still thought of his love. There Herbert
had robbed him--robbed him by means of his wealth; and in that matter
he desired justice--justice or revenge. He wanted back his love.
Let him have that and Herbert might yet be welcome to his title and
estates.

Mr. Prendergast remained there for some half-hour longer, explaining
what ought to be done, and how it ought to be done. Of course he
combated that idea of Owen's, that the property might be allowed to
remain in the hands of the wrong heir. Had that been consonant with
his ideas of justice he would not have made his visit to Hap House
this morning. Right must have its way, and if it should be that Lady
Fitzgerald's marriage with Sir Thomas had not been legal, Owen, on
Sir Thomas's death, must become Sir Owen, and Herbert could not
become Sir Herbert. So much to the mind of Mr. Prendergast was as
clear as crystal. Let justice be done, even though these Castle
Richmond heavens should fall in ruins.

And then he took his departure, leaving Owen to his solitude, much
perplexed. "And where is that man?" Mr. Prendergast asked, as he got
on to his car.

"Bedad thin, yer honer, he's very bad intirely. He's jist sitthing
over the kitchen fire, moaning and croning this way and that, but
sorrow a word he's spoke since the masther hoisted him out o' the big
hall door. And thin for blood--why, saving yer honer's presence, he's
one mash of gore."

"You'd better wash his face for him, and give him a little tea," said
Mr. Prendergast, and then he drove away.

And strange ideas floated across Owen Fitzgerald's brain as he sat
there alone, in his hunting gear, leaning on the still covered
breakfast-table. They floated across his brain backwards and
forwards, and at last remained there, taking almost the form of a
definite purpose. He would make a bargain with Herbert; let each of
them keep that which was fairly his own; let Herbert have all the
broad lands of Castle Richmond; let him have the title, the seat in
parliament, and the county honour; but for him, Owen--let him have
Clara Desmond. He desired nothing that was not fairly his own; but
as his own he did regard her, and without her he did not know how to
face the future of his life. And in suggesting this arrangement to
himself, he did not altogether throw over her feelings; he did take
into account her heart, though he did not take into account her
worldly prospects. She had loved him--him--Owen; and he would not
teach him