They went upstairs, and the note was, in fact, read before the letter. "I hope there is nothing wrong at the parsonage," said Florence.
"You see he says he will be back after one day."
"Perhaps he has gone to tell them,—of this change in his prospects."
"No, dear, no; you do not yet understand his feelings. Read his letter, and you will know more. If there is to be a change, he is at any rate too much ashamed of it to speak of it. He does not wish it himself. It is simply this,—that she has thrown herself in his way, and he has not known how to avoid her."
Then Florence read the letter very slowly, going over most of the sentences more than once, and struggling to learn from them what were really the wishes of the writer. When she came to Harry's exculpation of Lady Ongar, she believed it thoroughly, and said so,—meeting, however, a direct contradiction on that point from her sister-in-law. When she had finished it, she folded it up and gave it back. "Cissy," she said, "I know that I ought to go back. I do not want to see him, and I am glad that he has gone away."
"But you do not mean to give him up?"
"Yes, dearest."
"But you said you would never leave him, unless he left you."
"He has left me."
"No, Florence; not so. Do you not see what he says;—that he knows you are the only woman that can make him happy?"