rton's early dinner, and Florence
Burton's "plain face" and plain ways, had disconcerted him. On that day
he had repented of his intention with regard to Stratton; but he had
carried out his purpose like a man, and now he rejoiced greatly that he
had done so. He rejoiced greatly, though his hopes were somewhat
sobered, and his views of life less grand than they had been. He was to
start for Clavering early on the following morning, intending to spend
his Christmas at home, and we will see him and listen to him as he bade
farewell to one of the members of Mr. Burton's family.

He was sitting in a small hack parlor in Mr. Burton's house, and on the
table of the room there was burning a single candle. It was a dull,
dingy, brown room, furnished with horsehair-covered chairs, an old
horsehair sofa and heavy, rusty curtains. I don't know that there was in
the room any attempt at ornament, as certainly there was no evidence of
wealth. It was now about seven o'clock in the evening, and tea was over
in Mrs. Burton's establishment. Harry Clavering had had his tea, and had
eaten his hot muffin, at the further side from the fire of the family
table, while Florence had poured out the tea, and Mrs. Burton had sat by
the fire on one side with a handkerchief over her lap, and Mr. Burton
had been comfortable with his arm-chair and his slippers on the other
side. When tea was over, Harry had made his parting speech to Mrs.
Burton, and that lady had kissed him, and bade God bless him. "I'll see
you for a moment before you go, in my office, Harry," Mr. Burton had
said. Then Harry had gone down stairs, and some one else had gone boldly
with him, and they two were sitting together in the dingy brown room.
After that I need hardly tell my reader what had become of Harry
Clavering's perpetual, life-enduring heart's misery.

He and Florence were sitting on the old horsehair sofa and Florence's
hand was in his. "My darling," he said, "how am I to live for the next
two years?"

"You mean five years, Harry."

"No; I mean two--that is, two, unless I can make the time less. I
believe you'd be better pleased to think it was ten."

"Much better pleased to think it was ten than to have no such hope at
all. Of course we shall see each other. It's not as though you were
going to New Zealand."

"I almost wish I were. One would agree then as to the necessity of this
cursed delay."

"Harry, Harry!"

"It is accursed. The prudence of the World in t