speak? I have spoken plainly enough."

"It is not easy to speak plainly on all subjects. I would not, if I
could avoid it, say a word that would hurt your feelings."

"Never mind my feelings. Speak out, and let us have the truth, in
God's name. My feelings have never been much considered yet--either
in this matter or in any other."

"It seems to me," said Herbert, "that the giving of Lady Clara's hand
cannot depend on your will, or on mine."

"You mean her mother."

"No, by no means. Her mother now would be the last to favour me. I
mean herself. If she loves me, as I hope and believe--nay, am sure--"

"She did love me!" shouted Owen.

"But even if so--. I do not now say anything of that; but even if
so, surely you would not have her marry you if she does not love you
still? You would not wish her to be your wife if her heart belongs to
me?"

"It has been given you at her mother's bidding."

"However given it is now my own and it cannot be returned. Look here,
Owen. I will show you her last two letters, if you will allow me; not
in pride, I hope, but that you may truly know what are her wishes."
And he took from his breast, where they had been ever since he
received them, the two letters which Clara had written to him. Owen
read them both twice over before he spoke, first one and then the
other, and an indescribable look of pain fell on his brow as he did
so. They were so tenderly worded, so sweet, so generous! He would
have given all the world to have had those letters addressed by her
to himself. But even they did not convince him. His heart had never
changed, and he could not believe that there had been any change in
hers.

"I might have known," he said, as he gave them back, "that she would
be too noble to abandon you in your distress. As long as you were
rich I might have had some chance of getting her back, despite the
machinations of her mother. But now that she thinks you are poor--."
And then he stopped, and hid his face between his hands.

And in what he had last said there was undoubtedly something of
truth. Clara's love for Herbert had never been passionate, till
passion had been created by his misfortune. And in her thoughts
of Owen there had been much of regret. Though she had resolved to
withdraw her love, she had not wholly ceased to love him. Judgment
had bade her to break her word to him, and she had obeyed her
judgment. She had admitted to herself that her mother was right in
telling he