master's previous intention.

His intimacy with the family at the cottage left it possible that they
might know something of his movements and Cashel accordingly despatched
a messenger thither to ask; but with the same fruitless result as every
previous inquiry.

While Cashel was following up this search with a degree of interest that
increased as the difficulty augmented, he little knew how watchfully his
every word and gesture was noted down by one who stood at his side.
This was Mr. Phillis, who, while seeming to participate in his master's
astonishment, threw out from time to time certain strange, vague hints,
less suggestive of his own opinions than as baits to attract those of
his master.

"Very odd, indeed, sir,--very strange; so regular a gentleman,
too,--always rising at the same hour. His man says, he 's like the
clock. To be sure," added he, after a pause, "his manner is changed of
late."

"How do you mean?" asked Cashel, hurriedly.

"He seems anxious, sir,--uneasy, as one might say."

"I have not perceived it."

"His man says--"

"What care I for that?" said Cashel, impatiently. "It is not to pry
into Mr. Linton's habits that I am here, it is to assure myself that
no accident has happened to him, and that if he stand in need of my
assistance, I shall not be neglecting him. Tell two of the grooms to
take horses and ride down to Killaloe and Dunkeeran, and ask at the inns
there if he has been seen. Let them make inquiry, too, along the road."
With these directions, hastily given, he returned to the drawing-room,
his mind far more interested in the event than he knew how to account
for.

"No tidings of Tom?" said Lord Charles Frobisher, lounging carelessly in
a well-cushioned chair.

Cashel made a sign in the negative.

"Well, it's always a satisfaction to his friends to know that he 'll not
come to harm," said he, with an ambiguous smile.

"The country is much disturbed at this moment," said the Chief Justice;
"the calendar was a very heavy one last assize. I trust no marauding
party may have laid hold of him."

"Ah, yes, that would be very sad indeed," sighed Meek; "mistaking him
for a spy."

"No great blunder, after all," said Lady Janet, almost loud enough for
other ears than her next neighbor's.

"If the night were moonlight," said Miss Meek, as she opened a shutter
and peeped out into the darkness, "I 'd say he was trying those fences
we have laid out for the hurdle-race."

"By Jov