The O'Donoghue: Tale of Ireland Fifty Years Ago

The O’Donoghue listened, without thoroughly comprehending the distinction the other aimed at, and then, as if disliking the trouble of a thought that puzzled him – he shook his head and muttered, “Aye, very well – be it so – my niece knows these matters better than I do.”

“I agree with that opinion, perfectly,” said Hemsworth, in an undertone, “and if Miss O’Donoghue will favor me with her company for a few minutes in the garden, I may be able to assist her to a clear understanding of the case.” Kate smiled assentingly, and Hemsworth moved towards the door and opened it; and then, as if after a momentary struggle with his own diffidence, he offered her his arm; this Kate declined, and they walked along, side by side.

They had nearly reached the middle of the garden before Hemsworth broke silence. At last he said, with a deep sigh – “I fear we are too late Miss O’Donoghue. The zeal, real or affected, of the country magistrates, has stimulated them to the utmost. There are spies over the whole country – he will inevitably be taken.”

Rate re-echoed the last words in an accent of deep anguish, and was silent.

“Yes,” resumed he, “escape is all but impossible – for even if he should get to sea, there are two cruisers on the look-out for any suspicious sail.

“And what if he were to surrender and stand his trial,” said Kate, boldly.

Hemsworth shook his head sorrowfully, but never spoke. “What object can it be with any Government to hunt down a rash, inexperienced youth, whose unguarded boldness has led him to ruin? On whom would such an example tell, or where would the lesson spread terror, save beneath that old roof yonder, where sorrows are rife enough already?”

“The correspondence with France – that’s his danger. The intercourse with the disturbed party at home might be palliated by his youth – the foreign conspiracy admits of little apology.” “And what evidence have they of this?”

“Alas! but too much – the table of the Privy Council was actually covered with copies of letters and documents – some, written by himself – almost all, referring to him as a confidential and trusty agent of the cause. This cannot be forgiven him! When I heard a member of the Council say, ‘Jackson’s blood is dried up already,’ I guessed the dreadful result of this young man’s capture.”

Kate shuddered at these words, which were uttered in a faint tone, tremulous through emotion. “Oh, God,” she cried, “do not let this calamity fall upon us. Poverty, destitution, banishment, anything, save the death of a felon!”

Hemsworth pressed his handkerchief to his eyes, and looked away, as the young girl, with upturned face, muttered a brief but fervent prayer to heaven.

“But you, so gifted and experienced in the world’s ways,” cried she, turning on him a glance of imploring meaning – “can you not think of anything? Is there no means, however difficult and dangerous, by which he might be saved? Could not the honor of an ancient house plead for him? Is there no pledge for the future could avail him.”

“There is but one such pledge – and that” – here he stopped and blushed deeply, and then, as if by an effort, resumed – “Do not, I beseech you, tempt me to utter what, if once spoken, decides the destiny of my life?”

He ceased, and she bent on him a look of wondering astonishment. She thought she had not heard him aright, and amid her fears of some vague kind, a faint hope struggled, that a chance of saving Mark yet remained. Perhaps, the mere expression of doubt her features assumed, was more chilling than even a look of displeasure, for Hemsworth’s self possession, for several minutes, seemed to have deserted him; when, at last recovering himself, he said —

“Pray, think no more of my words, I spoke them rashly. I know of no means of befriending this young man. He rejected my counsels when they might have served him. I find how impossible it is to win confidence from those whose prejudices have been fostered in adverse circumstances. Now, I am too late – my humble task is merely to offer you some advice, which the day of calamity may recall to your memory. The Government intends to make a severe example of his case. I heard so much, by accident, from the Under Secretary. They will proceed, in the event of his conviction – of which there cannot be a doubt – to measures of confiscation regarding his property – timely intervention might be of service here.”

This additional threat of misfortune did not seem to present so many terrors to Kate’s mind as he calculated on its producing. She stood silent and motionless, and appeared scarcely to notice his words.

“I feel how barbarous such cruelty is to an old and inoffensive parent,” said Hemsworth, “whose heart is rent by the recent loss of a son.”

“He must not die,” said Kate, with a hollow voice, and her pale cheek trembled with a convulsive motion. “Mark must be saved. What was the pledge you hinted at?”

Hemsworth’s eyes flashed, and his lip curled with an expression of triumph. The moment, long sought, long hoped for, had at length arrived, which should gratify both his vengeance and his ambition. The emotion passed rapidly away, and his features assumed a look of subdued sorrow.

“I fear, Miss O’Donoghue,” said he, “that my hope was but like the straw which the drowning hand will grasp at; but, tortured as my mind has been by expedients, which more mature thought has ever discovered to be impracticable, I suffered myself to believe that possible, which my own heart forbids me to hope for.”

He waited a few seconds to give her an opportunity of speaking, but she was silent, and he went on —

“The guarantee I alluded to would be the pledge of one, whose loyalty to the Government stands above suspicion; one, whose services have met no requital, but whose reward only awaits the moment of demanding it; such a one as this might make his own character and fortune the recognizance for this young man’s conduct, and truck the payment of his own services for a free pardon.”

“And who is there thus highly placed, and willing to befriend us.”

Hemsworth laid his hand upon his heart, and bowing with deep humility, uttered, in a low, faint voice —

“He who now stands before you!”

“You,” cried Kate, as clasping her hands in an ecstacy, she fixed her tearful eyes upon him. “You would do this?” Then growing suddenly pale, as a sick shudder came over her, she said, in a deep and broken voice, “At what price, sir?”

The steady gaze she fixed upon him seemed to awe and abash him, and it was with unfeigned agitation that he now spoke.

“A price which the devotion of a life long could not repay. Alas! a price I dare no more aspire to, than hope for.”

“Speak plainly, sir,” said Kate, in a firm, collected tone, “this is not a moment for misconception. What part have I to play in this compact, for by your manner I suppose you include me in it?”

“Forgive me, young lady, I have not courage to place the whole fortunes of my life upon one cast; already I feel the heaviness of heart that heralds in misfortune. I would rather live on with even this faint glimmer of hope than with the darkness of despair for ever.” His hands dropped powerless at his side, his head fell forward on his bosom, and as if without an effort of his will, almost unconsciously his lips muttered the words, “I love you.”

Had the accents been the sting of an adder they could not have called up an expression of more painful meaning than flashed over Kate’s features.

“And this, then, is the price you hinted at – this was to be the compact.”

The proud look of scorn she threw upon him evoked no angry feeling in his breast, he seemed overwhelmed by sorrow, and did not dare even to look up.

“You judge me hardly, unfairly too; I never meant my intercession should be purchased – humble as I am, I should he still more unworthy, had I harhoured such a thought; my hope was this, to make my intervention available, I should show myself linked with the fortunes of that house I tried to save – it should be a case, where, personally, my own interest was at stake, and where my fortune, all I possessed in the world was in the scale, if you consented” – here he hesitated, faltered, and finally became silent, then passing his hands across his eyes, resumed more rapidly – “but I must not speak of this; alas! that my tongue should have ever betrayed it; you have forced my secret from me, and with it my happiness for ever – forget this, I beseech you forget that, even in a moment so unguarded, I dared to lift my eyes to the shrine my heart has worshipped. I ask no pledge, no compact, I will do my utmost to save this youth; I will spare no exertion or influence I possess with the Government; I will make his pardon the recompense due to myself, but if that be impossible, I will endeavour to obtain connivance at his escape, and all the price I ask for this is, your forgiveness of my presumption.”

Kate held out her hand towards him, while a smile of bewitching loveliness played over her features; “this is to be a friend indeed,” said she.

Hemsworth bent down his head till his lips rested on her fingers, and as he did so, the hot tears trickled on her hand, then suddenly starting up, he said, “I must lose no time; where shall I find your cousin? – in what part of the country has he sought shelter?”

“The shealing at the foot of Hungry mountain, he mentioned to Herbert as the rendezvous for the present.”

“Is he alone – has he no companion?”

“None, save, perhaps, the idiot boy who acts as his guide in the mountains.”

“Farewell then,” said Hemsworth, “you shall soon hear what success attends my efforts; farewell” – and, without waiting for more, he hastened from the spot, and was soon heard descending the causeway at a rapid pace.

Kate stood for a few moments lost in thought, and as the sound of the retreating hoofs aroused her, she looked up, and muttering to herself, “It was nobly done,” returned with slow steps to the house.

As Hemsworth spurred his horse, and urged him to his fastest speed, expressions of mingled triumph and vengeance burst from him at intervals – “Mine at last,” cried he – “mine in spite of every obstacle, – Fortune is seldom so kind as this – vengeance and ambition both gratified together – me, whom they dispised for my poverty, and my low birth – that it should be my destiny to crush them to the dust!” These words were scarcely uttered, when his horse, pressed beyond his strength, stumbled over a rut in the road, and fell heavily to the ground, throwing his rider under him.

For a long time no semblance of consciousness returned, and the groom, fearing to leave him, had to wait for hours until a country car should pass, in which his wounded master might be laid. There came one by at last, and on this Hemsworth was laid, and brought back to “the Lodge.” Before he reached home, however, sense had so far returned, as, that he felt his accident was attended with no serious injury; the shock of the fall was the only circumstance of any gravity.

The medical man of Macroom was soon with him, and partly confirmed his own first impressions, but strictly enjoining rest and quiet, as in the event of any unusual excitement, the worst consequences might ensue. Hemsworth bore up under the injunction with all the seeming fortitude he could muster, but in his heart he cursed the misfortune that thus delayed the hour of his long-sought vengeance.

“This may continue a week, then?” cried he, impatiently.

The doctor nodded an assent.

“Two – three weeks, perhaps?”

“It will be a month, at least, before I can pronounce you out of danger,” said the physician, gravely.

“A month! Great Heaven! – a month! And what are the dangers you apprehend, in the event of my not submitting?”

“There are several, and very serious ones – inflammation of the brain, fever, derangement even.”