e erroneous, as the two were still living under the same roof. Then
he heard that Lord Ongar was ill; and whispers were spread abroad darkly
and doubtingly, as though great misfortunes were apprehended.

Harry could not fail to tell himself that had Julia become his wife, as
she had once promised, these whispers and this darkness would hardly
have come to pass. But not on that account did he now regret that her
early vows had not been kept. Living at Stratton, he had taught himself
to think much of the quiet domesticities of life, and to believe that
Florence Burton was fitter to be his wife than Julia Brabazon. He told
himself that he had done well to find this out, and that he had been
wise to act upon it. His wisdom had in truth consisted in his capacity
to feel that Florence was a nice girl, clever, well-minded,
high-principled, and full of spirit--and in falling in love with her as
a consequence. All his regard for the quiet domesticities had come from
his love, and had had no share in producing it. Florence was
bright-eyed. No eyes were over brighter, either in tears or in laughter.
And when he came to look at her well, he found that he had been an idiot
to think her plain.

"There are things that grow to beauty as you look at them--to exquisite
beauty; and you are one of them," he had said to her. "And there are
men," she had answered, "who grow to flattery as you listen to them--to
impudent flattery; and you are one of them." "I thought you plain the
first day I saw you. That's not flattery." "Yes, sir, it is; and you
mean it for flattery. But after all, Harry, it comes only to this, that
you want to tell me that you have learned to love me." He repeated all
this to himself as he walked up and down Stratton, and declared to
himself that she was very lovely. It had been given to him to ascertain
this, and he was rather proud of himself. But he was a little diffident
about his father. He thought that, perhaps, his father might see
Florence as he himself had first seen her, and might not have
discernment enough to ascertain his mistake, as he had done. But
Florence was not going to Clavering at once, and he would be able to
give beforehand his own account of her. He had not been home since his
engagement had been a thing settled; but his position with regard to
Florence had been declared by letter, and his mother had written to the
young, lady asking her to come to Clavering.

When Harry got home, all the family