back any ways." And
then Richard, having drawn the blind, and placed a little table by
the bed-head, left his young master to read the despatch from Desmond
Court. Herbert, till he saw the writing, feared that it was from the
countess; but the letter was from Clara. She also had thought good to
write before she betook herself to bed, and she had been earlier in
despatching her messenger. Here is her letter:

Dear Herbert, my own Herbert,

I have heard it all. But remember this; nothing, nothing,
_nothing_ can make any change between you and me. I will
hear of no arguments that are to separate us. I know
beforehand what you will say, but I will not regard
it--not in the least. I love you ten times the more for
all your unhappiness; and as I would have shared your good
fortune, I claim my right to share your bad fortune. _Pray
believe me_, that nothing shall turn me from this; for I
will _not be given up_.

Give my kindest love to your dear, dear, dearest
mother--my mother, as she is and must be; and to my
darling girls. I do so wish I could be with them, and with
you, my own Herbert. I cannot help writing in confusion,
but I will explain all when I see you. I have been so
unhappy.

Your own faithful

CLARA.

Having read this, Herbert Fitzgerald, in spite of his affliction, was
comforted.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

Herbert as he started from his bed with this letter in his hand felt
that he could yet hold up his head against all that the world could
do to him. How could he be really unhappy while he possessed such an
assurance of love as this, and while his mother was able to give him
so glorious an example of endurance? He was not really unhappy. The
low-spirited broken-hearted wretchedness of the preceding day seemed
to have departed from him as he hurried on his clothes, and went off
to his sister's room that he might show his letter to Emmeline in
accordance with the promise he had made her.

"May I come in?" he said, knocking at the door. "I must come in,
for I have something to show you." But the two girls were dressing
and he could not be admitted. Emmeline, however, promised to come
to him, and in about three minutes she was out in the cold little
sitting-room which adjoined their bed-room with her slippers on, and
her dressing gown wrapped round her, an object presentable to no male
eyes but those of her brother.