d proceeded to take a careful and strict scrutiny of the two
letters; carefully spelling over each address, and poising them in his
hands, as if the weight could assist his guesses as to the contents.
"That's Mr. Kennyfeck's big seal. I know it well," said he, gazing on
the pretentious coat-of-arms which emblazoned the attorney's letter.
"I can make nothing of the other at all. 'Cornelius Corrigan, Esq.,
Tubber-beg, Derraheeny,'--sorra more!" It was in vain that he held it
open, lozenge fashion, to peep within; but one page only was written,
and he could not see that. Kennyfeck's letter was enclosed in an
envelope, so that here, too, he was balked, and at last was fain to
slip the newspaper from its cover,--a last resource to learn
something underhand! The newspaper did not contain anything peculiarly
interesting, save in a single paragraph, which announced the intention
of Roland Cashel, Esq., of Tubbermore Castle, to contest the county at
the approaching general election. "We are informed," said the writer,
"on competent authority, that this gentleman intends to make the
ancestral seat his chief residence in future, and that already
preparations are making to render this princely mansion in every respect
worthy of the vast fortune of its proprietor."
"Faith, and the 'princely mansion' requires a thing or two to make it
all perfect," said Tom, with a sardonic laugh; while in a lower tone he
muttered,--"maybe, for all the time he 'll stay there, it's not worth
his while to spend the money on it." Having re-read the paragraph, he
carefully replaced the paper in its cover, and continued his way, not,
however, towards his own home, but entering a little woodland path that
led direct towards the Shannon. After passing a short distance, he came
to a little low edge of beech and birch, through which a neat rustic
gate led and opened upon a closely shaven lawn. The neatly gravelled
walk, the flower-beds, the delicious perfume that was diffused on every
side, the occasional peeps at the eddying river, and the cottage itself
seen at intervals between the evergreens that studded the lawn, were
wide contrasts to the ruinous desolation of the "Great House;" and as
if unwilling to feel their influence, Tom pulled his hat deeper over his
brows, and never looked at either side as he advanced. The part of
the cottage towards which he was approaching contained a long veranda,
supported by pillars of rustic-work, within which, opening by
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