n have
said what I have got to say."

"But do, Herbert," said Clara. "I cannot bear to see you so
uncomfortable. And then you will not be in such a hurry to go back."

"Ill as my father is," said he, "I cannot stay long; but I have
thought it my duty to come over and tell you--tell you what has
happened at Castle Richmond."

And now the countess was frightened. There was that in Herbert's tone
of voice and the form of his countenance which was enough to frighten
any woman. What had happened at Castle Richmond? what could have
happened there to make necessary the presence of a lawyer, and at the
same time thus to sadden her future son-in-law? And Clara also was
frightened, though she knew not why. His manner was so different from
that which was usual; he was so cold, and serious, and awe-struck,
that she could not but be unhappy.

"And what is it?" said the Countess.

Herbert then sat for a few minutes silent, thinking how best he
should tell them his story. He had been all the morning resolving to
tell it, but he had in nowise as yet fixed upon any method. It was
all so terribly tragic, so frightful in the extent of its reality,
that he hardly knew how it would be possible for him to get through
his task.

"I hope that no misfortune has come upon any of the family," said
Lady Desmond, now beginning to think that there might be misfortunes
which would affect her own daughter more nearly than the illness
either of the baronet or of his wife.

"Oh, I hope not!" said Clara, getting up and clasping her hands.
"What is it, Herbert? why don't you speak?" And coming round to him,
she took hold of his arm.

"Dearest Clara," he said, looking at her with more tenderness than
had ever been usual with him, "I think that you had better leave us.
I could tell it better to your mother alone."

"Do, Clara, love. Go, dearest, and we will call you by-and-by."

Clara moved away very slowly towards the door, and then she turned
round. "If it is anything that makes you unhappy, Herbert," she said,
"I must know it before you leave me."

"Yes, yes; either I or your mother--. You shall be told, certainly."

"Yes, yes, you shall be told," said the countess. "And now go, my
darling." Thus dismissed, Clara did go, and betook herself to her own
chamber. Had Owen had sorrows to tell her, he would have told them to
herself; of that she was quite sure. "And now, Herbert, for heaven's
sake what is it?" said the countess, pale with terro