SHANE'S LITTLE PARTY.
When she observed a marked coolness 'twixt Doreen and the guest, my
lady frowned more and more. _Amantium, irae!_ This was worse and worse.
Was this boor to take the damsel from under Shane's nose? It occurred
to her that it was time to shake off her lethargy. Ghost or no ghost,
it would not do for this 'half-mounted gentleman' to carry off the
prize after which she had stooped for years to scheme herself, for
reasons of her own. As it seemed slipping from her fingers, it
appeared to grow in value; and the importance of the danger exorcised
the ghost for the time being. Shane's interests should not be made to
suffer through his mother's indifference. The list of charges against
the hapless dowager was full enough without that. So soon as the
_fete_ to the squireens was over, she would return to Strogue. Why did
she ever leave it to come to this accursed spot? She became once more
the imperial countess--roused herself--went hither and thither to see
that the family name was not dishonoured by the preparations for
hospitality--suggested changes for the better--had the garden roofed
in with curtains, and tables spread there in cool shadow. It would be
nice, she affirmed, for the gentlemen to enjoy the unrivalled panorama
of the Donegal mountains whilst sipping the equally unrivalled claret
of their host.
Doreen, who on reflection was grievously annoyed anent the folly of
her large admirer, was taken by surprise when she beheld this new
phase in her aunt's demeanour. She was a kaleidoscope, but certainly
not mad. No judge on the bench was more sane than she. The corroding
gloom was still there, but lightened; no longer engrossing its victim
as it had done. Power had been given by some mysterious agency to
shake off the weight. Who might solve the riddle? Was the cause of her
agony actually gone? It could not be remorse, then. The gloom which
remained was exhaustion after pain. Doreen gave it up, and resigned
herself to the consideration of tarts and puddings for the benefit of
chawbacons.
The grand day came, and with it the squireens, who were turned to
stone by the aspect of my lady, as by a gorgon's head. Despite the
chill which hangs over the sea at sunrise, their warm hands became
more and more clammy in Medusa's awful presence. She wore a stiff
brocade cut in an obsolete fashion, with a broad sash and full white
fichu loosely knotted behind. As a gorgon she was a success. Never in
the palmy days of Dublin Castle had she struck terror into the bosoms
of _debutantes_ as she did now into the innermost souls of these raw
youths. They mopped their brows, rubbed their moist hand-palms on
their small clothes of kerseymere, tugged at their tight vests, felt
nervously whether their pigtails were hanging straight over the tall
coat-collars which sawed their ears, stumbled over their swords,
demeaned themselves after the manner of awkward youth when in a
paroxysm of timidity. She curtseyed like Queen Elizabeth, with high
nose exalted, and they shrank back in a wave affrighted; only to ebb
again in renewed fear, having well-nigh knocked down the lovely Miss
Wolfe who was making a dignified entrance by another door. Those two
haughty women together in one room were quite too much for them. With
relief they sat down to a sort of improvised breakfast, for the shadow
of tables would conceal their shoes, the country make of which had
already been remarked by the younger lady's eagle eye. Conscience
makes fools of us. Doreen cared not about their shoes, nor saw them.
She merely thought the young men a set of oafs, and was displeased, in
that they should have arrived too early. By prearranged programme they
were to be taken to inspect the towers; then to view the English
fleet, by kind permission of Sir Borlase; then they were to return to
dinner, to get as intoxicated as if they were 'gentlemen to the
backbone,' sleep off their orgy, and return in the morning to
Letterkenny barracks. An excellent programme, no doubt, wherewith to
while away an autumn holiday--but a still better one had been prepared
for them by destiny.
While the party was at breakfast, the stillness became broken by an
odd concussion in the air. A dull series of unequal thuds a long way
off, which reverberated on the waves, that seemed to bear them onward
in muffled throbs. What could cause the strange sensation which acted
on the nerves with such irritating effect? It was not thunder. Nobody
present had ever been in battle, or they would have recognised the
singular sound, which is indescribable, and which, having once been
heard, may never be forgotten. It was part of the programme that they
should be shown a fleet. Fortune was lavish, and decided to show them
two. The English fleet was in the offing; _so was the French_. At
dawn, Sir Borlase (whose squadron amounted to nine vessels) had been
no little taken aback by the appearance of four ships hurrying through
the mist. On descrying the glint of his white sails these ships tacked
and made off, confessing by the movement, though they showed no
colours, that they represented an enemy. He instantly gave orders to
stow away the holiday gear and clear for action--despatching a message
to my Lord Glandore, to announce that he was gone away on business,
but that he might return in time for dinner, and bring some extra
guests with him.
The French! How silly was the Grande Nation! When energy and
promptitude might have lost Ireland to England, they hung about and
dawdled and did nothing. When the critical time was passed, they
seemed suddenly to have awakened and to be resolved to rush wilfully
by driblets into the open jaws of death. When Humbert landed a few
days before, he had at least the advantage of surprise. Warned by his
bit of lunacy, English squadrons were despatched all round the
seaboard to guard the coast; and yet a handful of adventurers could
still be found to attempt to seize a country that wanted them no more!
When the admiral's message came, Cassidy glanced sideways at Doreen.
She turned pale, and, to the relief of the squireens, retired indoors.
The opening of Lough Swilly is one of the most perilous points for
seamen who are ignorant of its peculiarities, even on an iron-bound
coast which everywhere is dangerous. At ebb there are long stretches
of low water, broken here and there into surf by banks of underlying
rock. When the French ships strove to flee before Sir Borlase (there
were only four--the rest of the expedition being, as usual, nowhere),
the French commander recognised the fact that, being caught in a trap,
he must stand at bay with one to ensure the escape of the other
three. He had one big and heavy man-of-war which floundered--badly
piloted--like an unwieldy whale, nearer and nearer to the cliff. The
English admiral was bearing down on him. There was no time to tranship
men--to leave the monster to its fate--empty--an idle prey. With
intrepid courage he signalled his other ships to retreat through
shallow water, resolved alone to honour his country's flag, which was
now unfurled, by a desperate but hopeless defence.
Sir Borlase despatched a razee and a frigate after the fugitives. They
flitted into distance, and were seen no more. Then, the black monster
having been surrounded by five smaller foes, one of the most obstinate
engagements began that was ever fought upon the ocean. The occupants
of the island could mark all that passed, for the returning tide
drifted the helpless hulk closer and more close inland, and they, as
it were, occupied a front place at the entrance of the lough wherefrom
to view the spectacle. It was most exciting. Even my lady's dulled
eyes sparkled as they had not done for years. Shane--almost
delirious--the cicatrice on his forehead standing forth like a
stain--whooped and hallooed and clapped his hands and danced
fandangoes on the parapet, and would have tumbled headlong over the
garden wall into the sea, if the giant had not held his skirts. Who
should be a better judge of such matters than the King of Cherokees?
The squireens forgot their nervousness, became oblivious of country
shoes, of ill-made pigtails, and red ears and knuckles, whooping and
hallooing like a pack of hounds, in echo to the whooping of their
host. Some (but these were very forward) even clutched Medusa's
dress--pinched Queen Bess's arm--in their eagerness that the
white-haired lady should not lose a point in the struggle.
For six hours the doomed monster laboured, heaving on the shallow
waves, drifting within a stone's throw of Malin Head. Figures could be
detected through the smoke, scurrying hither and thither in blue
uniforms, with gestures of command or encouragement. Two, more busy
than the rest, were on the poop, rushing forward--aft--conspicuous in
the front of peril for gold-laced sleeves, huge hats and feathers,
loose hair after the French mode. Masts and rigging crashed and
crumbled--the ponderous hull winced and swayed with repeated shocks,
while the surge lapped creamy round its prow. The roar of artillery
now was deafening.
'If they don't take care,' Shane screamed, as though his warning could
be heard, 'that blundering hull will jam the little vessels against
the rocks!'
With a desperate energy which compelled the sympathy even of the
squireens, the doomed ship returned fire for fire, though her sails
and cordage clung about her in ribbons; though her shattered ribs
yawned at each new stroke; though her scuppers flowed with blood;
though her decks were piled with corpses. As the smoke swirled away in
eddies, the two in hats and plumes could still be seen exposing
themselves recklessly, ordering up hammocks and spare sails to stuff
into widening gaps. The cannonade of Sir Borlase rang among the
sea-caves, bringing thence whirring troops of bats, which dashed in
their terror in the faces of the combatants, then dropped dazed into
the sucking swell. The frightened fisher-folk looked on furtively at
first from holes and clefts, then fled inland, leaving their precious
nets and boats as a spoil for the spoiler. The death-struggle of the
monster was painful to look upon, as it swung heavily and shivered
whilst blow succeeded blow. It was a gallant monster, for the tattered
tricolour still dangled over the gap where once the rudder was--a
valiant monster! Enemy though he might be who was receiving a final
battering, few could look without pity on his death-throes--for he was
dying game.
Gurgling foam-whipped water began to pour into the hold of the big
ship, which now lay so close at hand that her name was visible in
florid carving on her poop--_Hoche_. The name of Tone's friend and
Buonaparte's rival, who had died but a few months ago, of consumption,
on the Rhine. She was a dismantled wreck--nothing but a dark battered
hull. Her batteries were dumb; dismounted. The tattered tricolour went
down, as a signal that she struck. The banging of Sir Borlase ceased.
The sudden stillness, after so long-drawn a hubbub, was painful to the
ear. The squireens clasped each other's hands and embraced in their
excitement, whilst Shane drew forth his jewelled timepiece.
'By the Hokey! but it's a glorious sight!' he gasped, flapping his
face with a dainty handkerchief; for a spectacle such as this touched
the finest chord in his nature. 'Six hours, as I live; and it seems
scarce six minutes. The sun is high in the heavens, though you can't
see him for the smoke, save as a saffron disk. They are fine fellows,
mounseers though they be; we'll give them a hearty cheer when Sir
Borlase brings them to dinner. On my honour, I half wish they had
conquered!'
Doreen, at the commencement of the action, had withdrawn alone to the
watch-tower where the fire-bucket stood, and remained there clutching
it with a heavy dread. What a relief it had been to her mind to think
that the French had given up all thoughts of invasion! Something told
her that that big rolling hulk, caught in shallow water as an unwieldy
fish may be, was the flagship. Who might there be on board? When the
roaring ended and silence supervened, she was still at her post of
vantage, concealed from the sight of the excited mob below by the
rolling masses of vapour, which hung like winding-sheets upon the sea.
She stood there as in a trance--motionless in the body, though her
mind worked with exceeding swiftness--till, after a lapse of time, the
sound of measured oars made itself audible, approaching gradually,
with regular plodding rhythm; and then a row of boats, headed by the
admiral's, loomed at the stone staircase-foot. She woke with a shudder
to a Babel of shouts and laughter, and slowly descended from her
eyrie, trembling with mortal apprehension.
'Mounseers, every man Jack!' Sir Borlase was saying, cheerily.
'Thank God!' was the fervent echo in Doreen's bosom.
'The French-Irish boys are conspicuous for their absence when it comes
to blows for Ireland,' went on the admiral. 'Quite right, too; for we
couldn't treat 'em as prisoners of war, you know. There's not a man
among my prisoners, thank the Lord, who's not a Parleyvoo.'
Doreen appeared in the small battlemented garden, but stood aside, out
of respect to the vanquished braves. They passed her by in their blue
full-skirted coats and voluminous neckcloths and queer cocked hats and
plumes; some bleeding, some reeling like drunken men, some with heads
bowed and livid faces, some with a poor assumption of jauntiness--all
smirched and powder-blackened.
They passed between two scarlet hedges, along the avenue which the
squireens opened for them, into the low entrance-hall, and there
waited in knots. There could not be the smallest chance of escape;
therefore no guard was set. Generous Sir Borlase was sorry for the men
who had fought so well. This little courtesy was due to such brave
soldiers. They might wander where they listed on the islet, while the
British admiral was arranging what was to be done with them.
Lord Glandore busied him exceedingly; held important conferences with
Sir Borlase and the commandant of the squireens. If the poor fellows
were to be captured at all, it was a stroke of luck for him that they
should have been taken within his jurisdiction. They should be packed
off, by-and-by, in his own yacht to Rathmullen; he would go himself
with the escort. The commandant at Letterkenny would send them on to
Dublin; he, too, would ride thither. It would be wonderful if he did
not receive an English marquisate as reward for his brilliant
services. Meanwhile it behoved him to play _Grand Seigneur_. If there
was one thing which could create a passing spirit of real generosity
in his shallow nature, it was the sight of personal prowess. He always
loved a good duel, a good cock-fight, a successful bear-baiting. Had
he not been in the habit of fighting endless duels himself for a mere
bubble reputation? His own rapier was rusty now from want of use; but,
please the pigs, he would start afresh next week in the metropolis,
and resume his crown and sceptre as King of Cherokees. This contest on
the sea had been a delightful affair; the vanquished should quaff
their fill of his very best claret--aye, the very primest. As he
descended to the cellar he beheld Doreen doing woman's work. She was a
kind creature, though stuck-up. She had summoned the maids with linen
and water. They were moving quietly among the groups, whilst she, with
high-bred courtesy, was whispering gentle words of consolation.
There, in a remote corner, sat the two who had behaved so gallantly.
Their fine scarlet capes and cuffs, and gold-bedizened hats,
proclaimed them to be of the highest military rank. One was nursing
his knee and whistling softly, as his mind wandered far away; the
other was bent forward; his hands were clasped over his face; hot
tears were trickling between his fingers.
'Be of good cheer,' the lively first one murmured; 'we shall see _la
belle France_ again, no fear. We shall be ransomed by-and-by. You will
again behold your wife and little ones.'
Doreen swept with stately grace to where they sat.
'Are either of the gentlemen hurt?' she inquired in French.
He who was bowed down looked up. She dropped the pitcher which she
held, and staggered against the wall.
'Theobald--_here!_' she whispered.
Alas! Yes. It was Theobald Wolfe Tone--thinner, paler, with all the
youth gone out of him.
'It was not thus that I had expected to return,' he said in French,
with a sorry smile. 'Yet what matters it? _Le temps et le malheur ont
fletri mon ame!_'
Doreen speedily recovered her self-possession.
'How culpably rash!' she muttered. 'There is no one that knows you in
this place who would betray you; you will pass for a Frenchman. I will
warn Shane, that he may not show surprise. That you should have come
at last! Too late--too late!'
My lady, who was always the first to think of etiquette, suggested
that the officers of high rank should occupy the reception-rooms. It
was showing scant civility to leave them in the hall, like lacqueys.
By-and-by, when the repast was served, they should be shown by their
hostess, in person, to the places of honour.
Miss Wolfe gladly echoed her aunt's suggestion, for she was burning to
talk to Theobald, yet dared not in this public place, under the eyes
of awestricken oafs.
'Mademoiselle's goodness almost makes us thank defeat,' observed
Tone's companion, with a Parisian bow. 'If all the ladies in Ireland
are like her, it will be a sad moment for us when we come to be
exchanged. As for our melancholy friend here, he need surely not be
recognised. His appearance is worthy of the uniform he wears, his
accent will pass muster; he has quite acquired the _je ne sais quoi_
of the Boulevard. We begged of him not to risk himself, but he would;
and here he is--_que voulez-vous?_'
Yes, here he was; there was no doubt of that dreadful fact. In wrath
(which the Parisian thought became her style of loveliness) she rated
him in whispers for his folly, charging him with flying in the face of
Providence, with being selfish and unkind.
Theobald listened, while his eyes wandered over the blue line of
mountains, glittering now through rifts of driving smoke in the
prismatic haze of a hot afternoon.
'I could not help it,' he said, with slow despondency. 'I knew we
could not succeed. The English Government was informed of our
starting. It was an attempt to resuscitate a flame quenched beyond
power of rekindling. Yet I felt it my duty, if the Directory sent but
a corporal's guard, to go and die with them. The hand of the
executioner shall never be laid on me. If my time has come, it has
come.'
This dejection was terrible to witness. Veering round, after the way
of woman, Doreen took his hand in hers, and, stroking it, nestled by
his side.
The Parisian felt himself _de trop_, and, humming a gay air, turned
his attention to the landscape. It was a relief to his sense of _les
convenances_ when a fourth person entered the drawing-room.
It was Cassidy, whose face underwent a series of rapid changes as he
recognised his brother-in-law. He had ceased to be the jovial, jolly,
willing Cassidy. There had been a spiteful peevishness about him for
days past, which surprised Miss Wolfe no little. The milk of his
good-humour had turned sour. She thought it singular that her refusal
to become his wife could alter a man's nature so.
'You!' was all that the giant could find breath to say, as with fists
thrust deep into his breeches-pockets and thick legs straddled wide,
he stared at the apparition.
Theobald held out his hand, but he whose sister he had married did not
take it. His mind was seething with new ideas. What an unexpected way
had now presented itself of, at one stroke, making his fortune and
revenging himself on this haughty minx!
'You!' he repeated again, after a pause, as though he could scarce
trust his eyesight.
'Hush!' Doreen said; 'we must keep the secret.'
Cassidy stared sourly at her, and laughed a short sharp laugh. She
looked up at him in growing apprehension, for he appeared to her
without his mask, and she could not comprehend the change.
'Ireland lies soaked in blood,' he said, 'through you. You've come to
look upon your work?'
Theobald started. 'I always designed open and honest warfare,' he
murmured; 'not brigandage and murder! The eighteen thousand victims
murdered by Alva did not stifle the birth of Holland's liberty. From
every drop of my blood and that of those who lay down their lives for
the holy cause there shall arise a patriot to avenge our death.'
'Ye're right. When ye get to Dublin ye'll be hanged. A short shrift
and a dog's death!' was the blunt rejoinder.
'No, no!' cried Doreen, her face blanching.
'I am prepared to pay the penalty of unsuccess,' Tone answered.
'Washington succeeded. Kosciusko failed. I staked my all with a view
to the liberation of this wretched land. I have courted Poverty. I
leave my beloved wife--your poor sister, Cassidy--unprotected, my
children fatherless. That's what unmans me. After so much, it will be
little further effort to sacrifice my life.'
'It shall not be!' Doreen cried.
Tone smiled sadly. 'From the days of Llewellyn of Wales, and Wallace
of Scotland, England has never shown generosity to a fallen enemy.'
'He has come as a French general,' exclaimed Miss Wolfe with creeping
fear; 'who will betray his incognito?'
'It may become my duty,' returned the giant, dryly.
The blood left the girl's face and lips. Scales fell from her eyes.
Here was the Judas who had sold to the gallows one by one, with the
cold crafty deliberation of a devil, the men who had trusted him--who
had clasped his hand in friendship. She saw it all now. With the
lucidity which comes over our minds in moments of extreme trouble, she
beheld in lurid links of fire the chain complete. The discovery of the
pikes in the armoury; in the potato ground of the 'Irish Slave'; the
two-fold betrayal of the council of the society; the town-major's
knowledge of its members, and its passwords; the taking of Terence--of
Terence--_who_ was innocent!
She could do nothing but writhe under the blow, twisting her fingers
together in speechless helplessness.
There was such an intensity of disgust expressed in the movement, that
the giant cleared his throat with a shade of embarrassment.
'Miss Doreen,' he said, 'will ye speak to me in private?'
Her white lips moved and shaped the word--'No.'
'Ye'd better,' he urged, 'indeed ye had.' A dead silence still.
Revengeful rage disturbed his brain. Foolish woman! she could scarcely
expect him to speak out, and clinch a bargain before the victim's
face.
'Ye'll repent it,' he growled. 'Would ye have a poor man fling his
chances away? This fellow's life is worth two thousand guineas and a
seat in parliament. I'd give that up and welcome, if ye'd unsay the
words, colleen, that ye spoke the other day!'
What a strange mixture he was of the lion and hyena. The tenderness
which he strove to throw into his voice, and the leer in his eye,
explained to the patriot the purport of those words. With indignation
he turned on his wife's brother.
'Wretch!' Theobald cried, 'who has a hand for every man--a heart for
himself alone! Would you dare ask her to sell herself for me? Sooner
than that, I'd walk downstairs and tell my name myself to the English
admiral.'
Doreen's mind was overset by the discovery she had made. She felt sick
and giddy, for the world was sliding from beneath her feet. She looked
at one, then at the other, without clearly understanding what was
said.
'You are a common informer!' was all she could bring forth.
Cassidy lost his temper. It is aggravating when your overtures of
compromise are scornfully repulsed.
'Have it your own way, then!' he laughed, with a reckless snap of the
finger, which the Parisian deemed ill-bred in the presence of a lady.
'Mind, if you are hanged it will be your own fault. A man must live.
Would ye have me rob the mail? Mine's as honest a trade as any other.
Sure, don't the Lords and Commons think it mighty honourable, and my
Lord Clare too; or why do they make so much of us? It's a rebel that
ye are, Theobald. Rebels are no judges of what's honest and what's
not.'
With this half-apology for having at last decided which course of two
opposite ones should guide him in the future, the giant left the room
with heavy strides--to return a few minutes later as if nothing
unpleasant had occurred, with a cheery warning that dinner would be
ready soon.
The Parisian, who had been quite baffled in his attempt to understand
the scene, gave a sigh of satisfaction. These persons, who seemed old
acquaintances, had been indulging in a family quarrel and had made it
up again. His knowledge of the English tongue was limited; but he did
understand 'dinner,' and after the excitement of the morning was
afflicted with inconvenient appetite.
Punctiliously polite, the countess and her son came upstairs presently
to conduct their unfortunate guests with solemn ceremony to the
banquet which was spread below. Neither showed any sign of recognising
Theobald. Shane, being dull of comprehension, had looked to his
mother, taking his cue from her. By virtue of his uniform the stranger
was a general; by virtue of this morning's fight he was unfortunate.
Vanquished braves of high military rank cannot be treated with too
much courtesy.
With the quieting of the excitement their fear of Medusa lowered again
on the squireens. One or two of them indeed were tremblingly conscious
of having seized the Gorgon's arm and shaken it. These humbly chose
the lowest place at the long table which occupied the garden's length,
whilst all stood up and hid their hands and shoes as host and hostess
passed.
Sir Borlase was in immense spirits. He declared himself grieved to
break up so pleasant a gathering, but in the gloaming his prisoners
must go. His Majesty should certainly hear of my lord's exemplary
conduct. He pledged the two French generals who (Commodore Bompart
being slain in action) had managed the ship so intrepidly. He tried to
explain himself in broken French jargon to them. Both shrugged their
shoulders and smiled to the nodding of their heavy plumes, giving
thereby to understand that he had the advantage in languages, but that
they considered his speech to be complimentary. 'Lar Bel Fraunce!' he
kept repeating, winking his grey eye and poking their ribs with a
finger, and tossing off bumper after bumper, laughing the while
consumedly, as though all must perceive that the sentiment was witty,
and he a model jester (an English joker, not an Irish one).
Doreen sat next to Theobald. The waning sun, creeping in blotches
through the improvised awning, touched her neck with gold, showing
that warm blood circulated under the rich skin. But for this homage of
the sun the squireens might have taken her for a victim of Medusa, so
frozen was her manner. She was like one magnetised, who, her power of
volition being gone, is obeying the dictates of a foreign power. Meats
were brought to her; she tasted them. Claret was poured into her
goblet. As through a film she saw the weatherbeaten visage of Sir
Borlase moping at her. With mechanical movement she mowed at him in
return.
'Your pretty daughter's going to faint,' whispered the admiral to the
dowager. 'Such sights as I provided for you this morning are all very
well for males; but females--except Spaniards and low-class
Frenchwomen--don't care about such things. She supervised the dressing
of the wounds--Heaven bless her! 'Twas a strain on a delicate nature.
She looks ill and overwrought.'
The countess remarked curtly that Sir Borlase was very good, without
condescending to explain that the girl was not her daughter. She knew
well the cause of the poor maiden's anguish, and felt both for him and
her. The constant contemplation of late of her own private spectre had
softened her. Terence on a gallows, who, but for circumstances over
which his mother _had_ control, might have ended so differently, was
burned on her brain as a scathing reproach for ever. Theobald, whom
she was used to contemplate as a crackbrained enthusiast, assumed a
new interest in her eyes. There was about him a deep-seated
hopelessness which is a gruesome sight in a man of thirty-six, and the
contemplation of it struck a chord of sympathy in her. The case of
Terence she shrank from considering at all. But this young man whose
existence was no reproach: she might feel pity for him without
stabbing her own soul with red-hot daggers by the impulse.
Things were going as smoothly as could be expected. Shane's little
party had developed into a banquet which would become historical. Her
firstborn would receive honours from the King which should
counterbalance the disgrace wherewith the second seemed destined to
endow his family. The French prisoners of war would be exchanged in
time, returning to the bosoms of their distracted loves unhurt. There
was nothing really, my lady decided in her mind, to make her niece
break down, who was wont to be so unduly self-reliant. She looked like
a corpse. My lady, who formerly was discomfited in hand-to-hand
encounters, began to wonder whether she might conquer after all, and
bring about the match for which she yearned.
At the other end of the long table Cassidy kept the company in a roar.
Now that he shilly-shallied no longer, his native spirits had come
back to him. His jests were racy, of the soil, and coarse--just such
as could be appreciated by squireens who were far enough removed from
the grandees to give free rein to their hilarity. They voted him the
funniest dog; threw themselves forward in a 'Haw-haw!' and flung
themselves back with a 'Hee-hee!' slapped their kerseymere shorts;
wagged their heads, and giggled, without any tremor now as to the sit
of pigtails over high collars. Would the radiant boy come and stop at
Letterkenny? He should have the run of the barracks; should be free to
go peasant-baiting whensoever he listed. Horses should become his
without regard to whom they belonged. His life should be one round of
jollity and junketing, if he only would come and sit down at
Letterkenny.
'Ah, now, lads, be asy!' he cried, betwixt two sallies. 'Do yez think
the likes o' me can stop up here? It's Dublin that's crying for me
this blessed minute, and won't be comforted. To Dublin I return
to-morrow. Good luck to yez for kind wishes, though. By my sowl, and
if there isn't a friend up yonder on whom I've not clapped eyes this
long time!'
The repast was over. The countess was sweeping the crumbs out of her
lap preparatory to leaving the gentlemen to the superior attractions
of the bottle, when she perceived Cassidy, glass in hand, making his
way along to the upper end where she sat enthroned. Doreen perceived
him too, and losing all self-control, dropped her head upon the table
with a moan.
'Mr. Wolfe Tone, I think?' Cassidy shouted out in his big voice.
'Bedad, ye're welcome home! It's long since we met.'
The shade of Banquo broke up with no greater quickness the feast of
King Macbeth than did this guileless little speech the party of Lord
Glandore. The squireens rose to their feet with one accord; craned out
their necks, with jaws dropped and eyes goggling.
Hesitating but for a second, Theobald threw down his cards.
'My name is Theobald Wolfe Tone!' he admitted calmly, and stood
waiting for what would follow.
'What a pity!' sighed the English admiral; then, holding forth his
hand, 'Ignorance is bliss sometimes,' he said, scowling at the
importunate giant. 'Ye're a brave young man. I won't say what I think
of _him_. I can't help it--can I?'
But Cassidy, having assumed his role, was not to be so easily scowled
down. 'I've done my duty to his Majesty,' he said, very loud; 'and I
call on you, Sir Borlase Warren, to report the fact that I denounced
that traitor!'
The squireens twittered like scarlet birds. A vanquished foreign brave
was one thing, a proscribed rebel--the very head and front of the
Directory's offending--quite another. Their temporary gentleness was
past; their native savagery bloomed forth again.
'Bind him!' one bawled, 'lest he thry to drown himself, and rob good
Mr. Cassidy of the reward.'
'When we get him to Letterkenny,' howled another, 'we'll put irons on
him before he starts south. Ah! the spalpeen! the rogue! the beast!
the pig!'
A chorus of expletives poured forth. Even the presence of Medusa was
forgotten.
One fetched a rope and bound it roughly round his limbs. With a burst
of indignation he turned for protection to the English admiral. 'I
wear the uniform of the Great Republic. Let it not be disgraced!' he
pleaded.
'I can't help it, poor lad!' returned Sir Borlase, with disgust. 'If
you're Wolfe Tone, ye're a subject of Britain, in arms against the
King, and will surely suffer as a traitor. As for these ruffians, I am
powerless. They, and such as they, have long ago shamed their country
and their cloth.'
'Then their bonds,' Theobald answered calmly, as he took off his coat,
'shall never degrade the insignia of the free nation I have served.'
Bound hand and foot, he was conveyed to the cabin of the yacht and
placed under lock and key. Sir Borlase took no pains to disguise his
opinion of the squireens. Bidding farewell to the countess, he retired
abruptly with his suite, while the commandant of Letterkenny busied
himself with the bestowal of the prisoners. My Lord Glandore, feeling
like second fiddle, bethought him that the beacon had not been lighted
whose mission was to speed to Dublin news of a French invasion, just
as, two hundred years before, the lighting of tar-barrels had
signalled the coming of the Armada. He remedied the omission without
delay.
The fleet of boats passed down Lough Swilly without danger, though
clouds obscured the moon and stars--for the circle of fire was
complete, cutting out the dark skyline of each crag, marking the
position of each tower with a special wave of light. The chain was as
complete (turning the sky to crimson) as the chain of the giant's
treachery. As she looked out on it from her window, Doreen pressed
feverish fingers to her burning head; then packed her clothes together
in hot haste. At cockcrow the family was to start for the capital. She
felt that, once there, she could do something--she knew not what.
Terence and Tone could not both be sacrificed. Was ever human
wickedness so base as that of this false friend?
Decidedly Mr. Cassidy was master of the situation.