has come to England chiefly with reference to
the affairs of Lord Ongar. I want you to hear
his story. As far as I have known him he is a
truth-telling man, though I do not know that I
am able to say much more in his favor. Ever
yours, J. O.
When he had read this he was quite an altered man.
See Count Pateroff! Of course he would see him.
What task could be more fitting for a friend than
this, of seeing such a man under such circumstances.
Before he left London he wrote a note for Count Pateroff,
to be given to the count by the people at the lodgings
should he call during Harry’s absence from London.
In this he explained that he would be at Clavering
for a fortnight, but expressed himself ready to come
up to London at a day’s notice should Count
Pateroff be necessitated again to leave London before
the day named.
As he went about his business that day, and as he
journeyed down to Stratton, he entertained much kinder
ideas about Lady Ongar than he had previously done
since seeing Count Pateroff’s card.
Florence Burton at the Rectory
Harry Clavering went down to Stratton, slept one night
at old Mr. Burton’s house, and drove Florence
over to Clavering—twenty miles across the
country, on the following day. This journey together
had been looked forward to with great delight by both
of them, and Florence in spite of the snubbing which
she had received from her lover because of her prudence,
was very happy as she seated herself alongside of him
in the vehicle which had been sent over from the rectory,
and which he called a trap. Not a word had as
yet been said between them as to that snubbing, nor
was Harry minded that anything should be said.
He meant to carry on his revenge by being dumb on
that subject. But such was not Florence’s
intention. She desired not only to have her own
way in this matter, but desired also that he should
assent to her arrangements.
It was a charming day for such a journey. It
was cold, but not cold enough to make them uncomfortable.
There was a wind, but not wind enough to torment them.
Once there came on a little shower, which just sufficed
to give Harry an opportunity of wrapping his companion
very closely, but he had hardly completed the ceremony
before the necessity for it was over. They both
agreed that this mode of travelling was infinitely
preferable to a journey by railroad, and I myself should
be of the name opinion if one could always make one’s
journeys under the same circumstances. And it
must be understood that Harry, though no doubt he
was still taking his revenge on Florence by abstaining
from all allusion to her letter, was not disposed
to make himself otherwise disagreeable. He played
his part of lover very well, and Florence was supremely
happy.
“Harry,” she said, when the journey was
more than half completed, “you never told me
what you thought of my letter.”
