"Oh, I never do, mamma," said Clara, with a blush all over her face; "not to himself, I mean. You see, Mary and Emmeline are always talking about him." "And therefore you mean always to talk about him also." "No, mamma. But one can't help talking about him; he is doing so much for these poor people. I don't think he ever thinks about anything else from morning to night. Emmeline says he always goes to it again after dinner. Don't you think he is very good about it, mamma?" "Yes, my dear; very good indeed; almost good enough to be called Herbert." "But I don't call him so; you know I don't," protested Clara, very energetically. "He is very good," continued the countess; "very good indeed. I don't know what on earth we should do without him. If he were my own son, he could hardly be more attentive to me." "Then I may go with the girls to that place? I always forget the name." "Gortnaclough, you mean." "Yes, mamma. It is all Sir Thomas's property there; and they have got a regular kitchen, beautifully built, Her--Mr. Fitzgerald says, with a regular cook. I do wish we could have one at Clady." "Mr. Fitzgerald will be here to-morrow morning, and I will talk to him about it. I fear we have not sufficient funds there." "No; that's just it. I do wish I had some money now. You won't mind if I am not home quite early? We all mean to dine there at the kitchen. The girls will bring something, and then we can stay out the whole afternoon." "It won't do for you to be out after nightfall, Clara." "No, I won't, mamma. They did want me to go home with them to Castle Richmond for to-morrow night; but I declined that," and Clara uttered a slight sigh, as though she had declined something that would have been very pleasant to her. "And why did you decline it?" "Oh, I don't know. I didn't know whether you would like it; and besides--" "Besides what?" "You'd be here all alone, mamma." The countess got up from her chair and coming over to the place where her daughter was sitting, kissed her on her forehead. "In such a matter as that, I don't want you to think of me, my dear. I would rather you went out. I must remain here in this horrid, dull, wretched place; but that is no reason why you should be buried alive. I would much rather that you went out sometimes." "No, mamma; I will remain with you." "It will be quite right that you should go to Castle Richmond to-morrow. If they send their carriage round here for you--" "It'll only be the car." "Well, the car; and if the girls come all that way out of their road in the morning to pick you up, it will be only civil that you should go back by Castle Richmond, and you would enjoy an evening there with the girls very much." "But I said decidedly that I would not go." "Tell them to-morrow as decidedly that you have changed your mind, and will be delighted to accept their invitation. They will understand that it is because you have spoken to me." "But, mamma--" "You will like going; will you not?"