“I did remark that,” said Cashel, gravely. “Well, to-night, when by mere accident Kilgoff and I had sauntered into the gallery and came upon you in the boudoir, I own frankly I was not sorry for it; unpleasant as such scenes are, they are better--a hundred thousand times better--than the sad consequences they anticipate; and even should anything take place personally, I 'd rather see you stand Kilgoff's fire at 'twelve paces,' than be exposed to the flash of my Lady's eye at 'one.'” “Your friendly zeal,” said Cashel, with a very peculiar emphasis on the words, “would seem to have got the upper hand of your habitually sharp perception; there was nothing to fear in any part of my intimacy with Lady Kilgoff. I have been but too short a time conversant with fashionable life to forget more vulgar habits, and, among them, that which forbids a man to pay his addresses to the wife of another. I need not vindicate her Ladyship; that she has taken a warm, I shame not to say an affectionate, interest in my fortunes, may have been imprudent I know not what your code admits of or rejects, but her kindness demands all my gratitude, and, if need be, the defence that a man of honor should always be ready to offer for the cause of truth.” “Don't you perceive, Cashel, that all you are saying only proves what I have been asserting,--that, while you are actually ignorant of your danger, the peril is but the greater? I repeat it to you, however intact _your_ heart may be, _hers_ is in your keeping. I know this; nay, I say it advisedly--don't shake your head and look so confident--I repeat it, I know this to be the case.” “You _know_ it?” said Cashel, as though Linton's words had startled his convictions. “I _know_ it, and I 'll prove it, but upon one condition--your word of honor as to secrecy.” Cashel nodded, and Linton went on. “Some short time back, some one, under the shelter of the anonymous, wrote her a letter, stating that they had long watched her intimacy with you--grieving over it, and regretting that she should have yielded any portion of her affection to one whose whole life had been a series of deceptions; that your perjuries in Love's Court were undeniable, and that you were actually married--legally and regularly married--to a young Spanish girl.” “Was this told her?” said Cashel, gasping for breath. “Yes, the very name was given--Maritaña, if I mistake not. Is there such a name?” Cashel bent his head slightly in assent. “How you had deserted this poor girl after having won her affections--”