y
cool air of indifference Linton assumed was provocative of anger. The
next moment, he felt ashamed of such intemperate warmth, and almost
persuaded himself to tell him of his proposal for Mary Leicester, and
thus prove the injustice of the suspicion about Lady Kilgoff.

"There's a tap at the door, I think," said Linton. "I suppose, if
it's Frobisher, or any of them, you'd rather not be bored?" And, as if
divining the answer, he arose and opened it.

"Lord Kilgoff's compliments, and requests Mr. Linton will come over to
his room," said his Lordship's valet.

"Very well," said Linton, and closed the door. "What can the old peer
want at this time of night? Am I to bring a message to you, Cashel?"

Cashel gave an insolent laugh.

"Or shall I tell him the story of Davoust at Hamburg, when the Syndicate
accused him of peculating, and mentioned some millions that he had
abstracted from the treasury. 'All untrue, gentlemen,' said he; 'I never
heard of the money before, but since you have been polite enough to
mention the fact, I 'll not show myself so ungrateful as to forget it.'
Do you think Kilgoff would see the _a propos?_"

With this speech, uttered in that half-jocular mood habitual to him,
Linton left the room, while Cashel continued to ponder over the late
scene, and its probable consequences; not the least serious of which
was, that Linton was possessor of his secrets. Now thinking upon what
he had just heard of Lady Kilgoff, now picturing to himself how Mary
Leicester would regard his pledge to Maritana, he walked impatiently up
and down, when the door opened, and Linton appeared.

"Just as I surmised!" said he, throwing himself into a chair, and
laughing heartily. "My Lord will be satisfied with nothing but a duel _a
mort_."

"I see no cause for mirth in such a contingency," said Cashel, gravely;
"the very rumor of it would ruin Lady Kilgoff."

"That of course is a grave consideration," said Linton, affecting
seriousness; "but it is still more his than yours."

"_He_ is a dotard!" said Cashel, passionately, "and not to be thought
of; _she_ is young, beautiful, and unprotected. Her fortune is a hard
one already, nor is there any need to make it still more cruel."

"I half doubt she would think it so!" said Linton, with an air of
levity, as he stooped to select a cigar.

"How do you mean, sir?" cried Cashel, angrily.

"Why, simply that, when you shoot my Lord, you'll scarcely desert my
Lady," said he,