Roland Cashel Volume Ii Part 61

Roland nodded in acquiescence; his heart was too full for utterance, and the sudden revulsion of his feeling had brought a sickly sensation over him.

"Mr. Linton," resumed Hammond, "in showing me this deed, spoke of a probable alliance between you and the granddaughter of Mr. Corrigan; and I freely concurred in the propriety of a union which might at once settle the difficulty of a very painful litigation. He promised me more full information on the subject, and engaged me to make searches for a registry, if such existed, of the pardon; but I heard nothing more from him, and the matter escaped my memory till this moment."

"So that all this while I have been dissipating that which was not mine," said Roland, with a bitterness of voice and manner that bespoke what he suffered.

"You have done what some thousands have done, are doing, and will do hereafter,--enjoyed possession of that which the law gave you, and which a deeper research into the same law may take away."

"And Linton knew this?"

"He certainly knew my opinion of this doc.u.ment; but am I to suppose that you were ignorant of it up to this moment?"

"You shall hear all," said Cashel, pa.s.sing his hand across his brow, which now ached with the torture of intense emotion. "To save myself from all the ignominy of a felon's death, I did not reveal this before.

It was with me as a point of honor, that I would reserve this man for a personal vengeance; but now a glimmering light is breaking on my brain, that darker deeds than all he worked against me lie at his door, and that in following up my revenge I may be but robbing the scaffold of its due. Listen to me attentively." So saying, Cashel narrated every event of the memorable day of Kennyf.e.c.k's death, detailing his meeting with Enrique in the glen, and his last interview with Linton in his dressing-room.

Hammond heard all with deepest interest, only interrupting at times to ask such questions as might throw light upon the story. The whole body of the circ.u.mstantial evidence against Roland not only became easily explicable, but the shrewd perception of the lawyer also saw the consummate skill with which the details had been worked into regular order, and what consistency had been imparted to them. The great difficulty of the case lay in the fact that, supposing Kennyf.e.c.k's death had been planned by others, with the intention of imputing the crime to Cashel, yet all the circ.u.mstances, or nearly all, which seemed to imply his guilt, were matters of perfect accident, for which they never could have provided, nor even ever foreseen,--such as his entrance by the window, his torn dress, the wound of his hand, and the blood upon his clothes.

"I see but one clew to this mystery," said Hammond, thoughtfully; "but the more I reflect upon it, the more likely does it seem. Kennyf.e.c.k's fate was intended for you,--he fell by a mistake."

Roland started with astonishment, but listened with deep attention as Hammond recapitulated everything which accorded with this a.s.sumption.

"But why was one of my own pistols taken for the deed?"

"Perhaps to suggest the notion of suicide."

"How could my death have been turned to profit? Was I not better as the living dupe than as the dead enemy?"

"Do you not see how your death legalized the deed with a forged signature? Who was to dispute its authenticity? Besides, how know we what ambitions Linton may not have cherished when holding in his hands the only t.i.tle to the estate. We may go too fast with these suspicions, but let us not reject them as inconsistent Who is this same witness, Keane? What motives had he for the grat.i.tude he evinced on the trial?"

"None whatever; on the contrary, I never showed him any favor; it was even my intention to dismiss him from the gate-lodge!"

"And he was aware of this?"

"Perfectly. He had besought several people to intercede for him, Linton among the rest."

"So that he was known to Linton? And what has become of him since the trial?"

"That is the strangest of all; my wish was to have done something for the poor fellow. I could not readily forget the feeling he showed, at a moment, too, when none seemed to remember me; so that when I reached Tubbermore, I at once repaired to the lodge, but he was gone."

"And in what direction?"

"His wife could not tell. The poor creature was distracted at being deserted, and seemed to think, from what cause I know not, that he would not return. He had come back after the trial in company with another, who remained on the roadside while Keane hastily packed up some clothes, after which they departed together."

"This must be thought of," said Hammond, gravely, while he wrote some lines in his note-book.

"It is somewhat strange, indeed," said Cashel, "that the very men to whom my grat.i.tude is most due are those who seem to avoid me.

Thus--Jones, who gave me his aid upon the trial--"

"Do not speak of him, sir," said Hammond, in a voice of agitation; "he is one who has sullied an order that has. .h.i.therto been almost without a stain. There is but too much reason to think that he was bribed to destroy you. His whole line of cross-examination on the trial was artfully devised to develop whatever might injure you; but the treachery turned upon the men who planned it. The Attorney General saw it, and the Court also; it was this saved you."

Cashel sat powerless and speechless at this disclosure. It seemed to fill up in his mind the cup of iniquity, and he never moved nor uttered a word as he listened.

"Jones you will never see again. The bar of some other land across the sea may receive him, but there is not one here would stoop to be his colleague. But now for others more important. I will this day obtain the judge's notes of the trial, and give the whole case the deepest consideration. Inquiry shall be set on foot as to Keane, with whom he has gone, and in what direction. Linton, too, must be watched; the report is that he lies dangerously ill at his country house, but that story may be invented to gain time."

Cashel could scarcely avoid a smile at the rapidity with which the lawyer detailed his plan of operation, and threw out, as he went, the signs of distrust so characteristic of his craft As for himself, he was enjoined to remain in the very strictest privacy,--to see no one, nor even to leave the house, except after nightfall.

"Rely upon it," said Hammond, "your every movement is watched; and our object will be to ascertain by whom. This will be our first clew; and when we obtain one, others will soon follow."

It was no privation for Cashel to follow a course so much in accordance with his wishes. Solitude--even that which consigned him to the saddest reveries--was far more pleasurable than any intercourse; so that he never ventured beyond the walls of his house for weeks, nor exchanged a word, except with Hammond, who regularly visited him each day, to report the progress of his investigation.

The mystery did not seem to clear away, even by the skilful contrivances of the lawyer. Of Keane not a trace could be discovered; nor could any clew be obtained as to his companion. All that Hammond knew was that although a doctor's carriage daily drove to Linton's house, Linton himself had long since left the country,--it was believed for the Continent.

Disappointed by continual failures, and wearied by a life whose only excitement lay in anxieties and cares, Cashel grew each day sadder and more depressed. The desire for vengeance, too, that first had filled his mind, grew weaker as time rolled on. The wish to reinstate himself fully in the world's esteem diminished, as he lived apart from all its intercourse, and he sank into a low and gloomy despondency, which soon showed its ravages upon his face and figure.

One object alone remained for him,--this was to seek out Corrigan and place in his hand the doc.u.ment of his ancestor's pardon; this done, Roland resolved to betake himself to Mexico, and again, among the haunts of his youth, to try and forget that life of civilization which had cost him so dearly.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII. LA NINETTA

"How sweete and lovely dost thou make the shame Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, Doth spot the beautie of thy budding name."

Some years pa.s.sed over, and the name of Roland Cashel ceased to be uttered, or his memory even evoked, in that capital where once his wealth, his eccentricities, and his notoriety had been the theme of every tongue. A large neglected-looking house, with closed shutters and gra.s.s-grown steps, would attract the attention of some pa.s.sing stranger to ask whom it belonged to, but the name of Mr. Cashel was almost all that many knew of him, and a vague impression that he was travelling in some remote and faraway land.

Tubbermore, too, fell back into its former condition of ruin and decay.

No one seemed to know into whose hands the estate had fallen, but the talismanic word "Chancery" appeared to satisfy every inquiry, and account for a desolation that brooded over the property and all who dwelt on it. The very "Cottage" had yielded to the course of time, and little remained of it save a few damp discolored walls and blackened chimneys; while here and there a rare shrub, or a tree of foreign growth, rose among the rank weeds and thistles, to speak of the culture which once had been the pride of this lovely spot.

Had there been a "curse upon the place" it could not have been more dreary and sad-looking!

Of the gate-lodge, where Keane lived, a few straggling ruins alone remained, in a corner of which a miserable family was herded together, their wan looks and tattered clothing showing that they were dependent for existence on the charity of the very poor. These were Keane's wife and children, to whom he never again returned. There was a blight over everything. The tenantry themselves, no longer subject to the visits of the agent, the stimulus to all industry withdrawn, would scarcely labor for their own support, but pa.s.sed their lives in brawls and quarrels, which more than once had led to a felon's sentence. The land lay untilled; the cattle, untended, strayed at will through the unfenced fields. The villages on the property were crammed by a host of runaway wretches whose crimes had driven them from their homes, till at length the district became the plague-spot of the country, where, even at noonday, few strangers were bold enough to enter, and the word "Tub-bermore" had a terrible significance in the neighborhood round about.

Let us now turn for the last time to him whose fortune had so powerfully influenced his property, and whose dark destiny seemed to throw its shadow over all that once was his. For years Roland Cashel had been a wanderer. He travelled every country of the Old World and the New; his appearance and familiarity with the language enabling him to a.s.sume the nationality of a Spaniard, and thus screen him from that painful notoriety to which his story was certain to expose him. Journeying alone, and in the least expensive manner,--for he no longer considered himself ent.i.tled to any of the property he once enjoyed,--he made few acquaintances and contracted no friendships. One object alone gave a zest to existence,--to discover Mr. Cor-rigan, and place within his hands the t.i.tle-deeds of Tubber-more. With this intention he had searched through more than half of Europe, visiting the least frequented towns, and pursuing inquiries in every possible direction; at one moment cheered by some glimmering prospect of success, at another dashed by disappointment and failure. If a thought of Linton did occasionally cross him, he struggled manfully to overcome the temptings of a pa.s.sion which should thwart the dearest object of his life, and make vengeance predominate over truth and honesty. As time rolled on, the spirit of his hatred became gradually weaker; and if he did not forgive all the ills his treachery had worked, his memory of them was less frequent and less painful.

His was a cheerless, for it was a friendless, existence. Avoiding his own countrymen from the repugnance he felt to sustain his disguise by falsehood, he wandered from land to land and city to city like some penitent in the accomplishment of a vow. The unbroken monotony of this life, the continued pressure of disappointment, at last began to tell upon him, and in his moody abstractions--his fits of absence and melancholy--might be seen the change which had come over him. He might have been a long time ignorant of an alteration which not only impressed his mind, but even his "outward man," when his attention was drawn to the fact by overhearing the observations of some young Englishmen upon his appearance, as he sat one evening in a _cafe_ at Naples. Conversing in all that careless freedom of our young countrymen, which never supposes that their language can be understood by others, they criticised his dress, his sombre look, and his manner; and, after an animated discussion as to whether he were a refugee political offender, a courier, or a spy, they wound up by a wager that he was at least forty years of age; one of the party dissenting on the ground that, although he looked it, it was rather from something on the fellow's mind than years.

"How shall we find out?" cried the proposer of the bet. "I, for one, should n't like to ask him his age."

"If I knew Spanish enough, I'd do it at once," said another.

"It might cost you dearly, Harry, for all that; he looks marvellously like a fellow that wouldn't brook trifling."

"He would n't call it trifling to lose me ten 'carlines,' and I 'm sure I should win my wager; so here goes at him in French." Rising at the same moment, the young man crossed the room and stood before the table where Cashel sat, with folded arms and bent-down head, listening in utter indifference to all that pa.s.sed. "Monsieur," said the youth, bowing.

Cashel looked up, and his dark, heavily browed eyes seemed to abash the other, who stood, blushing, and uncertain what to do.

With faltering accents and downcast look he began to mutter excuses for his intrusion; when Cashel, in a mild and gentle voice, interrupted him, saying in English, "I am your countryman, young gentleman, and my age not six-and-twenty."