"Come in," said Cashel; and there was something almost peremptory in the words.

"I feared I might prove an intruder, seeing the doctor here. Is it true what my servant says, that Kilgoff is dangerously ill?"

Cashel nodded.

"Poor fellow! he has no command over himself in those paroxysms of pa.s.sion, which his folly and vanity are so constantly stirring up. But is the case serious?"

"He will scarcely recover, sir," said Tiernay; "and it was because my functions as a physician can be of so little benefit, that I ventured to offer my services as a friend in the case, and give some counsel as to what should be done."

"Most considerate, indeed," said Linton, but in an accent at once impossible to say whether ironical or the reverse.

"I said, sir," resumed Tiernay, "that it would be becoming that no false representation should obtain currency as to the origin of the illness, nor that a momentary excitement of a feeble intellect should be a.s.sumed as the settled conviction of a sound mind. My Lord Kilgoff has had something like altercation with his wife, and being a weak and failing man, with breaking faculties, has been seized with a paralytic attack."

"Very thoughtful, all this," said Linton, gravely; "pray command me in any part of your plan where I may be serviceable."

"The plan is this," said Cashel: "here is a case where a terrible calamity has befallen, and which can be made worse only by calumny. To make the slanderer pay the heaviest penalty of his infamy--"

"Nay, nay; this is not our plan," said Tiernay, gently. "Lord Kilgoff's attack must be spoken of without connection with any circ.u.mstances which preceded it this evening. Nothing was more likely to occur than such a seizure; his age, his late illness, his peculiar habit, all predisposed to it."

"Just so," interposed Cashel, hastily; "and as none, save you, Linton, and myself, know anything of the matter, it need never gain wider publicity."

"Of course nothing can be easier than this. The Lady 'Janets' need never hear a word more than you choose to tell them," said Linton.

"In a few days he will bear removal. Change will be necessary for him; and, in fact, our caution is, doubtless, greater than the necessity warrants," added Tiernay.

"You will, of course, leave everything to take its course in the house?"

said Linton. "To interfere with all the plans of pleasure would be to give rise to malicious rumors."

"I scarcely know how to act," said Cashel. "It looks unfeeling and unkind that we should give ourselves up to gayety at such a moment."

"Mr. Linton's counsel may be wise, notwithstanding," said Tiernay. "His Lordship may continue a long time in his present state."

"Exactly what I mean," said Linton. "He will probably linger on, unchanged; so that if events follow their habitual train, there will be little time or temptation to spread scandal about him; and then, what, at first blush, seems to lack kindness, is, in reality, the very truest and most considerate service we can render."

"Then you will look to this part of the matter, Linton?" said Cashel, on whom his apparent frankness had resumed its former ascendancy.

"Leave it all to me," said he; "and so good-night." And, with that, he departed, leaving Cashel and Tiernay together.

They were silent for some minutes, as Linton's retiring steps were heard going towards his own room. Soon after the loud bang of a door resounded through the house, and all was still. Little knew they, that scarcely had he gained his room than he left it noiselessly, and, slipping down the great stairs, crossed the hall, and, entering the theatre, proceeded by the secret pa.s.sage which led to Cashel's dressing-room, and through the thin panel that covered which, he could easily overhear whatever was spoken within.

"At least you will allow that he has been candid with us here?" said Cashel, in a tone of remonstrance.

"I cannot afford to give a man my confidence, because I am unable to sound his intentions," said Tiernay. "I disliked this Linton from the first, and I never yet saw any distinct reason to alter the sentiment.

That he has puzzled me--ay, completely puzzled me and all my calculations, within the last few days, is quite true. He has done that which, in a man like himself, disconcerts one altogether, because it is so difficult to trace his probable motive. What would you say, were I to tell you that this deep man of the world, this artful and subtle gambler in the game of life, has actually proposed for a girl who is utterly without fortune or family influence? That she is endowed with n.o.ble attributes--that she is one a prince might have chosen to share his fortunes, I deem as nothing to the purpose, for I cannot conceive such qualities as hers could weigh with him; but so it is,--he has actually made an offer of his hand."

"Dare your confidence go further?" said Cashel, eagerly, "and tell me--to whom?"

"Yes. I have been guilty of one breach of faith in telling you so much, and I 'll hazard all, and let you hear the remainder. It was Mary Leicester."

"Mary Leicester!" echoed Cashel, but in a voice barely audible.

"Mary Leicester," continued Tiernay, "may count it among her triumphs to have attracted one whom all the world regards as an adventurer; a man living by the exercise of his clever wits, profiting by the weaknesses and follies of his acquaintances, and deriving his subsistence from the vices he knows how to pamper."

"And what answer has he received?" asked Cashel, timidly.

"None, as yet. Poor Corrigan, overwhelmed by misfortune, threatened by one whose menace, if enforced, would be his death-stroke, has begged for a day or two to consider; but the reply is certain."

"And will be--" Cashel could not command his emotion as he spoke.

"Refusal."

"You are certain of this, Tiernay? You are positive of what you say?"

"I know it. My old friend, were, he even inclined to this alliance, could never coerce her; and Mary Leicester has long since learned to distinguish between the agreeable qualities of a clever man and the artful devices of a treacherous one. She knows him; she reads him thoroughly, and as thoroughly she despises him. I will not say that her impressions have been unaided; she received more than one letter from a kind friend--Lady Kilgoff; and these were her first warnings. Poor Corrigan knows nothing of this; and Mary, seeing how Linton's society was pleasurable to the old man, actually shrank from the task of undeceiving him. 'He has so few pleasures,' said she to me one evening; 'why deny him this one?'--'It is a poison which cannot injure in small doses, doctor,' added she, another time; and so, half jestingly, she reasoned, submitting to an intimacy that was odious to her, because it added a gleam of comfort to the chill twilight of his declining life."

"And you are sure of this--you are certain she will refuse him?" cried Cashel, eagerly.

"I am her confidant," said Tiernay; "and you see how worthily I repay the trust! Nay, nay! I would not tell these things to any other living; but I feel that I owe them to you. I have seen more misery in life from concealment, from the delicacy that shuns a frank avowal, than from all the falsehood that ever blackened a bad heart. Mary has told me all her secrets; ay--don't blush so deeply--and some of yours also."

Cashel did indeed grow red at this speech, and, in his effort to conceal his shame, a.s.sumed an air of dissatisfaction.

"Not so, my dear young friend," said Tiernay; "I did not mean to say one word which could offend you. Mary has indeed trusted me with the secret nearest to her heart She has told me of the proudest moment of her life."

"When she rejected me?" said Cashel, bitterly.

"So was it--when she rejected you," re-echoed Tiernay. "When poor, she refused wealth; when friendless in all that friendship can profit, she declined protection; when almost homeless, she refused a home; when sought by one whom alone of all the world she preferred, she said him nay! It was at that moment of self-sacrifice, when she abandoned every thought of present happiness and of future hope, and devoted herself to one humble but holy duty, she felt the ecstasy of a martyr's triumph.

You may think that these are exaggerations, and that I reckon at too exalted a standard such evidences of affection, but I do not think so.

I believe that there is more courage in the patient submission to an obscure and unnoticed fortune, beset with daily trials and privations, than in braving the stake or the scaffold, with human sympathies to exalt the sacrifice."

"But I offered to share this duty with her; to be a son to him whom she regarded as a father."

"How little you know of the cares--the thoughtful, watchful, anxious cares--you were willing to share! You could give wealth and splendor, it is true; you could confer all the blandishments of fortune, all the luxuries that rich men command; but one hour of gentle solicitude in sickness--one kind look, that recalled years of tenderness--one accustomed service, the tribute of affection--were worth all that gold could purchase, told ten times over. And these are not to be acquired; they are the instincts that, born in childhood, grow strong with years, till at length they form that atmosphere of love in which parents live among their children. No! Mary felt that it were a treason to rob her poor old grandfather of even a thought that should be his."

"But, I repeat it," cried Cashel, pa.s.sionately, "I would partic.i.p.ate in every care; I would share her duties, as she should share my fortunes."

"And what guarantee did you give for your fitness to such a task?" said Tiernay. "Was it by your life of pleasure, a career of wild and wasteful extravagance--was it by the unbridled freedom with which you followed every impulse of your will--was it by the example your friendships exhibited--was it by an indiscriminating generosity, that only throws a shade over better-regulated munificence, you would show that you were suited to a life of un.o.btrusive, humble duties?"

"You wrong me," said Cashel. "I would have lived in that cottage yonder, without a thought or a wish for the costly pleasures you think have such attractions for me."

"You had already sold it to your friend."

"Sold it I--never!--to whom?"

"I thought Linton had purchased it."

"Never!"

"Well, you gave it as a gift?"