The O'Donoghue Part 59

CHAPTER XL. THE LULL BEFORE THE STORM.

Once again a.s.sembled beneath that old roof, the various members of the family seemed more than ever disposed to make present happiness atone for any troubles of the past. Never was the old O'Donoghue so contented;--never did Sir Archy feel a lighter heart. Herbert's spirits were buoyant and high as present success and hope could make them; and Kate, whatever doubts might secretly have weighed upon her mind, did her utmost to contribute to the general joy;--while Mark, over whose temperament a calmer and less variable habit of thought prevailed, seemed at least more reconciled to his fortunes.

The influences of tranquillity that prevailed over the land appeared to have breathed their soothing sway over that humble dwelling, where life rolled on like an unruflled stream, each day happy with that monotony of enjoyment, so delicious to all whose minds have ever been tortured by the conflicting cares of the world.

For many a year long the O'Donoghue had not been so free from troubles.

The loan he had contracted on Kate's fortune had relieved him from his most pressing embarra.s.sments, and left him money enough to keep other creditors at bay. Sir Archy felt already he had received the earnest of that success he so ardently desired for Herbert, and in the calm of political life, hoped that the rash scheme in which Mark had em-. barked was even now becoming forgotten; and that the time was not far remote when no memory of it would be treasured against him. His own experience taught him, that sage lessons may be gathered from the failures and checks of youthful ambition, and in the changed features of Mark's character he augured most favourably for the future. But of all those on whom happier prospects shone, none revelled in the enjoyment so much as Herbert. The fascinations of that new world, of which he had only caught a glimpse, hung over him like a dream. Life opened for him at a moment when he himself had won distinction, while a new pa.s.sion stirred his heart, and stimulated hope to the utmost. Kate, his companion throughout every day, was not slow to perceive the lurking secret of his thoughts, and soon led him to confide them to her. Herbert had never heard of Frederick Travers's attachment to his cousin, still less, suspected he had made a proposal of marriage to her. The studied avoidance of their names among his own family was a mystery he could not solve, and he referred to Kate for the explanation.

"How strange, Kate," said he, one day, as they wandered along the glen somewhat further than usual, "how singular is this silence respecting the Travers's! I can make nothing of it. If I speak of them, no one speaks again--if I allude to them, the conversation suddenly stops. Tell me, if you know it, the secret of all this."

Kate blushed deeply, and muttered something about old and half-remembered grudges, but he interrupted her quickly, saying--

"This can scarcely be the reason;--at least their feelings show nothing of the kind towards us. Sybella talks of you as a sister nearest to her heart. Sir Marmaduke never spoke of you, but with the warmest terms of affection, and if the gay Guardsman did not express himself on the subject, perhaps it was because he felt the more deeply."

Kate's cheek grew deeper scarlet, and her breathing more hurried, but she made no reply.

"_My_ explanation," continued Herbert, more occupied with his own thoughts than attentive to his companion, "is this;--and, to be sure, it is a very sorry explanation which elucidates nothing;--that Hemsworth is somehow at the bottom of it all. Sybella told me what persuasions he employed to prevent her father returning to Glenflesk; and when every thing like argument failed, that he actually, under pretence of enlarging the house, rendered the existing part uninhabitable."

"But what object could he have in this?" said Kate, who felt that Herbert was merely nourishing the old prejudices of his family against Hemsworth. "He is anxious for the peace and welfare of this country--he grieves for the poverty and privations of the people, and whether he be correct or not, deems the remedy, the residence amongst them of a cultivated and wealthy proprietary, with intelligence to perceive, and ability to redress their grievances."

"Very true, Kate," replied Herbert; "but don't you see that in these very requisites of a resident gentry, he does not point at the Travers family, whose ignorance of Ireland he often exposed when affecting to eulogise their knowledge. The qualities he recommends he believes to be his own."

"No, Herbert, you wrong him there," said she, warmly; "he told me himself the unceasing regret he suffered, that, in his humble sphere, all efforts for the people's good were ineffectual--that, wanting the influence which property confers, benefits from his hands became suspected, and measures of mere justice were regarded as acts of cruelty and oppression."

"Well, I only know that such is Frederick Travers's opinion of him,"

said Herbert, not a little piqued at Kate's unexpected defence of their ancient enemy. "Frederick told me himself that he would never cease until his father promised to withdraw the agency from him. Indeed, he is only prevented from pressing the point, because Hemsworth has got a long lease of part of the estate, which they desire to have back again on any terms. The land was let at a nominal rent, as being almost valueless.

The best part of the valley it turns out to be!--the very approach to 'the Lodge' pa.s.ses through it--so that, as Frederick says, they could not reach their hall-door without a trespa.s.s, if Hemsworth pleased to turn sulky."

Kate felt there might be another and more correct explanation of Frederick's dislike, but she did not dare to hint at it.

"You are too favourable in your opinion of Hemsworth, Kate. Sy-bella said as much to me herself."

"Sybella said so?" said Kate, as a flush, half of shame, half of displeasure, mantled her cheek.

"Yes," cried Herbert, for he felt that he was in a difficulty, and there was no way out save the bold one, of right through it; "yes, she saw what you did not, that Hemsworth had dared to lift his eyes to you----that all his displays of patriotic sentiment were got up to attract your favourable notice, and that in his arguments with Frederick about Ireland, his whole aim was to expose the Guardsman's ignorance, and throw ridicule upon it, neither seeking to convey sound notions, nor combat erroneous impressions."

"Captain Travers was but too easy a mark for such weapons," said Kate, angrily, "It was his pleasure to make Ireland the object of his sarcasm."

"So Hemsworth contrived it!" cried Herbert, eagerly, for it was a subject of which he had long been anxious to speak, and one he had heard much of from Sybella. "I know well the game he played, and how successfully too."

Kate blushed deeply; for a moment she believed that her own secret was known to Herbert, but the next instant she was rea.s.sured that all was safe.

"Sybella told me how he actually lay in wait for opportunities to entice Frederick into discussion before you, well knowing the themes that would irritate him, and calculating how far petty refutations, and half-suppressed sneers would embarra.s.s and annoy him--the more, because Frederick saw how much more favourably you regarded Hemsworth's sentiments than his own; and, indeed, sometimes I fancied, Kate, it was a point the Guardsman was very tender about;--nay, sweet cousin, I would not say a word to offend you."

"Then, do not speak of this again, Herbert," said she, in a low voice.

"It is a luckless land," said Herbert, sighing. "They who know it well are satisfied with the cheap patriotism of declaiming on its wrongs.

They who feel most acutely for its sorrows, are, for the most part, too ignorant to alleviate them. I begin to think my uncle is quite right--that the best thing we could do would be to make a truce--to draw the game--for some twenty or thirty years, and try if the new generation might not prove wiser in expedients than their fathers."

"A luckless land, indeed!" said Mark, who, coming up at the moment, had overheard the last words. "You were right to call it so--where the son of an O'Donoghue sees no more glorious path to follow than that of a hollow compromise!"

Kate and Herbert started as he spoke, and while her face flashed with an emotion of mingled pride and shame, Herbert looked abashed, and almost angry at the reproach.

"Forgive me, Herbert," said Mark, in a voice of deep melancholy. "Not even this theme should sow a difference between us. I came to bid you good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mark?" cried Kate, starting with terrified surprise.

"Going to leave us, Mark!" exclaimed Herbert, in an accent of true sorrow.

"It is but for a few days--at least I hope that it will be no more,"

said Mark. "But I have received intelligence that makes it necessary for me to remain in concealment for a short time. You see, Herbert," said he, laughing, "that your theory has the advantage on the score of prudence. Had I followed it, the chances are, I should not have occupied the attention of his Majesty's Privy Council."

"The Privy Council! I don't understand this, Mark."

"Perhaps this is the easiest mode of explaining it," said Mark, as he unfolded a printed paper, headed "Treason--Reward for the apprehension of Mark O'Donoghue, Esq., or such information as may lead to his capture." "Is that enough? Come, come--I have no time for long stories just now. If you want to hear mine about the matter, you must visit me at my retreat--the low shealing at the west of Hungry Mountain. At least, for the present I shall remain there."

"But is this necessary, Mark? Are you certain that any thing more is meant than to threaten?" said Kate.

"I believe that Carrig-na-curra will be searched by a military force to-night, or to-morrow at farthest--that the bribe has tempted three or four--none of our people--don't mistake me--to set on my track. If my remaining would spare my father's house the indignity of a search--or if the country had any better cause at heart than that of one so valueless as I am, I would stay, Kate----"

"No, no, Mark. This were but madness, unworthy of you, unjust to all who love you."

The last few words were uttered so faintly, as only to be heard by him alone; and as she spoke them a heavy tear rolled down her cheek, now pale as marble.

"But surely, Mark," said Herbert, who never suspected any thing of his brother's intrigues, "this must proceed on mere falsehood. There is no charge against you--you, whose life of quiet retirement here can defy any calumny."

"But not deny the truth," said Mark, with a sorrowful smile. "Once for all, I cannot speak of these things now. My time is running fast; and already my guide, yonder, looks impatient at my delay. Remember the shealing at the foot of the mountain. If there be any mist about, you have but to whistle."

"Is poor Terry your guide, then?" said Kate, affecting to smile with some semblance of tranquillity.

"My guide and my host both," said Mark, gaily, "It's the only invitation I have received for Christmas, and I accept it most willingly, I a.s.sure you."

An impatient gesture of Terry's hand, as he stood on a small pinnacle of rock, about fifty feet above the road, attracted Mark's attention, and he called out--

"Well!--what is it?"

"The dragoons!" shouted Terry, in a terrified voice. "They're crossing the ford at Caher-mohill, two miles off--eight, nine, ten--ay, there's twelve now, over; and the fellow in the dark coat, he's another. Wait!

they're asking the way: that's it, I'm sure. Well done!--my blessing be an ye this day, whoever ye are. May I never! if he's not sending them wrong! They're down the glen towards Killarney;" and as he finished speaking he sprang from the height, and hastened down the precipice at a rate that seemed to threaten destruction at every step.

"Even so, Terry. We have not more time than we need. It's a long journey to the west of the mountain; and so, good-bye, my dear cousin. Good-bye, Herbert. A short absence it will be, I trust;" and, tearing himself away hurriedly, lest any evidence of emotion might be seen, the young man ascended the steep pathway after Terry; nor did he turn his head round, until distance enabled him to look down unnoticed, when again he cried out "Farewell! Remember the west side of Hungry!" and waving his cap, disappeared, while Herbert and his cousin wended their sorrowful way homeward.

CHAPTER XLI. A DISCOVERY

When Kate arrived at home, she found a note awaiting her, in Hemsworth's hand-writing, and marked "haste." Guessing at once to what it must refer, she broke the seal, with an anxious heart, and read:--

"My dear Madam,