knew
that the countess rarely or never walked with her daughter, and that,
as the governess was gone, Clara was driven to walk by herself.

"Desmond," he said, pulling up his horse, "do you go on and tell your
mother that I will be with her almost immediately."

"Why, where are you off to now?"

"There is your sister, and I must ask her how she is after the ball;"
and so saying he trotted back in the direction of the road.

Lady Clara had seen them; and though she had hardly turned her head,
she had seen also how suddenly Mr. Fitzgerald had stopped his horse,
and turned his course when he perceived her. At the first moment she
had been almost angry with him for riding away from her, and now she
felt almost angry with him because he did not do so.

He slackened his pace as he came near her, and approached her at a
walk. There was very little of the faint heart about Owen Fitzgerald
at any time, or in anything that he attempted. He had now made up
his mind fairly to tell Clara Desmond that he loved her, and to ask
for her love in return. He had resolved to do so, and there was very
little doubt but that he would carry out his resolution. But he had
in nowise made up his mind how he should do it, or what his words
should be. And now that he saw her so near him he wanted a moment to
collect his thoughts.

He took off his hat as he rode up, and asked her whether she was
tired after the ball; and then dismounting, he left his mare to
follow as she pleased.

"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, won't she run away?" said Clara, as she gave him
her hand.

"Oh, no; she has been taught better than that. But you don't tell me
how you are. I thought you were tired last night when I saw that you
had altogether given over dancing." And then he walked on beside her,
and the docile mare followed them like a dog.

"No, I was not tired; at least, not exactly," said Clara, blushing
again and again, being conscious that she blushed. "But--but--you
know it was the first ball I was ever at."

"That is just the reason why you should have enjoyed it the more,
instead of sitting down as you did, and being dull and unhappy. For
I know you were unhappy; I could see it."

"Was I?" said Clara, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes; and I'll tell you what. I could see more than that; it was I
that made you unhappy."

"You, Mr. Fitzgerald!"

"Yes, I. You will not deny it, because you are so true. I asked you
to dance with me too often. And because y