Glencore, you know the man well, and that we are lucky if we
can have him on his _own_ terms, not to think of imposing _ours_; he is
sure to have a number of engagements while he is in England."

"Well, be it so," said Glencore, sighing, with the air of a man
resigning himself to an inevitable necessity.

CHAPTER VIII. THE GREAT MAN'S ARRIVAL.

"Not come, Craggs!" said Harcourt, as late on the Saturday evening the
Corporal stepped on shore, after crossing the lough.

"No, sir, no sign of him. I sent a boy away to the top of 'the Devil's
Mother,' where you have a view of the road for eight miles, but there
was nothing to be seen."

"You left orders at the post-office to have a boat in readiness if he
arrived?"

"Yes, Colonel," said he, with a military salute; and Harcourt now turned
moodily towards the Castle.

Glencore had scarcely ever been a very cheery residence, but latterly it
had become far gloomier than before. Since the night of Lord Glencore's
sudden illness, there had grown up a degree of constraint between
the two friends which to a man of Harcourt's disposition was positive
torture. They seldom met, save at dinner, and then their reserve was
painfully evident.

The boy, too, in unconscious imitation of his father, grew more and more
distant; and poor Harcourt saw himself in that position, of all others
the most intolerable,--the unwilling guest of an unwilling host.

"Come or not come," muttered he to himself, "I 'll bear this no longer.
There is, besides, no reason why I should bear it. I 'm of no use to
the poor fellow; he does not want, he never sees me. If anything, my
presence is irksome to him; so that, happen what will, I 'll start
to-morrow, or next day at farthest."

He was one of those men to whom deliberation on any subject was no small
labor, but who, once that they have come to a decision, feel as if they
had acquitted a debt, and need give themselves no further trouble in the
matter. In the enjoyment of this newly purchased immunity he entered the
room where Glencore sat impatiently awaiting him.

"Another disappointment!" said the Viscount, anxiously.

"Yes; Craggs has just returned, and says there's no sign of a carriage
for miles on the Oughterard road."

"I ought to have known it," said the other, in a voice of guttural
sternness. "He was ever the same; an appointment with him was an
engagement meant only to be binding on those who expected him."

"Who can say what may