Is it not always so,--should it not be so always, when love first speaks to loving ears?
What! he had loved her for that whole twelvemonth that she had known him; loved her in those days when she had been wont to look up into his face, wondering why he was so nice, so much nicer than any one else that came near her! A year was a great deal to her; and had he loved her through all those days?
and after that should she banish him from her house, turn him away from his home, and drive him forth unhappy and wretched?
Ah, no! She could not be so unkind to him;--she could not be so unkind to her own heart.

But still she sobbed; and still she said nothing.
In the mean time they had turned, and were now walking back towards the house, the gentle-natured mare still following at their heels.
They were walking slowly--very slowly back--just creeping along the path, when they saw Lady Desmond and her son coming to meet them on the road.
"There is your mother, Clara.

Say one word to me before we meet them." "Oh, Mr.Fitzgerald; I am so frightened.

What will mamma say ?" "Say about what?
As yet I do not know what she may have to say.

But before we meet her, may I not hope to know what her daughter will say?
Answer me this, Clara.