My Lords of Strogue. Volume 1 of 3

'"Brothers, arise! The hour has come to strike a blow for Truth and God.Why sit ye folded up and dumb? why, bending, kiss a tyrant's rod?For what is death to him who dies, the martyr's crown upon his head?A charter-not a sacrifice-a life immortal for the dead. And life itsel3 is only great when man devotes himself to be By virtue, thought, and deed the mate of God's true children and the free!"'

Her voice trembled and gave way, and bowing her neck over the instrument, the girl wept. Sara stole up and kissed away the tears. Her own heart was exceeding heavy, she knew not why, except that she saw visions of Robert in peril, such as she was thankful to think were only visions. If aught befell him, she would lie down and die-of that she was quite sure-foolish virgin! She had bestowed her pure heart unasked. Would he who held it value the priceless gift?

My lady and Lord Clare looked at Arthur Wolfe in consternation. Where did the naughty damsel learn such a song? Of what dangerous stuff was she made to presume to chant it before the chancellor himself? 'It is the cloven foot,' her aunt thought with fury. That terrible blot! Anxieties were thickening. Something must be done, or the girl would go to perdition even faster than she galloped across country.

Arthur looked wistfully at his sister, then at his child, who, the paroxysm past, was a cold statue again-haughty, unabashed. To look at her, you would feel assured that she had done right, while all the rest were wrong. Some people are incorrigible, and Miss Wolfe was evidently one of them. Her father suspected shrewdly that she had learnt the song at Curran's. He knew that she worshipped Tone, and that she had been in the habit of meeting him at the Priory. But he never had the courage to stand between the Catholic and the Protestant champion of her faith. As usual, he temporised, striving to serve two masters, and, as usual, suffered for his weakness.

Lord Clare read him like a book, and was disgusted with his friend. Wolfe's sensitive conscience was constantly racked by doubts which a natural diffidence magnified into bugbears. Clare's inflexibly ambitious mind despised the hysterics of the country which he governed; brazen and hard, he was a fit tool for Mr. Pitt. As he looked at Arthur, who hung his head over his daughter's escapade, he decided that this was a square peg in a round hole. As attorney-general, acts might be demanded of him by-and-by, from which he would shrink with lamentable want of character. What if he were to shillyshally when prompt action was urgent! He might upset the deftest schemes, overturn the most skilful combinations, by his bungling. Only a few minutes ago, his tell-tale face had shown how he disapproved of the one witness project. What a pity it was that the inoffensive fellow had ever been promoted, for as a simple lawyer he would have been pushed by events into the background. Well, well! He must be tried, and trotted forth to test his mettle. If he were proved wanting, there would be nothing for it but to pass him on again-to shelve him somewhere in the Lords, where he might drone harmlessly.

But this outrageous bit of scorn-his daughter! My lady must have a hard time with her. She was going awry, as hysterical girls will; yet surely the dowager was more than capable of coping with this febrile phase of a strong nature half developed? Then the astute idea passed through the schemer's brain of how convenient it would be if the budding Joan of Arc could be used as an unconscious spy upon her party. An ingenious notion, but one difficult to carry out-a delicate game, which would have to be worked through the countess, who was a crotchety soured woman, with a nice sense of honour, who would slave night and day for a cause which she esteemed a rightful one, but who would rather cut off her hand than stoop to what she knew was a meanness-provided that it did not affect her interests.

My Lord Clare could not forbear smiling when, glancing round the party, he noted the effect of the song. My lady dumbly furious; Arthur apologetic; Doreen herself indifferent; Terence uneasy and taken aback. One savage breast alone had music soothed; and Terence, who revered his chief, thanked Cassidy with a nod for having withdrawn him from further contest. Once with his huge machine between his feet, he was invulnerable even to Erin's wrongs, scraping himself into a condition of ecstatic beatitude, from which there was no fretting him. any more. There he sat, crouching like a black-beetle on a kitchen boiler, his underlip protruded, his face lighted with satisfaction, his head nodding to the time, and his frenzied eye fixed on the coat-of-arms upon the ceiling, as though to invoke its supporting monsters to turn and cock their ears. My Lord Clare's smile faded presently; he hated music nearly as much as he hated Curran.

'Turn out the lights!' he cried. 'I wonder your ladyship has patience with the fellow's grimaces. And you, my lad,' he continued seriously, addressing Terence, 'accept the lesson of the times and avoid enthusiasm. In this country it leads to the halter. Steer your course wisely. Take a safer pilot to guide your inexperience than yonder hurdy-gurdyman, so that you may find yourself on the winning side at last. There is no doubt which that will be.'

'I will use my own judgment,' replied Terence, simply, with a dignity which would have won approval from his cousin, had she not just descended into the pleasaunce to recover, amid the influences of night, her natural calmness of demeanour.

'That beast's din addles my brains,' went on the chancellor, rising to depart. 'Drive back with me, Arthur. I have a special subject to talk to you about. You must take a bolder course in politics. The ball is at your feet. We must teach you to find pluck enough to strike it.'

Wolfe smiled gently as he answered:

'I'll take a drive with pleasure, but you'll find me terribly deceitful; for I must grub up money for my daughter's sake; and yet, in certain ways, I'm an impracticable person-a mule with his feet together. Vacillating you think me. In some things you'll find I'm adamant.'

All were glad when at last the chancellor departed. Even my lady admitted that he could be crabbed at times. He was gone, but, like the gentleman in black, he left an evil savour in his wake.

Startled from reverie by the clang of the hall-door, Curran threw aside his bow and scratched his elf-locks pensively.

'No!' he said. 'These laws which they are continually framing are too dreadful. If the testimony of one witness is to be sufficient to convict us, then, are we foredoomed; for any one may be summoned to join in the Kilmainham minuet by the malice of a discharged groom, or the greed of the meanest cowboy. Trial and evidence are not children's baubles; they were not even established for the sole purpose of punishing the guilty; their most precious use is for the security of innocence.'

The little lawyer looked so horror-stricken, that both my lady and the giant burst out a-laughing.

'Come,' said the former, wresting the violoncello from his grasp, 'your music carries you too far. Lord Clare was out of sorts, and played upon your fears. Thank heaven he is no Blunderbore, or he would not be my welcome guest. Now to bed. Sara looks worn out.'

'He has no sense of right and wrong,' grumbled Curran.

'For shame! You are both good men. What a pity you can only agree in looking at each other through distorted glasses!'

'Faix, her ladyship's right,' acquiesced Cassidy, with a grin. 'You magnify the number of the informers. I should be sorry to believe there are half as many as you think.'

'Did not Tone say you were simple?' asked Curran, sadly. 'So there's some one watching the Emmetts? Can you guess? No! Nor I; but they must be warned. Clare is brewing some new devil's haricot, and will dip Arthur's ladle in it, if he may. What a net it is that they are winding about Erin! Pray God that we and ours may escape entanglement!'

CHAPTER VI.

MY LADY'S PROJECT

Doreen stood by the crazy sun-dial, looking at the milky way, and reflecting upon the chatter which had assailed her ears. Consigned to Moiley! The dragon of the new régime was beginning to show that his hunger was insatiable. The prisons were filling apace. Lord Clare had hinted that worse was yet to come, that the shadow of the gibbet was to stretch across the earth, that hemp would soon be at a premium. But there were two Moileys-two goddesses of vengeance and retaliation, ready to strike, one for the oppressor, one for the oppressed. If their blood was roused, who might foretell what havoc they would make ere they sheathed their swords again!

The rustle of my lady's skirts recalled the maiden to herself, and she perceived her aunt descending into the garden. It was seldom that my lady changed her routine in the smallest particular. What could be the cause of this sudden fancy for star-gazing?

'A lovely night,' exclaimed her ladyship. 'How sweet the roses smell! I vow it is a sin to go to bed.'

'Shane seems to think so,' returned Doreen. 'He never comes in till the small hours.'

My lady looked sharply in her niece's face, but was nothing there save a settled sadness.

'Come,' she said, 'Curran and his child are gone to rest. We'll take a turn in the pleasaunce.'

They sauntered through the golden gate and down a leafy avenue, in silence, while owls and bats flitted past their heads and circled away among the foliage. My lady had something to say, and did not know how to say it. Doreen was thinking of the dear wanderer, who was tossing on the sea by this time. Presently my lady said abruptly:

'Doreen, you must change your ways.'

The damsel's nostrils dilated a little; but, biting her lip, she answered nothing.

'You are twenty-two,' pursued her aunt. 'It is time that you gave up playing Miss Hoyden, and settled down into a respectable married woman.'

The girl walked on without a word, wondering what was coming next, while her aunt, growing exasperated at what she was pleased to consider stubbornness, bent down to sniff a rose which wept gems upon her dress.

'Does it trouble you,' she said, wiping the dew from her skirts carefully with a handkerchief, 'that Shane should stop out so late? The Glandores were always rakes, but were none the worse for that. For my part I hate a milksop.'

Poor lady! The late lord had given her little experience of the milksop!

'What can it signify to me what he does?' asked Doreen, with a tinge of bitterness. 'He is drinking to King William now, no doubt, if not insensible beneath the table.'

This was awkward, for my lady desired to make the best of Shane, and the fact of his doing homage to the Immortal memory was not likely to be pleasing to a Roman Catholic. So she turned her batteries.

'You are wild, and will come to shipwreck,' she declared, 'if we do not set some one to look after you. The way you behaved just now was most deplorable. Your poor father looked wretched; but the dear soul is a goose. Unless you mend your ways you will find no one to marry you at all, which will be dreadful, and a disgrace to all of us. Your behaviour to Terence is not quite seemly, for you forget that he is grown up, and that you should not trifle with an inflammable youth.'

This shot went home. Thoroughly taken aback, Doreen cried:

'Terence! You must be jesting, aunt! He is my first cousin, almost my brother. You will accuse me of flirting with Shane next.'

'That is quite another matter,' replied my lady, coldly, for she was nettled at the contemptuous manner in which the girl spoke of her favourite son. 'I say you must be married before you disgrace us all, which you certainly will do unless curbed, being half a plebeian born.'

The blood flooded the girl's face, and she clasped her bosom with both hands to still the indignation rising there. For my lady, when annoyed beyond a given point, was apt to make sneering remarks about the late Mrs. Wolfe which filled her child with rage.

'What do you mean?' she exclaimed haughtily. 'There is no must about the matter. You should have learned by this time that I will not be driven by any one on earth; certainly not by you.' Then recovering herself, she went on more softly: 'What a puzzle you are! Sometimes so kind, sometimes so cruel! I think you really care for me; you were so good to the motherless little one. If my mother had lived I might have been different. A Miss Hoyden, am I? I have never had any one in whom to put my trust, to whom I might tell my troubles; and a heart closed up, without sympathy, is a sore thing for one of my age!'

The girl's voice died away, and her aunt felt uncomfortable.

'To-day,' Doreen resumed, 'I went to see Ally Brady, who is dying, and nearly threw myself upon the neck of the lady who is nursing her. She looked so kind and hearty as her tears fell for the peasant-woman, and she clings to the prescribed creed as I do. It was Mrs. Gillin, of the Little House.'

My lady looked up sharply.

'You dared to speak to her?'

'No; I retired. But she looked after me with such a strange pity. Aunt, why do you object to my knowing this lady, though all the world speaks well of her? Shane goes to the Little House, and Norah makes him welcome. He told me so. I have seen Norah often, and she is very pretty. What does it all mean? Is Shane going to marry her? May I speak to her when she's Shane's wife? If he knows and likes the Gillins, why should not I, who, as a Catholic, have a sort of right to cherish them?'

My lady started and stood still, as if she had seen an adder in her path, and said in an altered voice:

'Have I not commanded you never to mention that woman's name before me? Shane is more wild than I could wish. He does what he chooses; and, besides, a man may do what a woman may not. If he were well married, he would grow quieter, no doubt. Your father's wish is the same as mine. You know it, and are obstinate.'

Doreen was astonished, for Lady Glandore was not given to displays of emotion; and now she was much agitated, while her features worked as if in physical pain. Kissing her niece on the forehead, she gathered up her skirts and walked rapidly back towards the house.

For an hour and more the girl wandered in the pleasaunce, taking no heed of dew, though her high-waisted dress was of the thinnest muslin. She was weighing her aunt's hints, and the strange complications of her own position.

There could be no further doubt that my lady desired to unite her niece to Shane. Doreen had suspected it before, but the idea seemed too preposterous. What motive could be strong enough to bring about so amazing a desire on the part of the proud chatelaine, as a union between one of the hated faith, whose mother was of doubtful origin, and the dearly-loved head of the Glandores, who was young, rich, Protestant, good-looking? That she should ever come to permit a match even with the poor younger son, whom she did not love, would be surprising enough; but a motive might be found for that in his poverty and extravagance, and her trifling nest-egg. The blot on the escutcheon would not have mattered so much in his case, for he was unlikely ever to wear the coronet, and the attorney-general's scrapings would have gilded a more unpleasant bolus than his handsome daughter.

But Shane, who by reason of his wealth and position was a great catch, who might throw his handkerchief to whom he pleased! What could be the reason? Was it that his mother dreaded his being caught by some low and penniless adventuress-he who was so self-willed and given to low company? It could hardly be that; for in the eyes of the chatelaine, Doreen herself was little better, save in the way of money; and where the young earl was himself so wealthy, her little fortune could not be taken into consideration. If he would only go into good society, Shane might aspire to the most brilliant match.

It was a riddle to which the damsel could find no solution, so she began calmly to consider how she should act herself. Should she yield to her aunt's wishes, and assume the high position of the young earl's bride? If she said 'Yes,' would Shane indeed take her to his bosom, or would he be disobedient in this as other things? If he came and asked her, would she say 'Yes,' or 'No?' She was amazed to find that she was by no means sure. He was an ignoble sot, a drunkard, and a debauchee; but, in the eyes of most young ladies, such qualities were rather admired than not. It was thought fine for a spark's eye to have a noble fierceness which softened to the mildness of the dove when contemplating 'the sex.' But then Doreen's education had been peculiar-different in many ways to that of other young ladies-partly on account of her motherlessness, partly because of the faith she professed. The Penal Code had eaten into her soul-she was more thoughtful and sober than girls of her age usually are; was given to day-dreams and impracticable heroic longings, tinged, all of them, by a romance due to her Irish nature and the romantic conditions of her time.

She had never thought much of marrying or giving in marriage, and it came upon her now as a new light, that by a marriage she might benefit the 'cause.' As she sauntered up and down, she reflected that, by espousing Shane, she might make of herself a Judith for her people's sake. Shane was already sodden and sottish, given to excessive tippling. She, Doreen, was of a masculine strength of character, and knew it. Once established at the Abbey as its mistress, why should she not take on herself the control of the estates, as the present countess did, and manage them according to her liking? The United Irishmen were sadly in need of funds. Tone had said that a bloodless revolution was impossible. Arms and powder would be required when the struggle came. Why should not she provide a portion of it out of the wealth of the lord of Strogue? It seemed an ignoble thing to do; yet, for the cause's sake, was not anything justifiable? Did not Judith, the noblest of women, the purest of patriots, lower herself to the disguise of a harlot for the saving of her people? Doreen felt the holy flame burning within her, which goes to the making of Judiths.

Her father, though she loved him fondly, could never be of real service to her. What would he think of such a wedding? It mattered not, situated as she was. Her battle of life must be fought alone, without help from any one. She was fully aware of that, and was prepared to fight it-to the end-after her own fashion.

She was startled from her reverie by the banging of doors and shouts of discordant laughter. Cassidy had been singing some time since in the young men's wing, trolling out pathetic ballads for the edification of Terence and his chief-but these had retired to rest long since. This must be the young lord and his boon companions-come to finish the night in wine and play as joyous gallants should. It would be awkward to meet them in their cups; so she stole as noiselessly as might be through the golden gate, past the sun-dial among the flowers, and reached her chamber, which was over the chintz drawing-room (her own boudoir), just as there came a crash and awful din in the hall. Then followed a babel of angry voices. Lights appeared in the dining-hall opposite, the blinds of which were not drawn down, and a posse of young nobles-their clothes muddy and disarranged; their hair dishevelled; their action wild and excited-crowded in around their host. She could distinguish my lord by the glistening of his diamond coat-buttons as he was held back by four companions, from whose grasp he strove to free himself. One of them, whose brain was less heated than the rest, had removed his couteau de chasse from its sheath, and was expostulating with him; but he was evidently not to be appeased without a scapegoat, for he kept pointing angrily at a broken bust of William III. which my lady had crowned with laurel that very day.

She could see that somebody had upset the bust, and that my lord wished to wipe out the insult to the Protestant champion with the blood of the offender. My lady did not appear. She had been well broken to orgies of the kind by the late lord, and took no heed of the uproar; but the aged butler, who, as a matter of course, had produced magnums of claret in tin frames upon the appearance of the party, seemed to be coaxing his young master into good temper, and with some success apparently, for by-and-by the couteau de chasse was given back and the party settled down amicably, having first tossed the offender out of window, who lay snoring upon the flower-beds till morning, wrapped in the sound sleep of drunkards.

Doreen sat at the open window, her chin buried in her hand, watching the proceedings of her cousin. His cravat was gone; his fair young chest exposed; his velvet surtout torn and stained; his striped silk stockings in tatters; the bunches of ribbon wrenched from off his half-boots. His face was blotched and bloated; his forehead disfigured by an ugly cicatrice which turned of a bright red when he was far gone in liquor or in passion. She saw him rise on his unsteady legs and wave a goblet at the fractured bust, while he clung with the other arm round the neck of the youth next to him. Then all the rest rose and bowed as well as they were able; some falling on the floor in the attempt and remaining there, while the others sat down to their drink again and clamoured for cards, shouting the while a chorus, which came muffled to her through the window-glass.

'And it's ho! ro! the sup of good drink-And ho! ro! the heart would not think;Oh, had I a shilling lapped up in a clout,It's a sup of good drink that would wheedle it out!'

Doreen sat staring till the chill of morning penetrated to her bones through the light robe of muslin. Then she crept stiff and weary into bed, while her teeth chattered and alternate douches of hot and cold water seemed pouring down her back. She had been studying Shane with a new interest, and trembled for her future peace, for, as she watched with senses sharpened, she was dismayed at the hideous preponderance of the animal in her cousin's nature. Never had she looked at him so earnestly before. It was like binding one's self to a hog for life. Sure Holofernes was not so degraded, or the fortitude of Judith would have given way. He was a warrior, mighty in battle, who, though an enemy, commanded respect. A glorious athlete such as 'tis woman's prerogative to outwit-as Delilah outwitted Samson, as Omphale conquered Hercules. Her ordeal too was of short duration. How differently severe would be the self-appointed task of this modern Judith, who contemplated tying herself deliberately for the whole of her life to a man who disgusted her in spite of his good looks; who, when shorn of the vulgar halo of animal courage, was no better than a brawler and a bravo. She might not strive to reform him, for with his reformation he would of course take the reins of his affairs, and the power of his wife would end, for which alone she married him. It would be her duty rather to encourage him in evil ways, and coax him down the ladder. Was she capable, she kept asking herself, as shuddering she drew the sheets around her, of so tremendous a sacrifice as this? Tone's, sublime as she considered it, was nothing to what hers would be. He had thrown away earthly pelf, was a fugitive and an outlaw; but he retained his self-respect. Could she retain hers if Shane became her husband? No. Doreen confessed to herself that the position would be impossible. If it had been Terence, now! He was foolish and gay and distressingly healthy; under no pressure whatever could he bud into a hero. He was humdrum, and her native romance revolted from the humdrum. A fine grown man with a good temper and a prosaic appetite. Why, if he were to occupy Shane's shoes, all Dublin would be envying her luck and remarking how brazenly she had set her cap at him. Horror of horrors! How terribly commonplace! Then the girl upbraided herself for such foolish thoughts. Terence would never become Lord Glandore, and as a simple fisherman and sportsman could never win his cousin. Perhaps my lady was right in warning her to remember that he was grown up. He was a dear good boy, but wofully prosaic. But what had such as she to do with unmaidenly meditations anent marrying and giving in marriage? Sackcloth and ashes were the portion of the Catholics, who were treated as the Jews had been by the Crusaders. The sooner they died out the better. What a wonderful idea that was of Aunt Glandore's! If she were seriously bent on anything, she was not easy to baffle. Would it be best to speak out at once and brave a certain storm, or to let things be, hoping to be delivered by some unexpected means? While she was debating this knotty question, her thoughts became gradually confused, and she sank into troubled slumber.