, and at the present moment was not
well inclined to put up with such interference.

"We do the best we can, Mr. Creagh," said he, interrupting the
priest. "And no good will be done at such a time as this by
unnecessary difficulties."

"No, no, certainly not. But still I do think--" And Mr. Creagh was
girding up his loins for eloquence, when he was again interrupted.

"I am rather in a hurry to-day," said Herbert, "and therefore, if you
please, we won't make any change now. Never mind the book to-day,
Sally. Good day, Mr. Creagh." And so saying, he left the shop and
walked rapidly back out of the village.

The poor coadjutor was left alone at the shop-door, anathematizing in
his heart the pride of all Protestants. He had been told that this
Mr. Fitzgerald was different from others, that he was a man fond of
priests and addicted to the "ould religion;" and so hearing, he had
resolved to make the most of such an excellent disposition. But he
was forced to confess to himself that they were all alike. Mr. Somers
could not have been more imperious, nor Mr. Townsend more insolent.

And then, through the still drizzling rain, Herbert walked on to
Desmond Court. By the time that he reached the desolate-looking lodge
at the demesne gate, he was nearly wet through, and was besmeared
with mud up to his knees. But he had thought nothing of this as he
walked along. His mind had been intent on the scene that was before
him. In what words was he to break the news to Clara Desmond and
her mother? and with what words would they receive the tidings? The
former question he had by no means answered to his own satisfaction,
when, all muddy and wet, he passed up to the house through that
desolate gate.

"Is Lady Desmond at home?" he asked of the butler. "Her ladyship is
at home," said the gray-haired old man, with his blandest smile, "and
so is Lady Clara." He had already learned to look on the heir of
Castle Richmond as the coming saviour of the impoverished Desmond
family.

CHAPTER XXVI.

COMFORTLESS.

"But, Mr. Herbert, yer honor, you're wet through and
through--surely," said the butler, as soon as Fitzgerald was well
inside the hall. Herbert muttered something about his being only
damp, and that it did not signify. But it did signify,--very
much,--in the butler's estimation. Whose being wet through could
signify more; for was not Mr. Herbert to be a baronet, and to have
the spending of twelve thousand a year; and wou