So when the Florence letter came, there was no particular enthusiasm
about it. The address assigned it to the squire, and he left it lying on
the table while he finished the broiled trout and coffee before him. But
it troubled Charlotte, and she waited anxiously for the unpleasant words
she felt sure were inside of it. Yet there was no change on the squire's
face, and no sign of annoyance, as he read it. "It is about the usual
thing, Alice. Julius likes Florence. It is called 'the beautiful.'
Julius thinks that it deserves the title. The wine in Rome did not suit
Julius, but he finds the Florence vintage much better. The climate is
very delightful, Julius is sure he will derive benefit from it; and so
on, and so on, and so on." Then there was a short pause, and a rapid
turn of the sheet to glance at the other side. "Oh, Julius met Harry
yesterday! He--Julius--does not think Harry is doing right. 'Harry
always was selfish and extravagant, and though he did affront us on our
wedding-day, Julius thought it proper to call upon him. He--I mean
Harry--was with a most beautiful young girl. Julius thinks father ought
to write to him, and tell him to go back to his duty.'"
These were the words, doubtful and suggestive, which made every heart in
Seat-Sandal thoroughly uncomfortable. And yet Charlotte stoutly said, "I
would not mind Sophia's insinuations, father and mother. She is angry at
Harry.
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