Mrs. Burton, though she had loved Harry dearly, and had, perhaps, in many respects liked him better than any of her sons-in-law, had, nevertheless, felt some misgivings from the first.  Florence was brighter, better educated and cleverer than her elder sisters, and therefore when it had come to pass that she was asked in marriage by a man somewhat higher in rank and softer in manners than they who had married her sisters, there had seemed to be some reason for the change—­but Mrs. Burton had felt that it was a ground for apprehension.  High rank and soft manners may not always belong to a true heart.  At first she was unwilling to hint this caution even to herself; but at last, as her suspicions grew, she spoke the words very frequently, not only to herself, but also to her husband.  Why, oh why, had she let into her house any man differing in mode of life from those whom she had known to be honest and good?  How would her gray hairs be made to go in sorrow to the grave, if after all her old prudence and all her old success, her last pet lamb should be returned to the mother’s side, ill-used, maimed, and blighted!

Theodore Burton, when he received his mother’s letter, had not seen Harry since his return from Clavering.  He had been inclined to be very angry with him for his long and unannounced absence from the office.  “He will do no good,” he had said to his wile.  “He does not know what real work means.”  But his anger turned to disgust as regarded Harry, and almost to despair as regarded his sister, when Harry had been a week in town and yet had not shown himself at the Adelphi.  But at this time Theodore Burton had heard no word of Lady Ongar, though the clerks in the office had that name daily in their mouths.  “Cannot you go to him, Theodore?” said his wife.  “It is very easy to say go to him,” he replied.  “If I made it my business I could, of course, go to him, and no doubt find him if I was determined to do so—­but what more could I do?  I can lead a horse to the water, but I cannot make him drink.”  “You could speak to him of Florence.”  “That is such a woman’s idea,” said the husband.  “When every proper incentive to duty and ambition has failed him, he is to be brought into the right way by the mention of a girl’s name!” “May I see him?” Cecilia urged.  “Yes—­if you can catch him; but I do not advise you to try.”

After that came the two letters for the husband and wife, each of which was shown to the other; and then for the first time did either of them receive the idea that Lady Ongar with her fortune might be a cause of misery to their sister.  “I don’t believe a word of it,” said Cecilia, whose cheeks were burning, half with shame and half with anger.  Harry had been such a pet with her—­had already been taken so closely to her heart as a brother!  “I should not have suspected him of that kind of baseness,” said Theodore, very slowly.  “He is not base,” said Cecilia.  “He may be idle and foolish, but he is not base.”