each. To tell the truth, he had thought then that a breach would
be expedient. But she had fallen ill, and it was incumbent on him to
be tender and gentle. Then, from her very sick bed, she had sent him
this impudent message.

And it had been delivered so impudently! "The truth would suffer!" He
was sure that there was a meaning in the words intended to signify
that he, Lord Castlewell, was and must be an ass at all times. Then
he asked himself whether he was an ass because he did not quite
understand O'Mahony's argument. Why did the truth suffer? As to his
being an ass,--O'Mahony being an ass,--he was sure that there was no
doubt about that. All the world said so. The House of Commons knew
it,--and the newspapers. He had been turned out of the House for
saying the Speaker was wrong, and not apologising for having uttered
such words. And he, Lord Castlewell, had so expressed himself only
to the woman who was about to be his wife. Then she had had the
incredible folly to tell her father, and the father had told him that
under certain circumstances the "truth must suffer." He did not quite
understand it, but was sure that Mr. O'Mahony had meant to say that
they were two fools together.

He was not at all ashamed of marrying a singing girl. It was the
thing he would be sure to do. And he thought of some singing girls
before his time, and of his time also, whom it would be an honour for
such as him to marry. But he would degrade himself--so he felt--by
the connection with an advanced Landleaguing Member of Parliament.
He looked round the lot of them, and he assured himself that there
was not one from whose loins an English nobleman could choose a wife
without disgrace. It was most unfortunate,--so he told himself. The
man had not become Member of Parliament till quite the other day. He
had not even opened his mouth in Parliament till the engagement had
been made. And now, among them all, this O'Mahony was the biggest
ass. And yet Lord Castlewell found himself quite unable to hold his
own with the Irish member when the Irish member was brought to attack
him. He certainly would have made Rachel's conduct a fair excuse for
breaking with her,--only that she was ill.

If he could have known the state of Rachel's mind there might have
been an end to his troubles. She had now, at length, been made
thoroughly wretched by hearing the truth from the doctor,--or what
the doctor believed to be the truth. "Miss O'Mahony, I had better