“I think you’ve got plenty of fellows who’ll act better than I can, Miss Desmond; though I did try my hand at the business once in Van Diemen’s Land; and I’d be glad to make myself useful in any way that would please Miss Hillary, if it was to dress myself as a footman and carry a tea-tray or a scuttle of coals; but I think I shall be leaving England before the theatricals come off; in point of fact, I think I shall be leaving England directly.” “Leaving England!” The expression of those two words could scarcely have been more tragical than it was; and yet for once in a way Miss Desmond was _not_ acting. All in a moment she saw the fair edifice which she had schemed to build for herself crumbling into ruin and chaos. “Leaving England!” she repeated,--“you think of leaving England, Mr. Tredethlyn?” She put her hands to her forehead with a little tragic gesture: and Francis Tredethlyn wished that he had entered the house by any other door or window than that which he had chosen. Julia’s dismay was entirely real; for the disappointment was very bitter to this young lady; who had built up a fair future for herself on the foundation of Francis Tredethlyn’s wealth. The grim walls of Castle Desmond, the silver waters of the Shannon, the green hill sides and lonely valleys, made themselves into a picture that shut out the dusky room, and then melted into gray blankness. She had meant to do such great things with Francis Tredethlyn’s thirty thousand a year! The young man stood looking at her in as much embarrassment as if he had been guilty of some wilful deception. He was so little of a coxcomb, that it was very difficult for him to imagine that his sudden departure could give pain to the brilliant Julia. He was so entirely simple and true-hearted, that no suspicion of Miss Desmond’s mercenary views had any place in his mind. There was a very brief pause, and then Julia murmured, in low, half-broken accents-- “You are really going away?--but why?” “Oh, Miss Desmond, I scarcely like to tell you why; and yet it’s not altogether on that account,” answered Francis, vaguely. “There are other reasons. I am not in my right place amongst such people as I meet here. I’m a rough, uneducated fellow, and idleness doesn’t suit me. I want to be of some use in the world. Why, I felt myself a better man out yonder, without sixpence in my pocket, than I am to-day, in spite of Oliver Tredethlyn’s money. So I mean to buy a commission and go out to India, where there’s some fighting to be done.” “You are not telling me the truth, Mr. Tredethlyn. _This_ is not your real reason for running away from the Cedars, as if the house were infected.” “My dear Miss Desmond, I--you have been so kind to me--you have made me feel so much at home here, where, but for you, I must have felt myself so miserably out of place.”