CHAPTER IV.
THE COUNTESS.
The countess, as she walked back with her daughter towards the house, had to bethink herself for a minute or two as to how she should act, and what she would say.

She knew, she felt that she knew, what had occurred.

If her daughter's manner had not told her, the downcast eyes, the repressed sobs, the mingled look of shame and fear;--if she had not read the truth from these, she would have learned it from the tone of Fitzgerald's voice, and the look of triumph which sat upon his countenance.
And then she wondered that this should be so, seeing that she had still regarded Clara as being in all things a child; and as she thought further, she wondered at her own fatuity, in that she had allowed herself to be so grossly deceived.
"Clara," said she, "what is all this ?" "Oh, mamma!" "You had better come on to the house, my dear, and speak to me there.
In the mean time, collect your thoughts, and remember this, Clara, that you have the honour of a great family to maintain." Poor Clara! what had the great family done for her, or how had she been taught to maintain its honour?
She knew that she was an earl's daughter, and that people called her Lady Clara; whereas other young ladies were only called Miss So-and-So.

But she had not been taught to separate herself from the ordinary throng of young ladies by any other distinction.

Her great family had done nothing special for her, nor placed before her for example any grandly noble deeds.