“But you will be in no one’s way, Flo, unless it be in hers.”

“And I will not be in hers,” said Florence, speaking somewhat louder, and raising her head in pride as she spoke.  “I will be neither in hers nor in his.  I think I will go back at once.”

Cecilia upon this ventured to look around at her, and saw that she was very pale, but that her eyes were dry and her lips pressed close together.  It had not occurred to Mrs. Burton that her sister-in-law would take it in this way, that she would be willing to give way, and at once surrender her lover to her rival.  No one liked success better than Cecilia Burton, and to her success would consist in rescuing Harry from Lady Ongar and securing him for Florence.  In fighting this battle she had found that she would have against her Lady Ongar, of course, and then her husband, and Harry himself too, as she feared; and now she must reckon Florence also among her opponents.  But she could not endure the idea of failing in such a cause.  “Oh, Florence, I think you are so wrong,” she said.

“You would feel as I do, if you were in my place.”

“But people cannot always judge best when they feel the most.  What you should think of is his happiness.”

“So I do; and of his future career.”

“Career!  I hate to hear of careers.  Men do not want careers, or should not want them.  Could it be good for-him to marry a woman who has done as she has, simply because she has made herself rich by her wickedness?  Do you believe so much in riches yourself?”

“If he loves her best, I will not blame him,” said Florence.  “He knew her before he had seen me.  He was quite honest and told me all the story.  It is not his fault if he still likes her the best.”

Chapter XXXVIII

Florence Burton Makes Up A Packet

When they reached Onslow Crescent, the first half-hour was spent with the children, as to whom Florence could but observe that even from their mouths the name of Harry Clavering was banished.  But she played with Cissy and Sophie, giving them their little presents from Stratton; and sat with the baby in her lap, kissing his pink feet and making little soft noises for his behoof sweetly as she might have done if no terrible crisis in her own life had now come upon her.  Not a tear as yet had moistened her eyes, and Cecilia was partly aware that Florence’s weeping would be done in secret.  “Come up with me into my own room; I have something to show you,” she said, as the nurse took the baby at last; and Cissy and Sophie were at the same time sent away with their brother.  “As I came in I got a note from Harry, but, before you see that, I must show you the letter which he wrote to me on Friday.  He has gone down to Clavering—­on some business—­for one day.”  Mrs. Burton, in her heart, could hardly acquit him of having run out of town at the moment to avoid the arrival of Florence.