and for a second seemed undetermined how to act; but
suddenly recovering his composure, he smiled significantly at Mark,
wished him a good night, and departed.

CHAPTER XXXIV. THE DAYBREAK ON THE STRAND

It was with an impatience almost amounting to madness that Mark
O'Donoghue awaited the dawn of day; long before that hour had arrived he
had made every preparation for joining his friend. A horse stood ready
saddled awaiting him in the stable, and his pistols--the weapons Talbot
knew so well how to handle--were carefully packed in the heavy holsters.
The time settled for the meeting was seven o'clock, but he was certain
that Talbot would be near the place before that hour, if not already
there. The scene which followed Talbot's escape also stimulated his
anxiety to meet with him; not that any, even the faintest suspicion of
his friend's honour ever crossed Mark's mind, but he wished to warn him
of the dangers that were gathering around him, for were he arrested on a
suspicion, who was to say what material evidence might not arise against
him in his real character of a French spy. Mark's was not a character
long to brood over doubtful circumstances, and seek an explanation
for difficulties which only assumed the guise of suspicions. Too prone
always to be led by first impressions of every body and every thing, he
hated and avoided whatever should disturb the opinions he thus hastily
formed. When matters too complicated and knotty for his immediate
comprehension crossed him, he turned from them without an effort,
and rather satisfied himself that it was a point of honour to "go on
believing," than harbour a doubt even where the circumstances were
calculated to suggest it. This frame of mind saved him from all
uneasiness on the score of Talbot's honour; he had often heard how many
disguises and masks his friend had worn in the events of his wild and
dangerous career, and if he felt how incapable he himself would have
been to play so many different parts, the same reason prevented his
questioning the necessity of such subterfuges. That Harry Talbot had
personated any or all of the persons mentioned by the constable, he
little doubted, and therefore he regarded their warrant after him
as only another evidence of his skill and cleverness, but that his
character were in the least involved, was a supposition that never once
occurred to him. Amid all his anxieties of that weary night, not one
arose from this cause; no se