that no further discussion
took place as to her trouble.

Chapter XLVII

The Sheep Returns To The Fold

Harry Clavering had spoken solemn words to his mother, during his
illness, which both he and she regarded as a promise that Florence
should not be deserted by him. After that promise nothing more was said
between them on the subject for a few days. Mrs. Clavering was contented
that the promise had been made, and Harry himself; in the weakness
consequent upon his illness, was willing enough to accept the excuse
which his illness gave him for postponing any action in the matter. But
the fever had left him, and he was sitting up in his mother's room, when
Florence's letter reached the parsonage, and with the letter, the little
parcel which she herself had packed up so carefully. On the day before
that a few words had passed between the rector and his wife, which will
explain the feelings of both of them in the matter.

"Have you heard," said he, speaking in a voice hardly above a whisper,
although no third person was in the room, "that Harry is again thinking
of making Julia his wife?"

"He is not thinking of doing so," said Mrs. Clavering. "They who say so
do him wrong."

"It would be a great thing for him as regards money."

"But he is engaged--and Florence Burton has been received here as his
future wife. I could not endure to think that it should be so. At any
rate, it is not true."

"I only tell you what I heard," said the rector, gently sighing, partly
in obedience to his wife's implied rebuke, and partly at the thought
that so grand a marriage should not be within his son's reach. The
rector was beginning to be aware that Harry would hardly make a fortune
at the profession which he had chosen, and that a rich marriage would be
an easy way out of all the difficulties which such a failure promised.
The rector was a man who dearly loved easy ways out of difficulties. But
in such matters as these his wife he knew was imperative and powerful,
and he lacked the courage to plead for a cause that was prudent, but
ungenerous.

When Mrs. Clavering received the letter and parcel on the next morning,
Harry Clavering was still in bed. With the delightful privilege of a
convalescent invalid, he was allowed in these days to get up just when
getting up became more comfortable than lying in bed, and that time did
not usually come till eleven o'clock was past; but the postman reached
the Clavering parsonage by