“He seems anxious, sir,—uneasy, as one might say.”
“I have not perceived it.”
“His man says—”
“What care I for that?” said Cashel, impatiently. “It is not to pry into Mr. Linton's habits that I am here, it is to assure myself that no accident has happened to him, and that if he stand in need of my assistance, I shall not be neglecting him. Tell two of the grooms to take horses and ride down to Killaloe and Dunkeeran, and ask at the inns there if he has been seen. Let them make inquiry, too, along the road.” With these directions, hastily given, he returned to the drawing-room, his mind far more interested in the event than he knew how to account for.
“No tidings of Tom?” said Lord Charles Frobisher, lounging carelessly in a well-cushioned chair.
Cashel made a sign in the negative.
“Well, it's always a satisfaction to his friends to know that he 'll not come to harm,” said he, with an ambiguous smile.
“The country is much disturbed at this moment,” said the Chief Justice; “the calendar was a very heavy one last assize. I trust no marauding party may have laid hold of him.”
“Ah, yes, that would be very sad indeed,” sighed Meek; “mistaking him for a spy.”
“No great blunder, after all,” said Lady Janet, almost loud enough for other ears than her next neighbor's.