ers from
Cecilia for one scrap that Theodore ever sends me. Perhaps some of
these days I shall be the chief correspondent with the rectory.
Fanny told me all about the dresses, and I have my own quite ready.
I've been bridesmaid to four of my own sisters, so I ought to know
what I'm about. I'll never be bridesmaid to anybody again, after
Fanny; but whom on earth shall I have for myself? I think we must
wait till Cissy and Sophy are ready. Cissy wrote me word that you
were a darling man. I don't know how much of that came directly from
Cissy, or how much from Cecilia.

God bless you, dear, dearest Harry. Let me have one letter before
you come to fetch me, and acknowledge that I am right, even if you
say that I am disagreeable. Of course I like to think that you want
to have me; but, you see, one has to pay the penalty of being
civilized. Ever and always your own affectionate:

Florence Burton.

Harry Clavering was very angry when he got this letter. The primary
cause of his anger was the fact that Florence should pretend to know
what was better for him than he knew himself. If he was willing to
encounter life in London on less than four hundred a year, surely she
might be contented to try the same experiment. He did not for a moment
suspect that she feared for herself, but he was indignant with her
because of her fear for him. What right had she to accuse him of wanting
to be comfortable? Had he not for her sake consented to be very
uncomfortable at that old house at Stratton? Was he not willing to give
up his fellowship, and the society of Lady Ongar, and everything else,
for her sake? Had he not shown himself to be such a lover as there is
not one in a hundred? And yet she wrote and told him that it wouldn't do
for him to be poor and uncomfortable? After all that lie had done in the
world, after all that he had gone through, it would be odd if at this
time of day, he did not know what was good for himself! It was in that
way that he regarded Florence's pertinacity.

He was rather unhappy at this period. It seemed to him that he was
somewhat slighted on both sides--or, if I may say so, less thought of on
both sides than he deserved. Had Lady Ongar remained in town, as she
ought to have done, he would have solaced himself, and at the same time
have revenged himself upon Florence, by devoting some of his spare hours
to that lady. It was Lady Ongar's sudden de