CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONDEMNED.
I have said that Lord Desmond rode home from Hap House that day in aquieter mood and at a slower pace than that which had brought himthither; and in truth it was so. He had things to think of now muchmore serious than any that had filled his mind as he had canteredalong, joyously hoping that after all he might have for his brotherthe man that he loved, and the owner of Castle Richmond also. Thiswas now impossible; but he felt that he loved Owen better than everhe had done, and he was pledged to fight Owen's battle, let Owen beever so poor.
"And what does it signify after all?" he said to himself, as he rodealong. "We shall all be poor together, and then we sha'n't mind it somuch; and if I don't marry, Hap House itself will be something to addto the property;" and then he made up his mind that he could be happyenough, living at Desmond Court all his life, so long as he couldhave Owen Fitzgerald near him to make life palatable.
That night he spoke to no one on the subject, at least to no one ofhis own accord. When they were alone his mother asked him where hehad been; and when she learned that he had been at Hap House, shequestioned him much as to what had passed between him and Owen; buthe would tell her nothing, merely saying that Owen had spoken ofClara with his usual ecstasy of love, but declining to go into thesubject at any length. The countess, however, gathered from himthat he and Owen were on kindly terms together, and so far she feltsatisfied.
On the following morning he made up his mind "to have it out," ashe called it, with Clara; but when the hour came his courage failedhim: it was a difficult task--that which he was now to undertake--ofexplaining to her his wish that she should go back to her old lover,not because he was no longer poor, but, as it were in spite of hispoverty, and as a reward to him for consenting to remain poor. Ashe had thought about it while riding home, it had seemed feasibleenough. He would tell her how nobly Owen was going to behave toHerbert, and would put it to her whether, as he intended willinglyto abandon the estate, he ought not to be put into possession of thewife. There was a romantic justice about this which he thought wouldtouch Clara's heart. But on the following morning when he came tothink what words he would use for making his little proposition, thepicture did not seem to him to be so beautiful. If Clara really lovedHerbert--and she had declared that she did twenty times over--itwould be absurd to expect her to give him up merely because he wasnot a ruined man. But then, which did she love? His mother declaredthat she loved Owen. "That's the real question," said the earl tohimself, as on the second morning he made up his mind that he would"have it out" with Clara without any further delay. He must be trueto Owen; that was his first great duty at the present moment.
"Clara, I want to talk to you," he said, breaking suddenly into theroom where she usually sat alone o' mornings. "I was at Hap House theday before yesterday with Owen Fitzgerald, and to tell you the truthat once, we were talking about you the whole time we were there. Andnow what I want is, that something should be settled, so that we mayall understand one another."
These words he spoke to her quite abruptly. When he first said thathe wished to speak to her, she had got up from her chair to welcomehim, for she dearly loved to have him there. There was nothingshe liked better than having him to herself when he was in a softbrotherly humour; and then she would interest herself about hishorse, and his dogs, and his gun, and predict his life for him,sending him up as a peer to Parliament, and giving him a noble wife,and promising him that he should be such a Desmond as would redeemall the family from their distresses. But now as he rapidly broughtout his words, she found that on this day her prophecies must regardherself chiefly.
"Surely, Patrick, it is easy enough to understand me," she said.
"Well, I don't know; I don't in the least mean to find fault withyou."
"I am glad of that, dearest," she said, laying her hand upon his arm.
"But my mother says one thing, and you another, and Owen another; andI myself, I hardly know what to say."
"Look here, Patrick, it is simply this: I became engaged to Herbertwith my mother's sanction and yours; and now--"
"Stop a moment," said the impetuous boy, "and do not pledge yourselfto anything till you have heard me. I know that you are cut to theheart about Herbert Fitzgerald losing his property."
"No, indeed; not at all cut to the heart; that is as regards myself."
"I don't mean as regards yourself; I mean as regards him. I haveheard you say over and over again that it is a piteous thing that heshould be so treated. Have I not?"
"Yes, I have said that, and I think so."
"And I think that most of your great--great--great love for him, ifyou will, comes from that sort of feeling."
"But, Patrick, it came long before."
"Dear Clara, do listen to me, will you? You may at any rate do asmuch as that for me." And then Clara stood perfectly mute, lookinginto his handsome face as he continued to rattle out his words ather.
"Now if you please, Clara, you may have the means of giving back tohim all his property, every shilling that he ever had, or expectedto have. Owen Fitzgerald,--who certainly is the finest fellow thatever I came across in all my life, or ever shall, if I live to fivehundred,--says that he will make over every acre of Castle Richmondback to his cousin Herbert if--" Oh, my lord, my lord, what a schemeis this you are concocting to entrap your sister! Owen Fitzgeraldinserted no "if," as you are well aware! "If," he continued, withsome little qualm of conscience, "if you will consent to be hiswife."
"Patrick!"
"Listen, now listen. He thinks, and, Clara, by the heavens above me!I think also that you did love him better than you ever loved HerbertFitzgerald." Clara as she heard these words blushed ruby red upto her very hair, but she said never a word. "And I think, and hethinks, that you are bound now to Herbert by his misfortunes--thatyou feel that you cannot desert him because he has fallen so low. ByGeorge, Clara, I am proud of you for sticking to him through thickand thin, now that he is down! But the matter will be very difficultif you have the means of giving back to him all that he has lost, asyou have. Owen will be poor, but he is a prince among men. By heaven,Clara, if you will only say that he is your choice, Herbert shallhave back all Castle Richmond! and I--I shall never marry, and youmay give to the man that I love as my brother all that there is leftto us of Desmond."
There was something grand about the lad's eager tone of voice as hemade his wild proposal, and something grand also about his heart. Hemeant what he said, foolish as he was either to mean or to say it.Clara burst into tears, and threw herself into his arms. "You don'tunderstand," she said, through her sobs, "my own, own brother; you donot understand."
"But, by Jove! I think I do understand. As sure as you are a livinggirl he will give back Castle Richmond to Herbert Fitzgerald."
She recovered herself, and leaving her brother's arms, walked away tothe window, and from thence looked down to that path beneath the elmswhich was the spot in the world which she thought of the oftenest;but as she gazed, there was no lack of loyalty in her heart to theman to whom she was betrothed. It seemed to her as though thosechildish days had been in another life; as though Owen had been herlover in another world,--a sweet, childish, innocent, happy worldwhich she remembered well, but which was now dissevered from her byan impassable gulf. She thought of his few words of love,--so fewthat she remembered every word that he had then spoken, and thoughtof them with a singular mixture of pain and pleasure. And now sheheard of his noble self-denial with a thrill which was in no degreeenhanced by the fact that she, or even Herbert, was to be the gainerby it. She rejoiced at his nobility, merely because it was a joy toher to know that he was so noble. And yet all through this she wastrue to Herbert. Another work-a-day world had come upon her in herwomanhood, and as that came she had learned to love a man of anotherstamp, with a love that was quieter, more subdued, and perhaps, asshe thought, more enduring. Whatever might be Herbert's lot in life,that lot she would share. Her love for Owen should never be more toher than a d
ream.
"Did he send you to me?" she said at last, without turning her faceaway from the window.
"Yes, then, he did; he did send me to you, and he told me to say thatas Owen of Hap House he loved you still. And I, I promised to do hisbidding; and I promised, moreover, that as far as my good word couldgo with you, he should have it. And now you know it all; if you carefor my pleasure in the matter you will take Owen, and let Herberthave his property. By Jove! if he is treated in that way he cannotcomplain."
"Patrick," said she, returning to him and again laying her hand onhim. "You must now take my message also. You must go to him and bidhim come here that I may see him."
"Who? Owen?"
"Yes, Owen Fitzgerald."
"Very well, I have no objection in life." And the earl thought thatthe difficulty was really about to be overcome. "And about mymother?"
"I will tell mamma."
"And what shall I say to Owen?"
"Say nothing to him, but bid him come here. But wait, Patrick; yes;he must not misunderstand me; I can never, never, never marry him."
"Clara!"
"Never, never; it is impossible. Dear Patrick, I am so sorry tomake you unhappy, and I love you so very dearly,--better than ever,I think, for speaking as you do now. But that can never be. Lethim come here, however, and I myself will tell him all." At last,disgusted and unhappy though he was, the earl did accept thecommission, and again on that afternoon rode across the fields to HapHouse.
"I will tell him nothing but that he is to come," said the earlto himself as he went thither. And he did tell Owen nothing else.Fitzgerald questioned him much, but learned but little from him. "Byheavens, Owen," he said, "you must settle the matter between you, forI don't understand it. She has bid me ask you to come to her; and nowyou must fight your own battle." Fitzgerald of course said that hewould obey, and so Lord Desmond left him.
In the evening Clara told her mother. "Owen Fitzgerald is to be hereto-morrow," she said.
"Owen Fitzgerald; is he?" said the countess. She hardly knew how tobear herself, or how to interfere so as to assist her own object; orhow not to interfere, lest she should mar it.
"Yes, mamma. Patrick saw him the other day, and I think it is betterthat I should see him also."
"Very well, my dear. But you must be aware, Clara, that you have beenso very--I don't wish to say headstrong exactly--so very _entetee_about your own affairs, that I hardly know how to speak of them. Ifyour brother is in your confidence I shall be satisfied."
"He is in my confidence; and so may you be also, mamma, if youplease."
But the countess thought it better not to have any conversationforced upon her at that moment; and so she asked her daughter for nofurther show of confidence then. It would probably be as well thatOwen should come and plead his own cause.
And Owen did come. All that night and on the next morning the poorgirl remained alone in a state of terrible doubt. She had sent forher old lover, thinking at the moment that no one could explain tohim in language so clear as her own what was her fixed resolve. Andshe had too been so moved by the splendour of his offer, that shelonged to tell him what she thought of it. The grandeur of that offerwas enhanced tenfold in her mind by the fact that it had been soframed as to include her in this comparative poverty with which Owenhimself was prepared to rest contented. He had known that she was notto be bought by wealth, and had given her credit for a nobility thatwas akin to his own.
But yet, now that the moment was coming, how was she to talk to him?How was she to speak the words which would rob him of his hope, andtell him that he did not, could not, never could possess that onetreasure which he desired more than houses and lands, or station andrank? Alas, alas! If it could have been otherwise! If it could havebeen otherwise! She also was in love with poverty;--but at any rate,no one could accuse her now of sacrificing a poor lover for a richone. Herbert Fitzgerald would be poor enough.
And then he came. They had hitherto met but once since thatafternoon, now so long ago--that afternoon to which she looked backas to another former world--and that meeting had been in the veryroom in which she was now prepared to receive him. But her feelingstowards him had been very different then. Then he had almost forcedhimself upon her, and for months previously she had heard nothing ofhim but what was evil. He had come complaining loudly, and her hearthad been somewhat hardened against him. Now he was there at herbidding, and her heart and very soul were full of tenderness. Sherose rapidly, and sat down again, and then again rose as she heardhis footsteps; but when he entered the room she was standing in themiddle of it.
"Clara," he said, taking the hand which she mechanically held out, "Ihave come here now at your brother's request."
Her name sounded so sweet upon his lips. No idea occurred to her thatshe ought to be angry with him for using it. Angry with him! Could itbe possible that she should ever be angry with him--that she ever hadbeen so?
"Yes," she said. "Patrick said something to me which made me thinkthat it would be better that we should meet."
"Well, yes; it is better. If people are honest they had always bettersay to each other's faces that which they have to say."
"I mean to be honest, Mr. Fitzgerald."
"Yes, I am sure you do; and so do I also. And if this is so, whycannot we say each to the other that which we have to say? My talewill be a very short one; but it will be true if it is short."
"But, Mr. Fitzgerald--"
"Well, Clara?"
"Will you not sit down?" And she herself sat upon the sofa; and hedrew a chair for himself near to her; but he was too impetuous toremain seated on it long. During the interview between them he wassometimes standing, and sometimes walking quickly about the room; andthen for a moment he would sit down, or lean down over her on thesofa arm.
"But, Mr. Fitzgerald, it is my tale that I wish you to hear."
"Well; I will listen to it." But he did not listen; for before shehad spoken a dozen words he had interrupted her, and poured out uponher his own wild plans and generous schemes. She, poor girl, hadthought to tell him that she loved Herbert, and Herbert only--as alover. But that if she could love him, him Owen, as a brother and afriend, that love she would so willingly give him. And then she wouldhave gone on to say how impossible it would have been for Herbert,under any circumstances, to have availed himself of such generosityas that which had been offered. But her eloquence was all cut shortin the bud. How could she speak with such a storm of impulse ragingbefore her as that which was now strong within Owen Fitzgerald'sbosom?
He interrupted her before she had spoken a dozen words, in order thathe might exhibit before her eyes the project with which his bosom wasfilled. This he did, standing for the most part before her, lookingdown upon her as she sat beneath him, with her eyes fixed upon thefloor, while his were riveted on her down-turned face. She knew itall before--all this that he had to say to her, or she would hardlyhave understood it from his words, they were so rapid and vehement.And yet they were tender, too; spoken in a loving tone, andcontaining ever and anon assurances of respect, and a resolve to beguided now and for ever by her wishes,--even though those wishesshould be utterly subversive of his happiness.
"And now you know it all," he said, at last. "And as for my cousin'sproperty, that is safe enough. No earthly consideration would induceme to put a hand upon that, seeing that by all justice it is his."But in this she hardly yet quite understood him. "Let him have whatluck he may in other respects, he shall still be master of CastleRichmond. If it were that that you wanted--as I know it is not--thatI cannot give you. I cannot tell you with what scorn I should regardmyself if I were to take advantage of such an accident as this to robany man of his estate."
Her brother had been right, so Clara felt, when he declared that OwenFitzgerald was the finest fellow that ever he had come across. Shemade another such declaration within her own heart, only with wordsthat were more natural to her. He was the noblest gentleman of whomshe had ever heard, or read, or thought.
> "But," continued Owen, "as I will not interfere with him in thatwhich should be his, neither should he interfere with me in thatwhich should be mine. Clara, the only estate that I claim is yourheart."
And that estate she could not give him. On that at any rate she wasfixed. She could not barter herself about from one to the othereither as a make-weight or a counterpoise. All his pleading was invain; all his generosity would fail in securing to him this onereward that he desired. And now she had to tell him so.
"Your brother seems to think," he continued, "that you still--;" butnow it was her turn to interrupt him.
"Patrick is mistaken," she said, with her eyes still fixed upon theground.
"What. You will tell me, then, that I am utterly indifferent to you?"
"No, no, no; I did not say so." And now she got up and took hold ofhis arm, and looked into his face imploringly. "I did not say so.But, oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, be kind to me, be forbearing with me, begood to me," and she almost embraced his arm as she appealed to him,with her eyes all swimming with tears.
"Good to you!" he said. And a strong passion came upon him, urginghim to throw his arm round her slender body, and press her to hisbosom. Good to her! would he not protect her with his life's bloodagainst all the world if she would only come to him? "Good to you,Clara! Can you not trust me that I will be good to you if you willlet me?"
"But not so, Owen." It was the first time she had ever called himby his name, and she blushed again as she remembered that it was so."Not good, as you mean, for now I must trust to another for thatgoodness. Herbert must be my husband, Owen; but will not you be ourfriend?"
"Herbert must be your husband!"
"Yes, yes, yes. It is so. Do not look at me in that way, pray do not;what would you have me do? You would not have me false to my troth,and false to my own heart, because you are generous. Be generous tome--to me also."
He turned away from her, and walked the whole length of the longroom; away and back, before he answered her, and even then, when hehad returned to her, he stood, looking at her before he spoke. Andshe now looked full into his face, hoping, but yet fearing; hopingthat he might yield to her; and fearing his terrible displeasureshould he not yield.
"Clara," he said; and he spoke solemnly, slowly, and in a mood unlikehis own,--"I cannot as yet read your heart clearly; nor do I knowwhether you can quite so read it yourself."
"I can, I can," she answered quickly; "and you shall know itall--all, if you wish."
"I want to know but one thing. Whom is it that you love? And,Clara--," and this he said interrupting her as she was about tospeak. "I do not ask you to whom you are engaged. You have engagedyourself both to him and to me."
"Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald!"
"I do not blame you; not in the least. But is it not so? as to that Iwill ask no question, and say nothing; only this, that so far we areequal. But now ask of your own heart, and then answer me. Whom is itthen you love?"
"Herbert Fitzgerald," she said. The words hardly formed themselvesinto a whisper, but nevertheless they were audible enough to him.
"Then I have no further business here," he said, and turned about asthough to leave the room.
But she ran forward and stopped him, standing between him and thedoor. "Oh, Mr. Fitzgerald, do not leave me like that. Say one wordof kindness to me before you go. Tell me that you forgive me for theinjury I have done you."
"Yes, I forgive you."
"And is that all? Oh, I will love you so, if you will let me;--asyour friend, as your sister; you shall be our dearest, best, andnearest friend. You do not know how good he is. Owen, will you nottell me that you will love me as a brother loves?"
"No!" and the sternness of his face was such that it was dreadful tolook on it. "I will tell you nothing that is false."
"And would that be false?"
"Yes, false as hell! What, sit by at his hearth-stone and see youleaning on his bosom! Sleep under his roof while you were in hisarms! No, Lady Clara, that would not be possible. That virtue, if itbe virtue, I cannot possess."
"And you must go from me in anger? If you knew what I am sufferingyou would not speak to me so cruelly."
"Cruel! I would not wish to be cruel to you; certainly not now, forwe shall not meet again; if ever, not for many years. I do not thinkthat I have been cruel to you."
"Then say one word of kindness before you go!"
"A word of kindness! Well; what shall I say? Every night, asI have lain in my bed, I have said words of kindness to you,since--since--since longer than you will remember; since I first knewyou as a child. Do you ever think of the day when you walked with meround by the bridge?"
"It is bootless thinking of that now."
"Bootless! yes, and words of kindness are bootless. Between you andme, such words should be full of love, or they would have no meaning.What can I say to you that shall be both kind and true?"
"Bid God bless me before you leave me."
"Well, I will say that. May God bless you, in this world and in thenext! And now, Lady Clara Desmond, good-bye!" and he tendered to herhis hand.
She took it, and pressed it between both of hers, and looked upinto his face, and stood so while the fast tears ran down her face.He must have been more or less than man had he not relented then."And Owen," she said, "dear Owen, may God in his mercy bless youalso, and make you happy, and give you some one that you can love,and--and--teach you in your heart to forgive the injury I have doneyou." And then she stooped down her head and pressed her lips uponthe hand which she held within her own.
"Forgive you! Well--I do forgive you. Perhaps it may be right that weshould both forgive; though I have not wittingly brought unhappinessupon you. But what there is to be forgiven on my side, I do forgive.And--and I hope that you may be happy." They were the last words thathe spoke; and then leading her back to her seat, he placed her there,and without turning to look at her again, he left the room.
He hurried down into the court, and called for his horse. As he stoodthere, when his foot was in the stirrup, and his hand on the animal'sneck, Lord Desmond came up to him. "Good-bye, Desmond," he said. "Itis all over; God knows when you and I may meet again." And withoutwaiting for a word of reply he rode out under the porch, and puttingspurs to his horse, galloped fast across the park. The earl, when hespoke of it afterwards to his mother, said that Owen's face had beenas it were a thundercloud.