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 pondered oyer the card which, with a polite request for an interview, the servant had just delivered. “I cannot remember the name, if I ever heard it before; but should we not invite him to join us at breakfast?”
“Where is he, Simon?” asked Miss Leicester.
“At the door, miss, and a very nice-looking gentleman as ever I saw.”
“Say that I have been ill, Simon, and cannot walk to the door, and beg he'll be kind enough to come in to breakfast.”
With a manner where ease and deference were admirably blended, Linton entered the room, and apologizing for his intrusion, said, “I have come down here, sir, on a little business matter for my friend Roland Cashel, and I could not think of returning to town without making the acquaintance of one for whom my friend has already conceived the strongest feeling of interest and regard. It will be the first question I shall hear when I get back, 'Well, what of Mr. Corrigan, and how is he?'”
While making this speech, which he delivered in a tone of perfect frankness, he seemed never to have noticed the presence of Miss Leicester, who had retired a little as he entered the room, and now, on being introduced to her, made his acknowledgments with a grave courtesy.
“And so our young landlord is thinking of taking up his residence amongst us?” said Corrigan, as Linton assumed his place at the breakfast-table.
“For a few weeks he purposes to do so, but I question greatly if the tranquil pleasures and homely duties of a country life will continue long to attract him; he is very young, and the world so new to him, that he will scarcely settle down anywhere, or to anything, for some time to come.”
“Experience is a capital thing, no doubt, Mr. Linton; but I 'd rather trust the generous impulses of a good-hearted youth in a country like this, long neglected by its gentry. Let him once take an interest in the place and the people, and I'll vouch for the rest. Is he a sportsman?”
“He was, when in Mexico; but buffalo and antelope hunting are very different from what this country offers.”
“Does he read?—is he studious?” said Mary.
“Not even a newspaper, Miss Leicester. He is a fine, high-spirited, dashing fellow, and if good-nature and honorable intentions could compensate for defective education and training, he would be perfect.”
“They'll go very far, depend on it, Mr. Linton. In these days, a man of wealth can buy almost anything. Good sense, judgment, skill, are all in the market; but a generous nature and a warm heart are God's gifts, and can neither be grafted nor transplanted.”
“You'll like him, I'm certain, Mr. Corrigan.”
“I know I shall. I have reason for the anticipation; Tiernay told me the handsome words he used when according me a favor—and here comes the doctor himself.” And as he spoke, Dr. Tiernay entered the room, his flushed face and hurried breathing bespeaking a hasty walk. “Good-morrow, Tiernay. Mr. Linton, let me present our doctor; not the least among our local advantages, as you can tell your friend Mr. Cashel.”
“We've met before, sir,” said Tiernay, scanning, with a steady gaze, the countenance which, wreathed in smiles, seemed to invite rather than dread recognition.
“I am happy to be remembered, Dr. Tiernay,” said Linton, “although I fancy our meeting was too brief for much acquaintance; but we'll know each other better, I trust, hereafter.”
“No need, sir,” whispered Tiernay, as he passed close to his side; “I believe we read each other perfectly already.”
Linton smiled, and bowed, as though accepting the speech in some complimentary sense, and turned toward Miss Leicester, who was busily arranging some dried plants in a volume.
“These are not specimens of this neighborhood?” said Linton, taking up some heaths which are seldom found save in Alpine regions.
“Yes, sir,” interrupted Tiernay, “you 'll be surprised to find here productions which would not seem native to these wilds.”
“If you take an interest in such things,” said old Corrigan, “you can't have a better guide than my granddaughter and Tiernay; they know every crag and glen for twenty miles round; all I bargain for is, don't be late back for dinner. You 'll give us your company, I hope, sir, at six?”
Linton assented, with a cordial pleasure that delighted his inviter; and Mary, so happy to see the gratified expression of her grandfather's face, looked gratefully at the stranger for his polite compliance.
“A word with you, sir,” whispered Tiernay in Linton's ear; and he passed out into the little flower-garden, saying, as he went, “I 'll show Mr. Linton the grounds, Miss Mary, and you shall not have to neglect your household cares.”
Linton followed him without speaking, nor was a word interchanged between them till they had left the cottage a considerable distance behind them. “Well, sir,” said Linton, coming to a halt, and speaking in a voice of cold and steadfast purpose, “how far do you propose that I am to bear you company?”
“Only till we are beyond the danger of being overheard,” said Tiernay, turning round. “Here will do perfectly. You will doubtless say, sir, that in asking you for an explanation of why I see you in this cottage, that I am exceeding the bounds of what right and duty alone impose.”
“You anticipate me precisely,” said Linton, sarcastically, “and to save you the embarrassment of so obviously impertinent a proceeding, I beg to say that I shall neither afford you the slightest satisfaction on this or any other subject of inquiry. Now, sir, what next?”
“Do you forget the occasion of our first meeting?” said the doctor, who actually was abashed beneath the practised effrontery of his adversary.
“Not in the least, sir. You permitted yourself on that occasion to take a liberty, which from your age and other circumstances I consented to pass unnoticed. I shall not always vouch for the same patient endurance on my part; and so pray be cautious how you provoke it.”
“It was at that meeting,” said the doctor, with passionate earnestness, “that I heard you endeavor to dissuade your friend from a favorable consideration of that man's claim, whose hospitality you now accept of. It was with an insolent sneer at Mr. Cashers simplicity—”
“Pray stop, sir; not too far, I beseech you. The whole affair, into which by some extraordinary self-delusion you consider yourself privileged to obtrude, is very simple. This cottage and the grounds appertaining to it are mine. This old gentleman, for whom I entertain the highest respect, is my tenant. The legal proof of what I say, I promise to submit to you within the week; and it was to rescue Mr. Cashel from the inconsistency of pledging himself to what was beyond his powers of performance, that I interfered. Your very ill-advised zeal prevented this; and rather than increase the awkwardness of a painful situation, I endured a very unprovoked and impertinent remark. Now, sir, you have the full explanation of my conduct, and my opinion of yours; and I see no reason to continue the interview.” So saying, Linton touched his hat and turned back towards the cottage.