The Claverings

solitary visit there, she had still looked forward to the pleasure the property might give her, when she should be able to bestow it upon Harry Clavering. But that had been part of her dream, and the dream was now over. Through it all she had been conscious that she might hardly dare to hope that the end of her punishment should come so soon⁠—and now she knew that it was not to come. As far as she could see, there was no end to the punishment in prospect for her. From her first meeting with Harry Clavering on the platform of the railway station his presence, or her thoughts of him, had sufficed to give some brightness to her life⁠—had enabled her to support the friendship of Sophie Gordeloup, and also to support her solitude when poor Sophie had been banished. But now she was left without any resource. As she sat alone, meditating on all this, she endeavoured to console herself with the reflection that, after all, she was the one whom Harry loved⁠—whom Harry would have chosen, had he been free to choose. But the comfort to be derived from that was very poor. Yes; he had loved her once⁠—nay, perhaps he loved her still. But when that love was her own she had rejected it. She had rejected it, simply declaring to him, to her friends, and to the world at large, that she preferred to be rich. She had her reward, and, bowing her head upon her hands, she acknowledged that the punishment was deserved.

Her first step after writing her note to Harry was to send for Mr. Turnbull, her lawyer. She had expected to see Harry on the evening of the day on which she had written, but instead of that she received a note from him in which he said that he would come to her before long. Mr. Turnbull was more instant in obeying her commands, and was with her on the morning after he received her injunction. He was almost a perfect stranger to her, having only seen her once and that for a few moments after her return to England. Her marriage settlements had been prepared for her by Sir Hugh’s attorney; but during her sojourn in Florence it had become necessary that she should have someone in London to look after her own affairs, and Mr. Turnbull had been recommended to her by lawyers employed by her husband. He was a prudent, sensible man, who recognized it to be his imperative interest to look after his client’s interest. And he had done his duty by Lady Ongar in that trying time immediately after her return. An offer had then been made by the Courton family to give Julia her income without opposition if she would surrender Ongar Park. To this she had made objections with indignation, and Mr. Turnbull, though he had at first thought that she would be wise to comply with the terms proposed, had done her work for her with satisfactory expedition. Since those days she had not seen him, but now she had summoned him, and he was with her in Bolton Street.

“I want to speak to you, Mr. Turnbull,” she said, “about that place down in Surrey. I don’t like it.”

“Not like Ongar Park?” he said. “I have always heard that it is so charming.”

“It is not charming to me. It is a sort of property that I don’t want, and I mean to give it up.”

“Lord Ongar’s uncles would buy your interest in it, I have no doubt.”

“Exactly. They have sent to me, offering to do so. My brother-in-law, Sir Hugh Clavering, called on me with a message from them saying so. I thought that he was very foolish to come, and so I told him. Such things should be done by one’s lawyers. Don’t you think so, Mr. Turnbull?” Mr. Turnbull smiled as he declared that, of course, he, being a lawyer, was of that opinion. “I am afraid they will have thought me uncivil,” continued Julia, “as I spoke rather brusquely to Sir Hugh Clavering. I am not inclined to take any steps through Sir Hugh Clavering; but I do not know that I have any reason to be angry with the little lord’s family.”

“Really, Lady Ongar, I think not. When your ladyship returned there was some opposition thought of for a while, but I really do not think it was their fault.”

“No; it was not their fault.”

“That was my feeling at the time; it was indeed.”

“It was the fault of Lord Ongar⁠—of my husband. As regards all the Courtons I have no word of complaint to make. It is not to be expected⁠—it is not desirable that they and I should be friends. It is impossible, after what has passed, that there should be such friendship. But they have never injured me, and I wish to oblige them. Had Ongar Park suited me I should, doubtless, have kept it; but it does not suit me, and they are welcome to have it back again.”

“Has a price been named, Lady Ongar?”

“No price need be named. There is to be no question of a price. Lord Ongar’s mother is welcome to the place⁠—or rather to such interest as I have in it.”

“And to pay a rent?” suggested Mr. Turnbull.

“To pay no rent! Nothing would induce me to let the place, or to sell my right in it. I will have no bargain about it. But as nothing also will induce me to live there, I am not such a dog in the manger as to wish to keep it. If you will have the kindness to see Mr. Courton’s lawyer and to make arrangements about it.”

“But, Lady Ongar; what you call your right in the estate is worth over twenty thousand pounds. It is indeed. You could borrow twenty thousand pounds on the security of it tomorrow.”

“But I don’t want to borrow twenty thousand pounds.”

“No, no; exactly. Of course you don’t. But