He stood looking after the horses as they retired, and it seemed as if his thoughts were following them, so intent was his gaze; but, long after they had disappeared, he remained standing in the same place, his features still wearing the same expression of highly-wrought occupation. The spot where he stood was a little eminence, from which the view stretched, upon one side, over the waving woods of the demesne, and, on the other, showed glimpses of the Shannon, as, in its sweeping curves, it indented the margin of the grounds. Perhaps not another point could be found which displayed so happily the extent and importance of the demesne, and yet concealed so well whatever detracted from its picturesque effect. The neighboring village of Derra-heeny--a poor, straggling, ruinous street of thatched hovels, like most Irish villages--was altogether hidden from view; while of the great house itself,--an object with few pretensions to architectural elegance,--only so much was visible as indicated its size and extent. The little cottage of Tubber-beg, however, could be seen entire, glittering in the morning's sun like a gem, its bright-leaved hollies and dark laurels forming a little grove of foliage in the midst of winter's barrenness. If this was by far the most striking object of the picture, it was not that which attracted most of Linton's attention. On the contrary, his eye ranged more willingly over the wide woods which stretched for miles along the river's side, and rose and fell in many a gentle undulation inland. A commonplace observer, had such been there to mark him, would have pronounced him one passionately devoted to scenery,--a man who loved to watch the passing cloud-shadows of a landscape, enjoying with all a painter's delight the varying tints, the graceful lines, the sharp-thrown shadows, and the brilliant lights of a woodland picture; a deeper physiognomist would, however, have seen that the stern stare and the compressed lip, the intense preoccupation which every feature exhibited, did not denote a mind bent upon such themes. “Tom Linton, of Tubbermore,” said he, at length,--and it seemed as if uttering the words gave relief to his overburdened faculties, for his face relaxed, and his habitual easy smile returned to his mouth,--“Linton, of Tubbermore; it sounds well, too.” And then the great game! that game for which I have pined so long and wished so ardently,--which I have stood by and seen others play and lose, where I could have won,--ay, won rank, honor, station, and fame. The heaviest curse that lies on men like me is to watch those who rise to eminence in the world, and know their utter shallowness and incapacity. There will soon be an end to that now.