read it and read it again. No; she did
not want Fanny or any one else to tell her that he was true. Honesty and
truth were written on every line of his face, were to be heard in every
tone of his voice, could be seen in every sentence that came from his
hand. Dear Harry; dearest Harry! She knew well that he was true.
Then she also sat down and wrote to him, on that her last night beneath
his father's roof--wrote to him when she had nearly prepared herself for
her bed; and honestly, out of her full heart, thanked him for his love.
There was no need that she should be coy with him now, for she was his
own. "Dear Harry, when I think of all that you have done for me in
loving me and choosing me for your wife, I know that I can never pay you
all that I owe you."
Such were the two rival claimants for the hand of Harry Clavering.
Chapter XVIII
"Judge Not That Ye Be Not Judged"
A week had passed since the evening which Harry had spent in Bolton
Street, and he had not again seen Lady Ongar. He had professed to
himself that his reason for not going there was the non-performance of
the commission which Lady Ongar had given him with reference to Count
Pateroff. He had not yet succeeded in catching the Count, though he had
twice asked for him in Mount Street and twice at the club in Pall Mall.
It appeared that the Count never went to Mount Street, and was very
rarely seen at the club. There was some other club which he frequented,
and Harry did not know what club. On both the occasions of Harry's
calling in Mount Street, the servant had asked him to go up and see
madame; but he had declined to do so, pleading that he was hurried. He
was, however, driven to resolve that he must go direct to Sophie, as
otherwise he could find no means of doing as he had promised. She
probably might put him on the scent of her brother.
But there had been another reason why Harry had not gone to Bolton
Street, though he had not acknowledged it to himself. He did not dare to
trust himself with Lady Ongar. He feared that he would be led on to
betray himself and to betray Florence--to throw himself at Julia's feet
and sacrifice his honesty, in spite of all his resolutions to the
contrary. He felt when there as the accustomed but repentant
dram-drinker might feel, when, having resolved to abstain, he is called
upon to sit with the full glass offered before his lips. From such
temptations as that the repentant dram-drinker knows that h
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