Lord Kilgobbin Part 51

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

THE RETURN

Kate Kearney was in the act of sending out scouts and messengers to look out for Nina, whose long absence had begun to alarm her, when she heard that she had returned and was in her room.

'What a fright you have given me, darling!' said Kate, as she threw her arms about her, and kissed her affectionately. 'Do you know how late you are?'

'No; I only know how tired I am.'

'What a long day of fatigue you must have gone through. Tell me of it all.'

'Tell me rather of yours. You have had the great Mr. Walpole here: is it not so?'

'Yes; he is still here--he has graciously given us another day, and will not leave till to-morrow night.'

'By what good fortune have you been so favoured as this?'

'Ostensibly to finish a long conversation or conference with papa, but really and truthfully, I suspect, to meet Mademoiselle Kostalergi, whose absence has piqued him.'

'Yes, piqued is the word. It is the extreme of the pain he is capable of feeling. What has he said of it?'

'Nothing beyond the polite regrets that courtesy could express, and then adverted to something else.'

'With an abruptness that betrayed preparation?'

'Perhaps so.'

'Not perhaps, but certainly so. Vanity such as his has no variety. It repeats its moods over and over; but why do we talk of him? I have other things to tell you of. You know that man who came here with d.i.c.k. That Mr.

'I know--I know,' cried the other hurriedly, 'what of him?'

'He joined me this morning, on my way through the bog, and drove with me to Cruhan.'

'Indeed!' muttered Kate thoughtfully.

'A strange, wayward, impulsive sort of creature--unlike any one--interesting from his strong convictions--'

'Did he convert you to any of his opinions, Nina?'

'You mean, make a rebel of me. No; for the simple reason that I had none to surrender. I do not know what is wrong here, nor what people would say was right.'

'You are aware, then, who he is?'

'Of course I am. I was on the terrace that night when your brother told you he was Donogan--the famous Fenian Donogan. The secret was not intended for me, but I kept it all the same, and I took an interest in the man from the time I heard it.'

'You told him, then, that you knew who he was.'

'To be sure I did, and we are fast friends already; but let me go on with my narrative. Some excitement, some show of disturbance at Cruhan, persuaded him that what he called--I don't know why--the Crowbar Brigade was at work and that the people were about to be turned adrift on the world by the landlord, and hearing a wild shout from the village, he insisted on going back to learn what it might mean. He had not left me long, when your late steward, Gill, came up with several policemen, to search for the convict Donogan. They had a warrant to apprehend him, and some information as to where he had been housed and sheltered.'

'Here--with us?'

'Here--with you! Gill knew it all. This, then, was the reason for that excitement we had seen in the village--the people had heard the police were coming, but for what they knew not; of course the only thought was for their own trouble.'

'Has he escaped? Is he safe?'

'Safe so far, that I last saw him on the wide bog, some eight miles away from any human habitation; but where he is to turn to, or who is to shelter him, I cannot say.'

'He told you there was a price upon his head?'

'Yes, a few hundred pounds, I forget how much, but he asked me this morning if I did not feel tempted to give him up and earn the reward.'

Kate leaned her head upon her hand, and seemed lost in thought.

'They will scarcely dare to come and search for him here,' said she; and, after a pause, added, 'And yet I suspect that the chief constable, Mr.

Curtis, owes, or thinks he owes, us a grudge: he might not be sorry to pa.s.s this slight upon papa.' And she pondered for some time over the thought.

'Do you think he can escape?' asked Nina eagerly.

'Who, Donogan?'

'Of course--Donogan.'

'Yes, I suspect he will: these men have popular feeling with them, even amongst many who do not share their opinions. Have you lived long enough amongst us, Nina, to know that we all hate the law? In some shape or other it represents to the Irish mind a tyranny.'

'You are Greeks without their acuteness,' said Nina.

'I'll not say that,' said Kate hastily. 'It is true I know nothing of your people, but I think I could aver that for a shrewd calculation of the cost of a venture, for knowing when caution and when daring will best succeed, the Irish peasant has scarcely a superior anywhere.'

'I have heard much of his caution this very morning,' said Nina superciliously.

'You might have heard far more of his recklessness, if Donogan cared to tell of it,' said Kate, with irritation. 'It is not English squadrons and batteries he is called alone to face, he has to meet English gold, that tempts poverty, and English corruption, that begets treachery and betrayal.

The one stronghold of the Saxon here is the informer, and mind, I, who tell you this, am no rebel. I would rather live under English law, if English law would not ignore Irish feeling, than I'd accept that Heaven knows what of a government Fenianism could give us.'

'I care nothing for all this, I don't well know if I can follow it; but I do know that I'd like this man to escape. He gave me this pocket-book, and told me to keep it safely. It contains some secrets that would compromise people that none suspect, and it has, besides, some three or four addresses to which I could write with safety if I saw cause to warn him of any coming danger.'

'And you mean to do this?'

'Of course I do; I feel an interest in this man. I like him. I like his adventurous spirit. I like that ambitious daring to do or to be something beyond the herd around him. I like that readiness he shows to stake his life on an issue. His enthusiasm inflames his whole nature. He vulgarises such fine gentlemen as Mr. Walpole, and such poor pretenders as Joe Atlee, and, indeed, your brother, Kate.'

'I will suffer no detraction of d.i.c.k Kearney,' said Kate resolutely.

'Give me a cup of tea, then, and I shall be more mannerly, for I am quite exhausted, and I am afraid my temper is not proof against starvation.'