“It will do so, however—and ere long. These people, who were immensely rich some time back, are now, by one of the convulsions so frequent in those countries, reduced to absolute poverty. They will, doubtless, follow Cashel here, and seek a fulfilment of his contract. I need not tell you, Mr. Linton, what must ensue on such a demand; it would be hard to say whether acceptance or refusal would be worse. In a word, the father-in-law is a man of such a character, there is only one thing would be more ruinous than his enmity, and that is, any alliance with him. Let him but arrive in this country, and every gentleman of station and class will fall back from Cashel's intimacy; and even those—I 'll not mention names,” said he, smiling—“who could gloss over some of their prejudices with gold-leaf, will soon discover that a shrewder eye than Cashel's will be on them, and that all attempts to profit by his easiness of temper and reckless nature will be met by one who has never yet been foiled in a game of artifice and deceit.”
“Then I perceive we have a very short tether,” said Linton, gravely; “when may this worthy gentleman be-looked for?”
“At any moment. I believe early in spring, however, will be the time.”
“Well, that gives us a few months; during which I must contrive to get in for this borough of Derraheeny—But hark! is that a carriage at the door?—yes, by Jove! the Kennyfecks. I remember, he had asked them to-day to come and see his pictures. I say, Hoare, step out by the back way; we must not be caught together here. I 'll make my escape afterwards.”
Already the thundering knock of the footman resounded through lie house, and Hoare, not losing a moment, left the library, and hastened through the garden at the rear of the house; while Linton, seizing some writing materials, hurried upstairs, and established himself in a small boudoir off one of the drawing-rooms, carefully letting down the Venetians as he entered, and leaving the chamber but half lighted; this done, he drew a screen in front of him, and waited patiently.
CHAPTER XXII. VISIT TO THE “CASHEL PICTURE GALLERY.”
Ignored the schools of France and Spain,
And of the Netherlands not surer,
He knew not Cuyp from Claude Lorraine,
Nor Dow from Albert Durer.
Bell: Images.
Scarcely had the Kennyfecks' carriage driven from the door when the stately equipage of the MacFarlines drew up, which was soon after followed by the very small pony phaeton of Mrs. Leicester White, that lady herself driving, and having for her companion a large high-shouldered, spectacled gentleman, whose glances, at once inquiring and critical, pronounced him as one of her numerous protégés in art, science, or letters.
This visit to the “Cashel Gallery,” as she somewhat grandiloquently designated the collection, had been a thing of her own planning; first, because Mrs. White was an adept in that skilful diplomacy which so happily makes plans for pleasure at other people's houses—and oh, what numbers there are!—delightful, charming people as the world calls them! whose gift goes no further than this, that they keep a registry of their friends' accommodation, and know to a nicety the season to dine here, to sup there, to picnic at one place, and to “spend the day”—horrible expression of a more horrible fact—at another. But Mrs. White had also another object in view on the present occasion, which was, to introduce her companion, Mr. Elias Howie, to her Dublin acquaintance.