It was a bright morning in the early spring when Florence Heriton, accompanied by her father, left the dull, dirty street in Brompton to pay her first visit to the busy and pleasantly situated market town of Kirton-on-the-Thames. Mr. Heriton, clinging to his daughter’s arm for support and guidance,
With a silent grasp of the hand, Susan and Florence parted, for the latter did not feel that her intimacy warranted any inquiries into Julia’s affairs, and she was conscious that she had stayed from her father’s side too long already. He had been sleeping for some time,
It would be as useless as unpleasant to dilate on Mr. Heriton’s disappointment and anger when Florence related the issue of her visit to Lieutenant Mason. He had anticipated so much from the interview that his vexation was excessive. Perhaps he scarcely acknowledged to himself the whole of the
Two or three weeks passed away, during which Florence studied assiduously. She had an incentive to exertion in her father’s haggard looks and increasing uneasiness. Although he tried to hide it from her, he was evidently dissatisfied with the progress of affairs. “Mason assured me that I should receive
For some time after Mrs. Blunden’s carriage rolled away from the door, Florence remained like one stupefied. As her aunt’s words resounded in her ears, a terrible suspicion grew upon her that there was truth in the tale, and that the money was actually withdrawn. She had a