Once again assembled 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 embarrassments, 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 passion 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' passes through it--so that, as Frederick says, they could
not reach their hall-door without a trespass, 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 reassured 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 embarrass 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 assure
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.