The O'Donoghue Part 37

And thus, each speculated on the character of the other, and fancied how, by their own influence, it might be fashioned and moulded to a better form; nor was their interest lessened in each other's fortune from the fact, that it seemed to involve so much of mutual interposition.

"You should not walk this road so late," said Mark O'Donoghue, almost rudely, as he opened the door to admit them. "The smugglers are on the coast now, and frequently come up the glen at nightfall."

"Why not have come to be our escort, then?" said Kate, smiling.

"What? With the gay soldier for your guard," said he, bitterly.

"How knew you that, my worthy cousin?" said Kate, rapidly, and then, with a significant shake of the head, added, in a whisper--"I see there _are_ marauders about."

Mark blushed till his face became scarlet, and turning abruptly away, sought his own room in silence.

CHAPTER XXV. A DAY OF DIFFICULT NEGOCIATIONS

The time was now approaching when the Travers's were to remove to the capital, and, at Sybella's urgent entreaty, Sir Marmaduke was induced to request that Kate O'Donoghue might accompany them in their visit, and thus enjoy the pleasures of a winter in Dublin, then, second to no city of Europe, in all that const.i.tuted social excellence.

The note of invitation couched in terms the most flattering and cordial, arrived when the O'Donoghues were seated at breakfast, and, as was usual on all occasions of correspondence, was opened by Kate herself; scarcely had she thrown her eyes over its contents, when, with a heightened colour, and a slight tremor in her voice, she pa.s.sed the letter across the table to her uncle, and said--"This is for your consideration, sir."

"Then, you must read it for me, Kate," replied he; "for my ears have outlived my eyes."

"Shall I do it," interposed Sir Archy, who, having remarked some hesitation in Kate's manner, came thus good-naturedly to the rescue.

"With all my heart, Archy," said the O'Donoghue; "or rather, if you would do me a favour, just tell me what it is about--polite correspondence affects me pretty much as the ceremonies of bowing and salutation, when I have a fit of the gout. I become devilish impatient, and would give the world it was all over, and that I were back in my easy chair again."

"The politeness in the present case, lies less in the style than in the substance," said Sir Archy. "This is a vara civil, though, I must say, to me a vara unwelcome proposal, to take our darling Kate away from us, for a season, and show her some of the life and gaieties of the capital."

"Well, that is handsomely done, at least," said the O'Donoghue, whose first thought sprung from gratified pride, at the palpable evidence of social consideration; then suddenly changing his tone, he said in a low voice; "but what says Kate herself?"

Mark turned his eyes full upon her, as his father said these words, and as a deadly pallor came over his face, he sat steadfastly awaiting her reply, like one expecting the decree of a judge.

"Kate feels too happy here, sir, to risk anything by a change," replied she, avoiding, even for a second, to look towards where Mark was sitting.

"But you must not lose such an opportunity, dearest Kate;" whispered Herbert eagerly into her ear. "These are the scenes, and the places you are used to, and best fitted to enjoy and to adorn, and besides----"

A stern frown from Mark, who, if he had not overheard the speech, seemed to have guessed its import, suddenly arrested the youth, who now looked overwhelmed with confusion.

"We are a divided cabinet; that I see plainly enough, Kate;" said O'Donoghue; "though, if our hearts were to speak out, I'd warrant they would be of one mind. Still, this would be a selfish verdict, my dear girl, and a poor requital for all the happiness you have brought back to these old walls;" and the words were spoken with a degree of feeling that made all indisposed to break the silence that followed.

"I should like to see the capital, I own," said Kate, "if my absence were to be a short one."

"And I wad hae nae objection the capital should see yersel," said Sir Archy; "albeit, I may lose a sweetheart by my generosity."

"Have no fears of my fidelity," said Kate, laughing, as she extended her hand towards him, while, with antique gallantry, he pressed it to his lips. "The youth of this land are not, so far as my little experience goes, likely to supplant so true an admirer; they who have so little devotion to their country, may well be suspected of having less for its daughters."

Mark's brow grew dark with the flush that covered his face and forehead in an instant; he bent his head almost to the table to avoid observation, and, as if in the distraction of the moment, he took up the note and seemed to pore over its contents; then suddenly crushing it in his hand, he arose from the table and left the room.

"My sweet Kate," said Sir Archy, as he led her within the deep recess of a window, "tak care ye dinna light up a flame of treason, where ye only hoped to warm a glow of patriotism; such eyes and lips as yours are but too ready teachers; be cautious, la.s.sie. This country, however others may think, is on the eve of some mighty struggle; the people have abandoned many of their old grudges and seem disposed to unite."

"And the gentry--where are they, who should stand at their head and share their fortune?" cried Kate eagerly; for the warning, so far from conveying the intended moral, only stimulated her ardour and excited her curiosity.

"The gentry," replied Sir Archy, in a firm, decided tone, "are better satisfied to live under a government they dislike, than to be at the mercy of a rabble they despise, I ha'e lived langer than you in this dreary world, la.s.sie, and trust me, the poetry of patriotism has little relation to the revengeful fury of rebellion. You wish freedom for those who cannot enjoy the portion of it they possess. It is time to outlive the evil memories of the past, we want here--time, to blunt the acuteness of former and long-past sufferings--time, to make traditions so far forgotten as to be inapplicable to the present--time, to read the homely lesson, that one half the energy a people can expend in revolt, will raise them in the rank of civilized and cultivated beings."

"Time, to make Irishmen forget that the land of their birth was ever other than an English province," added Kate, impetuously. "No, no, it was not thus your own brave countrymen understood their 'devoirs.'"

"They rallied round the standard of a prince they loved, la.s.sie," said M'Nab, in a tone whose fervour contrasted with his former accent.

"And will you tell me that the principle of freedom is not more sacred than the person of the sovereign?" said Kate, tauntingly.

"There can be nae mistake about the one, but folks may have vara unsettled notions of the other," said he, drily; "but we mauna quarrel, Kate dear; our time is e'en too short already. Sit ye down and sing me a sang."

"It shall be a rebel one, then, I promise you," replied she, with an air of defiance which it was impossible to p.r.o.nounce more real or a.s.sumed.

"But here comes a visitor to interrupt us, and so your loyalty is saved for this time."

The observation was made in reference to a traveller, who, seated in a very antique looking dennet, was seen slowly labouring his wearied horse up the steep ascent to the castle.

"It's Swaby, father," cried Herbert, who immediately recognized the equipage of the Cork attorney, and felt a certain uneasiness come over him at the unexpected appearance.

"What brings him down to these parts?" said the O'Donoghue, affecting an air of surprise--"on his way to Killarney, perhaps. Well, well, they may let him in."

The announcement did not, to all appearance, afford much pleasure to the others, for scarcely had the door bell ceased its jingle, when each quitted the drawing-room, leaving O'Donoghue alone to receive his man of law.

Although the O'Donoghue waited with some impatience for the entrance of his legal adviser, that worthy man did not make his appearance at once, his progress to the drawing-room being arrested by Sir Archy, who, with a significant gesture, motioned him to follow him to his chamber.

"I will no' detain you many minutes, Mr. Swaby," said he, as he made signs for him to be seated. "I hae a sma' matter of business in which you can serve me. I need scarcely observe, I reckon on your secrecy."

Mr. Swaby closed one eye, and placed the tip of his finger on his nose--a pantomime intended to represent the most perfect fidelity.

"I happen," resumed Sir Archy, apparently satisfied with this pledge; "I happen at this moment to need a certain sum of money, and would wish to receive it on these securities. They are t.i.tle deeds of a property, which, for reasons I have no leisure at this moment to explain, is at present held by a distant relative in trust for my heir. You may perceive that the value is considerable"--and he pointed to a formidable array of figures which covered one of the margins. "The sum I require is only a thousand pounds--five hundred at once--immediately--the remainder in a year hence. Can this be arranged?"

"Money was never so scarce," said Swaby, as he wiped his spectacles and unfolded one of the c.u.mbrous parchments. "Devil take me, if I know where it's all gone to. It was only last week I was trying to raise five thousand for old h.o.a.re on the Ballyrickan property, and I could not get any one to advance me sixpence. The country is unsettled you see.

There's a notion abroad that we'll have a rising soon, and who knows what's to become of landed property after."

"This estate is in Perth," said M'Nab, tapping the deeds with his finger.

"So I perceive," replied Swaby; "and they have no objection to a 'shindy' there too, sometimes. The Pretender got some of your countrymen into a pretty sc.r.a.pe with his tricks. There are fools to be had for asking, every where."

"We will no' discuss this question just noo," said Sir Archy, snappishly; "and, to return to the main point, please to inform me, is this loan impracticable?"

"I didn't say it was, all out," said Swaby. "In about a week or two----"

"I must know before three days," interrupted M'Nab.

"His honour's waiting for Mr. Swaby," said Kerry, who now ap-peared in the room, without either of the others having noticed his entrance.

Sir Archy rose with an angry brow, but spoke not a syllable, while he motioned Kerry to leave the room.

"You must join my brother-in-law, sir," said he at last; "and if our conversation is not already become the gossip of the house, I entreat of you to keep it a secret."