It was after that time, as will be understood, that some goodnatured
friend had told him that he was regarded in the county as the future
husband of Lady Desmond. At first he laughed at this as being--as he
himself said to himself--too good a joke. When the report first
reached him, it seemed to be a joke which he could share so
pleasantly with the countess. For men of three and twenty, though
they are so fond of the society of women older than themselves,
understand so little the hearts and feelings of such women. In his
ideas there was an interval as of another generation between him and
the countess. In her thoughts the interval was probably much less
striking.

But the accusation was made to him again and again till it wounded
him, and he gave up that notion of a mutual joke with his kind
friend at Desmond Court. It did not occur to him that she could ever
think of loving him as her lord and master; but it was brought home
to him that other people thought so.

A year had now passed by since those winter holidays in which Clara
Desmond had been sixteen, and during which she was described by
epithets which will not, I fear, have pleased my readers. Those
epithets were now somewhat less deserved, but still the necessity of
them had not entirely passed away. Her limbs were still thin and
long, and her shoulders pointed; but the growth of beauty had
commenced, and in Owen's eyes she was already very lovely.

At Christmas-time during that winter a ball was given at Castle
Richmond, to celebrate the coming of age of the young heir. It was
not a very gay affair, for the Castle Richmond folk, even in those
days, were not very gay people. Sir Thomas, though only fifty, was