of the other, as of a very dear friend. May God bless
you, and preserve you, and make you happy.

Yours, with sincere affection,

HERBERT FITZGERALD.

This, when at last he had succeeded in writing it, he read over and
over again; but on each occasion he said to himself that it was
cold and passionless, stilted and unmeaning. It by no means pleased
him, and seemed as though it could bring but one answer--a cold
acquiescence in the proposal which he so coldly made. But yet he knew
not how to improve it. And after all it was a true exposition of
that which he had determined to say. All the world--her world and
his world--would think it better that they should part; and let the
struggle cost him what it would, he would teach himself to wish
that it might be so--if not for his own sake, then for hers. So he
fastened the letter, and taking it with him determined to send it
over, so that it should reach Clara quite early on the following
morning.

And then having once more visited his father, and once more kissed
his mother, he betook himself to bed. It had been with him one of
those days which seem to pass away without reference to usual hours
and periods. It had been long dark, and he seemed to have been
hanging about the house, doing nothing and aiding nobody, till he
was weary of himself. So he went off to bed, almost wondering, as he
bethought himself of what had happened to him within the last two
days, that he was able to bear the burden of his life so easily as he
did. He betook himself to bed; and with the letter close at his hand,
so that he might despatch it when he awoke, he was soon asleep. After
all, that walk, terrible as it had been, was in the end serviceable
to him.

He slept without waking till the light of the February morning was
beginning to dawn into his room, and then he was roused by a servant
knocking at the door. It was grievous enough, that awaking to his
sorrow after the pleasant dreams of the night.

"Here is a letter, Mr. Herbert, from Desmond Court," said Richard.
"The boy as brought it says as how--"

"A letter from Desmond Court," said Herbert, putting out his hand
greedily.

"Yes, Mr. Herbert. The boy's been here this hour and better. I warn't
just up and about myself, or I wouldn't have let 'em keep it from
you, not half a minute."

"And where is he? I have a letter to send to Desmond Court. But never
mind. Perhaps--"

"It's no good minding, for the gossoon's gone