“My Lord, one word,--only one,” said Cashel, eagerly; “I am sadly afflicted with the infirmity of hot temper, which never gives way more surely, nor more suddenly, than when accused wrongfully. Such is your Lordship doing at present. I would entreat you not to say what a very little calm reflection will call upon you to retract.” “This concerns me, sir, most of all,” said Lady Kilgoff, rising, and drawing herself proudly up. “These unworthy suspicions had never occurred to you had they not been prompted; but you might have believed that when I sacrificed all I have done for that rank of which so incessantly you remind me, that I would not rashly hazard the position for which I paid so dearly. Let us leave this now, my Lord; Mr. Cashel can scarcely desire a presence that has so ungratefully rewarded his hospitality, and I, at least, shall be spared the mortification of meeting one who has been a witness to such an outrage.” “This is not to end here, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, in a whisper to Cashel, who, more intent upon the words Lady Kilgoff had just uttered, carelessly answered,-- “As you will.” “Good-bye, Mr. Cashel,” said she, holding out her hand; “I wish I was leaving a better _souvenir_ behind me than the memory of this last scene.” “I will never remember it, madam,” said Cashel; “but I would beg that you may not let an incident so trivial, so perfectly devoid of everything like importance, hasten your going. Nothing save malevolence and calumny could suggest any other impression, and I would beseech you not to favor, by such a step as a hasty departure, the malice that scandal-lovers may circulate.” “This is matter for _my_ consideration, sir,” said Lord Kilgoflf, haughtily; while, drawing Lady Kilgoffs arm within his own, he made a vigorous attempt to move away with dignity. CHAPTER XX. LORD KILGOFF DETERMINES TO “MEET” ROLAND Is he not too old for such gambols? --Sir Raymond. Cashel was in no mood to join his company after such a scene, and hastening upstairs, he entered his dressing-room. What was his surprise to see that Linton was seated in an easy-chair, before the fire, enjoying a cigar and a new novel, with all the cool negligence of his unruffled nature. “At last!” cried he, as Cashel entered. “I have been waiting here most impatiently to know how you got through it.” “Through what!--how--what do you mean?” “That affair with Kilgoff. I slipped away when I saw that he _would_ enter the boudoir, after having coughed and sneezed like a grampus, in the hope of attracting your attention; but you were so confoundedly engrossed by my Lady's agreeability,--so excessively tender--” “Linton, I must stop you at once. I may barter some of my own self-respect for quietness' sake, and let you talk this way of me, but you shall not do so of another.” “Hang it, man, she is an older friend than yourself. I have known her these seven years--as little more than a child.”