When Tiernay entered the library he was heated with his walk, and his face betrayed unmistakable signs of recent irritation; indeed, he did not long conceal the reason.
“Is it true, Mr. Cashel, that Mr. Linton is your nominee for the borough of Derraheeny?”
“Yes; what of that?”
“Why, that he canvasses the constituency in a fashion we have not yet been accustomed to; at least your tenants, of whom I am one, are told that our votes are the condition on which our leases will receive renewal; that you will not brook opposition in any one who holds under you. Are these your sentiments, Mr. Cashel, or only his?”
“Not mine, assuredly,” replied Cashel, gravely.
“I said as much. I told several of my neighbors that if this mode of canvass had your sanction, it was from not knowing the privileges of an elector.”
“I neither sanctioned nor knew of it,” rejoined Cashel, eagerly.
“So much the better—at least for me,” said Tiernay, seating himself at the breakfast-table, “for I shall not lose a good breakfast, as I should have been forced to do had these been your intentions.”
“I would observe, Dr. Tiernay,” interposed Kennyfeck, mildly, “that the borough, being entirely the property of Mr. Cashel, its charities maintained by his bounty, and its schools supported at his cost, he has a fair claim on the gratitude of those who benefit by his benevolence.”
“Let him stand himself for the borough, and we 'll not deny the debt,” said Tiernay, roughly; “but if for every ten he should expend a hundred, ay, sir, or a thousand, on the village, I 'd not vote for Mr. Linton.”