after the manner of the other young men who had learned the secrets of their profession at Stratton, she had desired nothing more than that he and Florence should walk in the path which had been followed by her sisters and their husbands.  But then had come that terrible fear, and now had come these golden prospects.  That her daughter should be Lady Clavering, of Clavering Park!  She could not but be elated at the thought of it.  She would not live to see it, but the consciousness that it would be so was pleasant in her old age.  Florence had ever been regarded as the flower of the flock, and now she would be taken up into high places, according to her deserts.

First had come the letter from Harry, and then, after an interval of a week, another letter from Mrs. Clavering, pressing her dear Florence to go to the parsonage.  “We think that at present we all ought to be together,” said Mrs. Clavering, “and therefore we want you to be with us.”  It was very flattering.  “I suppose I ought to go, mamma,” said Florence.  Mrs. Burton was of opinion that she certainly ought to go.  “You should write to her ladyship at once,” said Mrs. Burton, mindful of the change which had taken place.  Florence, however, addressed her letter, as heretofore, to Mrs. Clavering, thinking that a mistake on that side would be better than a mistake on the other.  It was not for her to be over-mindful of the rank with which she was about to be connected.  “You won’t forget your old mother now that you are going to be so grand?” said Mrs. Burton, as Florence was leaving her.

“You only say that to laugh at me,” said Florence.  “I expect no grandness, and I am sure you expect no forgetfulness.”

The solemnity consequent upon the first news of the accident had worn itself off; and Florence found the family at the parsonage happy and comfortable.  Mrs. Fielding was still there, and Mr. Fielding was expected again after the next Sunday.  Fanny also was there, and Florence could see during the first half hour that she was very radiant.  Mr. Saul, however, was not there, and it may as well be said at once that Mr. Saul as yet knew nothing of his coming fortune.  Florence was received with open arms by them all, and by Harry with arms which were almost too open.  “I suppose it may be in about three weeks from now,” he said at the first moment in which he could have her to himself.

“Oh, Harry—­no,” said Florence.

“No—­why no?  That’s what my mother proposes.”

“In three weeks!  She could not have said that.  Nobody has begun to think of such a thing yet at Stratton.”

“They are so very slow at Stratton!”

“And you are so very fast at Clavering!  But, Harry, we don’t know where we are going to live.”

“We should go abroad at first, I suppose.”

“And what then?  That would only be for a month or so.”

“Only for a month?  I mean for all the Winter—­and the Spring.  Why not?  One can see nothing in a month.  If we are back for the shooting next year, that would do; and then, of course, we should come here.  I should say next Winter—­that is, the Winter after the next—­we might as well stay with them at the big house, and then we could look about us, you know.  I should like a place near to this, because of the hunting.”