Nothing had been heard of his coming
up to London. No rushing to the card-tables had been announced. That
there were to be some terrible internecine law contests between him and
Augustus had been declared in many circles, but of this nothing was
known at the Buston Rectory. Harry had been one day at Cheltenham, and
had been allowed to spend the best part of an hour with his sweetheart;
but this permission had been given on the understanding that he was not
to come again, and now for a month he had abstained. Then had come his
uncle's offer, that generous offer under which Harry was to bring his
wife to Buston Hall, and live there during half the year, and to receive
an increased allowance for his maintenance during the other half. As he
thought of his ways and means he fancied that they would be almost rich.
She would have four hundred a year, and he as much; and an established
home would be provided for them. Of all these good things he had written
to Florence, but had not yet seen her since the offer had been made. Her
answer had not been as propitious as it might be, and it was absolutely
necessary that he should go down to Cheltenham and settle things.
The three years had in his imagination been easily reduced to one, which
was still, as he thought, an impossible time for waiting.
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