e 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 assume
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 entitled 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 title-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 passion
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 h