Lord Ongar On the next morning Harry Clavering rode over to Stratton, thinking much of his misery as he went.

It was all very well for him, in the presence of his own family to talk of his profession as the one subject which was to him of any importance; but he knew very well himself that he was only beguiling them in doing so.

This question of a profession was, after all, but dead leaves to him--to him who had a canker at his heart, a perpetual thorn in his bosom, a misery within him which no profession could mitigate! Those dear ones at home guessed nothing of this, and he would take care that they should guess nothing.

Why should they have the pain of knowing that he had been made wretched forever by blighted hopes?
His mother, indeed, had suspected something in those sweet days of his roaming with Julia through the park.

She had once or twice said a word to warn him.