“In thinking of your sister, you should put
that out of the question.”
“Yes; that’s just it. I like you
for a friend better than any one else. But Clara
ought—ought—ought—”
“Ought to look higher, you would say.”
“Yes; that’s just what I mean. I
don’t want to offend you, you know.”
“Desmond, my boy, I like you the better for
it. You are a fine fellow, and I thoroughly respect
you. But let us talk sensibly about this.
Though your sister’s rank is high—”
“Oh, I don’t want to talk about rank.
That’s all bosh, and I don’t care about
it. But Hap House is a small place, and Clara
wouldn’t be doing well; and what’s more,
I am quite sure the countess will not hear of it.”
“You won’t approve, then?”
“No, I can’t say I will.”
“Well, that is honest of you. I am very
glad that I have told you at once. Clara will
tell her mother, and at any rate there will be no
secrets. Good-bye, old fellow.”
“Good-bye,” said the earl. Then they
shook hands, and Fitzgerald rode off towards Hap House.
Lord Desmond pondered over the matter some time, standing
alone near the lodge; and then walked slowly back
towards the mansion. He had said that rank was
all bosh; and in so saying had at the moment spoken
out generously the feelings of his heart. But
that feeling regarded himself rather than his sister;
and if properly analyzed would merely have signified
that, though proud enough of his own rank, he did
not require that his friends should be of the same
standing. But as regarded his sister, he certainly
would not be well pleased to see her marry a small
squire with a small income.
THE COUNTESS
The countess, as she walked back with her daughter
towards the house, had to bethink herself for a minute
or two as to how she should act, and what she would
say. She knew, she felt that she knew, what had
occurred. If her daughter’s manner had not
told her, the downcast eyes, the repressed sobs, the
mingled look of shame and fear;—if she
had not read the truth from these, she would have
learned it from the tone of Fitzgerald’s voice,
and the look of triumph which sat upon his countenance.
And then she wondered that this should be so, seeing
that she had still regarded Clara as being in all
things a child; and as she thought further, she wondered
at her own fatuity, in that she had allowed herself
to be so grossly deceived.
“Clara,” said she, “what is all
this?”
“Oh, mamma!”
“You had better come on to the house, my dear,
and speak to me there. In the mean time, collect
your thoughts, and remember this, Clara, that you
have the honour of a great family to maintain.”
