y knew
what to say for himself. She did make him feel that it would be
ungenerous in him to persist in his engagement; but then again,
Clara's letters and his sister's arguments had made him feel that it
was impossible to abandon it. They pleaded of heart-feelings so well
that he could not resist them; and the countess--she pleaded so well
as to world's prudence that he could not resist her.

"I would not willingly do anything to injure Lady Clara," he said.

"That's what we all knew," said the young earl. "You see, what is
a girl to do like her? Love in a cottage is all very well, and all
that; and as for riches, I don't care about them. It would be a
pity if I did, for I shall be about the poorest nobleman in the
three kingdoms, I suppose. But a chap when he marries should have
something; shouldn't he now?"

To tell the truth the earl had been very much divided in his opinions
since he had come home, veering round a point or two this way or a
point or two that, in obedience to the blast of eloquence to which
he might be last subjected. But latterly the idea had grown upon him
that Clara might possibly marry Owen Fitzgerald. There was about
Owen a strange fascination which all felt who had once loved him. To
the world he was rough and haughty, imperious in his commands, and
exacting even in his fellowship; but to the few whom he absolutely
loved, whom he had taken into his heart's core, no man ever was more
tender or more gracious. Clara, though she had resolved to banish
him from her heart, had found it impossible to do so till Herbert's
misfortunes had given him a charm in her eyes which was not all his
own. Clara's mother had loved him--had loved him as she never before
had loved; and now she loved him still, though she had so strongly
determined that her love should be that of a mother, and not that
of a wife. And the young earl, now that Owen's name was again rife
in his ears, remembered all the pleasantness of former days. He had
never again found such a companion as Owen had been. He had met no
other friend to whom he could talk of sport and a man's outward
pleasures when his mind was that way given, and to whom he could also
talk of soft inward things,--the heart's feelings, and aspirations,
and wants. Owen would be as tender with him as a woman, allowing the
young lad's arm round his body, listening to words which the outer
world would have called bosh--and have derided as girlish. So at
least thought the