She declared to herself that she would not tempt this man to be untrue to his troth, were it not that in doing so she would so greatly benefit himself. Was it not manifest that Harry Clavering was a gentleman, qualified to shine among men of rank and fashion, but not qualified to make his way by his own diligence? In saying this of him, she did not know how heavy was the accusation that she brought against him; but what woman, within her own breast, accuses the man she loves? Were he to marry Florence Burton, would he not ruin himself, and probably ruin her also? But she could give him all that he wanted. Though Ongar Park to her alone was, with its rich pastures and spreading oaks and lowing cattle, desolate as the Dead Sea shore, for him—and for her with him—would it not be the very paradise suited to them? Would it not be the heaven in which such a Phoebus should shine amidst the gyrations of his satellites? A Phoebus going about his own field in knickerbockers, and with attendant satellites, would possess a divinity which, as she thought, might make her happy. As she thought of all this, and asked herself these questions, there was an inner conscience which told her that she had no right to Harry’s love or Harry’s hand; but still she could not cease to long that good things might come to her, though those good things had not been deserved. Alas, good things not deserved too often lose their goodness when they come! As she was sitting with Sophie’s letter in her hand the door was opened, and Captain Clavering was announced.
Captain Archibald Clavering was again dressed in his very best, but he did not even yet show by his demeanour that aptitude for the business now in hand of which he had boasted on the previous evening to his friend. Lady Ongar, I think, partly guessed the object of his visit. She had perceived, or perhaps had unconsciously felt, on the occasion of his former coming, that the visit had not been made simply from motives of civility. She had known Archie in old days, and was aware that the splendour of his vestments had a significance. Well, if anything of that kind was to be done, the sooner it was done the better.
“Julia,” he said, as soon as he was seated, “I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you quite well?”
“Pretty well, I thank you,” said she.
“You have been out of town, I think?” She told him that she had been in the Isle of Wight for a day or two, and then there was a short silence. “When I heard that you were gone,” he said, “I feared that perhaps you were ill!”
“O dear, no; nothing of that sort.”
“I am so glad,” said Archie; and then he was silent again. He had, however, as he was aware, thrown a great deal of expression into his inquiries after her health, and he had now to calculate how he could best use the standing-ground that he had made for himself.
“Have you seen my sister lately?” she asked.
“Your sister? no. She is always at Clavering. I think it doosed wrong of Hugh, the way he goes on, keeping her down there, while he is up here in London. It isn’t at all my idea of what a husband ought to do.”
“I suppose she likes it,” said Lady Ongar.
“Oh, if she likes it, that’s a different thing, of course,” said Archie. Then there was another pause.
“Don’t you find yourself rather lonely here sometimes?” he asked.
Lady Ongar felt that it would be better for all parties that it should be over, and that it would not be over soon unless she could help him. “Very lonely indeed,” she said; “but then I suppose that it is the fate of widows to be lonely.”
“I don’t see that at all,” said Archie, briskly; “—unless they are old and ugly, and that kind of thing. When a widow has become a widow after she has been married ever so many years, why then I suppose she looks to be left alone; and I suppose they like it.”
“Indeed, I can’t say. I don’t like it.”
“Then you would wish to change?”
“It is a very intricate subject, Captain Clavering, and one which I do not think I am quite disposed to discuss at present. After a year or two, perhaps I shall go into society again. Most widows do, I believe.”
“But I was thinking of something else,” said Archie, working himself up to the point with great energy, but still with many signs that he was ill at ease at his work. “I was, by Jove!”
“And of what were you thinking, Captain Clavering?”
“I was thinking—of course you know, Julia, that since poor little Hughy’s death, I am the next in for the title?”
“Poor Hughy! I’m sure you are too generous to rejoice at that.”
“Indeed I am. When two fellows offered me a dinner at the club on the score of my chances, I wouldn’t have it. But there’s the fact;—isn’t it?”
“There is no doubt of that, I believe.”
“None on earth; and the most of it is entailed, too; not that Hugh would leave an acre away from the title. I’m as safe as wax as far as that is concerned. I don’t suppose he ever borrowed a shilling or mortgaged an acre in his life.”
“I should think he was a prudent man.”
“We are both of us prudent. I will say that of
