“Or shall I tell him the story of Davoust at Hamburg, when the Syndicate accused him of peculating, and mentioned some millions that he had abstracted from the treasury. 'All untrue, gentlemen,' said he; 'I never heard of the money before, but since you have been polite enough to mention the fact, I 'll not show myself so ungrateful as to forget it.' Do you think Kilgoff would see the à propos?”
With this speech, uttered in that half-jocular mood habitual to him, Linton left the room, while Cashel continued to ponder over the late scene, and its probable consequences; not the least serious of which was, that Linton was possessor of his secrets. Now thinking upon what he had just heard of Lady Kilgoff, now picturing to himself how Mary Leicester would regard his pledge to Maritaña, he walked impatiently up and down, when the door opened, and Linton appeared.
“Just as I surmised!” said he, throwing himself into a chair, and laughing heartily. “My Lord will be satisfied with nothing but a duel à mort.”
“I see no cause for mirth in such a contingency,” said Cashel, gravely; “the very rumor of it would ruin Lady Kilgoff.”
“That of course is a grave consideration,” said Linton, affecting seriousness; “but it is still more his than yours.”
“He is a dotard!” said Cashel, passionately, “and not to be thought of; she is young, beautiful, and unprotected. Her fortune is a hard one already, nor is there any need to make it still more cruel.”
“I half doubt she would think it so!” said Linton, with an air of levity, as he stooped to select a cigar.
“How do you mean, sir?” cried Cashel, angrily.
“Why, simply that, when you shoot my Lord, you'll scarcely desert my Lady,” said he, with the same easy manner.
“You surely told him that his suspicions were unfounded and unjust; that my intimacy, however prompted by the greatest admiration, had never transgressed the line of respect?”