“No, indeed,” said her brother. “Sorrow
should not be killed too quickly. I always think
that those who are impervious to grief most be impervious
also to happiness. If you have feelings capable
of the one, you must have them capable also of the
other.”
“You should, wait, at any rate, till you get
an answer from Mrs. Clavering,” said Cecilia.
“I do not know that she has any answer to send
to me.”
“Oh yes, she must answer you, if you will think
of it. If she accepts what you have said—”
“She can not but accept it.”
“Then she must reply to you. There is something
which you have asked her to send to you; and I think
you should wait, at any rate, till it reaches you
here. Mind, I do not think her answer will be
of that nature, but it is clear that you should wait
for it, whatever it may be.” Then Florence,
with the concurrence of her brother’s opinion,
consented to remain in London for a few days, expecting
the answer which would be sent by Mrs. Clavering;
and after that no further discussion took place as
to her trouble.
The Sheep Returns To The Fold
Harry Clavering had spoken solemn words to his mother,
during his illness, which both he and she regarded
as a promise that Florence should not be deserted
by him. After that promise nothing more was said
between them on the subject for a few days. Mrs.
Clavering was contented that the promise had been
made, and Harry himself; in the weakness consequent
upon his illness, was willing enough to accept the
excuse which his illness gave him for postponing any
action in the matter. But the fever had left
him, and he was sitting up in his mother’s room,
when Florence’s letter reached the parsonage,
and with the letter, the little parcel which she herself
had packed up so carefully. On the day before
that a few words had passed between the rector and
his wife, which will explain the feelings of both
of them in the matter.
“Have you heard,” said he, speaking in
a voice hardly above a whisper, although no third
person was in the room, “that Harry is again
thinking of making Julia his wife?”
“He is not thinking of doing so,” said
Mrs. Clavering. “They who say so do him
wrong.”
“It would be a great thing for him as regards
money.”
“But he is engaged—and Florence Burton
has been received here as his future wife. I
could not endure to think that it should be so.
At any rate, it is not true.”
“I only tell you what I heard,” said the
rector, gently sighing, partly in obedience to his
wife’s implied rebuke, and partly at the thought
that so grand a marriage should not be within his son’s
reach. The rector was beginning to be aware that
Harry would hardly make a fortune at the profession
which he had chosen, and that a rich marriage would
be an easy way out of all the difficulties which such
a failure promised. The rector was a man who
dearly loved easy ways out of difficulties. But
in such matters as these his wife he knew was imperative
and powerful, and he lacked the courage to plead for
a cause that was prudent, but ungenerous.
