Then Mr. Prosper was, for him, very gracious in his congratulations, saying all manner of good things of Miss Mountjoy.  “I think you’d like her, Uncle Prosper.”  Mr. Prosper did not doubt but that he would “appease the solicitor.”  He also had heard of Miss Mountjoy, and what he had heard had been much to the “young lady’s credit.”  Then he asked a few questions as to the time fixed for the marriage.  Here Harry was obliged to own that there were difficulties.  Miss Mountjoy had promised not to marry for three years without her mother’s consent.  “Three years!” said Mr. Prosper.  “Then I shall be dead and buried.”  Harry did not tell his uncle that in that case the difficulty might probably vanish, as the same degree of fate which had robbed him of his poor uncle would have made him owner of Buston.  In such a case as that Mrs. Mountjoy might probably give way.

“But why is the young lady to be kept from marriage for three years?  Does she wish it?”

Harry said that he did not exactly think that Miss Mountjoy, on her own behalf, did wish for so prolonged a separation.  “The fact is, sir, that Mrs. Mountjoy is not my best friend.  This nephew of hers, Mountjoy Scarborough, has always been her favorite.”

“But he’s a man that always loses his money at cards.”

“He’s to have all Tretton now, it seems.”

“And what does the young lady say?”

“All Tretton won’t move her.  I’m not a bit afraid.  I’ve got her word, and that’s enough for me.  How it is that her mother should think it possible;—­that’s what I do not know.”

“The three years are quite fixed?”

“I don’t quite say that altogether.”

“But a young lady who will be true to you will be true to her mother also.”  Harry shook his head.  He was quite willing to guarantee Florence’s truth as to her promise to him, but he did not think that her promise to her mother need be put on the same footing.  “I shall be very glad if you can arrange it any other way.  Three years is a long time.”

“Quite absurd, you know,” said Harry, with energy.

“What made her fix on three years?”

“I don’t know how they did it between them.  Mrs. Mountjoy, perhaps, thought that it might give time to her nephew.  Ten years would be the same as far as he is concerned.  Florence is a girl who, when she says that she loves a man, means it.  For you don’t suppose I intend to remain three years?”

“What do you intend to do?”

“One has to wait a little and see.”  Then there was a long pause, during which Harry stood twiddling his fingers.  He had nothing farther to suggest, but he thought that his uncle might say something.  “Shall I come again to-morrow, Uncle Prosper?” he said.

“I have got a plan,” said Uncle Prosper.

“What is it, uncle?”

“I don’t know that it can lead to anything.  It’s of no use, of course, if the young lady will wait the three years.”