Roland Cashel Volume Ii Part 44

"Within a fortnight."

"And this doc.u.ment--this release, was formal and explicit?"

"Perfectly so. I knew enough of law to make it obligatory. I stated the conditions for which it was given,--certain concessions that Mr. Cashel had lately granted me, respecting this small property."

Linton sat down, and covered his face with both hands. The trouble of his feelings had carried him far away from all thought of concealment, and of the part which so long he had been playing. Indeed, so insensible was he to every consideration save one, that he forgot Corrigan's presence--forgot where he was; and in the paroxysm of his baffled purpose, muttered half aloud broken curses upon the insane folly of the old man's act.

"I am compelled to remind you, sir, that I am a listener," said Mr.

Corrigan, whose face, suffused with a flush of anger, showed that the insulting remarks had been overheard by him.

"And this was done without advice or consultation with any one?" said Linton, not heeding the last remark, nor the look that accompanied it.

"I was free then, sir, to speak my grat.i.tude, as I now am to utter my indignation that you should dare to canva.s.s _my_ acts and question _my_ motives, both of which are above your control."

Linton stared at him almost vacantly; his own thoughts, and not the old man's words, had possession of his mind. With a rapidity of computation in which few were his equals, he ran over all the varying chances of success which had accompanied his game,--the pains he had taken to avert all cause of failure; the unwearying attention he had given to every minute point and doubtful issue,--and now, here, at the very last, came the ruin of all his plans, and wreck of all his hopes.

"You have said enough--more than enough, sir--to show me how disinterested were the views in which you sought my granddaughter in marriage," said Corrigan, haughtily; "nor would it much surprise me, now, were I to discover that he who is so skilful a double-dealer may be no less expert as a calumniator. I will beg you to leave my house this instant."

"Not so fast, sir," said Linton, a.s.suming a seat, and at once regaining that insolent composure for which he was noted; "I have not that generous warmth of character which is so conspicuous in _you_. I have never given Mr. Cashel a release of any obligation I possess upon him.

This house is _mine_, sir--mine by legal transfer and right; and it is _you_ who are the intruder!"

The old man staggered backwards, and leaned against the wall; a clammy perspiration covered his face and forehead, and he seemed sick to the very death. It was some time before he could even utter a word; and then, as with clasped hands and uplifted eyes he spoke, the fervor of his words told that they were heart-spoken. "Thank G.o.d for this! but for it, and I had given my child to a scoundrel!"

"Scarcely polite, sir, and, perhaps, scarcely politic," said Linton, with his treacherous half-smile. "It would be as well to bear in mind how we stand toward each other."

"As enemies, open and declared," cried Corrigan, fiercely.

"I should say as creditor and debtor," said Linton; "but probably we are speaking in synonyms. Now, sir, a truce to this altercation, for which I have neither time nor taste. Tell me frankly, can you obtain repossession of this unlucky doc.u.ment which, in an ill-starred moment, you parted with? If you can, and will do so, I am willing to resume the position I occupied towards you half an hour ago. This is plain speaking, I am aware; but how much better than to bandy mock courtesies, in which neither of us have any faith! We are both men of the world--I, at least, have no shame in saying that I am such. Let us then be frank and business-like."

"You have at last filled up the measure of your insults, sir," said Corrigan, fiercely; "you have dared to speak of me as of yourself."

"It is a compliment I have not paid a great many, notwithstanding,"

replied Linton, with a languid insolence of manner that contrasted strongly with the other's natural warmth; "and there are people in this world would accept it as a flattery; but once more I say, let us abandon this silly squabble. Will you, or will you not, accept my proposal? I am ready to purchase the wreck as she lies upon the rocks, wave-tossed and shattered. Is it not better to give me the chance of floating her, than see her go to pieces before your eyes, and drift piecemeal into the wide ocean?"

"Leave me, sir--leave me! =" was all the old man could utter.

"If I take you at your word," said Linton, rising, "remember that the last gleam of hope for you departs when I close that door behind me. I warn you that I am little given to relenting."

"Insolent scoundrel!" cried Corrigan, carried away by indignation.

"Unhandsomely spoken, old gentleman; such words are ill-befitting gray hairs and palsied hands, but I forgive them. I repeat, however, my nature is not over-disposed to forgiveness; an injury with me is like a malady that leaves its mark behind it. The day may come when all your entreaties, aided even by the fair supplications of a more gentle penitent--"

"If you dare, sir!" cried Corrigan, interrupting; and the insolence, schooled and practised in many a trial, quailed before the look and gesture of the old man.

"You shall have your choice, then," said Linton. "From henceforth you will have to confess that I am not a secret enemy." And so saying, he opened the sash which led into the garden and pa.s.sed out, leaving Corrigan overcome by emotion, and almost panic-stricken.

The deceptions which are practised on youth are seldom attended with lasting influence; but when they fall upon a heart chilled and saddened by age, they are stunning in their effect, and seldom, or never, admit of relief.

CHAPTER XXIV. GIOVANNI UNMASKED

Can sight and hearing--even touch deceive?

Or, is this real?

Play.

Probably, in all his varied life, Cashel had never pa.s.sed a day less to his satisfaction than that spent at Drumcoologan. His mind, already tortured by anxieties, was certainly not relieved by the spectacle that presented itself to his eyes. The fearful condition of a neglected Irish property, where want, crime, disease, and dest.i.tution were combined, was now seen by him for the first time. There was one predominant expression on and over everything,--"Despair." The almost roofless cabin, the scarce-clad children, the fevered father stretched upon his bed of clay, the starving mother, with a dying infant at her bosom, pa.s.sed before him like the dreadful images of a dream. And then he was to hear from his agent, that these were evils for which no remedy existed: "there had always been fever in Ireland;" "dirt they were used to;" want of clothing had become "natural" to them; falsehood was the first article of their creed; their poverty was only fict.i.tious,--this one owned several cows; the other had money in a savings' bank; and so on. In fact, he had to hear that every estate had its plague-spot of bad characters, where crime and infamy found a refuge; and that it might be poor morality, but good policy, to admit of the custom.

Confused by contradictory statements, wearied by explanations, to understand which nothing short of a life long should have pa.s.sed in studying the people,--imposed upon by some, unjust towards others,--he listened to interminable discussions without one gleam of enlightenment--and, what is far worse, without one ray of hope; the only piece of satisfaction he derived from the visit being, that h.o.a.re had consented to advance a sum of money upon mortgage of the property, which, in his secret soul, Cashel resolved should be a purchase, and not a mere loan. The object he had in view was to buy off Linton's claim upon the cottage; and having settled all his most pressing debts, to retire for some years to the Continent, till a sufficient sum should have acc.u.mulated to permit him to recommence his life as a country gentleman, in a manner and with views very different from what he had hitherto done. He hoped, by travel, to improve his mind and extend his knowledge; he trusted that, by observing the condition of the peasant in different countries of Europe, he might bring back with him certain suggestions applicable to his own tenantry; and, at all events, he determined that the resources of his large fortune should no longer be squandered in meaningless debauch, so long as real dest.i.tution and grinding misery lay at his very door. He made many a good and n.o.ble resolve, and, like most men in such cases, with youth on their side, he was impatient to begin to act upon them.

It was, then, with a feeling like that of a liberated prisoner, he heard from Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k that, although Mr. h.o.a.re and himself had yet many preliminaries to arrange, which might detain them several hours longer, he might now return homeward to Tubbermore, where his company were doubtless in anxious expectation of his coming. There were two roads which led to Drumcoologan,--one was a species of carriage-road, by which they had come that morning; the other was a mere bridle-path over the mountain, and though shorter in mileage, required fully as much time, if not more, to travel. Refusing the a.s.sistance of a guide, and preferring to be alone, he set out by himself, and on foot, to pursue the way homeward.

It was the afternoon of a sharp, clear winter's day, when the bracing air and the crisp atmosphere elevate the spirits, and make exercise the most pleasurable of stimulants; and as Cashel went along, he began to feel a return of that buoyancy of heart which had been so peculiarly his own in former days. The future, to which his hope already lent its bright colors, was rapidly erasing the past, and in the confidence of his youth he was fas.h.i.+oning a hundred schemes of life to come.

The path along which he travelled lay between two bleak and barren mountains, and followed the course of a little rivulet for several miles. There was not a cabin to be seen; not a trace of vegetation brightened the dreary picture; not a sheep, nor even a goat, wandered over the wild expanse. It was a solitude the most perfect that could be conceived. Roland often halted to look around him, and each time his eye wandered to a lofty peak of rock on the very summit of the mountain, and where something stood which he fancied might be a human figure. Although gifted with strong power of vision, the great height prevented his feeling any degree of certainty; so that he abandoned the effort, and proceeded on his way for miles without again thinking on the subject.

At last, as he was nearing the exit of the glen, he looked up once more; the cliff was now perceptible in its entire extent, and the figure was gone! He gave no further thought to the circ.u.mstance, but seeing that the day was declining fast, increased his speed, in order to reach the high-road before night closed in. Scarcely had he proceeded thus more than half a mile, when he perceived, full in front of him, about a couple of hundred yards distant, a man seated upon a stone beside the pathway. Cashel had been too long a wanderer in the wild regions of the "Far West," not to regard each new-comer as at least a possible enemy.

His prairie experience had taught him that men do not take their stand in lonely and unfrequented spots without an object; and so, without halting, which might have awakened suspicion in the other, he managed to slacken his pace somewhat, and thus gave himself more time for thought.

He well knew that, in certain parts of Ireland, landlord murder had become frequent; and although he could not charge himself with any act which should point him out as a victim, his was not a mind to waste in casuistry the moments that should be devoted more practically. He was perfectly unarmed, and this consideration rendered him doubly cautious.

The matter, however, had but few issues. To go back would be absurd; to halt where he was, still more so. There was nothing, then, for it but to advance; and he continued to do so, calmly and warily, till about twenty paces from the rock where the other sat, still and immovable. Then it was that, dropping on one knee, the stranger threw back a cloak that he wore, and took a deliberate aim at him.

The steady precision of the att.i.tude was enough to show Cashel that the man was well versed in the use of firearms. The distance was short, also, and the chance of escape consequently, the very smallest imaginable. Roland halted, and crossing his arms upon his breast, stood to receive the fire exactly as he would have done in a duel. The other never moved; his dark eye glanced along the barrel without blinking, and his iron grasp held the weapon still pointed at Cashel's heart.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 262]

"Fire!" cried Roland, with the loud utterance he would have used in giving the word of command; and scarcely was it spoken when the rifle was flung to the earth, and, springing to his feet, a tall and muscular man advanced with an outstretched hand to meet him.

"Don't you know me yet, Roland?" cried a deep voice in Spanish; "not remember your comrade?"

"What!" exclaimed Casbel, as he rubbed his eyes and shook himself as if to insure he was not dreaming. "This is surely impossible! you cannot be my old friend and s.h.i.+pmate Enrique!"

"That am I, my boy," cried the other, throwing his arms around him and embracing him in true Mexican fas.h.i.+on; "your own old comrade for many a year, who has sailed with you, fought with you, drunk with you, played with you, and swears now that he wishes for nothing but the old times over again."

"But how came you here? and when? By what chance did you discover me?"

said Roland, as he clasped the other's hand in both his own.

"'T is a long story, _amigo mio_ but you shall have it all one of these days."

"True; there will be time enough to tell it, for you shall not leave me, Enrique. I was longing for a face of an old comrade once again--one of the old 'Esmeralda's,' with whom my happiest days were pa.s.sed."

"I can well believe it," said Enrique; "and it was to see if wealth had not sapped your courage, as I know it has your high spirits, that I took aim at you, a while ago. Had you quailed, Roland, I almost think I could have pulled the trigger."

"And I had well deserved it, too," said Cashel, sternly. "But let us hasten forward. Enrique, I am longing to see an old friend beneath my roof,--longing to see you seated opposite to me, and answering the hundred questions about old friends and times that are thronging to my mind."

"No, Roland, my way lies thither," said he, pointing towards the west; "I have been too long your guest already."