years past Aunt Letty had always called Lady Fitzgerald her sister.
"I can tell you nothing;--nothing to-day."
"Then, to-morrow."
"I do not know--we must let Mr. Prendergast manage this matter as he
will. I have taken nothing on myself, Aunt Letty--nothing."
"Then I tell you what, Herbert; it will kill me. It will kill us all,
as it is killing your father and your darling mother. I tell you that
it is killing her fast. Human nature cannot bear it. For myself I
could endure anything if I were trusted." And sitting down in one of
the high-backed library chairs she burst into a flood of tears; a
sight which, as regarded Aunt Letty, Herbert had never seen before.
What if they all died? thought Herbert to himself in the bitterness
of the moment. There was that in store for some of them which was
worse than death. What business had Aunt Letty to talk of her misery?
Of course she was wretched, as they all were; but how could she
appreciate the burden that was on his back? What was Clara Desmond to
her?
Shortly after noon Mr. Prendergast was back at the house; but he
slunk up to his room, and no one saw anything of him. At half-past
six he came down, and Herbert constrained himself to sit at the table
while dinner was served; and so the day passed away. One more day
only Mr. Prendergast was to stay at Castle Richmond; and then, if,
as he expected, certain letters should reach him on that morning, he
was to start for London late on the following day. It may well be
imagined that he was not desirous of prolonging his visit.
Early on the following morning Herbert started for a long solitary
walk. On that day Mr. Prendergast was to tell everything to his
mother, and it was determined between them that her son should not be
in the house during the telling. In the evening, when he came home,
he was to see her. So he started on his walk, resolving some other
things also in his mind before he went. He would reach Desmond Court
before he returned home that day, and let the two ladies there know
the fate that was before them. Then, after that, they might let him
know what was to be his fate;--but on this head he would not hurry
them.
So he started on his walk, resolving to go round by Gortnaclough on
his way to Desmond Court, and then to return home from that place.
The road would be more than twenty long Irish miles; but he felt
that the hard work would be of service. It was instinct rather than
thought which taught hi
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