murmur of the accents
reached Linton's ears, but even from them he could gather the tone of
cheering and encouragement in which she spoke. At length he heard her
say, in a voice of almost tremulous enthusiasm, "It was so like you,
dear papa, not to tell this Mr. Cashel that you had yourself a claim,
and, as many think, a rightful one, to this same estate, and thus not
trouble the stream of his munificence."

"Nay, child, it had been as impolitic as unworthy to do so," said the
old man; "he who stoops to receive a favor should detract nothing from
the generous sentiment of the granter."

"For my part, I would tell him," said she, eagerly, "that his noble
conduct has forever barred my prosecuting such a claim, and that if,
to-morrow, the fairest proofs of my right should reach me, I'd throw
them in the fire."

"To get credit for such self-sacrifice, Mary, one must be independent
of all hypothesis; one must do, and not merely promise. Now, it would
be hard to expect Mr. Cashel to feel the same conviction I do, that this
confiscation was repealed by letters under the hand of Majesty itself.
The Brownes, through whom Cashel inherits, were the stewards of my
ancestors, entrusted with all their secret affairs, and cognizant of
all their family matters. From the humble position of dependents, they
suddenly sprang into wealth and fortune, and ended by purchasing the
very estate they once lived on as day-laborers,--sold as it was, like
all confiscated estates, for a mere fraction of its value."

"Oh, base ingratitude!"

"Worse still; it is said, and with great reason to believe it true, that
Hammond Browne, who was sent over to London by my great grandfather to
negotiate with the Government, actually received the free pardon and the
release of the confiscation, but concealed and made away with both, and,
to prevent my grandfather being driven to further pursuit, gave him the
lease of this cottage on the low terms we continue to hold it."

A low, faint cough from the old man warned his granddaughter of the
dangers of the night air, and she arose and closed the windows. They
still continued their conversation, but Linton, unable to hear more,
returned to his inn, deeply reflecting over the strange disclosures he
had overheard.

CHAPTER XXIV. BREAKFAST WITH MR. CORRIGAN.

How cold is treachery.

_Play_.

"Who can Mr. Linton be, my dear?" said old Mr. Corrigan, as he sat at
breakfast the next day, and