n spoke as he took his
candle to go away to his work; but his wife had induced him to promise
that he would not write to Stratton or take any other step in the matter
till they had waited twenty-four hours for Harry's promised letter.

The letter came before the twenty-four hours were expired, and Burton,
on his return home on the Saturday, found himself called upon to read
and pass judgment upon Harry's confession. "What right has he to speak
of her as his darling Florence," he exclaimed, "while he is confessing
his own knavery?"

"But if she is his darling--?" pleaded his wife.

"Trash! But the word from him in such a letter is simply an additional
insult. And what does he know about this woman who has come back? He
vouches for her, but what can he know of her? Just what she tells him.
He is simply a fool."

"But you cannot dislike him for believing her word."

"Cecilia," said he, holding down the letter as he spoke--"you are so
carried away by your love for Florence, and your fear lest a marriage
which has been once talked of should not take place, that you shut your
eyes to this man's true character. Can you believe any good of a man who
tells you to your face that he is engaged to two women at once?"

"I think I can," said Cecilia, hardly venturing to express so dangerous
an opinion above her breath.

"And what would you think of a woman who did so?"

"Ah, that is so different! I cannot explain it, but you know that it is
different."

"I know that you would forgive a man anything, and a woman nothing." To
this she submitted in silence, having probably heard the reproof before,
and he went on to finish the letter. "Not defending himself!" he
exclaimed--"then why does he not defend himself? When a man tells me
that he does not, or cannot defend himself I know that he is a sorry
fellow, without a spark of spirit."

"I don't think that of Harry. Surely that letter shows a spirit."

"Such a one as I should be ashamed to see in a dog. No man should ever
be in a position in which he cannot defend himself. No man, at any rate,
should admit himself to be so placed. Wish that he should go on with his
engagement! I do not wish it at all. I am sorry for Florence. She will
suffer terribly. But the loss of such a lover as that is infinitely a
lesser loss than would be the gain of such a husband. You had better
write to Florence, and tell her not to come."

"Oh, Theodore!"

"That is my advice."

"But there is no