The chief object of his return to Tubbermore was to regain possession of that document which he had concealed in the cleft of a beech-tree, before scaling the approach to the window. He found the spot without difficulty, and soon possessed himself of the paper, the contents of which, however, from being conveyed in a character he was not familiar with, he could not master. He next proceeded to the gate-lodge, desirous to see Keane, and make some arrangement for his future support before he should leave Tubbermore. The man, however, was absent; his wife, whose manner betrayed considerable emotion, said that her husband had returned in company with another, who remained without, while he hastily packed a few articles of clothing in a bundle, and then left the house, whither to she knew not. Roland's last visit was to Tiernay's house; but he, too, was from home. He had accompanied Corrigan to Dublin, intending to take leave of him there; but a few hurried lines told that he had resolved to proceed further with his friends, and darkly hinting that his return to the village was more than doubtful. Wherever Cashel turned, desertion and desolation met him; and the cutting question that ever recurred to his mind was, “Is this _my_ doing? Are these the consequences of _my_ folly?” The looks of the villagers seemed to tally with the accusation, as in cold respect they touched their hats as he passed, but never spoke: “not one said God bless him.” He twice set out for the cottage, and twice turned back,--his over-full heart almost choked with emotion. The very path that led thither reminded him too fully of the past, and he turned from it into the wood, to wander about for hours long, lost in thought. He sought and found relief in planning out something for his future life. The discovery of the murderer--the clearing up of the terrible mystery that involved that crime--had become a duty, and he resolved to apply himself to it steadily and determinedly. His unacquitted debt of vengeance on Linton, too, was not forgotten. These accomplished, he resolved again to betake himself to the “new world beyond seas.” Wealth had become distasteful to him; it was associated with all that lowered and humiliated him. He felt that with poverty his manly reliance, his courageous daring to confront danger, would return,--that once more upon the wild prairie, or the blue waters of the Pacific, he would grow young of heart, and high in spirit, forgetting the puerile follies into which a life of affluence had led him. “Would that I could believe it all a dream!” thought he. “Would that this whole year were but a vision, and that I could go back to what I once was, even as 'the buccaneer,' they called me!”