and which only, the provoking circumstances of his position would enable him to devote to joy and love, her will should be his law.  He did not think himself to be fickle.  He would never want another Kate.  He would leave her with sorrow.  He would return to her with ecstasy.  Everybody around him should treat her with the respect due to an empress.  But it would be very expedient that she should be called Mrs. Neville instead of Lady Scroope.  Could things not be so arranged for him;—­so arranged that he might make a promise to his uncle, and yet be true to his Kate without breaking his promise?  That was his scheme.  Jack said that his scheme was impracticable.  But the difficulties in his way were not, he thought, so much those which Jack had propounded as the angry eyes of Kate O’Hara’s mother.

At last the day was fixed for his departure.  The Earl was already so much better as to be able to leave his bedroom.  Twice or thrice a day Fred saw his uncle, and there was much said about the affairs of the estate.  The heir had taken some trouble, had visited some of the tenants, and had striven to seem interested in the affairs of the property.  The Earl could talk for ever about the estate, every field, every fence, almost every tree on which was familiar to him.  That his tenants should be easy in their circumstances, a protestant, church-going, rent-paying people, son following father, and daughters marrying as their mothers had married, unchanging, never sinking an inch in the social scale, or rising,—­this was the wish nearest to his heart.  Fred was well disposed to talk about the tenants as long as Kate O’Hara was not mentioned.  When the Earl would mournfully speak of his own coming death, as an event which could not now be far distant, Fred with fullest sincerity would promise that his wishes should be observed.  No rents should be raised.  The axe should be but sparingly used.  It seemed to him strange that a man going into eternity should care about this tree or that;—­but as far as he was concerned the trees should stand while Nature supported them.  No servant should be dismissed.  The carriage horses should be allowed to die on the place.  The old charities should be maintained.  The parson of the parish should always be a welcome guest at the Manor.  No promise was difficult for him to make so long as that one question were left untouched.

But when he spoke of the day of his departure as fixed,—­as being “the day after to-morrow,”—­then he knew that the question must be touched.  “I am sorry,—­very sorry, that you must go,” said the Earl.

“You see a man can’t leave the service at a moment’s notice.”

“I think that we could have got over that, Fred.”

“Perhaps as regards the service we might, but the regiment would think ill of me.  You see, so many things depend on a man’s staying or going.  The youngsters mayn’t have their money ready.  I said I should remain till October.”