it was
too late.

"Who? my cousin Herbert," said Owen, sharply. "Have you heard of
this, Barry?"

"Well," said Barry, "those sort of things are always being said,
you know. I did hear something of it somewhere. But I can't say I
thought much about it." And then the subject was dropped during that
morning's breakfast. They all went to the hunt, and in the course of
the day Owen contrived to learn that the report was well founded.

That evening, as the countess and her daughter were sitting together
over the fire, the gray-headed old butler brought in a letter upon an
old silver salver, saying, "For Lady Clara, if you please, my lady."

The countess not unnaturally thought that the despatch had come from
Castle Richmond, and smiled graciously as Clara put out her hand for
the missive. Lady Desmond again let her eyes drop upon the book which
she was reading, as though to show that she was by far too confiding
a mamma to interfere in any correspondence between her daughter
and her daughter's lover. At the moment Lady Clara had been doing
nothing. Her work was, indeed, on her lap, and her workbox was at
her elbow; but her thoughts had been far away; far away as regards
idea, though not so as to absolute locality; for in her mind she was
walking beneath those elm-trees, and a man was near her, with a horse
following at his heels.

"The messenger is to wait for an answer, my lady," said the old
butler, with a second nod, which on this occasion was addressed to
Clara; and then the man withdrew.

Lady Clara blushed ruby red up to the roots of her hair when her
eyes fell on the address of the letter, for she knew it to be in the
handwriting of Owen Fitzgerald. Perhaps the countess from the corner
of her eye may have observed some portion of her daughter's blushes;
but if so, she said nothing, attributing them to Clara's natural
bashfulness in her present position. "She will get over it soon," the
countess may probably have said to herself.

Clara was indecisive, disturbed in her mind, and wretched. Owen
had sent her other letters; but they had been brought to her
surreptitiously, had been tendered to her in secret, and had always
been returned by her unopened. She had not told her mother of these;
at least, not purposely or at the moment: but she had been at
no trouble to conceal the facts; and when the countess had once
asked, she freely told her what had happened with an absence of any
confusion which had quite put L