“No, sir; I'm going to stop here with Billy, if your honour has no objection?”
“None whatever. Remember to let me see you on Tuesday, when I shall have every thing in readiness for your journey south—till then, good bye;” so saying, and handing Corcoran two guineas in gold, for he paid liberally, Hemsworth mounted the car, and drove off.
Lanty looked after him, till the darkness shut out the view, and then buttoning his rough coat tightly around his throat, set out himself towards town, muttering as he went—“I wish it was the last I was ever to see of you.”
CHAPTER XXXI. SOME HINTS ABOUT HARRY TALBOT.
We must beg of our reader to retrace his steps once more to the valley of Glenflesk, but only for a fleeting moment. When last we left Carrig-na-curra it was at night, the party were at supper in the old tower, and Kerry stood outside, rehearsing to himself for the tenth time the manner in which he should open his communication. The sound of Mark's voice, raised above its ordinary pitch, warned him that his mission might not be without danger, if perchance any thing on his part might offend the youth. None knew better than Kerry the violent temper of the young O'Donoghue, and how little restraint he ever put upon any scheme he thought of to vent his humour on him who crossed him. It was an account of debtor and creditor then with him, how he should act; on the one side lay the penalties, on the other the rewards of his venture—how was he to escape the one and secure the other? A moment's reflection suggested the plan.
“I'll not go in, divil a step, but I'll tell I was convarsin' with them this half hour, and that the rope and the bit of lead is a new way they do have for catching mermaids and other faymale fishes in the Bay; and sure if I only say that there's an act of Parlimint agin doin' it, she'll not only believe it all, but she'll keep the saycret to her dying bed;” and with this profound reflection on Mrs. Branagan's character, and a face of very well got up surprise, Kerry re-entered the kitchen to announce his discovery.
It is not our intention to dwell on the scene that followed; we have merely adverted to the fact inasmuch as that on the trivial circumstance of Kerry's resolve depended the discovery of a plot, which, if once known to M'Nab, would immediately have been communicated to the Government. The fates willed it otherwise, and when the party separated in the old tower, Sir Archy was as little satisfied concerning Talbot's character as ever, and as eager to ascertain whence and wherefore he came, and with what intention he had made Mark's acquaintance. With many a wily scheme for the morrow, the old man went to rest, determining to spare no pains to unravel the mystery—a fruitless resolve after all, for when day broke, Talbot and Mark were already away, many miles on the road to Dublin.
The O'Donoghue's first act on completing his arrangements with Swaby, was to place at Mark's disposal a sum of five hundred pounds, an amount far greater than ever the young man had at any time possessed in his life. Talbot, to whom the circumstance was told by Mark, readily persuaded him to visit Dublin, not merely for the pleasures and amusements of the capital, but that he might personally be made known to the Delegates, and see and confer with those who were the directors of the threatened rebellion.. Talbot understood perfectly the kind of flattery which would succeed with the youth, and by allusion to his ancient lineage, his more than noble blood, the rights to which he was entitled, and to which he would unquestionably be restored, not only stimulated his ardour in the cause, but bound him in a debt of gratitude to all who encouraged him to engage in it.
Mark's character, whatever its faults, was candid and frank in every thing; he made no secret to his new friend of his present unhappiness, nor did he conceal that an unpaid debt of vengeance with respect to young Travers weighed heavily on his spirits. It was the first time in his life he had tasted the bitterness of an insult, and it worked like a deadly poison within him, sapping the springs of his health and rendering miserable the hours of his solitude; the thought rarely left him day or night, how was he to wipe out this stain? When Talbot, therefore, spoke of a visit to the capital, Mark cheerfully acceded, but rather from a secret hope that some opportunity might arise to gratify this cherished passion, than from any desire of witnessing the splendour of the metropolis; and while the one pictured the glittering scenes of festive enjoyment to which youth and money are the passports, the other darkly ruminated on the chances of meeting his enemy and provoking him to a duel.