"Then if I were Mr. Saul I would not let you think of it at all."
"Ah;—that shows that you do not understand him. He would be the first to advise me to hesitate if he thought that,—that—that;—I don't know that I can quite express what I mean."
"Under those circumstances Mr. Saul won't think that,—that—that—that—"
"Oh, Florence, it is too serious for laughing. It is indeed." Then Florence also hoped that a time might come, and that shortly, in which Mr. Saul might moderate his views,—though she did not express herself exactly as the rector had done.
Immediately after this Florence went back to Stratton, in order that she might pass what remained to her of her freedom with her mother and father, and that she might prepare herself for her wedding. The affair with her was so much hurried that she had hardly time to give her mind to those considerations which were weighing so heavily on Fanny's mind. It was felt by all the Burtons,—especially by Cecilia,—that there was need for extension of their views in regard to millinery, seeing that Florence was to marry the eldest son and heir of a baronet. And old Mrs. Burton was awed almost into quiescence by the reflections which came upon her when she thought of the breakfast, and of the presence of Sir Henry Clavering. She at once summoned her daughter-in-law from Ramsgate to her assistance, and felt that all her experience, gathered from the wedding breakfasts of so many elder daughters, would hardly carry her through the difficulties of the present occasion.
The two widowed sisters were still at the great house when Sir Henry Clavering with Harry and Fanny went to Stratton, but they left it on the following day. The father and son went up together to bid them farewell, on the eve of their departure, and to press upon them, over and over again, the fact that they were still to regard the Claverings of Clavering Park as their nearest relations and friends. The elder sister simply cried when this was said to her,—cried easily with plenteous tears, till the weeds which enveloped her seemed to be damp from the ever-running fountain. Hitherto, to weep had been her only refuge; but I think that even this had already become preferable to her former life. Lady Ongar assured Sir Henry, or Mr. Clavering, as he was still called till after their departure,—that she would always remember and accept his kindness. "And you will come to us?" said he. "Certainly; when I can make Hermy come. She will be better when the summer is here. And then, after that, we will think about it." On this occasion she seemed to be quite cheerful herself, and bade Harry farewell with all the frank affection of an old friend.
"I have given up the house in Bolton Street," she said to him.
"And where do you mean to live?"
"Anywhere; just as it may suit Hermy. What difference does it make? We are going to Tenby now, and though Tenby seems to me to have as few attractions as any place I ever knew, I daresay we shall stay there, simply because we shall be there. That is the consideration which weighs most with such old women as we are. Good-by, Harry."
"Good-by, Julia. I hope that I may yet see you,—you and Hermy, happy before long."