It was not without many a severe struggle, and many a heartfelt repining, Cashel felt himself surrender the free action of his natural independence to the petty and formal restrictions of a code like this. But there was an innate dread of notoriety, a sensitive shrinking from remark, that made him actually timid about transgressing whatever he was told to be an ordinance of fashion. To dress in a particular way; to frequent certain places; to be known to certain people; to go out at certain hours; and so on,—were become to his mind as the actual requirements of his station, and often did he regret the hour when he had parted with his untrammelled freedom to live a life of routine and monotony.
Shrinking, then, from any confidence in Linton, he next thought of Kennyfeck; and, although not placing a high value on his skill and correctness in such a difficulty, he resolved, at all hazards, to consult him on the course to be followed. He had been often told how gladly Government favors the possessor of fortune and influence. “Now,” thought he, “is the time to test the problem. All of mine is at their service, if they but liberate my poor comrade.”
So saying to himself, he had just reached the hall, when the sound of wheels approached the door. A carriage drew up, and Linton, followed by Mr. Hoare, the money-lender, descended.
“Oh, I had entirely forgotten this affair,” cried Cashel, as he met them; “can we not fix another day?”
“Impossible, sir; I leave town to-night.”
“Another hour to-day, then?” said Cashel, impatiently.
“This will be very difficult, sir. I have some very pressing engagements, all of which were formed subject to your convenience in this business.”
“But while you are discussing the postponement, you could finish the whole affair,” cried Linton, drawing his arm within Cashel's, and leading him along towards the library. “By Jove! it does give a man a sublime idea of wealth, to be sure,” said he, laughing, “to see the cool indifference with which you can propose to defer an interview that brings you some fifteen thousand pounds. As for me, I 'd make the Viceroy himself play 'ante-chamber,' if little Hoare paid me a visit.”
“Well, be it so; only let us despatch,” said Cashel, “for I am anxious to catch Kennyfeck before he goes down to court.”
“I 'll not detain you many minutes, sir,” said Hoare, drawing forth a very capacious black leather pocket-book, and opening it on the table. “There are the bills, drawn as agreed upon,—at three and six months,—here is a statement of the charges for interest, commission, and—”