fe
with open arms--"

"And so she shall be if she comes."

"Or else that some reason should be given me why she should not come.
As to income, something must be done, I suppose. If the means at our
disposal are less than I have been taught to believe, I at any rate
will not complain. But they cannot, I think, be so small as to afford
any just reason why I should not marry."

"Your father, you see, is ill, and one can hardly talk to him fully
upon such matters at present."

"Then I will speak to Somers. He, at any rate, must know how the
property is circumstanced, and I suppose he will not hesitate to tell
me."

"I don't think Somers can tell you anything."

"Then what is it? As for the London estate, mother, that is all
moonshine. What if it were gone altogether? It may be that it is that
which vexes my father; but if so, it is a monomania."

"Oh, my boy, do not use such a word!"

"You know what I mean. If any doubt as to that is creating this
despondency, it only shows that though we are bound to respect and
relieve my father's state of mind, we are not at all bound to share
it. What would it really matter, mother, if that place in London were
washed away by the Thames? There is more than enough left for us all,
unless--"

"Ah, Herbert, that is it."

"Then I will go to Somers, and he shall tell me. My father's interest
in this property cannot have been involved without his knowledge; and
circumstanced as we and my father are, he is bound to tell me."

"If there be anything within his knowledge to tell, he will tell it."

"And if there be nothing within his knowledge, then I can only look
upon all this as a disease on my poor father's part. I will do all I
can to comfort him in it; but it would be madness to destroy my whole
happiness because he labours under delusions."

Lady Fitzgerald did not know what further to say. She half believed
that Sir Thomas did labour under some delusion; but then she half
believed also that he had upon his mind a sorrow, terribly real,
which was in no sort delusive. Under such circumstances, how could
she advise her son? Instead of advising him, she caressed him.

"But I may claim this from you, mother, that if Somers tells me
nothing which ought to make me break my word to Clara, you will
receive her as your daughter. You will promise me that, will you
not?"

Lady Fitzgerald did promise, warmly; assuring him that she already
dearly loved Clara Desmond, that she would