He rushed up to his mother, all damp and half-shod as he was, and seized her in his arms.  “Oh, mother, mother!”

“What is it, dear?”

“Read that, and tell me whether there ever was a finer human being!” Mrs. Annesley did read it, and thought that her own daughter Molly was just as fine a creature.  Florence was simply doing what any girl of spirit would do.  But she saw that her son was as jubilant now as he had been downcast, and she was quite willing to partake of his comfort.  “Not write a word to her!  Ha, ha!  I think I see myself at it!”

“But she seems to be in earnest there.”

“In earnest!  And so am I in earnest.  Would it be possible that a fellow should hold his hand and not write?  Yes, my girl; I think that I must write a line.  I wonder what she would say if I were not to write?”

“I think she means that you should be silent.”

“She has taken a very odd way of assuming it.  I am to keep her promise for her,—­my darling, my angel, my life!  But I cannot do that one thing.  Oh, mother, mother, if you knew how happy I am!  What the mischief does it all signify,—­Uncle Prosper, Miss Thoroughbung, and the rest of it,—­with a girl like that?”

CHAPTER XXV.

Harry and his uncle.

Harry was kissed all round by the girls, and was congratulated warmly on the heavenly excellence of his mistress.  They could afford to be generous if he would be good-natured.  “Of course you must write to her,” said Molly, when he came down-stairs with dry clothes.

“I should think so, mother.”

“Only she does seem to be so much in earnest about it,” said Mrs. Annesley.

“I think she would rather get just a line to say that he is in earnest too,” said Fanny.

“Why should not she like a love-letter as much as any one else?” said Kate, who had her own ideas.  “Of course she has to tell him about her mamma, but what need he care for that?  Of course mamma thinks that Joshua need not write to Molly, but Molly won’t mind.”

“I don’t think anything of the kind, miss.”

“And besides, Joshua lives in the next parish,” said Fanny, “and has a horse to ride over on if he has anything to say.”

“At any rate, I shall write,” said Harry, “even at the risk of making her angry.”  And he did write as follows: 

“Buston, October, 188—.

“My own dear girl,—­It is impossible that I should not send one line in answer.  Put yourself in my place, and consult your own feelings.  Think that you have a letter so full of love, so noble, so true, so certain to fill you with joy, and then say whether you would let it pass without a word of acknowledgment.  It would be absolutely impossible.  It is not very probable that I should ask you to break your engagement, which in the midst of my troubles is the only consolation I have.  But when a man has a rock to stand upon like that, he does not want anything else.  As long as a man has the one person necessary to his happiness to believe in him, he can put up with the ill opinion of all the others.  You are to me so much that you outweigh all the world.