to be postponed till the morrow. On this evening he
had pledged himself that he would go direct to Onslow Terrace, and this
he did as soon after he had reached his lodgings as was possible. It was
past six when he reached London, and it was not yet eight when, with
palpitating heart, he knocked at Mr. Burton's door.

I must take the reader back with me for a few minutes, in order that we
may see after what fashion the letters from Clavering were received by
the ladies in Onslow Terrace. On that day Mr. Burton had been required
to go out of London by one of the early trains, and had not been in the
house when the postman came. Nothing had been said between Cecilia and
Florence as to their hopes or fears in regard to an answer from
Clavering--nothing, at least, since that conversation in which Florence
had agreed to remain in London for yet a few days; but each of them was
very nervous on the matter. Any answer, if sent at once from Clavering,
would arrive on this morning, and, therefore, when the well-known knock
was heard, neither of them was able to maintain her calmness perfectly.
But yet nothing was said, nor did either of them rise from her seat at
the breakfast table. Presently the girl came in with apparently a bundle
of letters, which she was still sorting when she entered the room. There
were two or three for Mr. Burton, two for Cecilia, and then two besides
the registered packet for Florence. For that a receipt was needed, and
as Florence had seen the address and recognized the writing, she was
hardly able to give her signature. As soon as the maid was gone Cecilia
could keep her seat no longer. "I know those are from Clavering," she
said, rising from her chair, and coming round to the side of the table.
Florence instinctively swept the packet into her lap, and, leaning
forward, covered the letters with her hands. "Oh, Florence, let us see
them--let us see them at once. If we are to be happy, let us know it."
But Florence paused, still leaning over her treasures, and hardly daring
to show her burning face. Even yet it might be that she was rejected.
Then Cecilia went back to her seat, and simply looked at her sister with
beseeching eyes. "I think I'll go up stairs," said Florence. "Are you
afraid of me, Flo?" Cecilia answered reproachfully. "Let me see the
outside of them." Then Florence brought them round the table, and put
them into her sister's hands. "May I open this one from Mrs. Clavering?"
Florence nodded