Sir Archy studied this letter with the patient care a lawyer bestows upon a brief. He thought over each sentence, and weighed the expressions in his mind with deep thought. It had been his fortune, in early life, to have been thrown into situations of no common difficulty, and his mind had, in consequence, acquired a habit of shrewd and piercing investigation, which, though long disused, was not altogether forgotten; by the aid of this faculty, Hemsworth's letter appeared to him in a very different light from that in which Kate viewed it. The knowledge of every circumstance concerning Mark evinced an anxiety which he was very far from attributing to motives of friendship. Sir Archy well knew the feelings of dislike which subsisted between these two men—how then account for this sudden change on Hemsworth's part?—to what attribute this wonderful interest concerning him?
“Let us see,” said the old man to himself, “let us see the fruit, and then we may pronounce upon the tree. Where and to what does Hemsworth's benevolence point, dishonour or banishment? Such are the terms he offers; such are the alternatives his kindness suggests. Might these have no other motive than friendship?—might they not he the offspring of feelings very different indeed? What benefit might he derive from Mark's expatriation—that is the question? Does he anticipate easier terms with the old man for the little remnant of property that still pertains to him—or is it merely the leaven of the old hate that still rises in his nature?—or”——and here his eye flashed with brilliancy as a new thought crossed his brain——“or does he suspect Mark of occupying a place in his cousin's affection, and is rivalry the source of this mysterious good nature?”
This suspicion no sooner occurred to him than Sir Archy recalled to mind all the circumstances of Hemsworth's recent behaviour—the endeavours he had made to recommend himself to their favourable notice—all his acts to ingratiate himself with Kate—the ample views he affected in politics—the wide-spread generosity of his plans for the amelioration of the people. That his conduct was unreal, that his principles were but assumed for the occasion, the shrewd Scotchman had long suspected; and this letter, so far from dispelling the doubts, increased them tenfold. Besides this, there seemed some reason to fear that Kate was not quite indifferent to him. The disparity of years was so far in his favour, as she could not but feel flattered by the notice of one so conversant with the world and its ways, who had travelled and seen so much, and might in every respect be deemed a competent judge in matters of taste. Any comparison of him with Mark must redound with great advantage to the former. The accomplished scholar, the agreeable and well-bred man of society, was a severe competitor for the half-educated and slovenly youth, whose awkward and bashful manner seemed rather ill-temper than mere diffidence. Mark was himself conscious of the disadvantages he laboured under, and although Sir Archy had few fears that such an admirer was likely to win favour with the gay and capricious girl, whose foreign habits had taught her to value social qualities at the highest price, still, there was a chance that Hemsworth might have thought differently, and that jealousy was the secret of the whole scheme. Kate, with her ten thousand pounds of a rent-charge, might be a very reasonable object of Hemsworth's ambition; and when already he had absorbed so large a portion of the family estates, this additional lien would nearly make him master of the entire. It was, then, perfectly possible that this was his game, and that in withdrawing Mark from the scene, he both calculated on the gratitude his generosity would evoke, and more securely provided for his own success. While Sir Archy thus pondered over Hemsworth's motives, he did not neglect the more pressing consideration of Mark's danger. It was evident that he had taken an active part in the insurrectionary movement, and without the slightest precautions for his personal safety. The first care, therefore, was to see and learn from him the full extent of his danger, what proofs there existed against him, and what evidence, either in writing or otherwise, might be adduced to his disadvantage.
“Tell me, frankly and freely, Mark,” said he, aloud, as he arose and paced the room; “tell me, openly, how you stand, who are your betrayers, what your dangers, and I'll answer for it the peril may be averted.”
“I have come to do so, sir,” said a voice behind him—and Mark O'Donoghue was standing at the door.
CHAPTER XXXVIII. TAMPERING AND PLOTTING
While they who meditated the invasion of Ireland were thoroughly informed on the state of parties, and the condition of public opinion in that kingdom, the English Government were satisfied with vague and insufficient rumours of those intentions, derived from sources of questionable accuracy, or communicated by persons in the pay of their opponents. Certain it is, neither the magnitude of the peril was appreciated, nor its nearness suspected. Many, in England, regarded the whole in the light of a menace, and believed that the embarrassments of the French Directory were quite sufficient to withdraw their thoughts from foreign aggression, to troubles nearer home. Their great want of money, arms, and all the munitions of war, was well known and trusted to as a guarantee of security. Others supposed that a rash attempt might be made, but were equally sure of its being defeated by our naval forces before a landing could be effected; and many more believed that the pretence of foreign aid was but a threat of the malcontents at home, to enforce compliance with their demands. The event itself was to show how unfounded were all these calculations, and how little reason we had to regard our security as derived from our own measures of foresight and precaution.
Constituted as the French Government of the day was, nothing would have been easier than to have ample knowledge of all the projects. The men in high situations were newly elevated to power, from positions of very humble pretension, with no habits of public business, no experience of the mode of conducting difficult affairs, and many of them of very questionable character for integrity; and yet, with these opportunities at our disposal, a few scattered facts, ill-authenticated and vague, were all that our Government attained to; and even these were unattended to, save when they implicated the conduct of some suspected character nearer home; then, indeed, party violence assumed an appearance of statesmanlike vigilance, and crown prosecutions and ex-officio informations, seemed the safeguard of the empire.
On occasions of this kind, the activity of the Government was most remarkable, and while the great question of national security was overlooked, no pains were spared to track out the narrow path where some insignificant treason was plodding, and bring the plotter to the scaffold. Large sums of money were spent in obtaining secret information, and the whole science of government was reduced to a system of “espionage.” This little-minded and narrow policy was, in a great measure, the consequence of entrusting so much of the Government to the influence of the lawyers, who, regarding everything through the light of their own profession, placed the safety of the empire on the success of a crown prosecution.