admired; how will she accept
this seclusion? I don't speak of the present case; besides, I suppose
that this country visit would bore her beyond measure. But how will
she regard it in other instances? Is it not an implied fear on your
Lordship's part? you, who have really nothing to dread in competition
with any man. I only know, if I were in your place, how I should
actually seize the very opportunity of openly flouting such calumnious
rumor; never was there an occasion to do so on cheaper terms. This
Roland Cashel is an underbred boy."

"There is a great deal in what you say, Linton. But as jealousy is a
feeling of which I have never had any experience, I was only anxious on
Lady Kilgoff's account, that the thoughtless gayety of a very young and
handsome woman should not expose her to the sarcastic insinuations of an
impertinent world. She _is_ gay in manner; there _is_ an air of lively
imagination--"

"No more than what the French call '_amabilite_,' my Lord, which,
like the famed armor of Milan is not the less defensive that it is so
beautiful in all its details."

"Well, then, I 'll not send the note," said Lord Kilgoff, as he took
up the letter, and tearing it, threw the fragments into the fire; "of
course, Linton, this conversation is strictly confidential?"

"Your Lordship has never found me unworthy of such a trust."

"Never; nor, I must say, would it be for your advantage to become so."

Linton bit his lip, and for a second or two seemed burning to make a
rejoinder; but overcoming the temptation, assumed his careless smile,
and said,--

"I leave you, my Lord, greatly gratified that chance led me to pay this
visit. I sincerely believe, that in the counsels I have offered, I have
at least been able to be of service to you."

Lord Kilgoff presented his hand in acknowledgment of the speech, but it
was accorded with an air which seemed to say, "Well, here is a receipt
in full for your devotedness."

Linton took it in the same spirit, and left the room, as though deeply
impressed with all the honor he enjoyed in such a noble friendship.

Hastening down the stairs, he sprang into the saddle of his horse, and
cantering up the street, turned towards the road which leads to the
Phoenix Park. It was about the hour when the equipages were wont to
throng that promenade, but Linton did not seem desirous of joining that
gay crowd, for he took a cross-path through the fields, and after a
sharp ride of half-an-hour