“I 'm self-willed enough to follow my own bent generally,” said he, abruptly, and left the room.
“You owe that gentleman a heavy grudge, Livy,” said Miss Kennyfeck, as she approached the window and looked out.
“Who do you mean, dear?”
“Mr. Linton. Were it not for him, I half think you might have succeeded.”
“I really cannot comprehend you,” said the younger, with well-assumed astonishment.
“Of course not, my dear. Still, it was a difficult game, even if left all to yourself. He was always likely to smash the tackle at the moment when almost caught. There, don't look so puzzled, dear; I was only following out a little reverie,—that's all.”
Meanwhile Cashel hastily descended the stairs, not over good-humoredly commenting on Mr. Kennyfeck's ill-chosen moment for a business conversation. “I can only stay a few minutes, or rather seconds,” cried he, as he opened the door of the study; and then checked himself as he perceived a short, stout elderly man, of venerable appearance, who rose respectfully from his chair as he came in.
“Doctor Tiernay, Mr. Cashel,” said Kennyfeck, presenting the stranger. “I have taken the liberty to delay you, sir, since it would be a great convenience if you could accord this gentleman a brief hearing at present; he has come above a hundred miles to crave it, and must leave Dublin by the afternoon mail.”
“Without it be Mr. Cashel's pleasure to detain me,” said the doctor, submissively.
“He is a tenant of your Tubbermore estate, sir,” resumed Kennyfeck, “a very near neighbor.”