“With all my heart, Archy,” said the O'Donoghue; “or rather, if you would do me a favour, just tell me what it is about--polite correspondence affects me pretty much as the ceremonies of bowing and salutation, when I have a fit of the gout. I become devilish impatient, and would give the world it was all over, and that I were back in my easy chair again.” “The politeness in the present case, lies less in the style than in the substance,” said Sir Archy. “This is a vara civil, though, I must say, to me a vara unwelcome proposal, to take our darling Kate away from us, for a season, and show her some of the life and gaieties of the capital.” “Well, that is handsomely done, at least,” said the O'Donoghue, whose first thought sprung from gratified pride, at the palpable evidence of social consideration; then suddenly changing his tone, he said in a low voice; “but what says Kate herself?” Mark turned his eyes full upon her, as his father said these words, and as a deadly pallor came over his face, he sat steadfastly awaiting her reply, like one expecting the decree of a judge. “Kate feels too happy here, sir, to risk anything by a change,” replied she, avoiding, even for a second, to look towards where Mark was sitting. “But you must not lose such an opportunity, dearest Kate;” whispered Herbert eagerly into her ear. “These are the scenes, and the places you are used to, and best fitted to enjoy and to adorn, and besides----” A stern frown from Mark, who, if he had not overheard the speech, seemed to have guessed its import, suddenly arrested the youth, who now looked overwhelmed with confusion. “We are a divided cabinet; that I see plainly enough, Kate;” said O'Donoghue; “though, if our hearts were to speak out, I'd warrant they would be of one mind. Still, this would be a selfish verdict, my dear girl, and a poor requital for all the happiness you have brought back to these old walls;” and the words were spoken with a degree of feeling that made all indisposed to break the silence that followed. “I should like to see the capital, I own,” said Kate, “if my absence were to be a short one.” “And I wad hae nae objection the capital should see yersel,” said Sir Archy; “albeit, I may lose a sweetheart by my generosity.” “Have no fears of my fidelity,” said Kate, laughing, as she extended her hand towards him, while, with antique gallantry, he pressed it to his lips. “The youth of this land are not, so far as my little experience goes, likely to supplant so true an admirer; they who have so little devotion to their country, may well be suspected of having less for its daughters.” Mark's brow grew dark with the flush that covered his face and forehead in an instant; he bent his head almost to the table to avoid observation, and, as if in the distraction of the moment, he took up the note and seemed to pore over its contents; then suddenly crushing it in his hand, he arose from the table and left the room.