they will not," Clara admitted, almost
grudgingly.

"Of course they will not. I don't suppose they could bring themselves
to object to anything he might suggest. I never knew a young man so
happily situated in this respect. He is quite a free agent. I don't
think they would say much to him if he insisted on marrying the
cook-maid. Indeed, it seems to me that his word is quite paramount at
Castle Richmond."

"All the same, mamma, I would rather not write to Patrick till
something more has been settled."

"You are wrong there, Clara. If anything disagreeable should happen,
which is quite impossible, it would be absolutely necessary that your
brother should know. Believe me, my love, I only advise you for your
own good."

"But Mr. Fitzgerald will probably be here to-morrow; or if not
to-morrow, next day."

"I have no doubt he will, love. But why do you call him Mr.
Fitzgerald? You were calling him Herbert the other day. Don't you
remember how I scolded you? I should not scold you now."

Clara made no answer to this, and then the subject was allowed to
rest for that night. She would call him Herbert, she said to herself;
but not to her mother. She would keep the use of that name till
she could talk with Emmeline as a sister. Of all her anticipated
pleasures, that of having now a real sister was perhaps the greatest;
or, rather, that of being able to talk about Herbert with one whom
she could love and treat as a sister. But Herbert himself would exact
the use of his own Christian name, for the delight of his own ears;
that was a matter of course; that, doubtless, had been already done.

And then mother and daughter went to bed. The countess, as she did
so, was certainly happy to her heart's core. Could it be that she had
some hope, unrecognized by herself, that Owen Fitzgerald might now
once more be welcomed at Desmond Court? that something might now be
done to rescue him from that slough of despond?

And Clara too was happy, though her happiness was mixed. She did love
Herbert Fitzgerald. She was sure of that. She said so to herself over
and over again. Love him! of course she loved him, and would cherish
him as her lord and husband to the last day of her life, the last
gasp of her breath.

But still, as sleep came upon her eyelids, she saw in her memory
the bright flash of that other lover's countenance, when he first
astonished her with the avowal of his love, as he walked beside her
under the elms, with his