But with him it was otherwise, thought Cecil. Surely if any recollection of that time had been present to his mind, he could not have seemed so entirely at his ease. He inquired about his aunt. He had not seen her since his return to England, and he was very anxious to see her, dear soul, he said. She was visiting, of course, always visiting at this time of year. He had received delightful letters from her, and invitations to some of the houses at which she was staying. "If I can get away from Chiverley for a week, I shall run over to Thornley Grange, in Leicestershire, where she is to be in March," he said; "but at the worst I shall see her in town I suppose early in the spring." This last remark seemed to require an answer, so Cecil replied that she had no doubt Mrs. MacClaverhouse would return to Dorset Square in the spring. And after this the conversation became general. Florence told Major Gordon her difficulties with regard to the camellia japonicas. "They will come out so stiffly," she said despondingly; "no one but a Miss Mutrie or a Van Huysum could make any thing out of them." Mr. Lobyer came in from a morning's ride while the Scotchman was talking to the two ladies, and on this particular occasion Mr. Lobyer happened to be in very good humour with himself and the world in general. The Chili Island loan, in which he was vitally interested, was beginning to look up in the market, after having been for some time in bad odour; and the influence of a rapid advance of seven-eighths brightened the millionaire's countenance. He made himself as agreeable as it was in him to be, and invited the Major to dinner the next day, when some "other fellows" were coming from Manchester. The Major hesitated just a little before he accepted the invitation, and it seemed to Mrs. Lobyer that he glanced towards Cecil in that moment of hesitation; but he did accept it. "Why, Cecil, you never told me that Major Gordon was related to you," said Flo when that gentleman had departed. "He is not related to me. My aunt, Mrs. MacClaverhouse, is only his aunt-in-law; there is no real relationship even between Major Gordon and her whatever; there is no relationship between him and me." "Indeed! But you did not even tell me that you knew him. How very nice he is--and a young widower! I think there is nothing so interesting as a young widower. One generally associates a widower with baldness, and stoutness, and half-a-dozen children in rusty mourning: but a young widower is delightful: and he is, or is to be, very rich, is he not? Mr. Lobyer says so, and he keeps a kind of mental register of other people's banking accounts. I wish there were no such person as Mr. O'Boyneville." "Florence!"