his life he must make or mar himself for
life; 'twas so that he felt it; and how should he make himself, or
how avoid the marring? That was the question which he now strove to
answer.

When Herbert entered the room, he rose from his chair, and walked
quickly up to his visitor, with extended hand, and a look of welcome
in his face. His manner was very different from that with which he
had turned and parted from his cousin, not many days since in the
demesne at Castle Richmond. Then he had intended absolutely to defy
Herbert Fitzgerald; but there was no spirit of defiance now, either
in his hand, or face, or in the tone of his voice.

"I am very glad you have come," said he. "I hope you understood that
I would have gone to you, only that I thought it might be better for
both of us to be here."

Herbert said something to the effect that he had been quite
willing to come over to Hap House. But he was not at the moment so
self-possessed as the other, and hardly knew how to begin the subject
which was to be discussed between them.

"Of course you know that Mr. Prendergast was here?" said Owen.

"Oh yes," said Herbert.

"And Mr. Somers also? I tell you fairly, Herbert, that when Mr.
Somers came, I was not willing to say much to him. What has to be
said must be said between you and me, and not to any third party. I
could not open my heart, nor yet speak my thoughts to Mr. Somers."

In answer to this, Herbert again said that Owen need have no scruple
in speaking to him. "It is all plain sailing; too plain, I fear,"
said he. "There is no doubt whatever now as to the truth of what Mr.
Prendergast has told you."

And then having said so much, Herbert waited for Owen to speak. He,
Herbert himself, had little or nothing to say. Castle Richmond with
its title and acres was not to be his, but was to be the property of
this man with whom he was now sitting. When that was actually and
positively understood between them, there was nothing further to
be said; nothing as far as Herbert knew. That other sorrow of his,
that other and deeper sorrow which affected his mother's name and
station,--as to that he did not find himself called on to speak to
Owen Fitzgerald. Nor was it necessary that he should say anything as
to his great consolation--the consolation which had reached him from
Clara Desmond.

"And is it true, Herbert," asked Owen at last, "that my uncle is so
very ill?" In the time of their kindly intercourse, Owen had al