was sure of his own attachment to her, he could not mount high enough
to be as sure of her to somebody else. It was a "sort of thing a man
oughtn't to have been asked to promise," he said to the third secretary.
And having so determined, he made up his mind to follow her to England
and to try his fortune once again.

Florence had just wished Harry good-bye for the day, or rather for the
week. She cared for nothing now in the way of protestations of
affection. "Come Harry--there now--don't be so unreasonable. Am not I
just as impatient as you are? This day fortnight you will be back, and
then--"

"Then there will be some peace, won't there? But mind you write every
day." And so Harry was whisked away, as triumphant a man as ever left
Cheltenham by the London train. On the following morning Hugh Anderson
reached Cheltenham and appeared in Montpellier Place.

"My daughter is at home, certainly," said Mrs. Mountjoy. There was
something in the tone which made the young man at once assure himself
that he had better go back to Brussels. He had even been a favorite with
Mrs. Mountjoy. In his days of love-making poor Mountjoy had been absent,
declared no longer to have a chance of Tretton, and Harry had been--the
very evil one himself. Mrs. Mountjoy had been assured by the Brussels
Mountjoy that, with the view of getting well rid of the evil one, she
had better take poor Anderson to her bosom. She had opened her bosom
accordingly, but with very poor results. And now he had come to look
after what result there might be. Mrs. Mountjoy felt that he had better
go back to Brussels.

"Could I not see her?" asked Anderson.

"Well, yes; you could see her."

"Mrs. Mountjoy, I'll tell you everything, just as though you were my own
mother. I have loved your daughter;--oh, I don't know how it is! If she'd
be my wife for two years, I don't think I'd mind dying afterward."

"Oh, Mr. Anderson!"

"I wouldn't. I never heard of a case where a girl had got such a hold of
a man as she has of me."

"You don't mean to say that she has behaved badly?"

"Oh no! She couldn't behave badly;--it isn't in her. But she can bowl a
fellow over in the most--well, most desperate manner. As for me, I'm not
worth my salt since I first saw her. When I go to ride with the governor
I haven't a word to say to him," But this ended in Mrs. Mountjoy going
and promising that she would send Florence down in her place. She knew
that it would be in vain; but to a