“One word more. Is the document of such a nature that leaves him no case whatever? Is all the ground cut away beneath his feet?”
“Every inch of it. Once more, good-bye. Here is your parchment; keep it safely. There are few men in this city hold in their hands a paper of such moment.”
“I'll take good care of it,” said Linton, sententiously; “and so good-bye, and a safe journey to you. I 'll not forget our conversation of this morning; Meek shall hear of it before I sleep to-night. Adieu.”
“The richest heiress in the land, and Cashel a beggar,” repeated Linton, slowly, to himself, as the carriage drove off. “Charley Frobisher would say, 'Hedge on the double event,' but I 'll keep my book.” And, with this slang reflection, he sauntered into the inn to wait for his horses.
CHAPTER VIII. ROLAND DISCOVERS THAT HE HAS OVERDRAWN
—His counsel, like his physic,
If hard to take, was good when taken.
Village Worthies.
Long before the guests of Tubbermore were astir, Cashel sat in his library awaiting the arrival of Dr. Tiernay. In obedience to Roland's request, Mr. Kennyfeck was present, and affected to look over books or out of windows,—to scan over prints or inspect maps,—anything, in short, which should pass the time and shorten the interval of waiting, doubly awkward from being the first moment he had been alone with Cashel since his arrival. Cashel was silent and absorbed, and, more intent upon following out the train of his own thoughts, never noticed the various arts by which Kennyfeck affected to interest himself. The solicitor, too, bent from time to time a stealthy look on the young man, on whose features he had rarely seen the same traces of deep reflection.
At last, with a half start, as if suddenly awaking, Cashel sat up in his chair, and said,—
“Have I explained to you what Dr. Tiernay's business is here this morning? It is to make a proposition from Mr. Corrigan for the sale of his interest in Tubber-beg. He wishes to leave the country and go abroad.”