d
taketh away, and blessed is the name of the Lord. You are both young,
and may come back again; but for me--"

"Dear Aunt Letty, if we come back you shall come too."

"If I only thought that my bones could lie here near my brother's.
But never mind; what signifies it where our bones lie?" And then they
were silent for a while, till Aunt Letty spoke again. "I mean to be
quite happy over in England; I believe I shall be happiest of you all
if I can find any clergyman who is not half perverted to idolatry."

This took place some time before the ladies left Castle
Richmond,--perhaps as much as three weeks; it was even before
Herbert's departure, who started for London the day but one after the
scene here recorded; he had gone to various places to take his last
farewell; to see the Townsends at the parsonage; to call on Father
Barney at Kanturk, and had even shaken hands with the Rev. Mr.
Creagh, at Gortnaclough. But one farewell visit had been put off
for the last. It was now arranged that he was to go over to Desmond
Court and see Clara before he went. There had been some difficulty
in this, for Lady Desmond had at first declared that she could not
feel justified in asking him into her house; but the earl was now at
home, and her ladyship had at last given her consent: he was to see
the countess first, and was afterwards to see Clara--alone. He had
declared that he would not go there unless he were to be allowed an
interview with her in private. The countess, as I have said, at last
consented, trusting that her previous eloquence might be efficacious
in counteracting the ill effects of her daughter's imprudence. On
the day after that interview he was to start for London; "never to
return," as he said to Emmeline, "unless he came to seek his wife."

"But you will come to seek your wife," said Emmeline, stoutly; "I
shall think you faint-hearted if you doubt it."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE LAST STAGE.

On the day before his departure for London, Herbert Fitzgerald
once more got on his horse--the horse that was to be no longer his
after that day--and rode off towards Desmond Court. He had already
perceived how foolish he had been in walking thither through the mud
and rain when last he went there, and how much he had lost by his
sad appearance that day, and by his want of personal comfort. So he
dressed himself with some care--dressing not for his love, but for
the countess,--and taking his silver-mounted whip in