Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by Google Books
Transcriber's Notes:
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2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe].
MY LORDS OF STROGUE.
MY LORDS OF STROGUE.
_A CHRONICLE OF IRELAND, FROM THE CONVENTION
TO THE UNION_.
BY
HON. LEWIS WINGFIELD,
AUTHOR OF 'LADY GRIZEL,' ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON,
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen.
1879.
[_All Rights Reserved_.]
'God of Battles! aid us;
Let no despot's might
Trample or degrade us,
Seeking this our right!
Arm us for the danger;
Keep our craven fear
To our breasts a stranger--
God of Battles! Hear!'
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER
I. A NIGHT AT CROW STREET.
II. DOREEN'S PLANS.
III. THE CLOVEN FOOT.
IV. WE PIPED UNTO YOU.
V. AWAY TO DONEGAL.
VI. GLAS-AITCH-E.
VII. SMITTEN WITH SERPENTS.
VIII. MR. CURRAN LEAVES PARLIAMENT.
IX. THE DUEL.
X. THE BIRD AND THE FOWLER.
XI. THE RISING OF THE TEMPEST.
XII. DANGER.
XIII. THE HURRY.
XIV. VAE VICTIS!
MY LORDS OF STROGUE
CHAPTER I.
A NIGHT AT CROW STREET.
The dowager's words produced their effect upon Doreen, despite her
virtuous indignation. She no longer committed herself by indiscreet
communings with the 'scatter-brained young men.' She seemed to be
growing lukewarm to the cause as the decisive moment approached,
shirking responsibility in a way her character belied, to the surprise
of the patriots, amongst whom we must count Cassidy. The giant
remarked with pained astonishment that she gave him no grateful look
when he whispered about the pikes, when he hinted with dark nods that
Phil and Biddy had been busy in the night; and he reflected with
self-upbraiding that this change must be due to his ill-timed wooing.
No doubt it was presumptuous in a 'half-mounted' to aspire to an
heiress, but sure she should accept as a compliment a piece of
bungling for which her own charms were entirely responsible. He
resolved to be more careful in the future, striving to bridge the
breach by a nimble deference tempered by judicious sadness; and let no
opportunity pass of making himself useful to the young earl. His hands
were pretty full, thanks to my Lords Clare and Camden, who pursued the
stormy tenor of their way with an edifying steadiness of purpose. He
gladly rode errands for Lord Glandore, did shopping for the countess,
drank bumpers in the Castle-yard in company with Major Sirr, waited
about in my Lord Clare's anteroom; became a ubiquitous, faithful, and
generally useful personage. He brought news sometimes of the gravest
moment to the mysterious resorts where Dublin 'prentices were
pretending to play ball; which hints resulted more frequently than not
in a message smuggled in a loaf to the prisoners at Kilmainham and a
courier sent galloping far away into the country.
The electric cloud loomed near on the horizon. Lord Clare watched the
threatening vapour as it rolled, increasing hourly in volume, and,
laughing, showed his gums. The ranks of the yeomanry were swelling day
by day, thanks to the exertions of large proprietors whose interest it
was to be well with the court; thanks to the complaisant alacrity of
the squireens who acted at the beck of the great landowners. Small
riots took place both in the capital and in the provinces, tussles
between browbeaten peasants and a soldiery who grew hourly more
insolent, which originated for the most part in taunts at the old
faith. Rumours floating vaguely, none knew whence, became current
gossip, hints of a French invasion, of a landing somewhere in the
north, which should set free the enslaved Catholics--of a Republican
crusade in favour of liberty of conscience. The Orange societies of
the north took the alarm. 'Liberty of conscience indeed!' they cried.
'We remember what happened in King James's time, when the national
religion was for a brief space triumphant; how Protestants were
massacred and their property destroyed. We will repel such an invasion
with all our might, and will just prick these presuming slaves a
little as a warning of what may follow.' There were excesses in Armagh
and the cities of the north; wherein cottages were burnt, cattle
confiscated, their owners hewn in pieces. News of military outrages
arrived in Dublin; and the public, growing uneasy, looked to the
Castle to mark its attitude. Ever since Lord Camden's advent, people
remarked, things had been going wrong. Traitors by dozens had been
imprisoned or executed. Coercion was the order of the day. But popular
opinion had been divided; one party declaring that traitors must be
hanged for the security of the body politic, the opposite party
cogently pointing out that if Government acted with more prudence, men
would not be driven into treason. But now the matter was taking a new
form. One class, which had always been antagonistic to the other, was
showing overt symptoms of the harshest tyranny. The Protestant
ascendency party had banded itself together in armed force at the call
of Government for the protection of the land. It was obvious that this
armed force must not be permitted to exert its strength against its
own brethren of another faith--to convert a deplorable harshness, of
which in memory of man the instances were isolated, into a regularly
organised system like that of Elizabeth. Government must interfere
promptly, men said. These savage squireens, who swaggered in the
King's colours, must be taught at once to curb their brutal
proclivities, or a reign of terror would result such as shocked Europe
in '89.
But Government did nothing of the kind. My Lord Clare held up his
delicate hands in the lobby of the House of Lords, and, under shadow
of William's statue, harangued passing senators upon the iniquity of
the lower orders.
'It is awful,' he declared in his rasping voice. 'What will Mr. Pitt
say? He will withdraw your pensions, my poor gentlemen, unless you act
with decision. Arm your vassals, my lords. The French will come and
murder us in our beds. I vow the country is in danger. The Catholics
must be shown their place.'
That the country was in danger there could be little doubt; but it was
not precisely from the side to which the crafty chancellor thought fit
to point.
Parliament met in solemn conclave, and did as it was told. Curran and
a few others rose up in their places, solemnly protesting against a
policy which sprang from a hidden fear of the lower orders. An Act of
Indemnity was passed with regard to the proceedings in the north.
Magistrates and petty officers were held to have behaved wisely in
permitting cottages to be burnt in the name of religion, in allowing
fathers of families to be kidnapped in the night, and spirited away no
one might tell whither. A profound feeling of wrath was stirred over
all the land by the passing of this, and the Insurrection Bill which
allowed it; whereby, amongst other things, a power of arbitrary
transportation was given to magistrates, and outrages made legal which
till now had been accomplished in defiance of the law. People saw
clearly that the majority of both Lords and Commons were merely the
representatives of their own greed and their own venality; that
nothing could free motherland from a vicious thraldom of unpatriotic
selfishness but a reform of Parliament and a complete change in the
system of Government. How was this to be accomplished? There was the
knotty point. Was the threatened rising of the masses really
inevitable? Could they accomplish their objects at all if France
should refuse substantial help? Was Government deliberately acting for
a wicked purpose, or was the crime merely the negative one of
incapacity? Agitation-meetings blaming the executive were held about
the country, at which, when he heard of them, my Lord Clare expressed
his amazement, ingeniously stating in public that he was astonished at
the mildness of the Viceroy in not severely punishing the agitators.
Such a hint was not lost upon his amateur colonels and military
magistrates. They began to exhibit renewed examples of vigorous zeal,
destroying property at pleasure, searching houses for arms, treating
the inhabitants with such brutality that women fell into convulsions
and brought forth children before their time. A singular effect of
these proceedings, which in itself spoke volumes, was a sudden moral
reform among the peasantry. Men who had been drunken became reclaimed;
fairs and markets were undisturbed by quarrelling; factions which had
been at feud for centuries smoked the pipe of peace together. Hatred,
kept down by fear, festered in the hearts of the children of the soil.
It was felt that a moment was imminent when man might endure no more,
when a down-trodden race must conquer its persecutors or seek relief
from misery in death.
Doreen, from her retreat among the roses, watched the current of
events which now rushed with rapid impetuosity towards an horizon of
blood; and as month followed month, each laden with its progressive
freight of trouble, wondered with beating heart that no news should be
received from Tone. Had his projects failed? She knew that the
difficulties with which he was called to cope were immense. The last
letter she had had from him, long ago now, spoke of an expedition
getting ready, which should start before the end of summer. It was now
August, and as she sat waiting week after week, both hope and
expectation waning, a feeling of heart-sickness crept over her, which
seemed to chill her life-blood and dry up her bones. One day,
listlessly gazing as usual across the sea, she looked up and beheld
red-polled Biddy making uncouth signals from the shrubbery--signals
she had looked for so frequently in vain. A letter! Yes. It was--at
last! But it brought no comfort. An expedition was nearly ready; but
the leading spirit vacillated. General Hoche doubted whether the
forces given to him were strong enough to do efficient service;
whether the Irish were ready to receive them; whether the resources of
Ireland had been truthfully laid before him.
To Tone's chagrin Hoche informed the Directory that it was fitting,
before their ships and treasure were committed to the waters,
that somebody of weight should come to France from Ireland, to
corroborate Tone's statements and bring the latest news. It was
vexatious--despairing! What was to be done? In this new strait the
young patriot urgently applied to his friend Miss Wolfe, to consult
with the United Irishmen as to some one being sent without delay. One
of the Emmetts, Russell, Neilson, anybody who knew anything. She must
see to this, or all was lost; for if no satisfactory tidings were
speedily received the expedition would be diverted to some other
purpose, and Ireland left to fight her battles single-handed. In his
trouble he had made statements which were rash, no doubt--had promised
large sums to France, in the name of the future Directory of Ireland,
and had said that many men of property desired the Revolution. Whoever
was sent over must, to prevent further parleying, corroborate these
statements. She must show extra caution however in dealing with this
business, for a Judas was abroad, more than one, perhaps--there could
be no doubt of that. Mr. Pitt seemed informed of everything that
passed in Ireland--and in Paris too, for that matter. Caution and
despatch were needful above all things.
Doreen laid down this letter to consider it, with a presentiment of
evil. The fevered workings of our distempered minds are not so
terrible as the sledge-hammer blows which sometimes fall on us. Even
the harassed conjectures born of fear prove less dreadful than
realities. This was a blow which numbed her faculties. For her
father's sake, who loved the fleshpots, she had resolved to be a calm
spectator of the coming struggle--to mark the arrival of the French
convoy and its certain triumph; to crown the successful heroes in
private with metaphorical laurels; to forego for her living father's
sake the joy of publicly helping in the emancipation of her dead
mother's people. But here was something which put all her resolutions
to flight.
The entire scaffolding threatened to tumble about the ears of those
who held her sympathies; and it seemed that it might be in her power
to prevent that catastrophe. So long as neutrality was likely to do
the Catholic party no harm, she was prepared to sacrifice the vanities
which hang about picturesque heroism--to view the glorious results as
a mere spectator instead of walking in the procession under the
triumphal arches. But this letter woefully changed the face of the
prospect. It was quite possible apparently (and she felt cold as she
realised it) that the gorgeous fabric in which her soul revelled was
to vanish into air, and that she might afterwards be accused of having
by apathy brought about its crumbling! What was she to do? What in the
scale was this twaddle of the dowager's--this buckram rubbish of an
old school--this bit of red-tape, which might come to be the halter of
liberty! But then her father--could she possibly have a right to bring
suffering on him--to be in her own person the Nemesis who should deal
punishment on him for his time-serving weakness?
The tumult within her was such that her ears throbbed and her throat
seemed closing--yet her unaided judgment must settle this question
with calm pros and cons. There is nothing so clearing to a healthy
intellect, temporarily clouded, as strong muscular exertion. Miss
Wolfe stepped into the cockleshell which was her own, and went for a
row upon the bay.
She watched the shadows of the herring-boats, listened absently to the
rhythmed cry of the fisherfolk as they landed the produce of their
night's labour on the little quay, nodded in acknowledgment of their
salutes, rowed herself with firm nervous strokes into mid-water, and
then drifted. The freshness of a light breeze and the exertion seemed
to string her nerves and clear her mind. She lay back in the light
shallop, and trailing her brown fingers in the water, meditated. No!
Her allegiance was due equally to both parents. Her father had cast
his lot with the mammon of unrighteousness and gleaned the pleasant
result of the proceeding. That was no reason for her to betray her
mother's people. Much as she loved her father she differed widely from
his views. She would keep in the background as much as might be, for
his sake; but it certainly behoved her to act with promptitude and
energy now. Send somebody over! Whom was she to send? Who was
important enough for the mission? In whom might complete faith be
placed? Cassidy was too bungling and stupid. Moreover he knew no word
of French, and would be sure to make mistakes. Robert Emmett? Too
young, too romantic; a student in Trinity besides, whose lengthened
absence would be remarked. Thomas Emmett, alas! was in durance vile.
Whom might she send? Whom? If Terence would only take things
seriously, he was the very man for the undertaking. What a pity she
had not used her influence with him to good purpose, Miss Wolfe
thought with compunction. The Judith and Holofernes idea was idiotic,
of course; but Terence was a fish that might have been played with a
satisfactory result. Yet, after all, could the sacredness of the cause
justify her in enacting Delilah to his Samson? Surely not. With
humiliation she admitted that the trick would be unworthy of one who
lived under the roof of Strogue.
Terence had grown dreadfully cross of late. Once or twice her heart
had bounded, for she had seemed to see that he was moody and disturbed
on account of the way events were marching. Certainly he came home
sometimes from the Four-courts with fierce denunciations on his lips
anent the culpable folly of Lord Camden--but then he always calmed
down again, when he was no longer hungry, hoping for better days, if
Lord Clare would really take the helm. His belief in Lord Clare was
the blindness which might be expected from a too simple mind.
As the damsel drifted she built castles for herself. If Terence, who
was manly enough and true enough, would only take things a little more
_au serieux!_ If men would only be true to their first impulse for
good, what a much better world it would be! for, taken unawares, it is
nearly always our good angel who speaks first. He is always awake, if
timid; but his dusky, coarse-natured fellow snores so loudly, that it
is no easy matter to make out clearly what he counsels. Terence grew
indignant often; was very hot over the Indemnity Bill and Insurrection
ditto, but neither ever disturbed his sleep one jot, or interfered in
the smallest degree with his capacity for grouse and claret. What a
pity it was! A dependable man, a man of rank, whose heart was in the
right place if it would but speak--a man who, from his position, would
with a breath remove Hoche's scruples. But there was no use in
thinking of him. Somebody must be sent, and speedily, or the interests
of the United Irishmen would be compromised. Somebody must be
sent--but who?
The young lady became aware that she was drifting out to sea--that it
would require all her nautical science and muscular power to bring her
frail boat to port by sunset; and she was bound to be home again by
sunset on this especial evening, because it was a 'lady's night' at
Crow Street Theatre, and my lady had warned her that loyal ladies must
'show' there, because the Viceroy would be present, supported by a
galaxy of beauty. So she handled her sculls like a true connexion of
the pirate-earls; and as the warm blood tingled in her veins with the
exertion, sent her little bark dancing over the water, her brain
working busily the while.
She decided that it was not possible to stand aloof at this juncture.
Tone--the hero, at whose shrine she worshipped--conjured her to act.
She would meet at Crow Street, probably, several of the prominent
United Irishmen, and must choose her opportunity to confer secretly
with them. Who could be sent to Paris with safety? None but Cassidy.
What a pity he was so stupid! He meant well--of that she felt assured;
but he would plead poverty--that was little matter, for she had jewels
which might be pledged. But might he claim something more? Love-making
and conspiracy do not go well together. A certain scene at the kennels
recurred to her mind; and it was with a flush, more due to displeasure
than healthful exercise, that at length she shot her boat beside the
landing-stage. An unaccustomed shadow caused her to start and look
upwards. A man was looking at her, with his thin legs apart and his
arms folded across his chest--a little man, with elf-locks hanging
about his face, and a strange melancholy smile upon his lips.
'Faix! and ye're a grand boatwoman, Miss Doreen,' Mr. Curran said;
'and ye look mighty well fingering those planks. I've bin watching you
this half-hour, and wondering too--wondering whether, if I had been
out alone where you were, I could ever be coaxed to return.'
Doreen looked up quickly at him. Had something dreadful come to pass?
Something dreadful was happening hourly with exasperating monotony.
'We didn't expect you over to-day. Is Sara with you?'
'No. I trotted over on my nag to see if Terence had returned; and must
go back at once, as Sara wants to go to Crow Street.'
'Is there anything new?' the young lady inquired, with averted face,
as she fastened up her boat. She was constantly fretting morbidly
about the slowness of Tim's tread, as people will who are devoured
with impatience, and yet half-dread the fulfilment of their wishes.
'New! No,' grunted the small lawyer. 'Would to heaven there were! No
change could be for the worse. I have been engrossed these two days
past in the Orr trial. Didn't Terence tell you? Well, well, he
wouldn't shock ye. It's nothing new, faith! And there's no good
talking of such things at home. They gave the verdict against us,
despite all that I could urge; and the injustice was so glaring
that Terence flew in a passion. Upon my word, he looked as fierce
as his brother, the Prince of Cherokees! He vowed there was some
mistake--that he would in person explain matters to the Viceroy
(foolish lad--not to have learnt better by this time!); and so I
trotted over to hear if he had succeeded in his suit.'
'What was the case?'
'Nothing particularly novel--another of the many evil results of the
chancellor's Insurrection Bill,' grumbled Curran. 'One of its clauses
breathes dire vengeance against such as administer illegal oaths.
Rubbish! considering what you and I, young lady, know about a green
bough in Britain's crown. Such oaths will be administered so long as
this corrupt _regime_ continues--just as they have been for five years
and more. A fine would meet the case--and it should be a light one;
for indeed the provocation is not slight. But now such administering
has become penal. A soldier--a drunken fellow in the Fencibles--comes
forward, swears that one Orr--a harmless, obscure farmer, against whom
he probably has a grudge--has induced him to take the oath, "Are you
straight? as straight as a rush," and the rest. Maybe he has, maybe he
hasn't--that's not the point; the jury retire, and remain closed up
for hours--all through last night--far into this morning, and
by-and-by give in a verdict of guilty. That farmer, who, on my
conscience, I believe was innocent, is swinging by this time unless
Terence's mission has been successful.'
The two walked up the steep path, which led to the Abbey terrace, in
silence. Doreen was thinking that her resolve was right. It should be
no fault of hers if the French fleet failed to come with healing on
its wings. Curran was plunged in sadness, for he was beginning to
be convinced that the triumphal car of Government would bear him
down--chosen champion, as he believed himself--with its overpowering
weight, as it did others. Of what use was his eloquence as an advocate
in presence of packed juries and bribed witnesses? It was talking to
the wall--or worse, for at least the wall serves its purpose without
shame, and is washed white, and receives no bribes; Major Sirr's
juries and witnesses were accustomed, on the other hand, to arrange
their affairs in a jovial fashion in the major's sanctum before coming
into court. There was little of the whitewash about them!
When Doreen conducted the lawyer into the tapestry-saloon, my lady was
concerned at her eccentric little friend's dejection; and easily
prevailed on him to dine before returning to the Priory. Terence did
not appear, which was of evil augury; so his chief took the
opportunity of the ladies retiring to their toilet, to mount his nag
and gallop homewards, with a leaden weight within his breast.
Neither the dowager nor her niece were theatre-going people. The
former held dim uncomplimentary opinions about the private lives of
actresses, and her pride of caste revolted at the familiar behaviour
of the gallery, who were given to homely conversation with their
betters in the boxes, and to making rude comments upon the proceedings
on the stage. Miss Wolfe disliked the play, because mimic woes and
mimic laughter were alike an insult to the soreness of her heart, and
the too real sorrows of the world in which she lived. Yet both were
compelled by fashion to show themselves in Crow Street whenever a
specially prominent goddess of _ton_ thought fit to command a night.
On such occasions the auditorium was illuminated with wax candles; the
rank of the metropolis in diamonds and feathers filled the boxes;
pit-tickets were freely distributed among the tradespeople with whom
the lady dealt, whilst she took up her own position at the extreme end
of the refection-room (a fine gallery erected by Mr. Fred. Jones, the
manager), bowing a welcome to all who rallied round her.
On this particular evening the Lady-Lieutenant herself had commanded
the performance, so all the adherents of the Castle were there in
state--members of the peerage in brand-new uniforms; the cabinet,
consisting of the chancellor, the chief secretary, the speaker, and
the attorney--and such a show of female beauty as Dublin can always
boast. Lady Camden held quite a court in the refection-room, supported
by Lord Clare, whose arrogant countenance beamed with the
consciousness of strength. My Lord Camden had shuffled away to the
curtained viceregal box, pretending to be engrossed with the
wretchedness of Lucy Lockit; the fact being that his conscience began
to worry him, and that he withdrew from public gaze as much as
ceremony would permit.
My lord chancellor was not a man ever to lurk in corners, or to shun a
few paltry hisses. He stood forward beside the Viceroy's wife, nodding
to the crowds who bowed before him with a loathsome smirk, too coldly
overbearing to reck what men thought of him, provided they bent the
knee. He had reached at this time the acme of his power. His word was
law. He browbeat his comrades in the cabinet till honest Arthur Wolfe
quite winced. He had undertaken to mould into shape a corrupt upper
class, and his first move had been to give a rein to their bad
passions. His second was to cultivate an unusual urbanity; for it
would be needful by-and-by to win the members of the Bar, and to lay
in a good stock of promising raw material in the shape of young M.P.'s
just rough from grass. He made a point, too, of being particularly
civil to girls, for he said that if the confidence of the females in a
house is won, the men may be counted on as gained. Satan found no
footing in Paradise till he made sure of Eve.
So my Lord Clare tripped hither and thither in his natty attire,
complimenting one, grinning at another; suggesting an ice to a young
lady; confounding a sheepish youth by offering his jewelled snuff-box;
laughing a hyena-laugh at some feeble joke; making himself so pleasant
that folks stared in wonder. Ladies of highest rank rustled up and
curtseyed, then formed into a parterre of shot silks and waving plumes
behind my Lady Camden. It was a magnificent spectacle of brilliancy
and wealth.
What mattered the cries of those who sat in darkness? what signified
the cloud that was rolling quickly nearer? The Countess of Glandore, a
grand sight, in the family jewels, swept into her place, led forward
by Mr. Wolfe, who had advanced to meet his sister; whilst Lord Clare
raised Doreen's fingers to his lips with a gallant bow, vowing that
her father should be proud of such rare charms. And well he might, and
was, indeed, for there lingered on the girl's face a heightened colour
which gave a lustre to her eye, while the roundness of her tall figure
was shown off at its very best by a tightfitting robe of yellow crape,
elaborately embroidered with silver tassels. Her dark coils of hair
were knotted round her head in a plain thick diadem, raised high
behind to show its noble contour where it joined her neck; while the
olive skin seemed to acquire a richer hue by contrast with a pale
coral necklet and long ear-drops. Lord Clare looked at her with a
half-sarcastic smile, and said:
'Will you walk in the lobby and survey the house? I always like to
show myself with a lovely girl upon my arm. There is a sight there,
too, that will please you, I think.'
Calmly she took his arm. Etiquette demanded that she should remain in
the theatre for half-an-hour. It mattered little how she killed the
time; nevertheless her eyes wandered restlessly about in search of
Cassidy, to whom she was resolved to speak if possible. Suddenly she
started and turned scarlet. In an upper box, talking earnestly
together, were Cassidy and young Robert; with them Tom Emmett,
Russell, and the rest, whom she supposed to be safe under lock and key
within Kilmainham gaol.
'I thought you would be surprised,' drawled the chancellor. 'See how
Government is maligned! The proceedings of those young gentlemen were
such that we were obliged to lock them up. We could not do otherwise,
you know. But having given them this lesson, you see we've humanely
let them out again. Let us hope they'll be wise--wiser, for instance,
than Mr. Tone appears to be--who is indeed singularly foolish. He
seems to imagine that men of property will rally to his standard when
he arrives with his precious expedition. Oh, my country! How truly is
thy colour green! Here is an adventurer without a sou, grandiloquently
promising to pay vast debts of gratitude!'
Doreen looked up in the speaker's face suspiciously. The very language
of the letter she had received that day! Her aunt's warning, hitherto
forgotten, flashed across her. '_See that your correspondence is not
tampered with_.' Verily, Tone was right. There was a Judas playing a
devilish game somewhere.
'Mr. Tone has been long absent,' she said, with a troubled face.
'None the less mischievous,' retorted the other, carelessly. 'But his
claws are cut, for we know all he does as soon as it is done. Now, if
Government has erred, is it not on the side of leniency?'
'The fox was very civil to the bird on the tree-branch,' Mr. Curran
observed dryly, who with Sara now joined them, 'until the fowl was
fool enough to drop his cake! Your lordship is a bad Irishman, we
know; but you should not take us for a race of idiots. The people are
too quiet. You miss the trenchant articles in Tom Emmett's newspaper.
You perceive that even the Orange outrages of Armagh have failed to
goad the poor cowed creatures to rebellion. Give them more rope, my
lord, and they'll certainly hang themselves--aye, and me too amongst
them, I dare say!'
Lord Clare coloured slightly, and bit his lip, but answered nothing.
'At a moment when the foe is at our gates,' Curran pursued
bitterly--'for the French armament at Brest is surely meant for
Ireland--do you strive to unite all parties against a common enemy?
No! Look at the scenes which are daily enacted under your auspices in
the north. Robbery, rape, and murder; one brother at another brother's
throat. Yet I am wrong. We are of one accord on one point. You are
uniting us as one man against the conciliation of our animosities and
the consolidation of our strength. Alas for Erin! Rent by faction as
she is, there is nothing for her but a bridewell or a guard-house--the
grinding tyranny of England or the military despotism of France!'
Arthur Wolfe, who was always endeavouring to prevent these two from
snarling, here interposed, and dragged the irascible little lawyer
away. The chancellor, however, fired a parting shot--crying out in a
tone of airy innocence:
'On my honour, I know not what you'd have. We give every one as much
liberty as possible. Look up at the gallery this moment. Every man in
it has a bludgeon or shillalagh--and they're all staring at the box
where the ex-prisoners are. I vow they look monstrous dangerous. It's
brave of my lord-lieutenant to sit there so quietly!'
It was true that all eyes were turned from time to time to that
particular box, as though something unusual might be expected to take
place. Meanwhile the unconscious lady-lieutenant in the refection-room
continued to smirk and bow, highly pleased at the full gathering
around her.
Stout Madam Gillin panted through the crowd in an amazing turban of
coquelicot and gold, distributing hearty handshakes to the right and
left; and Norah looked so pretty as she brought up the rear, that the
Countess of Glandore's ire was kindled, and she glanced anxiously
about for her elder son. He was not present though, for he never would
go anywhere where there were high-born young ladies.
Mrs. Gillin too was looking out for somebody, and, perceiving Curran,
beckoned him with her fan.
'The young man,' she said in an undertone--'you know who I mean--I
hear from old Jug that he's mighty annoyed about this Orr case. Indeed
it's bad enough i' faith, but don't let him be rash.'
'Terence?' Curran replied; 'I've been expecting him every moment.'
'He's not here,' returned Mrs. Gillin. 'His man Phil's below with
orders to await his coming. I don't like his getting mixed up in these
things. It's not his place, you know. If his mother had a grain of
goodness--but there! I can't mention her with patience.'
Curran looked grave, and hurried away to cross-question Phil. It was
singular that Terence should not have appeared. The two ladies,
between whom there was the bond of a secret, looked each other in the
eyes, and temptation was too much for my lady to resist.
'These are indeed dangerous times,' she remarked sweetly to Lady
Camden, 'when it behoves us all to do our duty. I beg you will assure
his excellency that Glandore will not shrink from his. He can be of
little use here where so many have come forward; but he will retire to
Donegal as soon as it shall seem needful to watch over his tenants in
the interest of Government. And I should not be surprised--but it is a
terrible indiscretion--_if when things are settled he should bring
back with him a bride_.'
The stroke went home. Norah turned deadly pale; and Madam Gillin, who
had commenced confidences about flannel with a neighbour, found
herself suddenly called upon to attend to her daughter, who was
fainting. Scarcely had the court circle gathered round the girl, than
a new source of commotion became evident in the lobby. High words were
being bandied, with a low accompaniment of murmuring. The harsh
accents of the chancellor were ringing in remonstrance; Doreen, who,
despite her aunt's frowns, had handed her pouncet-box to Madam Gillin,
became aware that the other voice was Terence's, raised in unusual
indignation. She was quickly carried by the stream to the scene of the
disturbance.
Yes; it was Terence, sure enough--in his boots; his hair disordered; a
look of menace on his white face; and Lord Clare was striving to bar
his passage. Honest Phil behind, firing-iron in hand as usual, stood
watching his master's eye.
'Let me pass, my lord!' the young man was saying fiercely. 'An
innocent man's life hangs on a thread. I have striven to see his
excellency for hours, but have been prevented. He is in his box I
know, and I will see him. It cannot be that he knows what's happening!
The conscience-stricken jury have repented of their crime, they have
made solemn oath that they convicted Orr (God have mercy on them!)
when they had been made hopelessly drunk by Major Sirr. Even that's
not all. The soldier, too, is afraid of what he's done, and owns that
he had a private reason for his malice. Orr will be hanged at dawn
unless Lord Camden signs his respite. I'm sure his excellency cannot
know what's passing! It's the effect of this horrible one-witness law
of yours. Even Caiaphas and his Sanhedrim dared not, in the great
judicial murder, to set aside the law which demands at least two
witnesses. Even Jezebel suborned two men of Belial to bring about the
end of Naboth!'
Perceiving that the throng were in favour of the pleader, Lord Clare
strove to draw away the son of his old friend, lest the public should
think fit to take an inconvenient part in the discussion--an effort in
which he found unexpected help from Curran. The party retreated
therefore into an adjoining cloak-room, followed only by a few, while
Phil kept doughty guard without, and Lady Camden tried to look as if
she were not flustered.
'Oh, that drunkenness should be employed to procure the murder of a
man!' Terence cried in agitation. 'If Orr dies, this will be the most
savage act which has disgraced even our tribunals. I have striven to
believe in the honesty of Government. Let us go together and explain
to his excellency while there's yet time!'
The chancellor laid his hand on the young man's shoulder as if to
soothe a petulant child; while Curran sat on a table with arms crossed
and a sour smile flitting about his lips.
'Young gentleman,' Lord Clare said, 'take the advice of an older man
and your mother's friend. Keep aloof from these matters, and don't
give credence to grandams' tales. We understand what we are doing, and
want no dictation from raw youths--we are satisfied of Orr's guilt.
You are keeping bad company, as I warned you once' (with a furtive
side-glance at Mr. Curran), 'and will get yourself into trouble!'
Terence's arms dropped to his sides, and he stood thinking. A
whispering without could plainly be distinguished through the closed
door. He looked for help to his chief, who had spoken out so bravely
at the trial, but who now swung his legs in silence.
Presently he sighed, and passing both hands over his face, said
slowly: 'Then they were right--I could not, and would not believe it.
The lord-lieutenant, then, is a passive instrument in the hands of
wicked men--he is made, for a purpose, grossly, inhumanly, to abuse
the royal prerogative of mercy, of which the King himself is but a
trustee for the benefit of his people. Some of those jurymen were
threatened by suborned fellow-jurors--their tottering consciences
deadened for awhile by drink; but they have woke to remorse in time.
You say this hideous farce may not be stopped! Beware, Lord Clare!
Remember to whom you must answer for this man's life! It's true--all
true--and I am helpless!'
Lord Clare was provoked. Things were assuming an awkward and
unexpected phase. It would not do to have a scandal in the theatre.
Suppressing his wrath, he whispered to Mr. Curran before leaving the
apartment:
'This boy must not be made a scapegoat. I rely on you to use your
influence over him for his family's sake. He has listened to idle
gossip, and ardent youth is easily set ablaze. This is most untoward.
I will remove their excellencies at once and disappoint those donkeys
who are greedily on the look-out for an _esclandre_.'
His rasping voice was heard presently above the hum in polished
periods, deploring that false reports should so easily be credited;
explaining that the too sensitive Viceroy must be protected from his
own softness, calling for their excellencies' coach without delay.
'Can nothing more be done for Orr? It is too awful!' the junior asked
his chief, clinging to his coat with anxious hands.
'If aught could be done, should I have remained silent?' was the dry
rejoinder.
Then the lawyer bethought him of his child in the crush, and sallied
forth in search of her.
Master Phil, with instinctive respect for a great man, stood aside
when the chancellor made his exit, allowing the cloak-room to be
flooded with eager inquirers. First entered Cassidy and Doreen,
burning to hear news.
Terence roused himself from his reverie, and, clasping a hand of each,
muttered in choking words:
'I have fought against conviction long enough. There are limits to an
honest man's forbearance. Cassidy! I'll take the oath.'
The giant knitted his brows, and, staring at the cornice, whistled.
Doreen darted forth such a golden flash from her cairngorm eyes as
flooded the heart of the tempest-tossed young man with a gleam of
sunshine.
'Oh, cousin!' he murmured. 'You who are my star! Forgive me for having
mistrusted the direction of your guidance! I am easy-going, and not
prone to believe evil. But my eyes are opened now. Ireland's soil is
sick with the blood of centuries. A little while, and please God she
shall bleed no more!'
'Mr. Cassidy!' the girl said, with heaving breast and such a joyous
confusion as prevented her from reading the giant's face, 'did I not
say to you just now that after darkness comes the morning? Surely
night must be at its blackest now, Terence. I take you at your word.
This change is a miracle wrought by heaven in the nick of time to
prevent Theobald's efforts from being frustrated. I see it, and am
grateful. A champion must be tried, you know,' she whispered, smiling,
'and pass through the ordeal which is to prove his faith. I give you
yours at once. It is urgently needful that some one should start
forthwith for France, to act in concert there with Theobald. Can you
make up your mind to this? Yes or no--there is no time for
hesitation.'
Terence, a prey still to overmastering agitation, clasped the brown
hand that was like a leaf in both of his, while the giant's frown was
fixed on one and then the other.
'I told you one day,' the young man whispered, 'that for one reward I
would set at naught the traditions of my family. If I succeed in the
task which you assign to me----'
A shade passed across the sunlight of Doreen's enthusiasm. How
persistently people tried to rehearse love-passages on the floor of
the charnel-house!
'Do not let us talk of such things,' she faltered dreamily. 'Mr.
Cassidy, you can see the oath administered this evening. Come straight
home, Terence--and I'll manage to meet you when the rest are gone to
bed. You will have to start betimes, _mon preux chevalier_; and return
as quickly as you may, bearing good news. See to the taking of the
oath, Mr. Cassidy, and for once do not make mistakes.'
'I will see to all!' ejaculated the giant, hoarsely; 'though I risk my
neck in doing it.'
Another warm pressure of the hand--a lingering look--and Doreen was
gone. My lady had harshly summoned her, dismayed at Mr. Curran's
recital of the scene, and had bade her don her mantle--wrapt herself
in the contemplation of fresh troubles. Madam Gillin, too, had
listened to his story, and her round, good-humoured face was drawn out
as she listened to inordinate length.
'I can't stand this,' she said by-and-by, to Mr. Curran, as he cloaked
her. 'That magnificent dowager who has trundled off in the grand
carriage will--as I judge--leave difficulties to unravel themselves.
She doesn't like the boy, and would be glad he should come to ruin for
reasons buried in her stony heart. But I promised his father to be a
guardian angel, and, please God, I will. You must keep him out of
mischief--do you hear?'
Keep him out of mischief! Easier said than done; but it was worth
trying for. Mr. Curran, unaware of the interchange of sundry tender
glances in the cloak-room, did not despair of success. He elbowed in
the throng till he met his junior, and bade him be in attendance early
at the Four-courts.
'The Four-courts!' scoffed Terence, with lamentable disrespect. 'When
justice dies, why dally with her empty robes? I've other fish to fry.'
'Sure it's Misthress Doreen that's been at him,' laughed big Cassidy,
with rather forced indifference. 'Who'd be proof against the blarney
of the Dhas Astore?'
'Has Miss Wolfe been up to anything? what?' demanded the lawyer,
knitting his shaggy eyebrows.
'It's a match they'll be making of it--Lord love the purty pair!'
bawled the nettled giant. 'The gintleman's to be complimented who's
thus favoured.'
'Is this true?' Curran inquired. 'Has she been persuading you to make
a fool of yourself? I turned you out of my house, though I love you
like a son, to withdraw you from what might prove a dangerous
atmosphere. Maybe I'd better have kept you after all.'
'Perhaps, if I succeed in this mission, she may be mine!' Terence
muttered in ecstasy, oblivious for the moment of the fate of the
condemned.
'And for such a vague _perhaps_,' Curran retorted in disgust, 'these
goslings will risk their lives!'