The O'Donoghue: Tale of Ireland Fifty Years Ago

“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.

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,

“I have been unable to retard any longer the course of proceedings against your cousin. It would seem that the charges against him are far more grave and menacing than either of us anticipated, at least so far as I can collect from the information before me. The Privy Council has determined on arresting him at once. Orders to support the warrant by a military force have been transmitted to officers commanding parties in different towns of the south, and there is no longer a question of the intentions of the crown regarding him. But one, of two, chances is now open to him – to surrender and take his trial – or, should he, as he may, without any imputation on his courage, dread this, to make his escape to the coast, near Kenmare, where a lugger will lie off, on Wednesday night. By this means he will be able to reach some port in France or Flanders; or, probably, should the wind change, obtain protection from some of the American vessels, which are reported as cruising to the westward.

“In making this communication to you, I need scarcely observe the implicit faith I repose in the use you make of it. It is intended to be the means of providing for your cousin’s safety – but should it, by any accident, fall under other eyes than yours, it would prove the inevitable ruin of your very devoted servant,

“Wm. Hemsworth.”

“And they will not believe this man’s integrity?” exclaimed Kate, as she finished reading the note. “He who jeopardies his own station and character for the sake of one actually his enemy! Well, their injustice shall not involve my honor.” “Was it you brought this letter?” said she to Wylie, who stood, hat in hand, at the door.

“Yes, my lady, and I was told there might, perhaps, be an answer.”

“No – there is none; say ‘very well’ – that I have read it. Where is Mr. Hemsworth?”

“At Macroom. There was a meeting of magistrates there, which delayed him, and he wrote this note, and sent me on, instead of coming himself.”

“Say, that I shall be happy to see him – that’s enough,” said Kate, hurriedly, and turned back again into the house.

Through all the difficulties that beset her path hitherto, she had found Sir Archy an able and a willing adviser; but now, the time was come, when not only must she act independently of his aid, but, perhaps, in actual opposition to his views – taking for her guidance one distrusted by almost every member of her family. Yet what alternative remained – how betray Hemsworth’s conduct in a case which, if known, must exhibit him as false to the Government, and acting secretly against the very orders that were given to him? This, she could not think of, and thus by the force of circumstances, was constrained to accept of Hemsworth as an ally. Her anxious deliberations on this score were suddenly interrupted by the sound of horses galloping on the road, and as she looked out, the individual in question rode up the causeway, followed by his groom.

The O’Donoghue was alone in the drawing-room, musing over the sad events which necessitated Mark’s concealment, when Hemsworth entered, heated by a long and fast ride.

“Is your son at home, sir – your eldest son?” said he, as soon as a very brief greeting was over.

“If you’ll kindly ring that bell, which my gout won’t permit me to reach, we’ll inquire,” said the old man, with a well-affected indifference.

“I must not create any suspicion among the servants,” said Hemsworth, cautiously, “I have reason to believe that some danger is impending over him, and that he had better leave this house for a day or two.”

The apparent frankness of the tone in which he spoke, threw the O’Donoghue completely off his guard, and taking Hemsworth’s hand, he said —

“Thank you sincerely for this, the poor boy got wind of it this morning, and I trust before now, has reached some place of safety for the present – but what steps can we take? is there anything you can advise us to do? – I’m really so bewildered by all I hear, and so doubtful of what is true and what false, that I’m incapable of an opinion. Here comes the only clear head amongst us. Kate, my sweet child, Mr. Hemsworth, like a kind friend, has come over about this affair of Mark’s – will you and Sir Archy talk it over with him?”

“I beg your pardon for the interruption, sir, but I must recall to your memory that I am a magistrate, charged with your son’s arrest, and if by an unguarded expression,” here he smiled significantly, “I have betrayed my instructions – I rely on your honour not to expose me to the consequences.”