“And what guarantee did you give for your fitness to such a task?” said Tiernay. “Was it by your life of pleasure, a career of wild and wasteful extravagance—was it by the unbridled freedom with which you followed every impulse of your will—was it by the example your friendships exhibited—was it by an indiscriminating generosity, that only throws a shade over better-regulated munificence, you would show that you were suited to a life of unobtrusive, humble duties?”
“You wrong me,” said Cashel. “I would have lived in that cottage yonder, without a thought or a wish for the costly pleasures you think have such attractions for me.”
“You had already sold it to your friend.”
“Sold it I—never!—to whom?”
“I thought Linton had purchased it.”
“Never!”
“Well, you gave it as a gift?”
“I did intend to do so; but seeing the value Corrigan puts upon it, I will give Linton double—thrice the value, rather than part with it.”
“What if he refuse?”
“He will not. Linton's fancies never run counter to solid advantages. A thousand pounds, with him, is always twice five hundred, come with what condition it may.”