THE AMBASSADOR.
After the happy reunion at Castle Moyna there followed a council of war.
Captain Sydenham treasonably presided, and Honora sat enthroned amid the
silent homage of her friends, who had but one thought, to lift the
sorrow from her heart, and banish the pallor of anxiety from her lovely
face. Her violet eyes burned with fever. The Captain drew his breath
when he looked at her.
"And she sings as she looks," whispered the Countess noting his gasp.
"It's a bad time to do anything for Mr. Ledwith," the Captain said to
the little assembly. "The Fenian movement has turned out a complete
failure here in Ireland, and abroad too. As its stronghold was the
United States, you can see that the power of the American Minister will
be much diminished. It is very important to approach him in the right
way, and count every inch of the road that leads to him. We must not
make any mistakes, ye know, if only for Miss Ledwith's sake."
His reward was a melting glance from the wonderful eyes.
"I know the Minister well, and I feel sure he will help for the asking,"
said Anne.
"Glad you're so hopeful, mother, but some of us are not," Arthur
interjected.
"Then if you fail with His Excellency, Artie," she replied composedly,
"I shall go to see him myself."
Captain and Dowager exchanged glances of admiration.
"Now, there are peculiarities in our trials here, trials of rebels I
mean ... I haven't time to explain them ..." Arthur grinned ... "but
they make imperative a certain way of acting, d'ye see? If I were in Mr.
Dillon's place I should try to get one of two things from the American
Minister: either that the Minister notify Her Majesty's government that
he will have his representative at the trial of Ledwith; or, if the
trial is begun ... they are very summary at times ... that the same
gentleman inform the government that he will insist on all the forms
being observed."
"What effect would these notifications have?" Arthur asked.
"Gad, most wonderful," replied the Captain. "If the Minister got in his
warning before the trial began, there wouldn't be any trial; and if
later, the trial would end in acquittal."
Every one looked impressed, so much so that the Captain had to explain.
"I don't know how to explain it to strangers--we all know it here,
doncheknow--but in these cases the different governments always have
some kind of an understanding. Ledwith is an American citizen, for
example; he is arrested as an insurgent, no one is interested in him,
the government is in a hurry, a few witnesses heard him talk against the
government, and off he goes to jail. It's a troublesome time, d'ye see?
But suppose the other case. A powerful friend interests the American
Minister. That official notifies the proper officials that he is going
to watch the trial. This means that the Minister is satisfied of the
man's innocence. Government isn't going to waste time so, when there are
hundreds to be tried and deported. So he goes free. Same thing if the
Minister comes in while the trial is going on, and threatens to review
all the testimony, the procedure, the character of the witnesses. He
simply knocks the bottom out of the case, and the prisoner goes free."
"I see your points," said Arthur, smiling. "I appreciate them. Just the
same, we must have every one working on the case, and if I should fail
the others must be ready to play their parts."
"Command us all," said the Captain with spirit. "You have Lord
Constantine in London. He's a host. But remember we are in the midst of
the trouble, and home influence won't be a snap of my finger compared
with the word of the Minister."
"Then the Minister's our man," said Anne with decision. "If Arthur fails
with him, then every soul of us must move on London like an Irish army,
and win or die. So, my dear Honora, take the puckers out of your face,
and keep your heart light. I know a way to make Quincy Livingstone dance
to any music I play."
The smiles came back to Honora's face, hearts grew lighter, and Arthur
started for London, with little confidence in the good-will of
Livingstone, but more in his own ability to force the gentleman to do
his duty. He ran up against a dead wall in his mission, however, for the
question of interference on behalf of American citizens in English jails
had been settled months before in a conference between Livingstone and
the Premier, although feeling was cold and almost hostile between the
two governments. Lord Constantine described the position with the
accuracy of a theorist in despair.
"There's just a chance of doing something for Ledwith," he said
dolorously.
"By your looks a pretty poor one, I think," Arthur commented.
"Oh, it's got to be done, doncheknow," he said irritably. "But that
da--that fool, Livingstone, is spoiling the stew with his rot. And I've
been watching this pot boil for five years at least."
"What's wrong with our representative?" affecting innocence.
"What's right with him would be the proper question," growled his
lordship.
"In Ledwith's case the wrong is that he's gone and given assurances to
the government. He will not interfere with their disposition of Fenian
prisoners, when these prisoners are American citizen. In other words, he
has given the government a free hand. He will not be inclined to show
Ledwith any favor."
"A free hand," repeated Arthur, fishing for information. "And what is a
free hand?"
"Well, he could hamper the government very much when it is trying an
American citizen for crimes committed on British soil. Such a prisoner
must get all the privileges of a native. He must be tried fairly, as he
would be at home, say."
"Well, surely that strong instinct of fair play, that sense of justice
so peculiarly British, of which we have all heard in the school-books,
would----"
"Drop it," said Lord Constantine fiercely. "In war there's nothing but
the brute left. The Fenians--may the plague take them ... will be hung,
shipped to Botany Bay, and left to rot in the home prisons, without
respect to law, privilege, decency. Rebels must be wiped out,
doncheknow. I don't mind that. They've done me enough harm ... put back
the alliance ten years at least ... and left me howling in the
wilderness. Livingstone will let every Fenian of American citizenship be
tried like his British mates ... that is, they will get no trial at all,
except inform. They will not benefit by their American ties."
"Why should he neglect them like that?"
"He has theories, of course. I heard him spout them at some beastly
reception somewhere. Too many Irish in America--too strong--too
popish--must be kept down--alliance between England and the United
States to keep them down----"
"I remember he was one of your alliance men," provokingly.
"Alas, yes," mourned his lordship. "The Fenians threatened to make
mince-meat of it, but they're done up and knocked down. Now, this
Livingstone proposes a new form of mincing, worse than the Fenians a
thousand times, begad."
"Begad," murmured Arthur. "Surely you're getting excited."
"The alliance is now to be argued on the plea of defense against popish
aggressions, Arthur. This is the unkind cut. Before, we had to reunite
the Irish and the English. Now, we must soothe the prejudices of bigots
besides. Oh, but you should see the programme of His Excellency for the
alliance in his mind. You'll feel it when you get back home. A regular
programme, doncheknow. The first number has the boards now: general
indignation of the hired press at the criminal recklessness of the Irish
in rebelling against our benign rule. When that chorus is ended, there
comes a solo by an escaped nun. Did you ever hear of Sister Claire
Thingamy----"
"Saw her--know her--at a distance. What is she to sing?"
"A book--confessions and all that thing--revelations of the horrors of
papist life. It's to be printed by thousands and scattered over the
world. After that Fritters, our home historian at Oxford, is to travel
in your county and lecture to the cream of society on the beauty of
British rule over the Irish. He is to affect the classes. The nun and
the press are to affect the masses. Between them what becomes of the
alliance? Am I not patient? My pan demanded harmonious and brotherly
feelings among all parties. Isn't that what an alliance must depend on?
But Livingstone takes the other tack. To bring about his scheme we shall
all be at each other's throats. Talk of the Kilkenny cats and Donnybrook
fair, begad!"
"I don't wonder you feel so badly," Arthur said, laughing. "But see
here: we're not afraid of Livingstone. We've knocked him out before, and
we can do it again. It will be interesting to go back home, and help to
undo that programme. If you can manage him here, rely on Grahame and me
and a few others in New York, to take the starch out of him at home.
What's all this to do with Ledwith?"
"Nothing," said his lordship with an apology. "But my own trouble seems
bigger than his. We'll get him out, of course. Go and see Livingstone,
and talk to him on the uppish plan. Demand the rights and privileges of
the British subject for our man. You won't get any satisfaction, but a
stiff talk will pave the way for my share in the scheme. You take the
American ground, and I come in on the British ground. We ought to make
him ashamed between us, doncheknow."
Arthur had doubts of that, but no doubt at all that Lord Constantine
owned the finest heart that ever beat in a man. He felt very cheerful at
the thought of shaking up the Minister. Half hopeful of success, curious
to test the strings which move an American Minister at the court of St.
James, anxious about Honora and Owen, he presented himself at
Livingstone's residence by appointment, and received a gracious welcome.
Unknown to themselves, the two men had an attraction for each other.
Fate opposed them strangely. This hour Arthur Dillon stood forth as the
knight of a despised and desperate race, in a bloody turmoil at home,
fighting for a little space on American soil, hopeful but spent with the
labor of upholding its ideals; and Livingstone represented a triumphant
faction in both countries, which, having long made life bitter and
bloody for the Irish, still kept before them the choice of final
destruction or the acceptance of the Puritan gods. To Arthur the
struggle so far seemed but a clever game whose excitement kept sorrow
from eating out his heart. He saw the irony rather than the tragedy of
the contest. It tickled him immensely just now that Puritan faced
Puritan; the new striking at the old for decency's sake; a Protestant
fighting a Protestant in behalf of the religious ideals of Papists. He
had an advantage over his kinsman beyond the latter's ken; since to him
the humor of the situation seemed more vital than the tragedy, a mistake
quite easy to youth. Arthur stated Ledwith's case beautifully, and asked
him to notify the British officials that the American Minister would
send his representative to watch the trial.
"Impossible," said Livingstone. "I am content with the ordinary course
for all these cases."
"We are not," replied Arthur as decisively, "and we call upon our
government to protect its citizens against the packed juries and other
injustices of these Irish trials."
"And what good would my interference do?" said Livingstone. Arthur
grinned.
"Your Excellency, such a notification would open the doors of the jail
to Ledwith to-morrow. There would be no trial."
"My instructions from the President are precise in this matter. We are
satisfied that American citizens will get as fair a trial as Englishmen
themselves. There will be no interference until I am satisfied that
things are not going properly."
"Can you tell me, then, how I am to satisfy you in Ledwith's case?" said
the young man good-naturedly.
"I don't think you or any one else can, Mr. Dillon. I know Ledwith, a
conspirator from his youth. He is found in Ireland in a time of
insurrection. That's quite enough."
"You forget that I have given you my word he was not concerned with the
insurrection, and did not know it was so imminent; that he went to
Ireland with his daughter on a business matter."
"All which can be shown at the trial, and will secure his acquittal."
"Neither I nor his daughter will ever be called as witnesses. Instead, a
pack of ready informers will swear to anything necessary to hurry him
off to life imprisonment."
"That is your opinion."
"Do you know who sent me here, your Excellency, with the request for
your aid?"
Livingstone stared his interrogation.
"An English officer with whom you are acquainted, friendly to Ledwith
for some one else's sake. In plain words, he gave me to understand that
there is no hope for Ledwith unless you interfere. If he goes to trial,
he hangs or goes to Botany Bay."
"You are pessimistic," mocked Livingstone. "It is the fault of the Irish
that they have no faith in any government, because they cannot establish
one of their own."
"Outside of New York," corrected Arthur, with delightful malice.
"Amendment accepted."
"Would you be able to interfere in behalf of my friend while the trial
was on, say, just before the summing up, when the informers had sworn to
one thing, and the witnesses for the defense to another, if they are not
shut out altogether?"
"Impossible. I might as well interfere now."
"Then on the score of sentiment. Ledwith is failing into age. Even a
brief term in prison may kill him."
"He took the risk in returning to Ireland at this time. I would be
willing to aid him on that score, but it would open the door to a
thousand others, and we are unwilling to embarrass the English
government at a trying moment."
"Were they so considerate when our moments were trying and they could
embarrass us?"
"That is an Irish argument."
"What they said of your Excellency in New York was true, I am inclined
to believe: that you accepted the English mission to be of use to the
English in the present insurrection."
"Well," said the Minister, laughing in spite of himself at the audacity
of Arthur, "you will admit that I have a right to pay back the Irish for
my defeat at the polls."
"You are our representative and defender," replied Arthur gravely, "and
yet you leave us no alternative but to appeal to the English
themselves."
Livingstone began to look bored, because irritation scorched him and had
to be concealed. Arthur rose.
"We are to understand, then, the friends of Ledwith, that you will do
nothing beyond what is absolutely required by the law, and after all
formalities are complied with?" he said.
"Precisely."
"We shall have to depend on his English friends, then. It will look
queer to see Englishmen take up your duty where you deserted it."
The Minister waved his hand to signify that he had enough of that topic,
but the provoking quality of Arthur's smile, for he did not seem
chagrined, reminded him of a question.
"Who are the people interested in Ledwith, may I ask?"
"All your old friends of New York," said Arthur, "Birmingham, Sullivan,
and so on."
"Of course. And the English friends who are to take up my duties where I
desert them?"
"You must know some of them," and Arthur grinned again, so that the
Minister slightly winced. "Captain Sydenham, commanding in Donegal----"
"I met him in New York one winter--younger brother to Lord Groton."
"The Dowager Countess of Skibbereen."
"Very fine woman. Ledwith is in luck."
"And Lord Constantine of Essex."
"I see you know the value of a climax, Mr. Dillon. Well, good-night. I
hope the friends of Mr. Ledwith will be able to do everything for him."
It irritated him that Arthur carried off the honors of the occasion, for
the young man's smiling face betrayed his belief that the mention of
these noble names, and the fact that their owners were working for
Ledwith, would sorely trouble the pillow of Livingstone that night. The
contrast between the generosity of kindly Englishmen and his own
harshness was too violent. He foresaw that to any determined attempt on
the part of Ledwith's English friends he must surrender as gracefully as
might be; and the problem was to make that surrender harmless. He had
solved it by the time Anne Dillon reached London, and had composed that
music sure to make the Minister dance whether he would or no. In taking
charge of the case Anne briefly expressed her opinion of her son's
methods.
"You did the best you could, Arthur," she said sweetly.
He could not but laugh and admire. Her instincts for the game were far
surer than his own, and her methods infallible. She made the road easy
for Livingstone, but he had to walk it briskly. How could the poor man
help himself? She hurled at him an army of nobles, headed by the
Countess and Lord Constantine; she brought him letters from his friends
at home; there was a dinner at the hotel, the Dowager being the hostess;
and he was almost awed by the second generation of Anne's audacious
race: Mona, red-lipped, jewel-eyed, sweeter than wild honey; Louis,
whose lovely nature and high purpose shone in his face; and Arthur,
sad-eyed, impudent, cynical, who seemed ready to shake dice with the
devil, and had no fear of mortals because he had no respect for them.
These outcasts of a few years back were able now to seize the threads of
intrigue, and shake up two governments with a single pull! He mourned
while he described what he had done for them. There would be no trial
for Ledwith. He would be released at once and sent home at government
expense. It was a great favor, a very great favor. Even Arthur thanked
him, though he had difficulty in suppressing the grin which stole to his
face whenever he looked at his kinsman. The Minister saw the grin
peeping from his eyes, but forgave him.
Arthur had the joy of bringing the good news down to Donegal. Anne bade
him farewell with a sly smile of triumph. Admirable woman! she floated
above them all in the celestial airs. But she was gracious to her son.
The poor boy had been so long in California that he did not know how to
go about things. She urged him to join them in Rome for the visit to the
Pope, and sent her love to Honora and a bit of advice to Owen. When
Arthur arrived in Cruarig, whither a telegram had preceded him, he was
surprised to find Honora Ledwith in no way relieved of anxiety.
"You have nothing to do but pack your trunk and get away," he said.
"There is to be no trial, you know. Your father will go straight to the
steamer, and the government will pay his expenses. It ought to pay more
for the outrage."
She thanked him, but did not seem to be comforted. She made no comment,
and he went off to get an explanation from Captain Sydenham.
"I meant to have written you about it," said the Captain, "but hoped
that it would have come out all right without writing. Ledwith
maintains, and I think he's quite right, that he must be permitted to go
free without conditions, or be tried as a Fenian conspirator. The case
is simple: an American citizen traveling in Ireland is arrested on a
charge of complicity in the present rebellion; the government must prove
its case in a public trial, or, unable to do that, must release him as
an innocent man; but it does neither, for it leads him from jail to the
steamer as a suspect, ordering him out of the country. Ledwith demands
either a trial or the freedom of an innocent man. He will not help the
government out of the hole in which accident, his Excellency the
Minister, and your admirable mother have placed it. Of course it's hard
on that adorable Miss Ledwith, and it may kill Ledwith himself, if not
the two of them. Did you ever in your life see such a daughter and such
a father?"
"Well, all we can do is to make the trial as warm as possible for the
government," said Arthur. "Counsel, witnesses, publicity, telegrams to
the Minister, cablegrams to our Secretary of State, and all the rest of
it."
"Of no use," said the Captain moodily. "You have no idea of an Irish
court and an Irish judge in times of revolt. I didn't till I came here.
If Ledwith stands trial, nothing can save him from some kind of a
sentence."
"Then for his daughter's sake I must persuade him to get away."
"Hope you can. All's fair in war, you know, but Ledwith is the worst
kind of patriot, a visionary one, exalted, as the French say."
Ledwith thanked Arthur warmly when he called upon him in jail, and made
his explanation as the Captain had outlined it.
"Don't think me a fool," he said. "I'm eager to get away. I have no
relish for English prison life. But I am not going to promote
Livingstone's trickery. I am an American citizen. I have had no part,
direct or indirect, in this futile insurrection. I can prove it in a
fair trial. It must be either trial or honorable release to do as any
American citizen would do under the circumstances. If I go to prison I
shall rely on my friends to expose Livingstone, and to warm up the
officials at home who connive with him."
Nor would he be moved from this position, and the trial came off with a
speed more than creditable when justice deals with pirates, but
otherwise scandalous.
It ended in a morning, in spite of counsel, quibbles, and other
ornamental obstacles, with a sentence of twenty years at hard labor in
an English prison. To this prison Ledwith went the next day at noon.
There had not been much time for work, but Arthur had played his part to
his own satisfaction; the Irish and American journals buzzed with the
items which he provided, and the denunciations of the American Minister
were vivid, biting, and widespread; yet how puerile it all seemed before
the brief, half contemptuous sentence of the hired judge, who thus
roughly shoved another irritating patriot out of the way. The farewell
to Ledwith was not without hope. Arthur had declared his purpose to go
straight to New York and set every influence to work that could reach
the President. Honora was to live near the prison, support herself by
her singing, and use her great friends to secure a mitigation of his
sentence, and access to him at intervals.
"I am going in joy," he said to her and Arthur. "Death is the lightest
suffering of the true patriot. Nora and I long ago offered our lives for
Ireland. Perhaps they are the only useful things we could offer, for we
haven't done much. Poor old country! I wish our record of service had
some brighter spots in it."
"At the expense of my modesty," said Arthur, "can't I mention myself as
one of the brighter spots? But for you I would never have raised a
finger for my mother's land. Now, I am enlisted, not only in the cause
of Erin, but pledged to do what I can for any race that withers like
yours under the rule of the slave-master. And that means my money, my
time and thought and labor, and my life."
"It is the right spirit," said Ledwith, trembling. "I knew it was in
you. Not only for Ireland, but for the enslaved and outraged everywhere.
God be thanked, if we poor creatures have stirred this spirit in you,
lighted the flame--it's enough."
"I have sworn it," cried Arthur, betrayed by his secret rage into
eloquence. "I did not dream the world was so full of injustice. I could
not understand the divine sorrow which tore your hearts for the wronged
everywhere. I saw you suffer. I saw later what caused your suffering,
and I felt ashamed that I had been so long idle and blind. Now I have
sworn to myself that my life and my wealth shall be at the service of
the enslaved forever."
They went their different ways, the father to prison, Honora to the
prison village, and Arthur with all speed to New York, burning with
hatred of Livingstone. The great man had simply tricked them, had
studied the matter over with his English friends, and had found a way to
satisfy the friends of Ledwith and the government at the same time.
Well, it was a long lane that had no turning, and Arthur swore that he
would find the turning which would undo Quincy Livingstone.
AN ESCAPED NUN.