e must fly.
But though he did not go after the fire-water of Bolton Street, neither
was he able to satisfy himself with the cool fountain of Onslow
Crescent. He was wretched at this time--ill-satisfied with himself and
others--and was no fitting companion for Cecilia Burton. The world, he
thought, had used him ill. He could have been true to Julia Brabazon
when she was well-nigh penniless. It was not for her money that he had
regarded her. Had he been now a free man--free from those chains with
which he had fettered himself at Stratton--he would again have asked
this woman for her love, in spite of her past treachery; but it would
have been for her love, and not for her money, that he would have sought
her. Was it his fault that he had loved her, that she had been false to
him, and that she had now come back and thrown herself before him? or
had he been wrong because he had ventured to think that he loved another
when Julia had deserted him? Or could he help himself if he now found
that his love in truth belonged to her whom he had known first? The
world had been very cruel to him, and he could not go to Onslow
Crescent, and behave there prettily, hearing the praises of Florence
with all the ardor of a discreet lover.

He knew well what would have been his right course, and yet he did not
follow it. Let him but once communicate to Lady Ongar the fact of his
engagement, and the danger would be over, though much, perhaps, of the
misery might remain. Let him write to her, and mention the fact,
bringing it up as some little immaterial accident, and she would
understand what he meant. But this he abstained from doing. Though he
swore to himself that he would not touch the dram, he would not dash
down the full glass that was held to his lips. He went about the town
very wretchedly, looking for the Count, and regarding himself as a man
specially marked out for sorrow by the cruel hand of misfortune. Lady
Ongar, in the meantime, was expecting him, and was waxing angry and
becoming bitter toward him because he came not.

Sir Hugh Clavering was now in London, and with him was his brother
Archie. Sir Hugh was a man who strained an income, that was handsome and
sufficient for a country gentleman, to the very utmost, wanting to get
out of it more than it could be made to give. He was not a man to be in
debt, or indulge himself with present pleasures to be paid for out of
the funds of future years. He was possessed of a worldly wisd