nothing of this to
Lady Clavering, as, perhaps, she might not approve; but such was his
intention. He was wrong, no doubt. A man in such cases should do what he
is asked to do, and do no more. But he repeated to himself the excuse
that Lady Clavering had made--namely, that he was already the same as a
married man, and that, therefore, no harm could come of his courtesy to
his cousin's wife's sister. But he did not wish to make two journeys to
London, nor did he desire to be away for a full week out of his
holidays. Lady Clavering could not press him to go at once, and,
therefore, it was settled as he proposed. She would write to Paris
immediately, and he would go up to London after three or four days. "If
we only knew of any apartment, we could write," said Lady Clavering.
"You could not know that they were comfortable," said Harry; "and you
will find that I will do it in plenty of time." Then he took his leave;
but Lady Clavering had still one other word to say to him. "You had
better not say anything about all this at the rectory, had you?" Harry,
without considering much about it, said that he would not mention it.

Then he went away and walked again about the park, thinking of it all.
He had not seen her since he had walked round the park, in his misery,
after parting with her in the garden. How much had happened since then!
She had been married in her glory, had become a countess, and then a
widow, and was now returning with a tarnished name, almost repudiated by
those who had been her dearest friends; but with rank and fortune at her
command--and again a free woman. He could not but think what might have
been his chance were it not for Florence Burton! But much had happened
to him also. He had almost perished in his misery--so he told
himself--but had once more "tricked his beams"--that was his expression
to himself--and was now "flaming in the forehead" of a glorious love.
And even if there had been no such love, would a widowed countess with a
damaged name have suited his ambition, simply because she had the rich
dower of the poor wretch to whom she had sold herself? No, indeed. There
could be no question of renewed vows between them now; there could have
been no such question even had there been no "glorious love," which had
accrued to him almost as his normal privilege, in right of his pupilage
in Mr. Burton's office. No; there could be, there could have been,
nothing now between him and the widowed Countess o