e described, thought that he
played his part of lover very well, and drew herself a little closer to
him as she thanked him for his warmth. "Dear Harry, you are so good and
so kind, and I do love you so truly!" In this way the journey was made
very pleasantly, and when Florence was driven up to the rectory door she
was quite contented with her coachman.

Harry Clavering, who is the hero of our story, will not, I fear have
hitherto presented himself to the reader as having much of the heroic
nature in his character. It will, perhaps, be complained of him that he
is fickle, vain, easily led, and almost as easily led to evil as to
good. But it should be remembered that hitherto he has been rather
hardly dealt with in these pages, and that his faults and weaknesses
have been exposed almost unfairly. That he had such faults, and was
subject to such weaknesses, may be believed of him; but there may be a
question whether as much evil would not be known of most men, let them
be heroes or not be heroes, if their characters were, so to say, turned
inside out before our eyes.

Harry Clavering, fellow of his college, six feet high, with handsome
face and person, and with plenty to say for himself on all subjects, was
esteemed highly and regarded much by those who knew him, in spite of
those little foibles which marred his character; and I must beg the
reader to take the world's opinion about him, and not to estimate him
too meanly thus early in this history of his adventures.

If this tale should ever be read by any lady who, in the course of her
career, has entered a house under circumstances similar to those which
had brought Florence Burton to Clavering rectory, she will understand
how anxious must have been that young lady when she encountered the
whole Clavering family in the hall. She had been blown about by the
wind, and her cloaks and shawls were heavy on her, and her hat was a
little out of shape--from some fault on the part of Harry, as I
believe--and she felt herself to be a dowdy as she appeared among them.
What would they think of her, and what would they think of Harry in that
he had chosen such an one to be his wife? Mrs. Clavering had kissed her
before she had seen that lady's face; and Mary and Fanny had kissed her
before she knew which was which; and then a stout, clerical gentleman
kissed her who, no doubt, was Mr. Clavering, senior. After that, another
clerical gentleman, very much younger and very much slight