My Lords of Strogue. Volume 1 of 3

'Never!' bawled impetuous Cassidy. 'We will die first, if it's thrue what he says, and he's more wise than I. We are men, aren't we, who can die but once? Shall we lie down to be whipped, like dancing-dogs? There's no going back, except for cowards, boys! All must fall in, or be disgraced. What say you, Master Crosbie, will you sit by and see Ould Erin sold?'

The excitement of this bellowing athlete was contagious.

'If I believed that there was one tittle of truth in the suspicions of my old friend, I'd take the oath to-morrow,' cried Terence, with a slap upon the table. 'But he exaggerates.'

'Do I?' growled Curran. 'I say that they mean to unite Ireland to England, and that their present operations are tending to that end; and I also affirm that, whether you take the oath or whether you do not, that important ceremony will have no effect whatever on the end-you coxcomb!'

'Be their intentions what they may, there is no going back now,' echoed young Robert, sipping his claret dreamily. 'All who have a real stake in the country must see that. Is not our first stake our national honour? and how may we bow our necks beneath the Saxon's heel without eternal shame? The truculent, bloody Saxon! who has left his track like a livid welt across our land, in altars polluted and laid low, pledges made and broken, a long trail of lust and rapine and crime.'

A faint smile flitted over Cassidy's features, for this was the turgid eloquence of the mysterious newspaper whose editor was in Newgate.

'Boy, you chatter balderdash,' Curran snapped shortly; 'such balderdash as the ignorant drink too eagerly for truth. Oh for a little ballast to keep us steady! An Irishman, when not stranded on the Scylla of indolence, is certain to flounder headforemost on the Charybdis of enthusiasm; and, of the two dangers, the latter is generally the worst.'

'Deed, it's thrue what ye say, councillor dear,' Cassidy murmured, in a coaxing tone. 'But sure, though you rail at us, you would not stand by neither, any more nor this young gintleman? We know well enough your heart is with us.'

'You are no better than baaing sheep following one another into the shambles,' answered the host testily, for he was taken aback by this open assault upon himself and Terence. 'Your ill-digested plans must fail.'

'Fail!' echoed Robert and Cassidy together. 'Why,' continued the former, forgetting his horror of bloodshed, 'when the time comes we shall count upon a hundred thousand men. I know it by the returns sent in to the Directory.'

'On paper.'

'And the French will be here in force-the veterans of the Republic.'

'The French, the French!' growled Curran. 'Say that they land and beat the armies of King George, which I much doubt; will they not soon weary of a precarious possession, and, carrying you to market in some treaty of peace, barter you away to be well scourged? I vow I have no patience with you, grieved though I be for the humble order of the people, who from lack of education are easily deluded. Depend upon it, your acts are all known in London. By the time you are ready, the towns will seethe with British troops. I tremble to think of the result.'

'Would ye have us turn the cheek like good Christians, then?' jeered the giant, who, under influence of wine, was becoming warm. 'Are the sons of the ancient kings meekly to become galley-slaves?'

'What would I have ye do?' retorted the host, who perceived with wrath that he was being driven into a corner. 'I'd have ye keep a civil tongue, and talk no treason till ye're outside my privet-hedge. If ye do not, I'll report what's been said to Clare; I will, upon my honour, to save ye from worse folly.'

The sturdy little man looked as if he were quite capable of carrying out his threat. If he were to disclose all he knew of them, it would be terrible indeed.

Cassidy, the claret mounting to his muddled brain, seized a decanter with the laudable intention of belabouring his host with it.

'A traitor!' he muttered fiercely. 'That's the lowest beast that crawls. If ye spake ere a word of us, I'll pistol ye in the street!'

The lawyer looked calmly up at the menacing giant and laughed. 'Put it down, big baby,' he said. 'You dare to think me half-hearted because I won't take a pike and try to knock down St. Patrick's. Does any man in Ireland love Erin more than I? Learn, fool, that men have different functions assigned to them. Do your best, if God wills it so. When the battle's lost ye'll want me to bind your gashes. I've listened to much rubbish this afternoon. Now you, in your turn, listen to the truth, which is bad enough-ochone! I know that all your martial goings-out and comings-in are reported one by one; I know that they are broidured and embellished before they cross the sea. I have reason to suspect-I admit I cannot prove it yet-that such cooked accounts are given of your doings as actually to alarm the British cabinet. You are playing into Pitt's hands. I have heard that they even talk of "martial-law" as possible. If they come to that, the Lord be merciful to our poor Erin!'

Mr. Curran's head sank on his breast, and tears ran down his rugged cheeks; while the conspirators glanced one at the other with pallid faces. Martial law! rough and ready tribunals presided over by the tools of England! Sure their host's terrors must carry him away. And yet he might be right, judging from the past. It was quite possible that they were being deliberately driven to the shambles in cold blood-like victims marked out for slaughter by some savage despot. Cassidy laid down the decanter, and began to stammer apologies for his petulance.

The noise of voices at high words brought Sara into the room, who, frightened at the sudden dread which seemed to have invaded the party, clung to her father, while she turned an inquiring glance to the undergraduate.

'What is it, father?' she murmured with dim fear, for the adored face of Robert was distorted with passion, while his hands shook like leaves.

'A Union is it that they want?' the boy muttered 'twixt chattering teeth. 'I will resist it to the last gasp of my existence-to the last drop of my blood-and when death comes, I will call down the eternal curse of Heaven upon the destroyers of our freedom!'

Sara felt dizzy, and would have fallen but for her father's encircling arm. Dark shadows of foreboding were flitting across her mind. Was he whom she elected to worship to be drawn into the whirlpool after all? Was Robert to share Theobald's fate-to be banished from friends and motherland? In her gentle loving heart she registered a vow that if that fate should come on him, the sorrow of his exile should be soothed by no hand but hers.

Mr. Curran set himself to calm his darling. 'Silly child!' he said, patting her yellow curls. 'There, there, why not in bed? Fie! young ladies mustn't rush in where gintlemen are toping. Well, as ye are here, pick up the matarials from the hearth, my love, and squeeze in another lemon. This won't do. I shall lose my reputation as a bon viveur. A sentiment? Bravo! Here 'tis. Come, bumpers! "If a man fills the bottom of his glass, more shame to him if he doesn't fill the top; and if he empties the top, sure he'd not be so base as to deny the bottom the same compliment!" Now we'll lock the doors, and my big friend shall expend his exuberance in song. A toast first. You too shall sip of it, my blossom, for there's ne'er a bit of treason in it.' Then, clasping Sara's slender waist, he raised his haggard eyes, and said solemnly: 'As God in these latter days is unfolding in His creatures strange new powers, so may they all tend to Freedom, Peace, and Harmony. May those who are free never be enslaved-may those who are slaves be speedily set free. Amen!'

Cassidy, quite good-humoured and repentant now-for his bark was always more awful than his bite-tuned up and sang his choicest ditties; yet somehow there was a pall over the party which music could not dissipate. Truths had slipped out in the desultory talk which weighed down the souls of all. Mr. Curran, usually a pearl among hosts, was worried and absent, for, look at the situation as he would, there was nothing to be seen but impending disaster, and he thought that perhaps he had spoken out too openly. Terence, too, seemed much disturbed in mind; more moved at Robert's story and his own hints than he liked to see. Perchance it would be safest to pack him home without delay. Yet no-his was not the soul-harrowing indignation which exercised the patriots. He was shocked, but there was no real danger of his being trapped. It would lie heavy on his conscience, though, if this artless joyous creature should be dragged into the vortex. Much better that he should shoot, and hunt, and fish, and make the most of the happy accident of his social standing. Certainly he would show little affection for his protégé if he permitted him to be trapped, and Cassidy showed wondrous anxiety to trap him. An odd person, Cassidy; a whimsical combination of opposing essences; one of those dangerous hot natures whose ill-balanced zeal is more fatal to a cause than enmity. No one could on occasion be more oafishly stupid than he, or more rashly brave; and yet the way he kept up a show of intercourse with Major Sirr and my Lord Clare, after the fashion of a safety-rope to which to cling in peril, was worthy of quite a subtle plotter. That the giant meant well there could be no doubt. But if he, Curran, had had aught to do with the society, he would have stipulated that this firebrand should be kept as much as might be in the background.

While he meditated thus the punch-bowl was emptied, and, as he made a move to refill it, the party broke into knots and resumed the topic which engrossed them.

Terence listened to young Robert's views, which, under the auspices of liquor, grew more rosy and more loud.

'I don't mind telling you about it,' the boy was saying, 'for I know that your honour is too fine to allow the smallest hint to be dropped of what I say. The French will come with 15,000 men, and gunpowder, and muskets. Pikeheads are being hammered out of hours on hundreds of village anvils.'

'They will never send 15,000 men,' Terence objected, with a doggedness induced by drink. 'Their coffers are empty. Holland, Switzerland, the Rhine, claim the attention of their arms.'

'If they send but 5,000 the work can be done. You don't believe it? With three hundred as officers to head our own people, we could make an effort.'

'What can a rabble hope to do against a disciplined force?' exclaimed Terence, with animation. 'The French could not spare three hundred officers to this outlying island. Who have you amongst you who could teach a single military manœuvre? Who could save an army from rout if attacked in rear, or judiciously decide upon a line of entrenchment? What a reckless waste of life-a march into the grave!'

'There are cultivated gintlemen who will come forward when they see that we are in earnest,' put in Cassidy slyly; 'lots of them. There is no telling what mines of military genius may be found amongst the high-born. I confess I'd like to know what we really may expect from France. Theobald has been ten months in Paris, is hand and glove they say with General Hoche, and Carnot, the "Organiser of Victory." Strange he should never write.'

'My cousin Doreen has letters from him,' Terence said, in thick accents. 'Maybe she'd tell us if we coaxed her.' Then, rising, he flung wide the shutters and opened the window, through which streamed such a flood of morning light and perfumed air as caused his wits to reel. Cassidy grinned, as he marked the 'us,' and, encouraged by so good a sign, made bold to clap the young patrician upon the shoulder.

'Sure she'd tell you, councillor darlint,' he whispered; 'for she likes you, and I can get nothing serious out of her. Faix! it's the dainty colleen she is!'

'I dare say she would,' returned Terence, while lines of latent humour puckered up the giant's face. Councillor Crosbie's lofty patronage amused him, for, of the two, Mr. Cassidy had seen most of the Abbey during the past year. 'The day is come,' he urged; 'the very hour for a ride. Will ye go and find out something to make our minds aisy, or do ye think Misthress Doreen would be cross wid ye?'

Cassidy was taking liberties. Of that Terence felt hazily assured.

'Yes,' he replied, 'I will canter over to Strogue to see what I can gather; a gallop by the beach will steady my nerves for the business of the infernal Four-courts. Tell Phil, Cassidy, to saddle the horses at once.'

Cassidy humbly obeyed orders, while Curran, who was watching, laughed, despite his dreary thoughts. How translucent is the strategy of youth! The squireen's familiar manner of mentioning Doreen had stung her cousin, and filled him with a desire to warn her of the oaf's presumption. It was a fine excuse for stealing a delicious hour with a girl who loved not flirtation; who crumpled up her admirers with scorn; who might, without some such excuse, resent even a cousin's interference with the stern duties of matutinal chicken-feeding.

'Go!' Mr. Curran laughed, his conscience relieved, as he placed his hand on the broad straight back of his favourite. 'Go, lad, and learn what you can from that lovely conspiring siren. I think my Sally must go too, to protect you. Stop a minute while I write a line to my lady. I'm sorry we've not had so gay a time as usual-but sure gaiety is being squeezed quite out of us. One Doughan Dourish before we separate. Here's to Innisfail, and may God have mercy on her! And now good-night, or rather good-morning. I've a heavy day before me, and must e'en steal forty winks.'

The party mounted their horses and rode away, and Mr. Curran went to bed and slept, quite persuaded now that Terence must go home and stop there.

CHAPTER X.

LOVES AND DOVES?

2222Honest Phil saddled the horses and brought them round in a twinkling, delighted always with a journey to the Abbey; for did not red-haired Biddy, who held his large heart in keeping, abide at the shebeen foreninst the Little House with her mamma, Jug Coyle? Jug Coyle-the Collough-or wise woman, mistress of hidden arts, whose little public-house, on Madam Gillin's land, had grown more orderly than heretofore during the last few months. It was not that grooms and soldiers frequented it the less, but that, instead of sitting on the bench without, roaring ribald staves into the small hours, as had been the objectionable custom, they now preferred the innermost room with a well-closed door. Yet, roistering or silent, there was the shebeen with its mouldering thatched roof and discoloured whitewash walls, and one of its tiny windows roughly boarded up, at the very gate of the lordly Abbey-an undiminished eyesore to the chatelaine.

Sara, whose gentle nature was perturbed by the scene at the supper-table-the pale faces and haggard looks-slept not a wink all night, and was most glad to join Terence in a canter by the seashore. She daily grew fonder of Doreen, whose quiet manner seemed to instil calmness into her own soul; who allowed the child in a gracious way to cling to her, to prattle of her little troubles, her suspicions and her fears, and her adoration of the undergraduate. Her father was too busy to listen to her babbling; the dear young undergraduate too much absorbed in what he called the cycle of injustice. All those with whom she had to do-except Doreen-were for ever prating of the Saxon's iron heel, shaking their fists at Heaven, venting dark anathemas and muttering such threats as terrified her. Something dreadfully mysterious was to take place soon-of that she felt assured-though when she asked questions, Mr. Curran pinched her chin, calling her a little silly kitten; then mused with eyes averted. Yes, there was a heavy intangible cloud o'ershadowing those she loved; all the little maid could do was to pour out her innocent soul to God, imploring His mercy for her father and her friends.

Wiser eyes than Sara's saw the cloud-observed that it grew blacker and more thunderous as it lowered nearer earth-that its lining, instead of being silvern, was lurid red. Some, like wreckers on a craggy beach, rejoiced in the approach of a storm which would bring them pelf; others watched it wistfully, as it darkened the sun, with a sickening sense of powerlessness to avert its coming. Among these was Doreen, who, surveying the gloomy prospect as from a watch-tower, grew hourly more grave and self-contained. Her position at the Abbey had changed but little during the interval. The dowager had never directly referred to the conversation in the rosary, but the damsel was not slow in perceiving that Shane and herself were thrown together as often as was practicable. Then this wild scheme was not to be abandoned idly? What could be the reason for it? Once, in her desire to escape from a false position, she begged her easy-going parent to take her to live with him in Dublin, telling him plainly that she could never marry Shane, imploring him to spare her a distressing ordeal. He only patted her hands, however, and nodded perplexedly, with an assurance that she should never be forced into anything she did not like. It was clear that Mr. Wolfe was growing more and more afraid of his sister, also that public affairs distressed him; for he plunged daily more deeply into routine business, attempting in a weak way now and then to pour oil upon the waters between Curran and Clare, carefully keeping his daughter out of the capital as much as he was able. Not but what he would stand up for his girl upon occasion, when my lady was too hard upon her. The dowager never grew weary of lifting up her voice against Doreen's unseemly proclivities, her free and easy ways, her ridings hither and thither, her expeditions none knew whither. It was a disgrace to the family, she averred-for in her own girlhood Irish ladies were content to sit by the fireside, or look after the pastry, study the art of dumpling-making, concoct cunning gooseberry-wine and raspberry-vinegar, prepare delicious minglings of roseleaves and lavender for the sweetening of the family linen. To all of which Mr. Wolfe was wont to reply mildly:

'The maiden is of a masculine turn, who delights not in sampler-stitching or pie-baking. She is three-and-twenty, of unusually staid manners. I'd like to see the man who dared insult her! Let be, let be. None would be more glad than I if she would think less of politics and the dreadful Penal Code. Guide her inexperience gently, if you will; but do not attempt coercion, or you'll get the worst of it.'

Despite this prudent counsel, there were several tussles 'twixt the maiden and her aunt; in one of which the elder dropped some incautious words, which were a revelation to Doreen.

'You play with edged tools, girl!' she had said. 'You form friendships with the enemies of the executive and urge them to deeds of rashness, knowing that, come what may, you, as a woman, will escape scot-free. Your unwarrantable proceedings fill your father with such anxiety that he dares not have you home, lest in Dublin you should set up for a heroine and disgrace us. You are the most stubborn stiff-necked piece of goods the world ever saw! Yet what can be expected of a Papist? This is Nemesis upon him for having married one.'

Then this was the cause of her being left at the Abbey-of Mr. Wolfe's evident anxiety? He dreaded lest-in her sorrow for her people-she should do something which would involve him in difficulties with Government. Poor, weak, loving father! No. That she clearly had no right to do. Yet she could surely not be expected to approve the acts of the executive; she, a Catholic, whose heart was rendered so sensitive by the iron which had worn into it from childhood. Was it her fault if her mind turned itself towards passing events instead of being absorbed by the manufacture of tarts? Surely not! Hers was a sturdier, braver nature than her father's. Loving him as she did, she strove not to perceive his truckling ways. Had she been a man she would have done as Tone had done-have seized a buckler and girded by her side a sword-to have at the oppressor, whose tricks were so crafty and so base. So both her father and her aunt suspected her, did they, of urging men on to conspire against the state? My lady would doubtless have placed her under lock and key if her brother had permitted of such a measure. And knowing or suspecting what she did, she was still anxious to bring about a union between the young people-her favourite son, the wealthy Earl of Glandore, and the Papist heiress who was so unmanageable. It was most amazing. Doreen failed to track out the slightest clue to the mystery.

Finding it so knotty she gave it up, choosing rather to ponder on the turn affairs were taking. She hated Lord Clare now with an indignant hatred, for he had raised his mask a little, and she had seen the devil's lineaments looking out from under it. He made no secret of his dislike of the Catholics, telling her to her face one day, with an arrogant hauteur which made her blood tingle, that he was going to make it his especial business to pull down the altars of Baal. Oh, if this Sisera would only lie down to sleep before her-with what satisfaction would she drive a great nail into his temple!

The lord chancellor was aware that the beautiful Miss Wolfe loved him not, and was wont to jest thereat when taking a dish of tea with his old flame the dowager. My lady smiled at his tirades, making merry over the appalling catalogue of things which he intended to do; for, being a brilliant Irishman, he of course had the national tendency to romancing, and it never entered into her mind to conceive that he actually could mean what he said. Though shrewd enough, my lady was quite taken in by my Lord Clare, who seeing in her a swaddler-one of those bigots who mistake rancour for virtue-was minded to make his ancient ally useful to his ends.

He failed to realise that my lady's bigotry was only skin-deep-that it was her way of protesting against the many disagreeable things which she had been forced to endure, and, thanks to Gillin, was still enduring. He therefore feared not to propose to her a something, at which her pride should have recoiled with horror, but which-thanks to his persuasive arts and her belief in his talent and integrity, she agreed at least to consider before repudiating. First he commiserated her position in being burthened with the responsible care of a damsel who was like to bring disgrace upon them all.

Behind the scenes as he was, he could see farther among the machinery than most people, and deeply deplored what seemed inevitable-namely, that the rash young lady would certainly commit herself with regard to the members of the Secret Society-be drawn into their schemes-and work grave mischief, such as should bring shame on the names both of Wolfe and Crosbie, unless something were done to circumvent her. Violent means were of course vulgar, and dangerous to boot, by reason of Miss Wolfe's character. My lady wished to unite her to her eldest son, did she? Well, it was an odd fancy, at which it was not his place to cavil. All the more reason then to render the folly of the girl of no effect by artifice. Once settled down as a wife and mother, she would forget the errors of her girlhood, and even thank her friends for having saved her from herself.

Now my Lord Clare knew through Mr. Pitt, whose spies in Paris told him everything, that Tone kept up a correspondence with Miss Wolfe under the name of Smith-that she fetched her letters from Jug Coyle's shebeen, where they were left for her under a prearranged name. His own spies told him that she talked sometimes with mysterious men, who came and went in a suspicious manner, between the environs of Dublin and the outlying districts. Yes, it was too true; my lady might well look shocked. The conspirators were making a catspaw of her niece, who hovered between two duties-the one to her Protestant father, the other to her crushed co-religionists.

Did my lady's eyes ask what was to be done? This, and only this. For it was clear, was it not, that her mines must be countermined for her own sake and that of her belongings? It would not do to seize the letters, because the villain in Paris would then invent some new method of communication, which it might take the spies some time to discover, and time was important just now. The young lady, being enthusiastic and inexperienced, was most shamefully exploitée-the executive saw that, and were prepared to make allowances, provided her family would play a little into their hands. Did she see what he meant? No! Then my lady was duller than usual, and he must dot his i's. The executive knew that Miss Wolfe was artfully used as a spreader of secrets, because no one else in all Ireland occupied a position of similar complexity. Her heart was with the malcontents, to begin with. She, as daughter of the attorney-general-most cautious of time-servers-was not likely to be suspected of overt acts of treason. She was clearheaded, too, and resolute, useful in council. Ill-judged in other things, the conspirators had done wisely to employ Miss Wolfe as a means of intercommunication.