"Then I shall scold him for his want of gallantry," said Lady Desmond, laughing, as they walked out together from beneath the huge portal.
But as soon as she was near enough to see the manner of their gait, as they slowly came on towards her, her woman's tact told her that something was wrong;—and whispered to her also what might too probably be the nature of that something. Could it be possible, she asked herself, that such a man as Owen Fitzgerald should fall in love with such a girl as her daughter Clara?
"What shall I say to mamma?" whispered Clara to him, as they all drew near together.
"Tell her everything."
"But, Patrick—"
"I will take him off with me if I can." And then they were all together, standing in the road.
"I was coming to obey your behests, Lady Desmond," said Fitzgerald, trying to look and speak as though he were at his ease.
"Coming rather tardily, I think," said her ladyship, not altogether playfully.
"I told him you wanted him, as we were crossing to the house," said the earl. "Didn't I, Owen?"
"Is anything the matter with Clara?" said Lady Desmond, looking at her daughter.