erview--not
in a manner to ingratiate himself with his relative, Miss Letty
Fitzgerald.

After that, in the supper-room, more than one wag of a fellow had
congratulated him on his success with the widow. "She's got some
sort of a jointure, I suppose," said one. "She's very young-looking,
certainly, to be the mother of that girl," declared another. "Upon my
word, she's a handsome woman still," said a third. "And what title
will you get when you marry her, Fitz?" asked a fourth, who was
rather ignorant as to the phases under which the British peerage
develops itself.

Fitzgerald pshawed, and pished, and poohed; and then, breaking away
from them, rode home. He felt that he must at any rate put an end to
this annoyance about the countess, and that he must put an end also
to his state of doubt about the countess's daughter. Clara had been
kind and gracious to him in the first part of the evening; nay,
almost more than gracious. Why had she been so cold when he went up
to her on that last occasion? why had she gathered herself like a
snail into its shell for the rest of the evening?

The young earl had also been at the party, and had exacted a promise
from Owen that he would be over at Desmond Court on the next day. It
had almost been on Owen's lips to tell his friend, not only that he
would be there, but what would be his intention when he got there.
He knew that the lad loved him well; and almost fancied that, earl
as he was, he would favour his friend's suit. But a feeling that
Lord Desmond was only a boy, restrained him. It would not be well to
induce one so young to agree to an arrangement of which in after and
more mature years he would so probably disapprove.

But not the less did Fitzgerald, as he drove home, determine that
on the next day he would know something of his fate: and with this
resolve he endeavoured to comfort himself as he drove up into his own
avenue, and betook himself to his own solitary home.

CHAPTER III.

CLARA DESMOND.

It had been Clara Desmond's first ball, and on the following morning
she had much to occupy her thoughts. In the first place, had she been
pleased or had she not? Had she been most gratified or most pained?

Girls when they ask themselves such questions seldom give themselves
fair answers. She had liked dancing with Owen Fitzgerald; oh, so
much! She had liked dancing with others too, though she had not known
them, and had hardly spoken to them. The mere act of da