My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Lewis Wingfield

  CHAPTER III.

  SHANE'S LITTLE PARTY.

  When she observed a marked coolness 'twixt Doreen and the guest, mylady frowned more and more. _Amantium, irae!_ This was worse and worse.Was this boor to take the damsel from under Shane's nose? It occurredto her that it was time to shake off her lethargy. Ghost or no ghost,it would not do for this 'half-mounted gentleman' to carry off theprize after which she had stooped for years to scheme herself, forreasons of her own. As it seemed slipping from her fingers, itappeared to grow in value; and the importance of the danger exorcisedthe ghost for the time being. Shane's interests should not be made tosuffer through his mother's indifference. The list of charges againstthe hapless dowager was full enough without that. So soon as the_fete_ to the squireens was over, she would return to Strogue. Why didshe ever leave it to come to this accursed spot? She became once morethe imperial countess--roused herself--went hither and thither to seethat the family name was not dishonoured by the preparations forhospitality--suggested changes for the better--had the garden roofedin with curtains, and tables spread there in cool shadow. It would benice, she affirmed, for the gentlemen to enjoy the unrivalled panoramaof the Donegal mountains whilst sipping the equally unrivalled claretof their host.

  Doreen, who on reflection was grievously annoyed anent the folly ofher large admirer, was taken by surprise when she beheld this newphase in her aunt's demeanour. She was a kaleidoscope, but certainlynot mad. No judge on the bench was more sane than she. The corrodinggloom was still there, but lightened; no longer engrossing its victimas it had done. Power had been given by some mysterious agency toshake off the weight. Who might solve the riddle? Was the cause of heragony actually gone? It could not be remorse, then. The gloom whichremained was exhaustion after pain. Doreen gave it up, and resignedherself to the consideration of tarts and puddings for the benefit ofchawbacons.

  The grand day came, and with it the squireens, who were turned tostone by the aspect of my lady, as by a gorgon's head. Despite thechill which hangs over the sea at sunrise, their warm hands becamemore and more clammy in Medusa's awful presence. She wore a stiffbrocade cut in an obsolete fashion, with a broad sash and full whitefichu loosely knotted behind. As a gorgon she was a success. Never inthe palmy days of Dublin Castle had she struck terror into the bosomsof _debutantes_ as she did now into the innermost souls of these rawyouths. They mopped their brows, rubbed their moist hand-palms ontheir small clothes of kerseymere, tugged at their tight vests, feltnervously whether their pigtails were hanging straight over the tallcoat-collars which sawed their ears, stumbled over their swords,demeaned themselves after the manner of awkward youth when in aparoxysm of timidity. She curtseyed like Queen Elizabeth, with highnose exalted, and they shrank back in a wave affrighted; only to ebbagain in renewed fear, having well-nigh knocked down the lovely MissWolfe who was making a dignified entrance by another door. Those twohaughty women together in one room were quite too much for them. Withrelief they sat down to a sort of improvised breakfast, for the shadowof tables would conceal their shoes, the country make of which hadalready been remarked by the younger lady's eagle eye. Consciencemakes fools of us. Doreen cared not about their shoes, nor saw them.She merely thought the young men a set of oafs, and was displeased, inthat they should have arrived too early. By prearranged programme theywere to be taken to inspect the towers; then to view the Englishfleet, by kind permission of Sir Borlase; then they were to return todinner, to get as intoxicated as if they were 'gentlemen to thebackbone,' sleep off their orgy, and return in the morning toLetterkenny barracks. An excellent programme, no doubt, wherewith towhile away an autumn holiday--but a still better one had been preparedfor them by destiny.

  While the party was at breakfast, the stillness became broken by anodd concussion in the air. A dull series of unequal thuds a long wayoff, which reverberated on the waves, that seemed to bear them onwardin muffled throbs. What could cause the strange sensation which actedon the nerves with such irritating effect? It was not thunder. Nobodypresent had ever been in battle, or they would have recognised thesingular sound, which is indescribable, and which, having once beenheard, may never be forgotten. It was part of the programme that theyshould be shown a fleet. Fortune was lavish, and decided to show themtwo. The English fleet was in the offing; _so was the French_. Atdawn, Sir Borlase (whose squadron amounted to nine vessels) had beenno little taken aback by the appearance of four ships hurrying throughthe mist. On descrying the glint of his white sails these ships tackedand made off, confessing by the movement, though they showed nocolours, that they represented an enemy. He instantly gave orders tostow away the holiday gear and clear for action--despatching a messageto my Lord Glandore, to announce that he was gone away on business,but that he might return in time for dinner, and bring some extraguests with him.

  The French! How silly was the Grande Nation! When energy andpromptitude might have lost Ireland to England, they hung about anddawdled and did nothing. When the critical time was passed, theyseemed suddenly to have awakened and to be resolved to rush wilfullyby driblets into the open jaws of death. When Humbert landed a fewdays before, he had at least the advantage of surprise. Warned by hisbit of lunacy, English squadrons were despatched all round theseaboard to guard the coast; and yet a handful of adventurers couldstill be found to attempt to seize a country that wanted them no more!

  When the admiral's message came, Cassidy glanced sideways at Doreen.She turned pale, and, to the relief of the squireens, retired indoors.

  The opening of Lough Swilly is one of the most perilous points forseamen who are ignorant of its peculiarities, even on an iron-boundcoast which everywhere is dangerous. At ebb there are long stretchesof low water, broken here and there into surf by banks of underlyingrock. When the French ships strove to flee before Sir Borlase (therewere only four--the rest of the expedition being, as usual, nowhere),the French commander recognised the fact that, being caught in a trap,he must stand at bay with one to ensure the escape of the otherthree. He had one big and heavy man-of-war which floundered--badlypiloted--like an unwieldy whale, nearer and nearer to the cliff. TheEnglish admiral was bearing down on him. There was no time to transhipmen--to leave the monster to its fate--empty--an idle prey. Withintrepid courage he signalled his other ships to retreat throughshallow water, resolved alone to honour his country's flag, which wasnow unfurled, by a desperate but hopeless defence.

  Sir Borlase despatched a razee and a frigate after the fugitives. Theyflitted into distance, and were seen no more. Then, the black monsterhaving been surrounded by five smaller foes, one of the most obstinateengagements began that was ever fought upon the ocean. The occupantsof the island could mark all that passed, for the returning tidedrifted the helpless hulk closer and more close inland, and they, asit were, occupied a front place at the entrance of the lough wherefromto view the spectacle. It was most exciting. Even my lady's dulledeyes sparkled as they had not done for years. Shane--almostdelirious--the cicatrice on his forehead standing forth like astain--whooped and hallooed and clapped his hands and dancedfandangoes on the parapet, and would have tumbled headlong over thegarden wall into the sea, if the giant had not held his skirts. Whoshould be a better judge of such matters than the King of Cherokees?The squireens forgot their nervousness, became oblivious of countryshoes, of ill-made pigtails, and red ears and knuckles, whooping andhallooing like a pack of hounds, in echo to the whooping of theirhost. Some (but these were very forward) even clutched Medusa'sdress--pinched Queen Bess's arm--in their eagerness that thewhite-haired lady should not lose a point in the struggle.

  For six hours the doomed monster laboured, heaving on the shallowwaves, drifting within a stone's throw of Malin Head. Figures could bedetected through the smoke, scurrying hither and thither in blueuniforms, with gestures of command or encouragement. Two, more busythan the rest, were on the poop, rushing forward--aft--conspicuous inthe front of peril for gold-laced sleeves, huge hats and feathers,loose hair
after the French mode. Masts and rigging crashed andcrumbled--the ponderous hull winced and swayed with repeated shocks,while the surge lapped creamy round its prow. The roar of artillerynow was deafening.

  'If they don't take care,' Shane screamed, as though his warning couldbe heard, 'that blundering hull will jam the little vessels againstthe rocks!'

  With a desperate energy which compelled the sympathy even of thesquireens, the doomed ship returned fire for fire, though her sailsand cordage clung about her in ribbons; though her shattered ribsyawned at each new stroke; though her scuppers flowed with blood;though her decks were piled with corpses. As the smoke swirled away ineddies, the two in hats and plumes could still be seen exposingthemselves recklessly, ordering up hammocks and spare sails to stuffinto widening gaps. The cannonade of Sir Borlase rang among thesea-caves, bringing thence whirring troops of bats, which dashed intheir terror in the faces of the combatants, then dropped dazed intothe sucking swell. The frightened fisher-folk looked on furtively atfirst from holes and clefts, then fled inland, leaving their preciousnets and boats as a spoil for the spoiler. The death-struggle of themonster was painful to look upon, as it swung heavily and shiveredwhilst blow succeeded blow. It was a gallant monster, for the tatteredtricolour still dangled over the gap where once the rudder was--avaliant monster! Enemy though he might be who was receiving a finalbattering, few could look without pity on his death-throes--for he wasdying game.

  Gurgling foam-whipped water began to pour into the hold of the bigship, which now lay so close at hand that her name was visible inflorid carving on her poop--_Hoche_. The name of Tone's friend andBuonaparte's rival, who had died but a few months ago, of consumption,on the Rhine. She was a dismantled wreck--nothing but a dark batteredhull. Her batteries were dumb; dismounted. The tattered tricolour wentdown, as a signal that she struck. The banging of Sir Borlase ceased.The sudden stillness, after so long-drawn a hubbub, was painful to theear. The squireens clasped each other's hands and embraced in theirexcitement, whilst Shane drew forth his jewelled timepiece.

  'By the Hokey! but it's a glorious sight!' he gasped, flapping hisface with a dainty handkerchief; for a spectacle such as this touchedthe finest chord in his nature. 'Six hours, as I live; and it seemsscarce six minutes. The sun is high in the heavens, though you can'tsee him for the smoke, save as a saffron disk. They are fine fellows,mounseers though they be; we'll give them a hearty cheer when SirBorlase brings them to dinner. On my honour, I half wish they hadconquered!'

  Doreen, at the commencement of the action, had withdrawn alone to thewatch-tower where the fire-bucket stood, and remained there clutchingit with a heavy dread. What a relief it had been to her mind to thinkthat the French had given up all thoughts of invasion! Something toldher that that big rolling hulk, caught in shallow water as an unwieldyfish may be, was the flagship. Who might there be on board? When theroaring ended and silence supervened, she was still at her post ofvantage, concealed from the sight of the excited mob below by therolling masses of vapour, which hung like winding-sheets upon the sea.She stood there as in a trance--motionless in the body, though hermind worked with exceeding swiftness--till, after a lapse of time, thesound of measured oars made itself audible, approaching gradually,with regular plodding rhythm; and then a row of boats, headed by theadmiral's, loomed at the stone staircase-foot. She woke with a shudderto a Babel of shouts and laughter, and slowly descended from hereyrie, trembling with mortal apprehension.

  'Mounseers, every man Jack!' Sir Borlase was saying, cheerily.

  'Thank God!' was the fervent echo in Doreen's bosom.

  'The French-Irish boys are conspicuous for their absence when it comesto blows for Ireland,' went on the admiral. 'Quite right, too; for wecouldn't treat 'em as prisoners of war, you know. There's not a manamong my prisoners, thank the Lord, who's not a Parleyvoo.'

  Doreen appeared in the small battlemented garden, but stood aside, outof respect to the vanquished braves. They passed her by in their bluefull-skirted coats and voluminous neckcloths and queer cocked hats andplumes; some bleeding, some reeling like drunken men, some with headsbowed and livid faces, some with a poor assumption of jauntiness--allsmirched and powder-blackened.

  They passed between two scarlet hedges, along the avenue which thesquireens opened for them, into the low entrance-hall, and therewaited in knots. There could not be the smallest chance of escape;therefore no guard was set. Generous Sir Borlase was sorry for the menwho had fought so well. This little courtesy was due to such bravesoldiers. They might wander where they listed on the islet, while theBritish admiral was arranging what was to be done with them.

  Lord Glandore busied him exceedingly; held important conferences withSir Borlase and the commandant of the squireens. If the poor fellowswere to be captured at all, it was a stroke of luck for him that theyshould have been taken within his jurisdiction. They should be packedoff, by-and-by, in his own yacht to Rathmullen; he would go himselfwith the escort. The commandant at Letterkenny would send them on toDublin; he, too, would ride thither. It would be wonderful if he didnot receive an English marquisate as reward for his brilliantservices. Meanwhile it behoved him to play _Grand Seigneur_. If therewas one thing which could create a passing spirit of real generosityin his shallow nature, it was the sight of personal prowess. He alwaysloved a good duel, a good cock-fight, a successful bear-baiting. Hadhe not been in the habit of fighting endless duels himself for a merebubble reputation? His own rapier was rusty now from want of use; but,please the pigs, he would start afresh next week in the metropolis,and resume his crown and sceptre as King of Cherokees. This contest onthe sea had been a delightful affair; the vanquished should quafftheir fill of his very best claret--aye, the very primest. As hedescended to the cellar he beheld Doreen doing woman's work. She was akind creature, though stuck-up. She had summoned the maids with linenand water. They were moving quietly among the groups, whilst she, withhigh-bred courtesy, was whispering gentle words of consolation.

  There, in a remote corner, sat the two who had behaved so gallantly.Their fine scarlet capes and cuffs, and gold-bedizened hats,proclaimed them to be of the highest military rank. One was nursinghis knee and whistling softly, as his mind wandered far away; theother was bent forward; his hands were clasped over his face; hottears were trickling between his fingers.

  'Be of good cheer,' the lively first one murmured; 'we shall see _labelle France_ again, no fear. We shall be ransomed by-and-by. You willagain behold your wife and little ones.'

  Doreen swept with stately grace to where they sat.

  'Are either of the gentlemen hurt?' she inquired in French.

  He who was bowed down looked up. She dropped the pitcher which sheheld, and staggered against the wall.

  'Theobald--_here!_' she whispered.

  Alas! Yes. It was Theobald Wolfe Tone--thinner, paler, with all theyouth gone out of him.

  'It was not thus that I had expected to return,' he said in French,with a sorry smile. 'Yet what matters it? _Le temps et le malheur ontfletri mon ame!_'

  Doreen speedily recovered her self-possession.

  'How culpably rash!' she muttered. 'There is no one that knows you inthis place who would betray you; you will pass for a Frenchman. I willwarn Shane, that he may not show surprise. That you should have comeat last! Too late--too late!'

  My lady, who was always the first to think of etiquette, suggestedthat the officers of high rank should occupy the reception-rooms. Itwas showing scant civility to leave them in the hall, like lacqueys.By-and-by, when the repast was served, they should be shown by theirhostess, in person, to the places of honour.

  Miss Wolfe gladly echoed her aunt's suggestion, for she was burning totalk to Theobald, yet dared not in this public place, under the eyesof awestricken oafs.

  'Mademoiselle's goodness almost makes us thank defeat,' observedTone's companion, with a Parisian bow. 'If all the ladies in Irelandare like her, it will be a sad moment for us when we come to beexchanged. As for our melancholy friend here, he nee
d surely not berecognised. His appearance is worthy of the uniform he wears, hisaccent will pass muster; he has quite acquired the _je ne sais quoi_of the Boulevard. We begged of him not to risk himself, but he would;and here he is--_que voulez-vous?_'

  Yes, here he was; there was no doubt of that dreadful fact. In wrath(which the Parisian thought became her style of loveliness) she ratedhim in whispers for his folly, charging him with flying in the face ofProvidence, with being selfish and unkind.

  Theobald listened, while his eyes wandered over the blue line ofmountains, glittering now through rifts of driving smoke in theprismatic haze of a hot afternoon.

  'I could not help it,' he said, with slow despondency. 'I knew wecould not succeed. The English Government was informed of ourstarting. It was an attempt to resuscitate a flame quenched beyondpower of rekindling. Yet I felt it my duty, if the Directory sent buta corporal's guard, to go and die with them. The hand of theexecutioner shall never be laid on me. If my time has come, it hascome.'

  This dejection was terrible to witness. Veering round, after the wayof woman, Doreen took his hand in hers, and, stroking it, nestled byhis side.

  The Parisian felt himself _de trop_, and, humming a gay air, turnedhis attention to the landscape. It was a relief to his sense of _lesconvenances_ when a fourth person entered the drawing-room.

  It was Cassidy, whose face underwent a series of rapid changes as herecognised his brother-in-law. He had ceased to be the jovial, jolly,willing Cassidy. There had been a spiteful peevishness about him fordays past, which surprised Miss Wolfe no little. The milk of hisgood-humour had turned sour. She thought it singular that her refusalto become his wife could alter a man's nature so.

  'You!' was all that the giant could find breath to say, as with fiststhrust deep into his breeches-pockets and thick legs straddled wide,he stared at the apparition.

  Theobald held out his hand, but he whose sister he had married did nottake it. His mind was seething with new ideas. What an unexpected wayhad now presented itself of, at one stroke, making his fortune andrevenging himself on this haughty minx!

  'You!' he repeated again, after a pause, as though he could scarcetrust his eyesight.

  'Hush!' Doreen said; 'we must keep the secret.'

  Cassidy stared sourly at her, and laughed a short sharp laugh. Shelooked up at him in growing apprehension, for he appeared to herwithout his mask, and she could not comprehend the change.

  'Ireland lies soaked in blood,' he said, 'through you. You've come tolook upon your work?'

  Theobald started. 'I always designed open and honest warfare,' hemurmured; 'not brigandage and murder! The eighteen thousand victimsmurdered by Alva did not stifle the birth of Holland's liberty. Fromevery drop of my blood and that of those who lay down their lives forthe holy cause there shall arise a patriot to avenge our death.'

  'Ye're right. When ye get to Dublin ye'll be hanged. A short shriftand a dog's death!' was the blunt rejoinder.

  'No, no!' cried Doreen, her face blanching.

  'I am prepared to pay the penalty of unsuccess,' Tone answered.'Washington succeeded. Kosciusko failed. I staked my all with a viewto the liberation of this wretched land. I have courted Poverty. Ileave my beloved wife--your poor sister, Cassidy--unprotected, mychildren fatherless. That's what unmans me. After so much, it will belittle further effort to sacrifice my life.'

  'It shall not be!' Doreen cried.

  Tone smiled sadly. 'From the days of Llewellyn of Wales, and Wallaceof Scotland, England has never shown generosity to a fallen enemy.'

  'He has come as a French general,' exclaimed Miss Wolfe with creepingfear; 'who will betray his incognito?'

  'It may become my duty,' returned the giant, dryly.

  The blood left the girl's face and lips. Scales fell from her eyes.Here was the Judas who had sold to the gallows one by one, with thecold crafty deliberation of a devil, the men who had trusted him--whohad clasped his hand in friendship. She saw it all now. With thelucidity which comes over our minds in moments of extreme trouble, shebeheld in lurid links of fire the chain complete. The discovery of thepikes in the armoury; in the potato ground of the 'Irish Slave'; thetwo-fold betrayal of the council of the society; the town-major'sknowledge of its members, and its passwords; the taking of Terence--ofTerence--_who_ was innocent!

  She could do nothing but writhe under the blow, twisting her fingerstogether in speechless helplessness.

  There was such an intensity of disgust expressed in the movement, thatthe giant cleared his throat with a shade of embarrassment.

  'Miss Doreen,' he said, 'will ye speak to me in private?'

  Her white lips moved and shaped the word--'No.'

  'Ye'd better,' he urged, 'indeed ye had.' A dead silence still.Revengeful rage disturbed his brain. Foolish woman! she could scarcelyexpect him to speak out, and clinch a bargain before the victim'sface.

  'Ye'll repent it,' he growled. 'Would ye have a poor man fling hischances away? This fellow's life is worth two thousand guineas and aseat in parliament. I'd give that up and welcome, if ye'd unsay thewords, colleen, that ye spoke the other day!'

  What a strange mixture he was of the lion and hyena. The tendernesswhich he strove to throw into his voice, and the leer in his eye,explained to the patriot the purport of those words. With indignationhe turned on his wife's brother.

  'Wretch!' Theobald cried, 'who has a hand for every man--a heart forhimself alone! Would you dare ask her to sell herself for me? Soonerthan that, I'd walk downstairs and tell my name myself to the Englishadmiral.'

  Doreen's mind was overset by the discovery she had made. She felt sickand giddy, for the world was sliding from beneath her feet. She lookedat one, then at the other, without clearly understanding what wassaid.

  'You are a common informer!' was all she could bring forth.

  Cassidy lost his temper. It is aggravating when your overtures ofcompromise are scornfully repulsed.

  'Have it your own way, then!' he laughed, with a reckless snap of thefinger, which the Parisian deemed ill-bred in the presence of a lady.'Mind, if you are hanged it will be your own fault. A man must live.Would ye have me rob the mail? Mine's as honest a trade as any other.Sure, don't the Lords and Commons think it mighty honourable, and myLord Clare too; or why do they make so much of us? It's a rebel thatye are, Theobald. Rebels are no judges of what's honest and what'snot.'

  With this half-apology for having at last decided which course of twoopposite ones should guide him in the future, the giant left the roomwith heavy strides--to return a few minutes later as if nothingunpleasant had occurred, with a cheery warning that dinner would beready soon.

  The Parisian, who had been quite baffled in his attempt to understandthe scene, gave a sigh of satisfaction. These persons, who seemed oldacquaintances, had been indulging in a family quarrel and had made itup again. His knowledge of the English tongue was limited; but he didunderstand 'dinner,' and after the excitement of the morning wasafflicted with inconvenient appetite.

  Punctiliously polite, the countess and her son came upstairs presentlyto conduct their unfortunate guests with solemn ceremony to thebanquet which was spread below. Neither showed any sign of recognisingTheobald. Shane, being dull of comprehension, had looked to hismother, taking his cue from her. By virtue of his uniform the strangerwas a general; by virtue of this morning's fight he was unfortunate.Vanquished braves of high military rank cannot be treated with toomuch courtesy.

  With the quieting of the excitement their fear of Medusa lowered againon the squireens. One or two of them indeed were tremblingly consciousof having seized the Gorgon's arm and shaken it. These humbly chosethe lowest place at the long table which occupied the garden's length,whilst all stood up and hid their hands and shoes as host and hostesspassed.

  Sir Borlase was in immense spirits. He declared himself grieved tobreak up so pleasant a gathering, but in the gloaming his prisonersmust go. His Majesty should certainly hear of my lord's exemplaryconduct. He pledged the two French gener
als who (Commodore Bompartbeing slain in action) had managed the ship so intrepidly. He tried toexplain himself in broken French jargon to them. Both shrugged theirshoulders and smiled to the nodding of their heavy plumes, givingthereby to understand that he had the advantage in languages, but thatthey considered his speech to be complimentary. 'Lar Bel Fraunce!' hekept repeating, winking his grey eye and poking their ribs with afinger, and tossing off bumper after bumper, laughing the whileconsumedly, as though all must perceive that the sentiment was witty,and he a model jester (an English joker, not an Irish one).

  Doreen sat next to Theobald. The waning sun, creeping in blotchesthrough the improvised awning, touched her neck with gold, showingthat warm blood circulated under the rich skin. But for this homage ofthe sun the squireens might have taken her for a victim of Medusa, sofrozen was her manner. She was like one magnetised, who, her power ofvolition being gone, is obeying the dictates of a foreign power. Meatswere brought to her; she tasted them. Claret was poured into hergoblet. As through a film she saw the weatherbeaten visage of SirBorlase moping at her. With mechanical movement she mowed at him inreturn.

  'Your pretty daughter's going to faint,' whispered the admiral to thedowager. 'Such sights as I provided for you this morning are all verywell for males; but females--except Spaniards and low-classFrenchwomen--don't care about such things. She supervised the dressingof the wounds--Heaven bless her! 'Twas a strain on a delicate nature.She looks ill and overwrought.'

  The countess remarked curtly that Sir Borlase was very good, withoutcondescending to explain that the girl was not her daughter. She knewwell the cause of the poor maiden's anguish, and felt both for him andher. The constant contemplation of late of her own private spectre hadsoftened her. Terence on a gallows, who, but for circumstances overwhich his mother _had_ control, might have ended so differently, wasburned on her brain as a scathing reproach for ever. Theobald, whomshe was used to contemplate as a crackbrained enthusiast, assumed anew interest in her eyes. There was about him a deep-seatedhopelessness which is a gruesome sight in a man of thirty-six, and thecontemplation of it struck a chord of sympathy in her. The case ofTerence she shrank from considering at all. But this young man whoseexistence was no reproach: she might feel pity for him withoutstabbing her own soul with red-hot daggers by the impulse.

  Things were going as smoothly as could be expected. Shane's littleparty had developed into a banquet which would become historical. Herfirstborn would receive honours from the King which shouldcounterbalance the disgrace wherewith the second seemed destined toendow his family. The French prisoners of war would be exchanged intime, returning to the bosoms of their distracted loves unhurt. Therewas nothing really, my lady decided in her mind, to make her niecebreak down, who was wont to be so unduly self-reliant. She looked likea corpse. My lady, who formerly was discomfited in hand-to-handencounters, began to wonder whether she might conquer after all, andbring about the match for which she yearned.

  At the other end of the long table Cassidy kept the company in a roar.Now that he shilly-shallied no longer, his native spirits had comeback to him. His jests were racy, of the soil, and coarse--just suchas could be appreciated by squireens who were far enough removed fromthe grandees to give free rein to their hilarity. They voted him thefunniest dog; threw themselves forward in a 'Haw-haw!' and flungthemselves back with a 'Hee-hee!' slapped their kerseymere shorts;wagged their heads, and giggled, without any tremor now as to the sitof pigtails over high collars. Would the radiant boy come and stop atLetterkenny? He should have the run of the barracks; should be free togo peasant-baiting whensoever he listed. Horses should become hiswithout regard to whom they belonged. His life should be one round ofjollity and junketing, if he only would come and sit down atLetterkenny.

  'Ah, now, lads, be asy!' he cried, betwixt two sallies. 'Do yez thinkthe likes o' me can stop up here? It's Dublin that's crying for methis blessed minute, and won't be comforted. To Dublin I returnto-morrow. Good luck to yez for kind wishes, though. By my sowl, andif there isn't a friend up yonder on whom I've not clapped eyes thislong time!'

  The repast was over. The countess was sweeping the crumbs out of herlap preparatory to leaving the gentlemen to the superior attractionsof the bottle, when she perceived Cassidy, glass in hand, making hisway along to the upper end where she sat enthroned. Doreen perceivedhim too, and losing all self-control, dropped her head upon the tablewith a moan.

  'Mr. Wolfe Tone, I think?' Cassidy shouted out in his big voice.'Bedad, ye're welcome home! It's long since we met.'

  The shade of Banquo broke up with no greater quickness the feast ofKing Macbeth than did this guileless little speech the party of LordGlandore. The squireens rose to their feet with one accord; craned outtheir necks, with jaws dropped and eyes goggling.

  Hesitating but for a second, Theobald threw down his cards.

  'My name is Theobald Wolfe Tone!' he admitted calmly, and stoodwaiting for what would follow.

  'What a pity!' sighed the English admiral; then, holding forth hishand, 'Ignorance is bliss sometimes,' he said, scowling at theimportunate giant. 'Ye're a brave young man. I won't say what I thinkof _him_. I can't help it--can I?'

  But Cassidy, having assumed his role, was not to be so easily scowleddown. 'I've done my duty to his Majesty,' he said, very loud; 'and Icall on you, Sir Borlase Warren, to report the fact that I denouncedthat traitor!'

  The squireens twittered like scarlet birds. A vanquished foreign bravewas one thing, a proscribed rebel--the very head and front of theDirectory's offending--quite another. Their temporary gentleness waspast; their native savagery bloomed forth again.

  'Bind him!' one bawled, 'lest he thry to drown himself, and rob goodMr. Cassidy of the reward.'

  'When we get him to Letterkenny,' howled another, 'we'll put irons onhim before he starts south. Ah! the spalpeen! the rogue! the beast!the pig!'

  A chorus of expletives poured forth. Even the presence of Medusa wasforgotten.

  One fetched a rope and bound it roughly round his limbs. With a burstof indignation he turned for protection to the English admiral. 'Iwear the uniform of the Great Republic. Let it not be disgraced!' hepleaded.

  'I can't help it, poor lad!' returned Sir Borlase, with disgust. 'Ifyou're Wolfe Tone, ye're a subject of Britain, in arms against theKing, and will surely suffer as a traitor. As for these ruffians, I ampowerless. They, and such as they, have long ago shamed their countryand their cloth.'

  'Then their bonds,' Theobald answered calmly, as he took off his coat,'shall never degrade the insignia of the free nation I have served.'

  Bound hand and foot, he was conveyed to the cabin of the yacht andplaced under lock and key. Sir Borlase took no pains to disguise hisopinion of the squireens. Bidding farewell to the countess, he retiredabruptly with his suite, while the commandant of Letterkenny busiedhimself with the bestowal of the prisoners. My Lord Glandore, feelinglike second fiddle, bethought him that the beacon had not been lightedwhose mission was to speed to Dublin news of a French invasion, justas, two hundred years before, the lighting of tar-barrels hadsignalled the coming of the Armada. He remedied the omission withoutdelay.

  The fleet of boats passed down Lough Swilly without danger, thoughclouds obscured the moon and stars--for the circle of fire wascomplete, cutting out the dark skyline of each crag, marking theposition of each tower with a special wave of light. The chain was ascomplete (turning the sky to crimson) as the chain of the giant'streachery. As she looked out on it from her window, Doreen pressedfeverish fingers to her burning head; then packed her clothes togetherin hot haste. At cockcrow the family was to start for the capital. Shefelt that, once there, she could do something--she knew not what.Terence and Tone could not both be sacrificed. Was ever humanwickedness so base as that of this false friend?

  Decidedly Mr. Cassidy was master of the situation.