Clara's story was very simple, and did not, in fact, want any telling. It was merely the old well-worn tale, so common through all the world. "He had laughed on the lass with his bonny black eye!" and she,--she was ready to go "to the mountain to hear a love-tale!" One may say that an occurrence so very common could not want much telling. "Mamma; he says--" "Well, my dear?" "He says--. Oh, mamma! I could not help it." "No, Clara; you certainly could not help what he might say to you. You could not refuse to listen to him. A lady in such a case, when she is on terms of intimacy with a gentleman, as you were with Mr. Fitzgerald, is bound to listen to him, and to give him an answer. You could not help what he might say, Clara. The question now is, what answer did you give to what he said?" Clara, who was still kneeling, looked up piteously into her mother's face, sighed bitterly, but said nothing. "He told you that he loved you, I suppose?" "Yes, mamma." "And I suppose you gave him some answer? Eh! my dear?" The answer to this was another long sigh. "But, Clara, you must tell me. It is absolutely necessary that I should know whether you have given him any hope, and if so, how much. Of course the whole thing must be stopped at once. Young as you are, you cannot think that a marriage with Mr. Owen Fitzgerald would be a proper match for you to make. Of course the whole thing must cease at once--at once." Here there was another piteous sigh. "But before I take any steps, I must know what you have said to him. Surely you have not told him that you have any feeling for him warmer than ordinary regard?" Lady Desmond knew what she was doing very well. She was perfectly sure that her daughter had pledged her troth to Owen Fitzgerald. Indeed, if she made any mistake in the matter, it was in thinking that Clara had given a more absolute assurance of love than had in truth been extracted from her. But she calculated, and calculated wisely, that the surest way of talking her daughter out of all hope, was to express herself as unable to believe that a child of hers would own to love for one so much beneath her, and to speak of such a marriage as a thing absolutely impossible. Her method of acting in this manner had the effect which she desired. The poor girl was utterly frightened, and began to fear that she had disgraced herself, though she knew that she dearly loved the man of whom her mother spoke so slightingly. "Have you given him any promise, Clara?" "Not a promise, mamma." "Not a promise! What then? Have you professed any regard for him?" But upon this Clara was again silent. "Then I suppose I must believe that you have professed a regard for him--that you have promised to love him?" "No, mamma; I have not promised anything. But when he asked me, I--I didn't--I didn't refuse him."