"Do you mean to say that Lady Fitzgerald--" and then he stopped himself. He had not the courage to ask the question which was in his mind. Could it really be the case that Lady Fitzgerald,--that she whom all the world had so long honoured under that name, was in truth the wife of that man's father,--of the father of that wretch whom he had just spurned from his house? The tragedy was so deep that he could not believe in it. "We fear that it is so, Mr. Fitzgerald," said Mr. Prendergast. "That it certainly is so I cannot say. And therefore, if I may take the liberty to give you counsel, I would advise you not to make too certain of this change in your prospects." "Too certain!" said he, with a bitter laugh. "Do you suppose then that I would wish to see all this ruin accomplished? Heavens and earth! Lady Fitzgerald--! I cannot believe it." And then Captain Donnellan also returned to the room. "Fitzgerald," said he, "what the mischief are we to do with this fellow? He says that he can't walk, and he bleeds from his face like a pig." "What fellow? Oh, do what you like with him. Here: give him a pound note, and let him go to the d----. And Donnellan, for heaven's sake go to Cecilstown at once. Do not wait for me. I have business that will keep me here all day." "But I do not know what to do with this fellow that's bleeding," said the captain, piteously, as he took the proffered note. "If he puts up with a pound note for what you've done to him, he's softer than what I take him for." "He will be very glad to be allowed to escape without being given up to the police," said Mr. Prendergast. "But I don't know what to do with him," said Captain Donnellan. "He says that he can't stand." "Then lay him down on the dunghill," said Owen Fitzgerald; "but for heaven's sake do not let him interrupt me. And, Donnellan, you will altogether lose the day if you stay any longer." Whereupon the captain, seeing that in very truth he was not wanted, did take himself off, casting as he went one farewell look on Aby as he lay groaning on the turf on the far side of the tuft of bushes. "He's kilt intirely, I'm thinking, yer honor," said Thady, who was standing over him on the other side. "He'll come to life again before dinner-time," said the Captain. "Oh, in course he'll do that, yer honor," said Thady; and then added sotto voce, to himself, as the captain rode down the avenue, "Faix, an' I don't know about that. Shure an' it's the masther has a heavy hand." And then Thady stood for a while perplexed, endeavouring to reanimate Aby by a sight of the pound note which he held out visibly between his thumb and fingers. And now Mr. Prendergast and Owen were again alone. "And what am I to do?" said Owen, after a pause of a minute or two; and he asked the question with a serious solemn voice.