ly
as Patrick's friend."

"I am sure he has not intended to betray any trust," said Clara,
through her sobs. The conviction was beginning to come upon her that
she would be forced to give up her lover; but she could not bring
herself to hear so much evil spoken of him.

"He has not behaved like a gentleman," continued the countess,
looking very stern. "And his visits here must of course be altogether
discontinued. I am sorry on your brother's account, for Patrick was
very fond of him--"

"Not half so fond as I am," thought Clara to herself. But she did not
dare to speak her thoughts out loud.

"But I am quite sure that your brother, young as he is, will not
continue to associate with a friend who has thought so slightly of
his sister's honour. Of course I shall let Mr. Fitzgerald know that
he can come here no more; and all I want from you is a promise that
you will on no account see him again, or hold any correspondence with
him."

That was all she wanted. But Clara, timid as she was, hesitated
before she could give a promise so totally at variance with the
pledge which she felt that she had given, hardly an hour since, to
Fitzgerald. She knew and acknowledged to herself that she had given
him a pledge, although she had given it in silence. How then was she
to give this other pledge to her mother?

"You do not mean to say that you hesitate?" said Lady Desmond,
looking as though she were thunderstruck at the existence of such
hesitation. "You do not wish me to suppose that you intend to
persevere in such insanity? Clara, I must have from you a distinct
promise,--or--"

What might be the dreadful alternative the countess did not at that
minute say. She perhaps thought that her countenance might be more
effective than her speech, and in thinking so she was probably right.

It must be remembered that Clara Desmond was as yet only seventeen,
and that she was young even for that age. It must be remembered also,
that she knew nothing of the world's ways, of her own privileges as
a creature with a soul and heart of her own, or of what might be
the true extent of her mother's rights over her. She had not in her
enough of matured thought to teach her to say that she would make no
promise that should bind her for ever; but that for the present, in
her present state, she would obey her mother's orders. And thus the
promise was exacted and given.

"If I find you deceiving me, Clara," said the countess, "I will never
fo