender her lover to her
rival. No one liked success better than Cecilia
Burton, and to her success would consist in rescuing
Harry from Lady Ongar and securing him for Florence.
In fighting this battle she had found that she would
have against her Lady Ongar, of course, and then her
husband, and Harry himself too, as she feared; and
now she must reckon Florence also among her opponents.
But she could not endure the idea of failing in such
a cause. “Oh, Florence, I think you are
so wrong,” she said.
“You would feel as I do, if you were in my place.”
“But people cannot always judge best when they
feel the most. What you should think of is his
happiness.”
“So I do; and of his future career.”
“Career! I hate to hear of careers.
Men do not want careers, or should not want them.
Could it be good for-him to marry a woman who has done
as she has, simply because she has made herself rich
by her wickedness? Do you believe so much in
riches yourself?”
“If he loves her best, I will not blame him,”
said Florence. “He knew her before he had
seen me. He was quite honest and told me all the
story. It is not his fault if he still likes her
the best.”
Florence Burton Makes Up A Packet
When they reached Onslow Crescent, the first half-hour
was spent with the children, as to whom Florence could
but observe that even from their mouths the name of
Harry Clavering was banished. But she played with
Cissy and Sophie, giving them their little presents
from Stratton; and sat with the baby in her lap, kissing
his pink feet and making little soft noises for his
behoof sweetly as she might have done if no terrible
crisis in her own life had now come upon her.
Not a tear as yet had moistened her eyes, and Cecilia
was partly aware that Florence’s weeping would
be done in secret. “Come up with me into
my own room; I have something to show you,”
she said, as the nurse took the baby at last; and
Cissy and Sophie were at the same time sent away with
their brother. “As I came in I got a note
from Harry, but, before you see that, I must show
you the letter which he wrote to me on Friday.
He has gone down to Clavering—on some business—for
one day.” Mrs. Burton, in her heart, could
hardly acquit him of having run out of town at the
moment to avoid the arrival of Florence.
