or sunk in his own
saddening reflections. Kate would sometimes adventure to disperse the
dark clouds from his mind, but ever without success; he either felt
annoyed at being the subject of remark, or left the room; so that at
last, she abandoned the effort, hoping that time and its changes would
effect what the present denied. Perhaps, too, she had reasons for this
hope. More than once, with womanly quickness, had she marked how he had
stood with his eye fixed upon her, unconscious of being seen; how,
when about to leave the room, he would loiter about, as if in search
of something, but, in reality, to listen to the song she was singing.
Still, she showed no sign of having seen these things; but always, in
her air towards him, affected a careless ease of manner, as like his
own as possible. For days, sometimes for an entire week, he would absent
himself from home; and, as he was never submissive to much questioning,
his appearance called forth no other remark than some passing
observation of what had occurred in his absence, but which drew from him
no interchange of confidence.
These symptoms of Mark's altered character made a deeper impression on
his father than events of greater moment could have done. He watched
every movement and expression of his favourite son, to catch some clue
to the change; but all in vain. The young man never, by any accident,
alluded to himself: nor did he often now advert to the circumstance
of the family difficulties; on the contrary, a lethargic carelessness
seemed to brood over him, and he went about like one who had lost all
zest for life, and all care for its enjoyments.
The O'Donoghue was too well versed in the character of his son to hope
for any elucidation of the mystery by a mere inquiry; so that he was
left to speculate on the many causes which might have operated the
change, and divine, as well as he was able, the secret grief that
affected him. In this pursuit, like all who have long suffered the
pressure of a particular calamity, he ever felt disposed to ascribe
Mark's suffering to the same cause which produced his own, namely, the
fallen fortunes of the house, and the ruin that hung over them. Yet,
somehow, of late, matters had taken a turn more favourable. His attorney
at Cork had informed him, that from some informality in the proceedings,
the ejectment was stopped, at least for the present term. The notices to
the tenants not to pay were withdrawn, and the rents came in
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