Herbert said something to the effect that he had been quite willing to come over to Hap House. But he was not at the moment so self-possessed as the other, and hardly knew how to begin the subject which was to be discussed between them.
"Of course you know that Mr. Prendergast was here?" said Owen.
"Oh yes," said Herbert.
"And Mr. Somers also? I tell you fairly, Herbert, that when Mr. Somers came, I was not willing to say much to him. What has to be said must be said between you and me, and not to any third party. I could not open my heart, nor yet speak my thoughts to Mr. Somers."
In answer to this, Herbert again said that Owen need have no scruple in speaking to him. "It is all plain sailing; too plain, I fear," said he. "There is no doubt whatever now as to the truth of what Mr. Prendergast has told you."
And then having said so much, Herbert waited for Owen to speak. He, Herbert himself, had little or nothing to say. Castle Richmond with its title and acres was not to be his, but was to be the property of this man with whom he was now sitting. When that was actually and positively understood between them, there was nothing further to be said; nothing as far as Herbert knew. That other sorrow of his, that other and deeper sorrow which affected his mother's name and station,—as to that he did not find himself called on to speak to Owen Fitzgerald. Nor was it necessary that he should say anything as to his great consolation—the consolation which had reached him from Clara Desmond.
"And is it true, Herbert," asked Owen at last, "that my uncle is so very ill?" In the time of their kindly intercourse, Owen had always called Sir Thomas his uncle, though latterly he had ceased to do so.
"He is very ill; very ill indeed," said Herbert. This was a subject in which Owen had certainly a right to feel interested, seeing that his own investiture would follow immediately on the death of Sir Thomas; but Herbert almost felt that the question might as well have been spared. It had been asked, however, almost solely with the view of gaining some few moments.
"Herbert," he said at last, standing up from his chair, as he made an effort to begin his speech, "I don't know how far you will believe me when I tell you that all this news has caused me great sorrow. I grieve for your father and your mother, and for you, from the very bottom of my heart."
"It is very kind of you," said Herbert. "But the blow has fallen, and as for myself, I believe that I can bear it. I do not care so very much about the property."