Cashel paced the room hurriedly; and what a whirlwind of opposing thoughts rushed through his brain! for while at times all Lady Kilgoff s warnings about Linton, all his own suspicions of his duplicity and deceit, were uppermost, there was still enough in Linton's narrative, were it true, to account for Lady Kilgoff's hatred of him. The counsels _he_ had given, and _she_ rejected, were enough to furnish a feud forever between them. At which side lay the truth? And then, this letter about Maritaña,--who was the writer? Could it be Linton himself? and if so, would he have ventured to allude to it? These thoughts harassed and distressed him at every instant, and in his present feeling towards Linton he could not ask his aid to solve the mystery. Now, he was half disposed to charge him with the whole slander; his passion prompted him to seek an object for his vengeance, and the very cool air of indifference Linton assumed was provocative of anger. The next moment, he felt ashamed of such intemperate warmth, and almost persuaded himself to tell him of his proposal for Mary Leicester, and thus prove the injustice of the suspicion about Lady Kilgoff. “There's a tap at the door, I think,” said Linton. “I suppose, if it's Frobisher, or any of them, you'd rather not be bored?” And, as if divining the answer, he arose and opened it. “Lord Kilgoff's compliments, and requests Mr. Linton will come over to his room,” said his Lordship's valet. “Very well,” said Linton, and closed the door. “What can the old peer want at this time of night? Am I to bring a message to you, Cashel?” Cashel gave an insolent laugh. “Or shall I tell him the story of Davoust at Hamburg, when the Syndicate accused him of peculating, and mentioned some millions that he had abstracted from the treasury. 'All untrue, gentlemen,' said he; 'I never heard of the money before, but since you have been polite enough to mention the fact, I 'll not show myself so ungrateful as to forget it.' Do you think Kilgoff would see the _à propos?_” With this speech, uttered in that half-jocular mood habitual to him, Linton left the room, while Cashel continued to ponder over the late scene, and its probable consequences; not the least serious of which was, that Linton was possessor of his secrets. Now thinking upon what he had just heard of Lady Kilgoff, now picturing to himself how Mary Leicester would regard his pledge to Maritaña, he walked impatiently up and down, when the door opened, and Linton appeared. “Just as I surmised!” said he, throwing himself into a chair, and laughing heartily. “My Lord will be satisfied with nothing but a duel _à mort_.” “I see no cause for mirth in such a contingency,” said Cashel, gravely; “the very rumor of it would ruin Lady Kilgoff.” “That of course is a grave consideration,” said Linton, affecting seriousness; “but it is still more his than yours.”