ould be taken as meaning nothing. Most
mothers would wish to see their sons married to wealth, should wealth
throw itself in their way; but Mrs. Clavering, possibly, might not be
such a mother as that.

In the mean time, there was before her the terrible necessity of
explaining to her husband the step which she had taken without his
knowledge, and of which she knew that she must tell him the history
before she could sit down to dinner with him in comfort. "Theodore," she
said, creeping in out of her own chamber to his dressing-room, while he
was washing his hands, "you mustn't be angry with me, but I have done
something to-day."

"And why must I not be angry with you?"

"You know what I mean. You mustn't be angry--especially about
this--because I don't want you to be."

"That's conclusive," said he. It was manifest to her that he was in a
good humor, which was a great blessing. He had not been tired with his
work, as he was often wont to be, and was therefore willing to be
playful.

"What do you think I've done?" said she. "I have been to Bolton Street,
and have seen Lady Ongar."

"No!"

"I have, Theodore, indeed."

Mr. Burton had been rubbing his face vehemently with a rough towel at
the moment in which the communication had been made to him, and so
strongly was he affected by it that he was stopped in his operation and
brought to a stand in his movement, looking at his wife over the towel
as he held it in both hands. "What on earth has made you do such a thing
as that?" he said.

"I thought it best. I thought that I might hear the truth--and so I
have. I could not bear that Florence should be sacrificed while any
thing remained undone that was possible."

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going?"

"Well, my dear, I thought it better not. Of course I ought to have told
you, but in this instance I thought it best just to go without the fuss
of mentioning it."

"What you really mean is, that if you had told me I should have asked
you not to go."

"Exactly."

"And you were determined to have your own way."

"I don't think, Theodore, I care so much about my own way as some women
do. I am sure I always think your opinion is better than my own--that
is, in most things."

"And what did Lady Ongar say to you?" He had now put down the towel, and
was seated in his arm-chair, looking up into his wife's face.

"It would be a long story to tell you all that she said."

"Was she civil to you?"

"She w