CHAPTER XXXII.
FLORENCE BURTON PACKS UP A PACKET.
Though nobody had expressed to Florence at Stratton any fear of HarryClavering's perfidy, that young lady was not altogether easy in hermind. Weeks and weeks had passed, and she had not heard from him.Her mother was manifestly uneasy, and had announced some days beforeFlorence's departure, her surprise and annoyance in not having heardfrom her eldest son. When Florence inquired as to the subject of theexpected letter, her mother put the question aside, saying, witha little assumed irritability, that of course she liked to get ananswer to her letters when she took the trouble to write them. Andwhen the day for Florence's journey drew nigh, the old lady becamemore and more uneasy,--showing plainly that she wished her daughterwas not going to London. But Florence, as she was quite determined togo, said nothing to all this. Her father also was uneasy, and neitherof them had for some days named her lover in her hearing. She knewthat there was something wrong, and felt that it was better that sheshould go to London and learn the truth.
No female heart was ever less prone to suspicion than the heart ofFlorence Burton. Among those with whom she had been most intimatenothing had occurred to teach her that men could be false, or womeneither. When she had heard from Harry Clavering the story of JuliaBrabazon, she had, not making much accusation against the sinner inspeech, put Julia down in the books of her mind as a bold, bad womanwho could forget her sex, and sell her beauty and her womanhoodfor money. There might be such a woman here and there, or such aman. There were murderers in the world,--but the bulk of mankindis not made subject to murderers. Florence had never consideredthe possibility that she herself could become liable to such amisfortune. And then, when the day came that she was engaged, herconfidence in the man chosen by her was unlimited. Such love as hersrarely suspects. He with whom she had to do was Harry Clavering, andtherefore she could not be deceived. Moreover she was supported bya self-respect and a self-confidence which did not at first allowher to dream that a man who had once loved her would ever wish toleave her. It was to her as though a sacrament as holy as that ofthe church had passed between them, and she could not easily bringherself to think that that sacrament had been as nothing to HarryClavering. But nevertheless there was something wrong, and when sheleft her father's house at Stratton, she was well aware that shemust prepare herself for tidings that might be evil. She could bearanything, she thought, without disgracing herself; but there weretidings which might send her back to Stratton a broken woman, fitperhaps to comfort the declining years of her father and mother, butfit for nothing else.
Her mother watched her closely as she sat at her breakfast thatmorning, but much could not be gained by watching Florence Burtonwhen Florence wished to conceal her thoughts. Many messages were sentto Theodore, to Cecilia, and to the children, messages to others ofthe Burton clan who were in town, but not a word was said of HarryClavering. The very absence of his name was enough to make themall wretched, but Florence bore it as the Spartan boy bore the foxbeneath his tunic. Mrs. Burton could hardly keep herself from a burstof indignation; but she had been strongly warned by her husband, andrestrained herself till Florence was gone. "If he is playing herfalse," said she, as soon as she was alone with her old husband,"he shall suffer for it, though I have to tear his face with my ownfingers."
"Nonsense, my dear; nonsense."
"It is not nonsense, Mr. Burton. A gentleman, indeed! He is to beallowed to be dishonest to my girl because he is a gentleman! I wishthere was no such thing as a gentleman;--so I do. Perhaps there wouldbe more honest men then." It was unendurable to her that a girl ofhers should be so treated.
Immediately on the arrival of the train at the London platform,Florence espied Cecilia, and in a minute was in her arms. There was aspecial tenderness in her sister-in-law's caress, which at once toldFlorence that her fears had not been without cause. Who has not feltthe evil tidings conveyed by the exaggerated tenderness of a specialkiss? But while on the platform and among the porters she saidnothing of herself. She asked after Theodore and heard of the railwayconfederacy with a shew of delight. "He'd like to make a line fromHyde Park Corner to the Tower of London," said Florence, with asmile. Then she asked after the children, and specially for thebaby; but as yet she spoke no word of Harry Clavering. The trunk andthe bag were at last found; and the two ladies were packed into acab, and had started. Cecilia, when they were seated, got hold ofFlorence's hand, and pressed it warmly. "Dearest," she said, "I amso glad to have you with us once again." "And now," said Florence,speaking with a calmness that was almost unnatural, "tell me all thetruth."
All the truth! What a demand it was. And yet Cecilia had expectedthat none less would be made upon her. Of course Florence must haveknown that there was something wrong. Of course she would ask as toher lover immediately upon her arrival. "And now tell me all thetruth."
"Oh, Florence!"
"The truth, then, is very bad?" said Florence, gently. "Tell me firstof all whether you have seen him. Is he ill?"
"He was with us on Friday. He is not ill."
"Thank God for that. Has anything happened to him? Has he lostmoney?"
"No; I have heard nothing about money."
"Then he is tired of me. Tell me at once, my own one. You know meso well. You know I can bear it. Don't treat me as though I were acoward."
"No; it is not that. It is not that he is tired of you. If you hadheard him speak of you on Friday,--that you were the noblest, purest,dearest, best of women--" This was imprudent on her part; but whatloving woman could at such a moment have endured to be prudent?
"Then what is it?" asked Florence, almost sternly. "Look here,Cecilia; if it be anything touching himself or his own character, Iwill put up with it, in spite of anything my brother may say. Thoughhe had been a murderer, if that were possible, I would not leave him.I will never leave him unless he leaves me. Where is he now, at thismoment?"
"He is in town." Mrs. Burton had not received Harry's note, tellingher of his journey to Clavering, before she had left home. Now atthis moment it was waiting for her in Onslow Crescent.
"And am I to see him? Cecilia, why cannot you tell me how it is? Insuch a case I should tell you,--should tell you everything at once;because I know that you are not a coward. Why cannot you do so tome?"
"You have heard of Lady Ongar?"
"Heard of her;--yes. She treated Harry very badly before hermarriage."
"She has come back to London, a widow."
"I know she has. And Harry has gone back to her! Is that it? Do youmean to tell me that Harry and Lady Ongar are to be married?"
"No; I cannot say that. I hope it is not so. Indeed, I do not thinkit."
"Then what have I to fear? Does she object to his marrying me? Whathas she to do between us?"
"She wishes that Harry should come back to her, and Harry has beenunsteady. He has been with her often; and he has been very weak. Itmay be all right yet, Flo; it may indeed,--if you can forgive hisweakness."
Something of the truth had now come home to Florence, and she satthinking of it long before she spoke again. This widow, she knew, wasvery wealthy, and Harry had loved her before he had come to Stratton.Harry's first love had come back free,--free to wed again, andable to make the fortune of the man she might love and marry. Whathad Florence to give to any man that could be weighed with this?Lady Ongar was very rich. Florence had already heard all this fromHarry,--was very rich, was clever, and was beautiful; and moreovershe had been Harry's first love. Was it reasonable that she with herlittle claims, her puny attractions, should stand in Harry's way whensuch a prize as that came across him! And as for his weakness;--mightit not be strength, rather than weakness;--the strength of an oldlove which he could not quell, now that the woman was free to takehim? For herself,--had she not known that she had only come second?As she thought of him with his noble bride and that bride's greatfortune, and of her own insignificance, her low birth, her doubtfulprettiness,--prettiness that had ever been doubtful to herself, ofhe
r few advantages, she told herself that she had no right to standupon her claims. "I wish I had known it sooner," she said, in a voiceso soft that Cecilia strained her ears to catch the words. "I wish Ihad known it sooner. I would not have come up to be in his way."
"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 inhers nor in his. I think I will go back at once."
Cecilia upon this, ventured to look round at her, and saw that shewas very pale, but that her eyes were dry and her lips pressed closetogether. It had not occurred to Mrs. Burton that her sister-in-lawwould take it in this way,--that she would express herself as beingwilling to give way, and that she would at once surrender her loverto her rival. The married woman, she who was already happy with ahusband, having enlisted all her sympathies on the side of a marriagebetween Florence and Harry Clavering, could by no means bring herselfto agree to this view. No one liked success better than CeciliaBurton, and to her success would consist in rescuing Harry from LadyOngar and securing him for Florence. In fighting this battle she hadfound that she would have against her Lady Ongar--of course, and thenher husband, and Harry himself too, as she feared; and now also shemust reckon Florence also among her opponents. But she could notendure the idea of failing in such a cause. "Oh, Florence, I thinkyou 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. Whatyou 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, orshould not want them. Could it be good for him to marry a woman whohas been false--who has done as she has, simply because she has madeherself rich by her wickedness? Do you believe so much in richesyourself?"
"If he loves her best, I will not blame him," said Florence. "He knewher before he had seen me. He was quite honest and told me all thestory. It is not his fault if he still likes her the best."
When they reached Onslow Crescent, the first half-hour was spent withthe children, as to whom Florence could not but observe that evenfrom their mouths the name of Harry Clavering was banished. But sheplayed with Cissy and Sophie, giving them their little presents fromStratton; and sat with the baby in her lap, kissing his pink feet andmaking little soft noises for his behoof, sweetly as she might havedone if no terrible crisis in her own life had now come upon her. Nota tear as yet had moistened her eyes, and Cecilia was partly awarethat Florence's weeping would be done in secret. "Come up with meinto my own room;--I have something to show you," she said, as thenurse took the baby at last; and Cissy and Sophie were at the sametime sent away with their brother. "As I came in I got a note fromHarry, but, before you see that, I must show you the letter whichhe wrote to me on Friday. He has gone down to Clavering,--on somebusiness,--for one day." Mrs. Burton, in her heart, could hardlyacquit him of having run out of town at the moment to avoid thearrival of Florence.
They went upstairs, and the note was, in fact, read before theletter. "I hope there is nothing wrong at the parsonage," saidFlorence.
"You see he says he will be back after one day."
"Perhaps he has gone to tell them,--of this change in his prospects."
"No, dear, no; you do not yet understand his feelings. Read hisletter, and you will know more. If there is to be a change, he is atany rate too much ashamed of it to speak of it. He does not wish ithimself. It is simply this,--that she has thrown herself in his way,and he has not known how to avoid her."
Then Florence read the letter very slowly, going over most of thesentences more than once, and struggling to learn from them what werereally the wishes of the writer. When she came to Harry's exculpationof Lady Ongar, she believed it thoroughly, and said so,--meeting,however, a direct contradiction on that point from her sister-in-law.When she had finished it, she folded it up and gave it back. "Cissy,"she said, "I know that I ought to go back. I do not want to see him,and I am glad that he has gone away."
"But you do not mean to give him up?"
"Yes, dearest."
"But you said you would never leave him, unless he left you."
"He has left me."
"No, Florence; not so. Do you not see what he says;--that he knowsyou are the only woman that can make him happy?"
"He has not said that; but if he had, it would make no matter.He understands well how it is. He says that I could not take himnow,--even if he came to me; and I cannot. How could I? What! wish tomarry a man who does not love me, who loves another, when I know thatI am regarded simply as a barrier between them; when by doing so Ishould mar his fortunes? Cissy, dear, when you think of it, you willnot wish it."
"Mar his fortunes! It would make them. I do wish it,--and he wishesit too. I tell you that I had him here, and I know it. Why should yoube sacrificed?"
"What is the meaning of self-denial, if no one can bear to suffer?"
"But he will suffer too,--and all for her caprices! You cannot reallythink that her money would do him any good. Who would ever speak tohim again, or even see him? What would the world say of him? Why, hisown father and mother and sisters would disown him, if they are suchas you say they are."
Florence would not argue it further, but went to her room, andremained there alone till Cecilia came to tell her that her brotherhad returned. What weeping there may have been there, need not betold. Indeed, as I think, there was not much, for Florence was agirl whose education had not brought her into the way of hystericalsensations. The Burtons were an active, energetic people whosympathized with each other in labour and success,--and in endurancealso; but who had little sympathy to express for the weaknesses ofgrief. When her children had stumbled in their play, bruising theirlittle noses, and barking their little shins, Mrs. Burton, the elder,had been wont to bid them rise, asking them what their legs were for,if they could not stand. So they had dried their own little eyes withtheir own little fists, and had learned to understand that the rubsof the world were to be borne in silence. This rub that had come toFlorence was of grave import, and had gone deeper than the outwardskin; but still the old lesson had its effect.
Florence rose from the bed on which she was lying, and prepared tocome down. "Do not commit yourself to him, as to anything," saidCecilia.
"I understand what that means," Florence answered. "He thinks as Ido. But never mind. He will not say much, and I shall say less. It isbad to talk of this to any man,--even to a brother."
Burton also received his sister with that exceptional affection whichdeclares pity for some overwhelming misfortune. He kissed her lips,which was rare with him, for he would generally but just touch herforehead, and he put his hand behind her waist and partly embracedher. "Did Cissy manage to find you at the station?"
"Oh, yes;--easily."
"Theodore thinks that a woman is no good for any such purpose asthat," said Cecilia. "It is a wonder to him, no doubt, that we arenot now wandering about London in search of each other,--and of him."
"I think she would have got home quicker if I could have been there,"said Burton.
"We were in a cab in one minute;--weren't we, Florence? Thedifference would have been that you would have given a portersixpence,--and I gave him a shilling, having bespoken him before."
"And Theodore's time was worth the sixpence, I suppose," saidFlorence.
"That depends," said Cecilia. "How did the synod go on?"
"The synod made an ass of itself;--as synods always do. It isnecessary to get a lot of men together, for the show of thething,--otherwise the world will not believe. That is the meaning ofcommittees. But the real work must always be done by one or two men.Come;--I'll go and get ready for dinner."
The subject,--the one real subject, had thus been altogether avoidedat this first meeting with the man of the house, and the eveningpassed without any allusion to it. Much was made of the children,a
nd much was said of the old people at home; but still there wasa consciousness over them all that the one matter of importancewas being kept in the background. They were all thinking of HarryClavering, but no one mentioned his name. They all knew that theywere unhappy and heavy-hearted through his fault, but no one blamedhim. He had been received in that house with open arms, had beenwarmed in their bosom, and had stung them; but though they were allsmarting from the sting, they uttered no complaint. Burton had madeup his mind that it would be better to pass over the matter thus insilence,--to say nothing further of Harry Clavering. A misfortunehad come upon them. They must bear it, and go on as before. Harryhad been admitted into the London office on the footing of a paidclerk,--on the same footing, indeed, as Burton himself, though witha much smaller salary and inferior work. This position had beenaccorded to him of course through the Burton interest, and it wasunderstood that if he chose to make himself useful, he could risein the business as Theodore had risen. But he could only do so asone of the Burtons. For the last three months he had declined totake his salary, alleging that private affairs had kept him awayfrom the office. It was to the hands of Theodore Burton himself thatsuch matters came for management, and therefore there had been nonecessity for further explanation. Harry Clavering would of courseleave the house, and there would be an end of him in the records ofthe Burton family. He would have come and made his mark,--a terriblemark, and would have passed on. Those whom he had bruised by hiscruelty, and knocked over by his treachery, must get to their feetagain as best they could, and say as little as might be of theirfall. There are knaves in this world, and no one can suppose thathe has a special right to be exempted from their knavery because hehimself is honest. It is on the honest that the knaves prey. Thatwas Burton's theory in this matter. He would learn from Ceciliahow Florence was bearing herself; but to Florence herself he wouldsay little or nothing if she bore with patience and dignity, as hebelieved she would, the calamity which had befallen her.
But he must write to his mother. The old people at Stratton must notbe left in the dark as to what was going on. He must write to hismother, unless he could learn from his wife that Florence herself hadcommunicated to them at home the fact of Harry's iniquity. But heasked no question as to this on the first night, and on the followingmorning he went off, having simply been told that Florence had seenHarry's letter, that she knew all, and that she was carrying herselflike an angel.
"Not like an angel that hopes?" said Theodore.
"Let her alone for a day or two," said Cecilia. "Of course she musthave a few days to think of it. I need hardly tell you that you willnever have to be ashamed of your sister."
The Tuesday and the Wednesday passed by, and though Cecilia andFlorence when together discussed the matter, no change was made inthe wishes or thoughts of either of them. Florence, now that she wasin town, had consented to remain till after Harry should return, onthe understanding that she should not be called upon to see him. Hewas to be told that she forgave him altogether,--that his troth wasreturned to him and that he was free, but that in such circumstancesa meeting between them could be of no avail. And then a little packetwas made up, which was to be given to him. How was it that Florencehad brought with her all his presents and all his letters? But therethey were in her box upstairs, and sitting by herself, with wearyfingers, she packed them, and left them packed under lock and key,addressed by herself to Harry Clavering, Esq. Oh, the misery ofpacking such a parcel! The feeling with which a woman does itis never encountered by a man. He chucks the things together inwrath,--the lock of hair, the letters in the pretty Italian handthat have taken so much happy care in the writing, the jewelledshirt-studs, which were first put in by the fingers that gave them.They are thrown together, and given to some other woman to deliver.But the girl lingers over her torture. She reads the letters again.She thinks of the moments of bliss which each little toy has given.She is loth to part with everything. She would fain keep some onething,--the smallest of them all. She doubts,--till a feeling ofmaidenly reserve constrains her at last, and the coveted trifle, withcareful, painstaking fingers, is put with the rest, and the parcel ismade complete, and the address is written with precision.
Florence Burton makes up a packet.]
"Of course I cannot see him," said Florence. "You will hand to himwhat I have to send to him; and you must ask him, if he has kept anyof my letters, to return them." She said nothing of the shirt-studs,but he would understand that. As for the lock of hair,--doubtless ithad been burned.
Cecilia said but little in answer to this. She would not as yet lookupon the matter as Florence looked at it, and as Theodore did also.Harry was to be back in town on Thursday morning. He could not,probably, be seen or heard of on that day, because of his visit toLady Ongar. It was absolutely necessary that he should see Lady Ongarbefore he could come to Onslow Terrace, with possibility of becomingonce more the old Harry Clavering whom they were all to love. ButMrs. Burton would by no means give up all hope. It was useless to sayanything to Florence, but she still hoped that good might come.
And then, as she thought of it all, a project came into her head.Alas, and alas! Was she not too late with her project? Why had shenot thought of it on the Tuesday or early on the Wednesday, when itmight possibly have been executed? But it was a project which shemust have kept secret from her husband, of which he would by no meanshave approved; and as she remembered this, she told herself thatperhaps it was as well that things should take their own coursewithout such interference as she had contemplated.
On the Thursday morning there came to her a letter in a strange hand.It was from Clavering,--from Harry's mother. Mrs. Clavering wrote,as she said, at her son's request, to say that he was confined tohis bed, and could not be in London as soon as he expected. Mrs.Burton was not to suppose that he was really ill, and none of thefamily were to be frightened. From this Mrs. Burton learned that Mrs.Clavering knew nothing of Harry's apostasy. The letter went on tosay that Harry would write as soon as he himself was able, and wouldprobably be in London early next week,--at any rate before the endof it. He was a little feverish, but there was no cause for alarm.Florence, of course, could only listen and turn pale. Now at any rateshe must remain in London.
Mrs. Burton's project might, after all, be feasible; but then what ifher husband should really be angry with her? That was a misfortunewhich never yet had come upon her.