to a poor man, than,--than in relinquishing her love, she shall hear
no word from me to overpersuade her. But, Lady Desmond, I will say
nothing that shall authorize her to think that she is given up by me,
till I have in some way learned from herself, what her own feelings
are. And now I will say good-bye to you."

"Good-bye," said the countess, thinking that it might be as well that
the interview should be ended. "But, Mr. Fitzgerald, you are very
wet; and I fear that you are very cold. You had better take something
before you go." Countess as she was she had no carriage in which she
could send him home; no horse even on which he could ride. "Nothing,
thank you, Lady Desmond," he said; and so, without offering her the
courtesy of his hand he walked out of the room.

He was very angry with her, as he tried to make the blood run
quicker in his veins by hurrying down the avenue into the road at
his quickest pace. So angry with her, that for a while, in his
indignation, he almost forgot his father and his mother and his own
family tragedy. That she should have wished to save her daughter
from such a marriage might have been natural; but that she should
have treated him so coldly, so harshly--without one spark of love
or pity,--him, who to her had been so loyal during his courtship of
her daughter! It was almost incredible to him. Was not his story one
that would have melted the heart of a stranger--at which men would
weep? He himself had seen tears in the eyes of that dry time-worn
world-used London lawyer, as the full depth of the calamity had
forced itself upon his heart. Yes, Mr. Prendergast had not been able
to repress his tears when he told the tale; but Lady Desmond had shed
no tears when the tale had been told to her. No soft woman's message
had been sent to the afflicted mother on whom it had pleased God to
allow so heavy a hand to fall. No word of tenderness had been uttered
for the sinking father. There had been no feeling for the household
which was to have been so nearly linked with her own. No. Looking
round with greedy eyes for wealth for her daughter, Lady Desmond
had found a match that suited her. Now that match no longer suited
her greed, and she could throw from her without a struggle to her
feelings the suitor that was now poor, and the family of the suitor
that was now neither grand nor powerful.

And then too he felt angry with Clara, though he knew that as yet, at
any rate, he had no cause. In spi