“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.