romise me?"

"I cannot promise anything--so impossible."

"It will bind you to nothing but to let me know that Mr. Annesley has
gone his way." But she had to explain to him that it was impossible she
should make any promise founded on the idea that Mr. Henry Annesley
should ever go any way in which she would not accompany him. With that
he had to be as well satisfied as the circumstances of the case would
admit, and he left her with an assurance, not intended to be quite
audible, that he was and ever should be a blighted individual.

When the carriage was at the door Sir Magnus came down into the hall,
full of smiles and good-humor; but at that moment Lady Mountjoy was
saying a last word of farewell to her relatives in her own chamber.
"Good-bye, my dear; I hope you will get well through all your troubles."
This was addressed to Mrs. Mountjoy. "And as for you, my dear," she
said, turning to Florence, "if you would only contrive to be a little
less stiff-necked, I think the world would go easier with you."

"I think my stiff neck, aunt, as you call it, is what I have chiefly to
depend upon,--I mean in reference to other advice than mamma's. Good-bye,
aunt."

"Good-bye, Florence." And the two parted, hating each other as only
female enemies can hate. But Florence, when she was in the carriage,
threw herself on to her mother's neck and kissed her.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

MR. PROSPER CHANGES HIS MIND.

When Florence with her mother reached Cheltenham she found a letter
lying for her, which surprised her much. The the letter was from Harry,
and seemed to have been written in better spirits than he had lately
displayed. But it was very short:

"DEAREST FLORENCE,--When can I come down? It is absolutely necessary
that I should see you. All my plans are likely to be changed in the most
extraordinary manner.

"Nobody can say that this is a love-letter.

"Yours affectionately, H. A."

Florence, of course, showed the letter to her mother, who was much
frightened by its contents. "What am I to say to him when he comes?" she
exclaimed.

"If you will be so very, very good as to see him you must not say
anything unkind."

"Unkind! How can I say anything else than what you would call unkind? I
disapprove of him altogether. And he is coming here with the express
object of taking you away from me."

"Oh no;--not at once."

"But at some day,--which I trust may be very distant. How can I speak to
him kindly when I fe