During this brief colloquy, Kate listened with breathless interest to learn some fact, or even some well-grounded suspicion which might serve to put Mark on his guard; but nothing could be more vague and indecisive than Travers's information, and it was evident that he had not concealed any thing he knew. Was he in a position to learn more, was the next question to herself--might he not be able to ascertain where the suspicion of Government rested, and on whom? Her decisions were seldom but the work of a second, and as soon as this thought struck her, she determined to act upon it. Slipping noiselessly from the room, she hastily threw a shawl around her, and hurried from the house by a small postern door, which, leading down to the high road, was considerably shorter than the causeway by which Travers must pass. It was no time for the indulgence of bashfulness, and indeed her thoughts were far too highly excited by another's destiny to leave any room to think of herself; and short as the path was, it sufficed to let her arrange her plan of procedure, even to the very words she should employ. “I must not tell him it is for Mark,” said she; “he must think it is a general desire to save any rash or misguided enthusiast from ruin. But, here he comes;” and at the same instant the figure of a man was seen approaching, leading his horse by the bridle. The dark shadow of the castle fell across the road at the spot, and served to make the form dim and indistinct. Kate waited not for his coming nearer, but advancing hastily towards him, cried out-- “Captain Travers, I have a favour to ask of you--one, which my coming thus to seek----” “Say no more, Kate, lest I hear what was never intended for my ears,” said a low, deep voice. “Mark--cousin Mark, is this you,” cried she, with mingled pleasure and shame. “Yes,” replied he, in a tone of still deeper gravity; “I grieve to disappoint you--it is me.” “Oh, Mark, mistake me not--do not wrong me,” said she, laying her hand affectionately on his arm. “I have longed so much to see you--to speak to you, ere we went away.” “To see _me_--to speak to _me_,” said he, stepping back, and letting the moonlight fall full upon his features, now pale as death; “it was not _me_ you expected to meet here.” “No, Mark, but it was for you I came; I wished to serve--perhaps to save you. I know your secret, Mark, but it is safe with me.” “And I know yours, young lady,” retorted he, bitterly. “I cannot say how far my discretion will rival your own.” [Illustration: 259] As he spoke, a horseman darted rapidly past, and as he emerged from the shadow, turned round in his saddle, stared fixedly at the figures before him, and then taking off his hat, said-- “Good-night, Miss O'Donoghue.” When Kate-recovered the shock of this surprise, she found herself alone--Mark had disappeared; and she now returned slowly to the castle, her heart torn with opposing emotions, among which wounded pride was not the least poignant.