Countess of Desmond, and that was all. To Lady Fitzgerald had been
vouchsafed other solace and other comforts.

And then, on one point the countess made herself fixed as fate, by
thinking and re-thinking upon it till no doubt remained upon her
mind. The match between Clara and Herbert must be broken off, let
the cost be what it might; and--a point on which there was more room
for doubt, and more pain in coming to a conclusion--that other match
with the more fortunate cousin must be encouraged and carried out.
For herself, if her hope was small while Owen was needy and of poor
account, what hope could there be now that he would be rich and
great? Moreover, Owen loved Clara, and not herself; and Clara's hand
would once more be vacant and ready for the winning. For herself, her
only chance had been in Clara's coming marriage.

In all this she knew that there would be difficulty. She was sure
enough that Clara would at first feel the imprudent generosity of
youth, and offer to join her poverty to Herbert's poverty. That was
a matter of course. She, Lady Desmond herself, would have done this,
at Clara's age,--so at least to herself she said, and also to her
daughter. But a little time, and a little patience, and a little care
would set all this in a proper light. Herbert would go away and would
gradually be forgotten. Owen would again come forth from beneath the
clouds, with renewed splendour; and then, was it not probable that,
in her very heart of hearts, Owen was the man whom Clara had ever
loved?

And thus having realized to herself the facts which Herbert had told
her, she prepared to make them known to her daughter. She got up
from her chair, intending at first to seek her, and then, changing
her purpose, rang the bell and sent for her. She was astonished to
find how violently she herself was affected; not so much by the
circumstances, as by this duty which had fallen to her of telling
them to her child. She put one hand upon the other and felt that she
herself was in a tremor, and was conscious that the blood was running
quick round her heart. Clara came down, and going to her customary
seat waited till her mother should speak to her.

"Mr. Fitzgerald has brought very dreadful news," Lady Desmond said,
after a minute's pause.

"Oh mamma!" said Clara. She had expected bad tidings, having thought
of all manner of miseries while she had been up stairs alone; but
there was that in her mother's voice which seemed to