fortune, so long favorable,
had changed at last; and that, in his own phrase, "the run had set in
against him." Now a half-muttered curse would burst from his lips over
the foolhardiness that had made him so dilatory, and not suffered him
to reap the harvest when it was ripe; now a deep-breathed vow, that if
fate were propitious once again, no matter bow short the interval, he
would strike his blow, come what might of it Sometimes he blamed himself
for having deserted the safe and easy road to ruin by play, for the
ambitious course he had followed; at other times he inveighed against
his folly for not carrying off Mary Leicester before Cashel had acquired
any intimacy at the cottage. Burning and half-maddened with this
conflict of regrets and hopes, he touched the spring, moved back the
panel, and entered Cashel's room.

His first care was to see that the door from the corridor was secured on
the inside; his next, to close the shutters and draw the curtains.
These done, he lighted the candles on the table, and proceeded to make
a systematic search through the entire chamber. "It is my last visit
here," said he to himself; "I must take care to do my work cleanly." A
mass of papers had been that morning left behind him by Cashel, most of
them legal documents referring to his transactions with Hoare; but
some were memoranda of his intentions respecting Corrigan, and
plainly showing that Cashel well remembered he had never completed his
assignment to Linton. "If Keane's hand has not faltered," muttered he,
"Master Roland's memory will not be taxed in this world at least; but
where to discover the deed? that is the question." In his anxiety on
this bead, he ransacked drawers and cabinets with wild and furious
haste, strewing their contents around him, or wantonly throwing them
on the fire. With false keys for every lock, he opened the most secret
depositories,--scarce glancing at letters which at any other time he
had devoured with interest. Many were from Lady Kil-goff, warning Cashel
against him; his own name, seen passingly, would arrest his attention
for a second, but the weightier interest soon intervened, and he would
throw the papers from him with contempt. "How shrewd! how very cunning!"
muttered he, once or twice, as his glance caught some suspicion, some
assumed clew to his own motives, in her well-known handwriting. Baffled
by the unsuccessful result of his search, he stood in the midst of the
floor, surrounded by