"Yes, mamma."

"And I suppose you gave him some answer? Eh! my dear?"

The answer to this was another long sigh.

"But, Clara, you must tell me. It is absolutely necessary that I
should know whether you have given him any hope, and if so, how
much. Of course the whole thing must be stopped at once. Young as
you are, you cannot think that a marriage with Mr. Owen Fitzgerald
would be a proper match for you to make. Of course the whole thing
must cease at once--at once." Here there was another piteous sigh.
"But before I take any steps, I must know what you have said to him.
Surely you have not told him that you have any feeling for him
warmer than ordinary regard?"

Lady Desmond knew what she was doing very well. She was perfectly
sure that her daughter had pledged her troth to Owen Fitzgerald.
Indeed, if she made any mistake in the matter, it was in thinking
that Clara had given a more absolute assurance of love than had in
truth been extracted from her. But she calculated, and calculated
wisely, that the surest way of talking her daughter out of all hope,
was to express herself as unable to believe that a child of hers
would own to love for one so much beneath her, and to speak of such
a marriage as a thing absolutely impossible. Her method of acting in
this manner had the effect which she desired. The poor girl was
utterly frightened, and began to fear that she had disgraced
herself, though she knew that she dearly loved the man of whom her
mother spoke so slightingly.