“And is the rising some mere sudden ebullition of discontent, or have they concerted any movement with others at a distance?”
“A mere isolated outbreak—the rash folly of hair-brained boys, without plan or project.”
“What is to become of poor Mark?” cried the O'Donoghue, all suspicions of treachery forgotten in the anxiety of his son's safety.
“I have thought of that,” said Hemsworth, hastily. “The movement must be put down at once. As a magistrate, and in the full confidence of the Government, I have no second course open to me, and therefore I have ordered up the military from Macroom. There are four troops of cavalry and an infantry regiment there. With them in front, this ill-disciplined rabble will never dare to advance, but soon scatter and disband themselves in the mountains—the leaders only will incur any danger. But as regards your son, you have only to write a few lines to him, and dispatch them by some trusty messenger, saying that you are aware of what has happened—know everything—and without wishing to interfere or thwart his designs, you desire to see and speak with him, here, at once. This he will not refuse. Once here safe, and within these walls, I'll hasten the pursuit of these foolish country fellows; and even should any of them be taken, your son will not be of the number. You must take care, however, when he is here, that he does not leave this until I return.”
“And are these brave fellows, misguided though they be, to be kidnapped thus, and by our contrivance, too?” said Kate, on whom, for the first time, a dread of Hemsworth's duplicity was fast breaking.
“I did not know Miss O'Donoghue's interest took so wide a range, or that her sympathies were so Catholic,” said Hemsworth, with a smile of double meaning. “If she would save her cousin, however, she must adopt my plan, or at least suggest a better one.”
“Yes, yes, Kate, Mr. Hemsworth is right,” said the O'Donoghue, in whom selfishness was always predominant; “we must contrive to get Mark here, and to keep him when we have him.”
“And you may rely upon it, Miss O'Donoghue,” said Hemsworth, in a whisper, “that my pursuit of the others will not boast of any excessive zeal in the cause of loyalty. Such fellows may be suffered to escape, and neither King nor Constitution have any ground of complaint for it.”
Kate smiled gratefully in return, and felt angry with herself for even a momentary injustice to the honourable nature of Hemsworth's motives.
“Mr. Hemsworth's horses is at the door,” said Kerry, at the same moment.