CHAPTER LXXXIII
THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT
There was but one heavy heart at the dinner-table that day; but Nina’s pride was proof against any disclosure of suffering, and though she was tortured by anxiety and fevered with doubt, none—not even Kate—suspected that any care weighed on her.
As for Kate herself, her happiness beamed in every line and lineament of her handsome face. The captain—to give him the name by which he was known—had been up that day, and partaken of an afternoon tea with his aunt and Kate. Her spirits were excellent, and all the promise of the future was rose-coloured and bright. The little cloud of what trouble the trial might bring was not suffered to darken the cheerful meeting, and it was the one only bitter in their cup.
To divert Curtis from this theme, on which, with the accustomed mal à propos of an awkward man, he wished to talk, the young men led him to the subject of Donogan and his party.
‘I believe we’ll take him this time,’ said Curtis. ‘He must have some close relations with some one about Moate or Kilbeggan, for it is remarked he cannot keep away from the neighbourhood; but who are his friends, or what they are meditating, we cannot guess.’
‘If what Mademoiselle Kostalergi said this morning be correct,’ remarked Atlee, ‘conjecture is unnecessary. She told Dick and myself that every Irishman is at heart a rebel.’
‘I said more or less of one, Mr. Atlee, since there are some who have not the courage of their opinions.’
‘I hope you are gratified by the emendation,’ whispered Dick; and then added aloud, ‘Donogan is not one of these.’