f more enduring material than Sir
Thomas.

And she endeavoured to persuade him to go to his bed; but in this he
would not listen to her. He must, he said, see his father that night.
"You have been with him, mother, since--since--."

"Oh, yes; directly after Mr. Prendergast left me."

"Well?"

"He cried like a child, Herbert. We both sobbed together like two
children. It was very piteous. But I think I left him better than he
has been. He knows now that those men cannot come again to harass
him."

Herbert gnashed his teeth, and clenched his fist as he thought of
them; but he could not speak of them, or mention their name before
his mother. What must her thoughts be, as she remembered that elder
man and looked back to her early childhood!

"He is very weak," she went on to say: "almost helplessly weak now,
and does not seem to think of leaving his bed. I have begged him to
let me send to Dublin for Sir Henry; but he says that nothing ails
him."

"And who is with him now, mother?"

"The girls are both there."

"And Mr. Prendergast?"

Lady Fitzgerald then explained to him, that Mr. Prendergast had
returned to Dublin that afternoon, starting twenty-four hours
earlier than he intended,--or, at any rate, than he had said that
he intended. Having done his work there, he had felt that he would
now only be in the way. And, moreover, though his work was done at
Castle Richmond, other work in the same matter had still to be done
in England. Mr. Prendergast had very little doubt as to the truth
of Mollett's story;--indeed we may say he had no doubt; otherwise
he would hardly have made it known to all that world round Castle
Richmond. But nevertheless it behoved him thoroughly to sift the
matter. He felt tolerably sure that he should find Mollett in London;
and whether he did or no, he should be able to identify, or not to
identify, that scoundrel with the Mr. Talbot who had hired Chevy
Chase Lodge, in Dorsetshire, and who had undoubtedly married poor
Mary Wainwright.

"He left a kind message for you," said Lady Fitzgerald.--My readers
must excuse me if I still call her Lady Fitzgerald, for I cannot
bring my pen to the use of any other name. And it was so also with
the dependents and neighbours of Castle Richmond, when the time came
that the poor lady felt that she was bound publicly to drop her
title. It was not in her power to drop it; no effort that she could
make would induce those around her to call her by anoth