e
did not quite leave her chair, raised herself up and forgot all her
preparations. "Where is he, Mrs. Burton? I have not heard of his
illness."

"He is at Clavering--at the parsonage."

"I have heard nothing of this. What ails him? If he be really ill,
dangerously ill, I conjure you to tell me. But pray tell me the truth.
Let there be no tricks in such a matter as this."

"Tricks, Lady Ongar!"

"If Harry Clavering be ill, tell me what ails him. Is he in danger?"

"His mother, in writing to Florence, says that he is not in danger, but
that he is confined to the house. He has been taken by some fever." On
that very morning Lady Ongar had received a letter from her sister,
begging her to come to Clavering Park during the absence of Sir Hugh,
but in the letter no word had been said as to Harry's illness. Had he
been seriously, or at least dangerously ill, Hermione would certainly
have mentioned it. All this flashed across Julia's mind as these tidings
about Harry reached her. If he were not really in danger, or even if he
were, why should she betray her feeling before this woman? "If there had
been much in it," she said, resuming her former position and manners, "I
should no doubt have heard of it from my sister."

"We hear that it is not dangerous," continued Mrs. Burton; "but he is
away, and we cannot see him. And, in truth, Lady Ongar, we can not see
him any more until we know that he means to deal honestly by us."

"Am I the keeper of his honesty?"

"From what I have heard, I think you are. If you will tell me that I
have heard falsely, I will go away and beg your pardon for my intrusion.
But if what I have heard be true, you must not be surprised that I show
this anxiety for the happiness of my sister. If you knew her, Lady
Ongar, you would know that she is too good to be thrown aside with
indifference."

"Harry Clavering tells me that she is an angel--that she is perfect."

"And if he loves her, will it not be a shame that they should be
parted?"

"I said nothing about his loving her. Men are not always fond of
perfection. The angels may be too angelic for this world."

"He did love her."

"So I suppose--or, at any rate, he thought that he did."

"He did love her, and I believe he loves her still."

"He has my leave to do so, Mrs. Burton."

Cecilia, though she was somewhat afraid of the task which she had
undertaken, and was partly awed by Lady Ongar's style of beauty and
demeanor, nevertheless f