in
such a manner that none could peep through the keyhole. He then walked
leisurely around the room; and although he knew there was no other
outlet, he cast a glance of scrutinizing import on every side, as if to
ensure himself that he was alone. This done, he opened a small cupboard
in the wall behind his bed, and took forth the iron box, in which, since
its discovery, he had always kept the pardon, as well as the forged
conveyance of Tubber-beg.

Linton placed the box before him on the table, and gazed at it in a kind
of rapture. "There," thought he, "lies the weapon by which at once I
achieve both fortune and revenge. Let events take what turn they will,
_there_ is a certain source of wealth. A great estate like this will
have its claimants; with me it rests who shall be the successful one."

A hurried knocking at the door interrupted the current of these musings;
and Linton, having replaced the casket in the press, unlocked the door.
It was Mr. Phillis, who, in all the gala of full dress, and with a rare
camellia in his button-hole, entered.

"Well, Phillis, is all going on as it ought?" said Linton, carelessly.

"Scarcely so, sir," said the soft-voiced functionary; "the house is
filling fast, but there is no one to receive the company; and they
are walking about staring at each other, and asking who is to do the
honors."

"Awkward, certainly," said Linton, coolly; "Lady Kilgoff ought to have
been the person."

"She is gone, sir," said Phillis.

"Gone! gone! When, and where?"

"I cannot say, sir; but my Lord and her Ladyship left this morning
early, with post-horses, taking the Dublin road."

Linton did not speak, but the swollen vein in his forehead, and the
red flush upon his brow, told how the tidings affected him. He had long
speculated on witnessing the agonies of her grief when the hour of his
revenge drew nigh; and this ecstasy of cruelty was now to be denied him.

"And my Lord--had he regained any consciousness, or was he still
insensible?"

"He appeared like a child, sir, when they lifted him into the carriage."

"And Lady Kilgoff?"

"She held her veil doubled over her face as she passed; but I thought
she sighed, and even sobbed, as she handed me this letter."

"'For Roland Cashel, Esquire,'" said Linton, reading as he took it. "Did
she speak at all, Phillis?"

"Not a word, sir. It was a sad-looking procession altogether, moving
away in the dim gray of the morning."

Linton placed the