Roland Cashel Volume Ii Part 42

"I have n't time for these thoughts now," muttered Tom.

"Always to the point,--always thinking of the direct question!" said Linton, smiling.

"'T is n't yer honer's failin', anyhow," said Tom, laughing sardonically.

"You shall not say that of me, Tom," said Linton, affecting to relish the jocularity; "I'll be as prompt and ready as yourself. I'll wager you ten sovereigns in gold--there they are--that I can keep a secret as well as you can."

As he spoke, he threw down the glittering pieces upon the step on which they sat.

The peasant's eyes were bent upon the money with a fierce and angry expression, less betokening desire than actual hate. As he looked at them, his cheek grew red, and then pale, and red once more; his broad chest rose and fell like a swelling wave, and his bony fingers clasped each other in a rigid grasp.

"There are twenty more where these came from," said Linton, significantly.

"That's a high price,--devil a lie in it!" muttered Tom, thoughtfully.

Linton spoke not, but seemed to let the charm work.

"A high price, but the 'dhrop' in Limerick is higher," said Tom, with a grin.

"Perhaps it may be," rejoined Linton, carelessly; "though I don't perceive how the fact can have any interest for you or me."

"Be gorra, ye 're a cowld man, anyhow," said Keane, his savage nature struck with admiring wonder at the unmoved serenity of Linton's manner.

"I'm a determined one," said Linton, who saw the necessity of impressing his companion; "and with such alone would I wish to act."

"And where would you be, after it was all over, sir?"

"Here, where I am at present, a.s.sisting the magistrates to scour the country,--searching every cabin at Drumoologan,--draining ditches to discover the weapon, and arresting every man that killed a pig and got blood on his corduroys for the last fortnight."

"And where would _I_ be?" asked Keane.

"Here too; exactly where you sit this moment, quietly waiting till the outcry was over. Nor need that make you impatient. I have said already there is neither wife, nor sister, nor brother, nor child to take up the pursuit. There are forty people in the great house yonder, and there would n't be four of them left two hours after it was known, nor one out of the four that would give himself the trouble of asking how it happened."

"An' them's _gentlemen!_," said Keane, closing his lips and shaking his head sententiously.

Linton arose; he did not over-fancy the turn of reflection Tom's remark implied: it looked too like the expression of a general condemnation of his cla.s.s--at the very moment, too, when he was desirous of impressing him with the fullest trust and confidence in his own honor.

"I believe it's safer to have nothin' to do with it," muttered Keane.

"As you please, friend," replied Linton; "I never squeeze any man's conscience. _You_ know best what your own life is."

"Hard enough, that's what it is," said the other, bitterly.

"You can also make a guess what it will be in future, when you leave this."

A deep groan was all that he gave for answer.

"For all that _I_ know, you may have many friends who 'll not see your wife and children begging along the roads, or sitting in a hole scooped out of a clay ditch, without food or fire, waiting for the fever to finish what famine has begun. You have n't far to seek for what I mean; about two hundred yards from that gate yonder there 's a group exactly like it."

"Ye 're a terrible man, that's the truth," said Tom, as he wiped the big drops of perspiration from his forehead. "Be gorra, I never seed your like afore!"

"I told you that I was a _determined_ man," said Linton, sternly; "and I'm sorry to see that's not what I should say of _you_." He moved a step or two as he spoke, and then turning carelessly back, added, "Leave that money for me at 'The house' this evening; I don't wish to carry gold about me on the roads here." And with this negligent remark he departed.

Linton sauntered carelessly away; nothing in his negligent air and carriage to show that he was not lounging to kill the weary hours of a winter's day. No sooner, however, had he turned an angle of the road than he entered the wood, and with cautious steps retraced his way, till he stood within a few paces of where Keane yet sat, still and motionless.

His worn hat was pressed down upon his brows, his hands were firmly clasped, and his head bent so as to conceal his features; and in this att.i.tude he remained as rigidly impa.s.sive as though he were seized with a catalepsy. A few heavy drops of rain fell, and then a low growling roar of thunder followed, but he heeded not these signs of coming storm.

The loud cawing of the rooks as they hastened homeward filled the air, but he never once lifted his head to watch them! Another crash of thunder was heard, and suddenly the rain burst forth in torrents.

Swooping along in heavy drifts, it blackened the very atmosphere, and rushed in rivulets down the gravel walk; but still he sat, while the pelting storm penetrated his frail garments and soaked them through. Nor was it till the water lay in pools at his feet that he seemed conscious of the hurricane. Then rising suddenly, he shook himself roughly, and entered the house.

Linton's eyes were earnestly fixed upon the stone--he crept nearer to observe it. The money was gone.

CHAPTER XXIII. LINTON IS BAFFLED--HIS RAGE AT THE DISCOVERY

The mask is falling fast.--Harold.

The day of the great masquerade arrived; and, from an early hour, the whole household was astir in preparing for the occasion. The courtyard was thronged with carriages of various sorts. Confectioners from London, table-deckers from Paris, were there, accompanied by all the insignia of their callings. Great lumbering packing-cases were strewn about; while rich stuffs, rare exotics, and costly delicacies littered the stone benches, and even lay upon the pavement, in all the profusion of haste and recklessness. To see the rare and rich articles which were heaped on every side, almost suggested the notion that it was some gorgeous mansion which was put to pillage. There was that, too, in the lounging insolence of the servants, as they went, that favored the illusion. The wanton waste exhibited everywhere was the very triumph of that vulgar and vindictive spirit which prompts the followers of a spendthrift master to speed the current of his ruin. Such would seem to be the invariable influence that boundless profusion exercises on the mind; and it is thus that affluence, unchastened by taste, unruled by principle, is always a corrupter!

A light travelling-carriage, with a few articles of travelling use attached, stood in the midst of this confusion; and shortly after day-dawn two gentlemen issued from the house, and taking their seats, drove hastily forth, and at full speed pa.s.sed down the avenue towards the high-road.

These were Cashel and Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k, who had made an appointment to meet Mr. h.o.a.re at Killaloe, and proceed with him to Drumcoologan, on which portion of the estate it was proposed to raise a considerable sum by mortgage.

Some observation of Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k upon the wasteful exhibition of the scene in the courtyard, was met by a sharp and angry reply from Cashel; and these were both overheard as they issued forth,--vague words, spoken thoughtlessly at the time, but to be remembered afterwards with a heavier significance than the speakers could have antic.i.p.ated! As they hastened along, little was said on either side; the trifling irritation of the first moment created a reserve, which deepened into actual coldness, as each following out his own thoughts took no heed of his companion's.

Kennyf.e.c.k's mind was full of sad and gloomy forebodings. The reckless outlay he had witnessed for weeks back was more than a princely fortune could sustain. The troops of useless servants, the riotous disorder of the household, the unchecked, unbridled waste on every side, demanded supplies to raise which they were already reduced to loans at usurious interest. What was to come of such a career, save immediate and irretrievable ruin?

As for Cashel, his reveries were even darker still. The whirlwind current of events seemed to carry him onward without any power of resistance. He saw his fortune wasted, his character a.s.sailed, his heart-offered proposal rejected--all at once, and as if by the influence of some evil destiny. Vigorous resolutions for the future warred with fears lest that they were made too late, and he sat with closed eyes and compressed lips, silent and sunk in meditation.

Leaving them, therefore, to pursue a journey on which their companionship could scarcely afford much pleasure to the reader, let us turn to one who, whatever his other defects, rarely threw away the moments of his life on unavailing regrets: this was Mr. Linton. If he was greatly disappointed by the information he gleaned when overhearing the conversation between Cashel and the doctor, he did not suffer his anger either to turn him from his path, or distract him from his settled purpose.

"To-day for ambition!" said he, "to-morrow revenge!"

Too well accustomed to obstacles to be easily thwarted, he recognized life as a struggle wherein the combatant should never put off his armor.

"She must and shall accept me as her husband; on that I am determined. A great game, and a glorious stake, shall not be foiled for a silly girl's humor. Were she less high-flown in her notions, and with more of the 'world' about her, I might satisfy her scruples, that, of her affections--her heart, as she would call it--there is no question here.

_Je suis bon prince_,--I never coerce my liege's loyalty. As to the old man, his dotage takes the form of intrepidity, so that it might be unsafe to use menace with him. The occasion must suggest the proper tactic."

And with this shrewd resolve he set forth to pay his visit at the cottage. If in his step and air, as he went, none could have read the lover's ardor, there was that in his proud carriage and glancing eye that bespoke a spirit revelling in its own sense of triumph.

While Mr. Linton is thus pursuing his way, let us use the privilege of our craft by antic.i.p.ating him, and taking a peep at that cottage interior in which he is so soon to figure. Old Mr. Corrigan had arisen from his bed weary and tired: a night of sleepless care weighed heavily on him; and he sat at his untasted breakfast with all the outward signs of a sick man.

Mary Leicester, too, was pale and sad-looking; and although she tried to wear her wonted smile, and speak with her accustomed tones, the heavy eyelids and the half-checked sighs that broke from her at times betrayed how sad was the spirit from which they came.

"I have been dreaming of that old nunnery at Bruges all night, Mary,"

said her grandfather, after a long and unbroken silence; "and you cannot think what a hold it has taken of my waking thoughts. I fancied that I was sitting in the little parlor, waiting to see you, and that, at last, a dark-veiled figure appeared at the grille, and beckoned me to approach. I hastened to do so, my heart fluttering with I know not what mixture of hope and fear,--the hope it might be you, and then the fear, stronger than even hope, that I should read sadness in that sweet face--sorrow, Mary--regret for leaving that world you never were to see more."