t of this, he wondered at
the endurance and obedience of a woman's heart which could thus give
up all that it held as sacred at the instance of another. But even
this, though it was but little flattering to Clara, by no means
lessened the transport which he felt. He had had that pride in
himself, that he had never ceased to believe that she loved him.
Full of that thought, of which he had not dared to speak, he had
gone about, gloomily miserable since the news of her engagement with
Herbert had reached him, and now he learned, as he thought with
certainty, that his belief had been well grounded. Through all that
had passed Clara Desmond did love him still!

But as to this overture of reconciliation that was now made to him;
how was he to accept it or reject it? It was made to him because he
was believed to be Sir Owen Fitzgerald of Castle Richmond, a baronet
of twelve thousand a year, instead of a poor squire, whose wife
would have to look narrowly to the kitchen, in order that food in
sufficiency might be forthcoming for the parlour. That he would
become Sir Owen he thought probable; but that he would be Sir Owen of
Hap House and not of Castle Richmond he had firmly resolved. He had
thought of this for long hours and hours together, and felt that he
could never again be happy were he to put his foot into that house
as its owner. Every tenant would scorn him, every servant would hate
him, every neighbour would condemn him; but this would be as nothing
to his hatred of himself, to his own scorn and his own condemnation.
And yet how great was the temptation to him now! If he would consent
to call himself master of Castle Richmond, Clara's hand might still
be his.

So he thought; but those who know Clara Desmond better than he did
will know how false were his hopes. She was hardly the girl to have
gone back to a lover when he was rich, whom she had rejected when he
was poor.

"Desmond," said he, "come here and sit down;" and both sat leaning on
the table together, with their arms touching. "I understand it all
now I think; and remember this, my boy, that whomever I may blame,
I do not blame you; that you are true and honest I am sure; and,
indeed, there is only one person whom I do blame." He did not say
that this one person was the countess, but the earl knew just as well
as though he had been told.

"I understand all this now," he repeated, "and before we go any
further, I must tell you one thing; I shall never be