l step with regard to the
property--had done some foolish thing for which he could not forgive
himself, that was the idea with which his mind was filled.

He waited, with his watch in his hand, till the dial showed him that
it was exactly eight; and then, with a sinking heart, he walked
slowly out of the dining-room along the passage, and into his
father's study. For an instant he stood with the handle in his hand.
He had been terribly anxious for the arrival of this moment, but now
that it had come, he would almost fain have had it again postponed.
His heart sank very low as he turned the lock, and entering, found
himself in the presence of Mr. Prendergast.

Mr. Prendergast was standing with his back to the fire. For him, too,
the last hour had been full of bitterness; his heart also had sunk
low within him; his blood had run cold within his veins: he too, had
it been possible, would have put off this wretched hour.

Mr. Prendergast, it may be, was not much given to poetry; but the
feeling, if not the words, were there within him. The work which a
friend has to perform for a friend is so much heavier than that which
comes in the way of any profession!

When Herbert entered the room, Mr. Prendergast came forward from
where he was standing, and took him by the hand. "This is a very sad
affair," he said; "very sad."

"At present I know nothing about it," said Herbert. "As I see people
about me so unhappy, I suppose it is sad. If there be anything that I
hate, it is a mystery."

"Sit down, Mr. Fitzgerald," said the other; "sit down." And Mr.
Prendergast himself sat down in the chair that was ordinarily
occupied by Sir Thomas. Although he had been thinking about it all
the day, he had not even yet made up his mind how he was to begin
his story. Even now he could not help thinking whether it might be
possible for him to leave it untold. But it was not possible.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," said he, "you must prepare yourself for tidings
which are very grievous indeed--very grievous."

"Whatever it is I must bear it," said he.

"I hope you have that moral strength which enables a man to bear
misfortune. I have not known you in happy days, and therefore perhaps
can hardly judge; but it seems to me that you do possess such
courage. Did I not think so, I could hardly go through the task that
is before me."

Here he paused as though he expected some reply, some assurance that
his young friend did possess this strength of which