“My engagement was with Mrs. Burton,” said Harry.

“I hope there is nothing wrong between you and Florence?” said his mother.  To this question Harry made no immediate answer, and Mrs. Clavering was afraid to press it.  But after a while he returned to the subject himself.  “Mother,” he said, “things are wrong between Florence and me.”

“Oh, Harry; what has she done?”

“It is rather what have I done!  As for her, she has simply trusted herself to a man who has been false to her.”

“Dear Harry, do not say that.  What is it that you mean?  It is not true about Lady Ongar?”

“Then you have heard, mother.  Of course I do not know what you have heard, but it can be hardly worse than the truth.  But you must not blame her.  Whatever fault there may be, is all mine.”  Then he told her much of what had occurred in Bolton Street.  We may suppose that he said nothing of that mad caress—­nothing, perhaps, of the final promise which he made to Julia as he last passed out of her presence; but he did give her to understand that he had in some way returned to his old passion for the woman whom he had first loved.

I should describe Mrs. Clavering in language too highly eulogistic were I to lead the reader to believe that she was altogether averse to such advantages as would accrue to her son from a marriage so brilliant as that which he might now make with the grandly dowered widow of the late earl.  Mrs. Clavering by no means despised worldly goods; and she had, moreover, an idea that her highly gifted son was better adapted to the spending than to the making of money.  It had come to be believed at the rectory that though Harry had worked very hard at college—­as is the case with many highly born young gentlemen—­and though he would, undoubtedly, continue to work hard if he were thrown among congenial occupations—­such as politics and the like—­nevertheless, he would never excel greatly in any drudgery that would be necessary for the making of money.  There had been something to be proud of in this, but there had, of course, been more to regret.  But now if Harry were to marry Lady Ongar, all trouble on that score would be over.  But poor Florence!  When Mrs. Clavering allowed herself to think of the matter, she knew that Florence’s claims should be held as paramount.  And when she thought further and thought seriously, she knew also that Harry’s honor and Harry’s happiness demanded that he should be true to the girl to whom his hand had been promised.  And, then, was not Lady Ongar’s name tainted?  It might be that she had suffered cruel ill-usage in this.  It might be that no such taint had been deserved.  Mrs. Clavering could plead the injured woman’s cause when speaking of it without any close reference to her own belongings; but it would have been very grievous to her, even had there been no Florence Burton in the case, that her son should make his fortune by marrying a woman as to whose character the world was in doubt.