was in London and could come to her there.  To her house at Ongar Park she would never go again, unless she went as his wife.  The place had become odious to her.  Bad as was her solitude in London, with Sophie Gordeloup to break it, and, perhaps, with Sophie’s brother to attack her, it was not so bad as the silent desolation of Ongar Park.  Never again would she go there, unless she went there, in triumph—­as Harry’s wife.  Having so far resolved, she took herself at last to her room, and dismissed her drowsy Phoebe to her rest.

And now the reader must be asked to travel down at once into the country, that he may see how Florence Burton passed the same evening at Clavering Rectory.  It was Florence’s last night there, and on the following morning she was to return to her father’s house at Stratton.  Florence had not as yet received her unsatisfactory letter from Harry.  That was to arrive on the following morning.  At present she was, as regarded her letters, under the influence of that one which had been satisfactory in so especial a degree.  Not that the coming letter—­the one now on its route—­was of a nature to disturb her comfort permanently, or to make her in any degree unhappy.  “Dear fellow; he must be careful, he is overworking himself.”  Even the unsatisfactory letter would produce nothing worse than this from her; but now, at the moment of which I am writing, she was in a paradise of happy thoughts.

Her visit to Clavering had been in every respect successful.  She had been liked by every one, and every one in return had been liked by her.  Mrs. Clavering had treated her as though she were a daughter.  The Rector had made her pretty presents, had kissed her, and called her his child.  With Fanny she had formed a friendship which was to endure for ever, let destiny separate them how it might.  Dear Fanny!  She had had a wonderful interview respecting Fanny on this very day, and was at this moment disquieting her mind because she could not tell her friend what had happened without a breach of confidence!  She had learned a great deal at Clavering, though in most matters of learning she was a better instructed woman than they were whom she had met.  In general knowledge and in intellect she was Fanny’s superior, though Fanny Clavering was no fool; but Florence, when she came thither, had lacked something which living in such a house had given to her; or, I should rather say, something had been given to her of which she would greatly feel the want, if it could be again taken from her.  Her mother was as excellent a woman as had ever sent forth a family of daughters into the world, and I do not know that any one ever objected to her as being ignorant, or specially vulgar; but the house in Stratton was not like Clavering Rectory in the little ways of living, and this Florence Burton had been clever enough to understand.  She knew that a sojourn under such a roof; with such a woman as Mrs. Clavering, must make her fitter to be Harry’s wife; and, therefore, when they pressed her to come again in the Autumn, she said that she thought she would.  She could understand, too, that Harry was different in many things from the men who had married her sisters, and she rejoiced that it was so.  Poor Florence!  Had he been more like them it might have been safer for her.