Rica's connection with Corrigan suggested to Linton's inventive mind the possibility of succeeding to that estate for which already he had perilled so much. His plan was to obtain from Corrigan a full renunciation of his claim to the property, and then to take the necessary steps to investigate the long dormant title. All their efforts to discover the old man's residence were, however, vain; for although they once obtained a clew to the fact, some information seemed to have apprised the others of their danger, and their abode was immediately changed.
It was with a strange thrill of mingled pain and pleasure Cashel heard Rica speak of his daughter Mary,—of her he had deserted for so many a year, and yet now yearned towards with an affection that sprang from his self-accusings. The terrible chastisement his own vices had inflicted on his lonely and deserted lot seemed never absent from his thoughts; and he would sit for hours silently, while the heavy tears rolled along his furrowed cheeks, and his strong, heaving bosom showed his agony.
The fruitlessness of their search after Maritaña in Paris, and the death of Tom Keane in the hospital, removed the only obstacles to their departure from that city; and Rica and Cashel, who now felt their fortunes bound up together, prepared to take their leave of Paris. The trial of Linton was to take place in Limerick, and thither Roland was summoned by the law-officers of the Crown. This sad duty accomplished, he was to accompany Rica to Columbia, whither some slight hope of recovering Maritaña induced him to proceed. As for Cashel, once in the old haunts of childhood, he had resolved never to quit them more.
Roland's arrangements for departure were soon made, and he repaired to the Embassy, where he had been invited to breakfast on the last morning of his stay. There was a certain bustle and movement in the courtyard which attracted his attention; and he saw two travelling-carriages, with an attendant “fourgon,” surrounded by servants, and loaded with all the preparations for a long journey.
“You have come in time, Mr. Cashel,” said the ambassador, as he shook hands with him, “to see our new minister at Florence, who is now on his way thither; and what will have more interest in your eyes, a very pretty girl, who has become the great literary character of our circles here. I regret much that she is about to leave us.”
Cashel bowed politely, but with the cold indifference of one for whom the tidings had no peculiar interest, and accompanied the ambassador into a salon, crowded with company.
“I have a young countryman to present to you, my Lord,” said his excellency, leading Cashel forward, “who I trust will wear a less sombre face in the sunny south than he has done in our northern latitudes. Mr. Roland Cashel—Lord Kilgoff.”
A sudden start of surprise was made by both, and Roland stood mute and thunderstruck as Lord Kilgoff advanced towards him with extended hand, and said,—
“Yes, Mr. Cashel, your old friend in better health and spirits than when last you saw him; and better able to thank you for much hospitality, and apologize for much injustice.”
“Let me have my share in both acknowledgments,” said Lady Kilgoff, rising, and taking Cashel's hand with much cordiality.