sort of expression about her, quite the reverse of poor
Florence's."

"Yes, I confess I do not understand that girl," said Sir John; "and
yet," he added, "I cannot help liking her; she has a good deal in her."

"I pity her, poor child," said Mrs. Clavering; "she is placed in a very
false position. I once met her aunt, Mrs. Aylmer, of Aylmer's Court;
that was on the occasion when Florence was brought to my school, and I
confess I did not take to her."

Sir John shrugged his shoulders.

"It is invidious to speak of a lady who is soon to be one's guest," he
said, "but I also have met Mrs. Aylmer."

On the morning of the same day Florence had received a letter from her
mother. Bertha Keys had gone away on the previous evening to visit a
sick cousin, and in consequence had not the charge of the postbag. She
was very unwilling to leave at this critical moment, but the cousin was
ill, required her services. Mrs. Clavering was willing to spare her
for one night, there was no help for it; she must go. "I must only
trust that no letter will come from Dawlish," she said to herself; "but
after all, even if it does, it cannot really matter. Florence must
sooner or later feel that she is in my power; perhaps the sooner the
better."

Florence found the letter from her mother on the breakfast-table. She
stretched out her hand, caught it with a firm grip, thrust it into her
pocket, and then applied herself to her breakfast.

"Why don't you read your letter? You know you are allowed to do so,"
said Edith King, who was seated next to her.

"Oh, it will do after breakfast," said Florence.

"You don't look well, Flo; what is the matter with you?"

"I am a little anxious, if you must know," said Florence, turning round
and glancing at her companion; "I have not heard from my mother for two
or three weeks; but there, of course, it is all right. She has not
even told me whether she has accepted Sir John Wallis's invitation.
Sir John told me he had written, but I cannot tell whether she is
coming or not."

"It will be delightful for you if she does come, will it not?" said
Edith King.

"Oh, yes, delightful," answered Florence. She did not speak any more,
but finished her breakfast somewhat hastily. At the first moment she
could find herself alone Florence rushed into the cherry orchard and
tore open her letter. It contained the following words:

"MY DARLING CHILD:

"Such a wonderful, extraordinary, delightful th