“And that suffices?”

“It must suffice.  And why should it not suffice?  You are very uncivil, cousin, and very unlike the rest of the world.  Everybody compliments me on my marriage.  Lord Ongar is not only rich, but he is a man of fashion, and a man of talent.”

“Are you fond of race-horses yourself?”

“Very fond of them.”

“And of that kind of life?”

“Very fond of it.  I mean to be fond of everything that Lord Ongar likes.  I know that I can’t change him, and, therefore, I shall not try.”

“You are right there, Miss Brabazon.”

“You mean to be impertinent, sir; but I will not take it so.  This is to be our last meeting in private, and I won’t acknowledge that I am insulted.  But it must be over now, Harry; and here I have been pacing round and round the garden with you, in spite of my refusal just now.  It must not be repeated, or things will be said which I do not mean to have ever said of me.  Good-by, Harry.”

“Good-by, Julia.”

“Well, for that once let it pass.  And remember this:  I have told you all my hopes, and my one trouble.  I have been thus open with you because I thought it might serve to make you look at things in a right light.  I trust to your honor as a gentleman to repeat nothing that I have said to you.”

I am not given to repeat such things as those.”

“I’m sure you are not.  And I hope you will not misunderstand the spirit in which they have been spoken.  I shall never regret what I have told you now, if it tends to make you perceive that we must both regard our past acquaintance as a romance, which must, from the stern necessity of things, be treated as a dream which we have dreamt, or a poem which we have read.”

“You can treat it as you please.”

“God bless you, Harry; and I will always hope for your welfare, and hear of your success with joy.  Will you come up and shoot with them on Thursday?”

“What, with Hugh?  No; Hugh and I do not hit it off together.  If I shot at Clavering I should have to do it as a sort of head-keeper.  It’s a higher position, I know, than that of an usher, but it doesn’t suit me.”

“Oh, Harry! that is so cruel!  But you will come up to the house.  Lord Ongar will be there on the thirty-first; the day after to-morrow, you know.”

“I must decline even that temptation.  I never go into the house when Hugh is there, except about twice a year on solemn invitation—­just to prevent there being a family quarrel.”

“Good-by, then,” and she offered him her hand.

“Good-by, if it must be so.”

“I don’t know whether you mean to grace my marriage?”

“Certainly not.  I shall be away from Clavering, so that the marriage bells may not wound my ears.  For the matter of that, I shall be at the school.”

“I suppose we shall meet some day in town.”

“Most probably not.  My ways and Lord Ongar’s will be altogether different, even if I should succeed in getting up to London.  If you ever come to see Hermione here, I may chance to meet you in the house.  But you will not do that often, the place is so dull and unattractive.”