"Yes," continued Mr. Prendergast, speaking still in a low voice, with a tone that was almost tender, "truth is always best. Look at this wretched man here! He would have killed the whole family--destroyed them one by one--had they consented to a.s.sist him in concealing the fact of his existence. The whole truth will now be known; and it is very dreadful; but it will not be so dreadful as the want of truth."

"My poor lady! my poor lady!" almost screamed Mrs. Jones from under her ap.r.o.n, wagging her head, and becoming almost convulsive in her grief.

"Yes, it is very sad. But you will live to acknowledge that even this is better than living in that man's power."

"I don't know that," said Mollett. "I am not so bad as you'd make me.

I don't want to distress the lady."

"No, not if you are allowed to rob the gentleman till there's not a guinea left for you to suck at. I know pretty well the extent of the evil that's in you. If we were to kick you from here to Cork, you'd forgive all that, so that we still allowed you to go on with your trade. I wonder how much money you've had from him altogether?"

"What does the money signify? What does the money signify?" said Mrs.

Jones, still wagging her head beneath her ap.r.o.n. "Why didn't Sir Thomas go on paying it, and then my lady need know nothing about it?"

It was clear that Mrs. Jones would not look at the matter in a proper light. As far as she could see, there was no reason why a fair bargain should not have been made between Mollett and Sir Thomas,--made and kept on both sides, with mutual convenience. That doing of justice at the cost of falling heavens was not intelligible to her limited philosophy. Nor did she bethink herself, that a leech will not give over sucking until it be gorged with blood. Mr.

Prendergast knew that such leeches as Mr. Mollett never leave the skin as long as there is a drop of blood left within the veins.

Mr. Prendergast was still standing against the door, where he had placed himself to prevent the unauthorized departure of either Mrs.

Jones or Mr. Mollett; but now he was bethinking himself that he might as well bring this interview to an end. "Mr. Mollett," said he, "you are probably beginning to understand that you will not get much more money from the Castle Richmond family?"

"I don't want to do any harm to any of them," said Mollett, humbly; "and if I don't make myself troublesome, I hope Sir Thomas will consider me."

"It is out of your power, sir, to do any further harm to any of them.

You don't pretend to think that after what has pa.s.sed, you can have any personal authority over that unfortunate lady?"

"My poor mistress! my poor mistress!" sobbed Mrs. Jones.

"You cannot do more injury than you at present have done. No one is now afraid of you; no one here will ever give you another shilling.

When and in what form you will be prosecuted for inducing Sir Thomas to give you money, I cannot yet tell. Now, you may go; and I strongly advise you never to show your face here again. If the people about here knew who you are, and what you are, they would not let you off the property with a whole bone in your skin. Now go, sir. Do you hear me?"

"Upon my word, Mr. Prendergast, I have not intended any harm!"

"Go, sir!"

"And even now, Mr. Prendergast, it can all be made straight, and I will leave the country altogether, if you wish it--"

"Go, sir!" shouted Mr. Prendergast. "If you do not move at once, I will ring the bell for the servants!"

"Then, if misfortune comes upon them, it is your doing, and not mine," said Mollett.

"Oh, Mr. Pendrergra.s.s, if it can be hushed up--" said Mrs. Jones, rising from her chair and coming up to him with her hands clasped together. "Don't send him away in your anger; don't'ee now, sir.

Think of her ladyship. Do, do, do;" and the woman took hold of his arm, and looked up into his face with her eyes swimming with tears.

Then going to the door she closed it, and returning again, touched his arm, and again appealed to him. "Think of Mr. Herbert, sir, and the young ladies! What are they to be called, sir, if this man is to be my lady's husband? Oh, Mr. Pendrergra.s.s, let him go away, out of the kingdom; do let him go away."

"I'll be off to Australia by the next boat, if you'll only say the word," said Mollett. To give him his due, he was not at that moment thinking altogether of himself and of what he might get. The idea of the misery which he had brought on these people did, to a certain measure, come home to him. And it certainly did come home to him also, that his own position was very perilous.

"Mrs. Jones," said the lawyer, seeming to pay no attention whatever to Mollett's words, "you know nothing of such men as that. If I were to take him at his word now, he would turn upon Sir Thomas again before three weeks were over."

"By ----, I would not! By all that is holy, I would not. Mr.

Prendergast, do--."

"Mr. Mollett, I will trouble you to walk out of this house. I have nothing further to say to you."

"Oh, very well, sir." And then slowly Mollett took his departure, and finding his covered car at the door, got into it without saying another word to any of the Castle Richmond family.

"Mrs. Jones," said Mr. Prendergast, as soon as Mollett was gone, "I believe I need not trouble you any further. Your conduct has done you great honour, and I respect you greatly as an honest woman and an affectionate friend."

Mrs. Jones could only acknowledge this by loud sobs.

"For the present, if you will take my advice, you will say nothing of this to your mistress."

"No, sir, no; I shall say nothing. Oh, dear! oh dear!"

"The whole matter will be known soon, but in the mean time, we may as well remain silent. Good day to you." And then Mrs. Jones also left the room, and Mr. Prendergast was alone.

CHAPTER XXI.

FAIR ARGUMENTS.

As Mollett left the house he saw two men walking down the road away from the sweep before the hall door, and as he pa.s.sed them he recognised one as the young gentleman of the house. He also saw that a horse followed behind them, on the gra.s.s by the roadside, not led by the hand, but following with the reins laid loose upon his neck.

They took no notice of him or his car, but allowed him to pa.s.s as though he had no concern whatever with the destinies of either of them. They were Herbert and Owen Fitzgerald.

The reader will perhaps remember the way in which Owen left Desmond Court on the occasion of his last visit there. It cannot be said that what he had heard had in any way humbled him, nor indeed had it taught him to think that Clara Desmond looked at him altogether with indifference. Greatly as she had injured him, he could not bring himself to look upon her as the chief sinner. It was Lady Desmond who had done it all. It was she who had turned against him because of his poverty, who had sold her daughter to his rich cousin, and robbed him of the love which he had won for himself. Or perhaps not of the love--it might be that this was yet his; and if so, was it not possible that he might beat the countess at her own weapons? Thinking over this, he felt that it was necessary for him to do something, to take some step; and therefore he resolved to go boldly to his cousin, and tell him that he regarded Lady Clara Desmond as still his own.

On this morning, therefore, he had ridden up to the Castle Richmond door. It was now many months since he had been there, and he was no longer ent.i.tled to enter the house on the acknowledged intimate footing of a cousin. He rode up, and asked the servant with grave ceremony whether Mr. Herbert Fitzgerald were at home. He would not go in, he said, but if Mr. Herbert were there he would wait for him at the porch. Herbert at the time was standing in the dining-room, all alone, gloomily leaning against the mantelpiece. There was nothing for him to do during the whole of that day but wait for the evening, when the promised revelation would be made to him. He knew that Mollett and Mrs. Jones were with Mr. Prendergast in the study, but what was the matter now being investigated between them--that he did not know. And till he knew that, closely as he was himself concerned, he could meddle with nothing. But it was already past noon and the evening would soon be there.

In this mood he was interrupted by being told that his cousin Owen was at the door. "He won't come in at all, Mr. Herbert," Richard had said; for Richard, according to order, was still waiting about the porch; "but he says that you are to go to him there." And then Herbert, after considering the matter for a moment, joined his cousin at the front entrance.

"I want to speak to you a few words," said Owen; "but as I hear that Sir Thomas is not well, I will not go into the house; perhaps you will walk with me as far as the lodge. Never mind the mare, she will not go astray." And so Herbert got his hat and accompanied him. For the first hundred yards neither of them said anything. Owen would not speak of Clara till he was well out of hearing from the house, and at the present moment Herbert had not much inclination to commence a conversation on any subject.

Owen was the first to speak. "Herbert," said he, "I have been told that you are engaged to marry Lady Clara Desmond."

"And so I am," said Herbert, feeling very little inclined to admit of any question as to his privilege in that respect. Things were happening around him which might have--Heaven only knows what consequence. He did fear--fear with a terrible dread that something might occur which would shatter the cup of his happiness, and rob him of the fruition of his hopes. But nothing had occurred as yet. "And so I am," he said; "it is no wonder that you should have heard it, for it has been kept no secret. And I also have heard of your visit to Desmond Court. It might have been as well, I think, if you had stayed away."

"I thought differently," said Owen, frowning blackly. "I thought that the most straightforward thing for me was to go there openly, having announced my intention, and tell them both, mother and daughter, that I hold myself as engaged to Lady Clara, and that I hold her as engaged to me."

"That is absurd nonsense. She cannot be engaged to two persons."

"Anything that interferes with you, you will of course think absurd.

I think otherwise. It is hardly more than twelve months since she and I were walking there together, and then she promised me her love. I had known her long and well, when you had hardly seen her. I knew her and loved her; and what is more, she loved me. Remember, it is not I only that say so. She said it herself, and swore that nothing should change her. I do not believe that anything has changed her."

"Do you mean to say that at present she cares nothing for me? Owen, you must be mad on this matter."

"Mad; yes, of course; if I think that any girl can care for me while you are in the way. Strange as it may appear, I am as mad even as that. There are people who will not sell themselves even for money and t.i.tles. I say again, that I do not believe her to be changed.

She has been weak, and her mother has persuaded her. To her mother, rank and money, t.i.tles and property, are everything. She has sold her daughter, and I have come to ask you, whether, under such circ.u.mstances, you intend to accept the purchase."