“It is Mark—my boy is taken!” cried the old man in a burst of agony, and he buried his head in his hands, and sobbed aloud. Kate never spoke, but a sick, cold faintness crept over her, and she stood almost breathless with anxiety. She heard the horses as they drew up at the door, but had not strength to reach the window and look out. The bell was rung violently—every clank sent a pang through her bosom. The door was opened, and now she heard Kerry's voice, but could not distinguish the words. Then there was a noise as of some one dismounting, and the clatter of a sabre was heard along the flagged hall. This ceased, and she could recognize Kerry's step as he came up the corridor to the door of the tower.
“Come in,” cried she to his summons, but her utmost effort could not make the words audible. “Come in,” said she again.
Kerry heard it not, but opening the door cautiously, he entered.
“'Tis the Captain, Miss Kate, wants to know if he could see the master.”
“Yes,” said she, in a voice scarcely above a whisper. “Who is with him? Is there a prisoner there?”
“Faix, there is then; but Captain Travers will tell you all himself.”
“Captain Travers!” cried Kate, a deep flush covering her face.
“Yes, madam,” said Frederick, as he entered at the same moment.
“I am but too happy to bear pleasant tidings, to think of my want of courtesy in intruding unannounced.”
“Leave the room—shut the door, Kerry,” said Kate, as with eyes fixed on Travers she waited for him to continue.