“He was, madam; but amid the mass of treachery he has met a just fate. Barrington, determined to punish the fellow, has come forward, and given himself up; but with such evidence of the horse-dealer's guilt, that his conviction is certain; the sums he received from France are all proved under his own hand, and now that Hemsworth is no more, and Lawler's treachery has no patron, his case has little hope. He is at this moment my prisoner; we took him on the mountain where he had gone with a party to secure Mr. Mark O'Donoghue, for whose capture a large reward was offered.”
As Kate listened to this recital, delivered in a tone which showed the contempt the speaker entertained for an enterprise undertaken by such actors, her own indignant pride revolted at the baseness of those with whom her cousin was associated.
“Yes,” said she at length, and speaking unconsciously aloud, “no cause could prosper with supporters like these; there must be rottenness in the confederacy that links such agencies as these together. And had my cousin not one friend?—was there not one to wring his hand at parting?” said she hurriedly, changing the theme of her thoughts.
“There was one,” said Travers, modestly; “Mr. O'Donoghue was noble-hearted enough, even in the hour of calamity, to forget an ancient grudge, and to call me his friend. He did more—he wished we had been friends for many a day before.”
“Would that you had,” said Kate, as the tears burst forth, and ran down her cheeks.
“And we might have been such,” continued Travers, “had not deceit and malevolence sowed discord been our families. You know not, Miss O'Donoghue, how deeply this treachery worked, and how artfully its plans were conceived. The very hopes whose disappointment has darkened my life, were fed and fostered by him, who knew how little reason I had to indulge them; forgive me, I pray, if I allude to a subject I ought never to recall. It was Hemsworth persuaded me that my suit would not prove unsuccessful; it was by his advice and counsel I risked the avowal which has cost me the happiness of my future life. I will speak of this no more,” said Travers, who saw in the deep blush that covered Kate's features, the distress the theme occasioned her. “It was a selfish thought that prompted me to excuse my hardihood at the cost of your feelings.”
“I will not let you speak thus, sir,” said Kate, in a voice faint from excessive emotion, “there was no such hardihood in one favoured by every gift of fortune stooping to one humble as I am; but there were disparities wider than those of rank between us, and if I can now see how greatly these were exaggerated by the falsehood and treachery of others, yet I know that our opinions are too wide apart, to make agreement aught else than a compromise between us.”
“Might not time soften, if not obliterate such differences,” whispered Travers, timidly.
“It could not with me,” said Kate, resolutely; “this is the losing side ever, and my nature is a stubborn one—it has no sympathies save with those in misfortune; but we can be friends,” said she, extending her hand frankly towards him—“friends firm and true, not the less strong in regard, because our affections have not overcome our convictions.”
“Do not speak so decisively,” Miss O'Donoghue, said Travers, as his lip trembled with strong emotion; “even at this moment how much has misrepresentation clouded our knowledge of each other; let time, I entreat of you, dissipate these false impressions, or give me, at least, the opportunity of becoming more worthy of your esteem.”