The O'Donoghue Part 50

"It was imprudent, Mr. O'Donoghue, and that's all," said Travers, in a tone of great gentleness; "and your friend should not have misled you.

I'll take care that nothing unpleasant shall arise in consequence. Just remain here for a moment."

"Stay, sir," said Mark, as Travers arose from his seat; "I hate accepting favours, even should they release me from a position as awkward as this is. Here comes my friend, Talbot, and he'll perhaps explain what I cannot."

"I have lost my money, Mark," said Talbot, coming forward, and perceiving with much anxiety that his young friend was engaged in a conversation. "Let us move about and see the dancers."

"Wait a few seconds first," said Mark, sternly, "and satisfy this gentleman that I am not in fault in coming here, save so far as being induced by you to do so."

"May I ask how the gentleman feels called on to require the explanation?" said Talbot, proudly.

"I wish him to know the circ.u.mstances," said Mark.

"And I," said Travers, interrupting, "might claim a right to ask it, as first aide-de-camp to his Excellency."

"So, then," whispered Talbot, with a smile, "it is the mere impertinence of office."

Travers' face flushed up, and his his quivered, as in an equally low tone of voice he said--

"Where and when, sir, will you dare to repeat these words?"

"To-morrow morning, at seven o'clock, on the strand below Clontarf, and in this gentleman's presence," said Talbot into his ear.

A nod from Travers completed the arrangement, and Talbot, placing his arm hurriedly within Mark's, said--

"Let us get away from this, Mark. It is all settled. We meet tomorrow."

Mark turned one look towards Kate, who was just in the act of accepting Travers' arm to return to the ball-room. Their glances met for a second, but with how different a meaning!--in _hers_, a world of anxiety and interest--in _his_, the proud and scornful defiance of one who seemed to accept of no compromise with fortune.

"So, then, it is your friend Travers, Mark, with whom I am to have the honour of a rencontre! I'm sorry, for your sake, that it is so."

"And why so?" asked Mark, sternly, for in his present mood he was as little satisfied with Talbot as with Travers.

"Because if I don't mistake much, you will not have the opportunity of wiping out your old score with him. I'll shoot him, Mark!" These last words were uttered between his almost closed teeth, and in a tone of scarce restrained anger. "Are either of us looking very b.l.o.o.d.y-minded or savage, Mark, I wonder? for see how the people are staring and whispering as we pa.s.s!"

The observation was not made without reason, for already the two young men were regarded on all sides as they pa.s.sed--the different persons in their way retiring as they approached.

"How do you do, my lord? I hope I see you well," said Talbot, bowing familiarly to a venerable old man who stood near, and who as promptly returned his salute.

"Who is it you bowed to?" said Mark, in a whisper.

"The Chief-Justice, Mark. Not that I know him, or he me; but at this critical moment such a recognition is a certificate of character, which will at least last long enough to see us down stairs. There, let me move on first, and follow me," and as he spoke, he edged his way through a crowded door, leaving Mark to follow how he could. This was, however a task of more difficulty than it seemed, for already a number of persons blocked up the doorway, eager to hear something which a gentleman was relating to those about him.

"I can only tell you," continued he, "that none seems to know either of them. As Clangoff has lost the diamond snuff-box the Emperor of Austria presented him with--he missed it after leaving the card-table--the presumption is, that we are favoured with somewhat doubtful company."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 326]

"Carysford says," cried another, "that he knows one of them well, and has often seen him in Paris at the play-houses."

A low whisper ran around after these words, and at the instant every eye was directed to Mark O'Donoghue. The young man sustained their looks with a frown of resolute daring, turning from one to the other to see if, perchance, by any gesture or expression, he could single out one to pay the penalty for the rest--his blood boiled at the insulting glances that fell upon him, and he was in the very act of giving his temper vent, when an arm was slipped within his, and Frederick Travers whispered in his ear--

"I hope your friend has got safely away. There are some fellows here to-night of notoriously bad character, and Mr. Talbot may get into trouble on that account."

"He has just left this. I hope before now he has reached the street."

"Let me be your convoy, then," said Travers, good-naturedly. "These talking fools will cease their scandal when they see us together;" and, affecting an air of easy intimacy, he led Mark through the crowd, which even already bestowed very altered glances as they pa.s.sed.

"Good night, sir," said Mark, abruptly, as they arrived at the room by which he remembered to have entered, "I see my friend yonder, awaiting me." Travers returned the greeting, and half extended his hand, but Mark coolly bowed and turned away. The moment after he was at Talbot's side.

"Thank heaven, we are breathing the free air again," he exclaimed, as they issued forth into the street, "a little longer would have suffocated me."

"It was with Travers you parted at the head of the stair?" said Talbot, inquiringly.

"Yes; he was polite enough to come up when you left me, and the company and myself have reason to be thankful to him, for a.s.suredly, we were, both of us, forgetting our good manners, very much at the moment. They were pleased to look at me in a fashion of very questionable civility, and I, I greatly fear, was scarcely more polite. It would seem, Talbot, that some swindlers or pickpockets had introduced themselves at the a.s.sembly, and we had the honor of being confounded with them--so much for the prudence of our first step."

"Come, come, Mark, don't lose temper about trifles."

"Would it have proved a trifle, if I had thrown one of those gold-laced fops out of the window into the court? I promise you the temptation was devilish strong in me to act so, at one moment. But what have we gained by all this--where were the friends you should have met--whom have you seen--what have you learned?"

Talbot made no reply, but walked on in silence.

"Or have we exposed ourselves to the taunting insolence of these people, for the mock pleasure of mixing with them. Is that our gain here?"

Still Talbot made no reply, and Mark, as if his pa.s.sion had expended itself, now became silent also, and in this wise they reached the hotel, each sunk in his own personal reflections.

"Now, Mark," said Talbot, when they had gained their room, "now let us set ourselves to think over what is to be done, and not waste a thought on what is bygone. At seven, to-morrow, I am to meet Travers; before nine I must be on the way to France, that is if he do not issue a leaden 'ne exeat' against me. I shall certainly fire at him--your pretty cousin will never forgive me for it, that I know well"--here he stole a side look at Mark, across whose features a flash of pa.s.sion was thrown--"still, I am sorry this should have occurred, because I had many things to settle here; among others, some which more nearly concerned yourself."

"Me! concerned me," said Mark, in surprise.

"Yes; I am deeper in your secrets than you are aware of--deeper than you are yourself, perhaps. What would you say, Mark, if I could insure you the possession of your property and estate, as it was left to you by your grandfather, without debt or inc.u.mbrance of any kind, free from mortgage?"

"Free from Hemsworth," cried Mark, pa.s.sionately.

"Even so--I was just coming to that.";

"I know not what I should say, Talbot, but I know what I should do--throw every farthing of it into the scale where I have thrown life and hope--the cause of my country."

Talbot shook his head, doubtfully, for a second or two, then said: "It is not money is wanting to the enterprise, it is rather what no money can buy--the reckless courage of men willing to devote themselves to a cause which they must never hope to live to see successful, but whose graves must be the ramparts over which others will achieve liberty.

No, my hopes for you point otherwise. I wish to see you as the head and representative of an ancient name and house, with the influence property and position would confer, taking your place in the movement, not as a soldier of fortune, but as a man of rank and weight." Talbot paused for a moment to enjoy, as it were, the delight this brilliant picture of coming greatness produced upon the youth, and then went on, "such a place I can offer you, Mark."

"How, and on what terms?" cried Mark, bursting with impatience.

"I make no conditions--I am your friend, and ask nothing but your friendship--a lucky chance has given me the opportunity to serve you--all I bargain for is, that you do not inquire further how that chance arose."

Mark stood in mute amazement, while Talbot, unlocking his writing desk, drew forth a dark leather pocket-book, tied with a string, and laid it leisurely on the table before him.

"There is a condition I will bargain for, Mark," said Talbot, after a pause--"although I'm sure it is a weakness, I scarcely ever thought to feel. We shall soon be separated, who knows when we shall meet again, if ever. Now, if men should speak of me in terms unworthy of one who has been your friend, laying to my charge acts of dishonour----"

"Who will dare to do so before me?" said Mark, indignantly.