My Lords of Strogue. Volume 2 of 3. Wingfield Lewis
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!'
CHAPTER II.
DOREEN'S PLANS
It is proverbial that the preaching of the wisest sage may be reckoned as naught in its influence on a young man's fancy when opposed by a siren's smile. Doreen had never, during the years of her sojourn at the Abbey, tried to enlist Terence on the side of her oppressed people. It would have been disloyal to have done so. But now that his long-careless heart had taken the flame of its own accord, it was not likely she should attempt to extinguish it. Having communed with Tom Emmett, she directed her admirer to ride forthwith to Cork, ostensibly on professional business, slip thence with secrecy across the water to see Hoche, and then return with as little delay as might be. He was to tell the French general that ten thousand soldiers were expected-that less than five thousand would be useless-that arms without soldiers would be refused, because a rising would be the immediate consequence of a landing of arms, and it was not thought desirable to turn the attempt, which should be made in force, into a desultory species of Chouannerie. Further, he was to employ all his eloquence to ensure a speedy start, declaring that Erin yearned to break her bonds, that a small nucleus of regular troops was all that was required to start with, as the peasantry were prepared to rise if sure of being properly led.
These orders being succinctly given by a demure girl with rich dark hair and a touching sadness of expression, was it probable that the diatribes of an insignificant little person with shaggy elf-locks and questionable linen should meet with even common courtesy? Curran argued with his junior contrary to his own convictions, striving by forensic imagery to save him from the vortex if he could; declared that nothing but ruin could possibly come of a rising; that the popular cause was hopeless; that the French would possibly make a temporary disturbance to spite perfidious Albion, but that so soon as it should suit their interests, Erin would be blandly restored to the avenger, to reap the reward of her temerity. What sympathy could France have for Ireland? What recked the Directory, or Hoche, or Buonaparte (the clever young general who was becoming celebrated), whether Erin was a slave or not? Other nations as interesting as the Irish were slaves, and would remain so. Just now Hoche was warm upon the subject because he was jealous of Buonaparte and eager for rival laurels. Granted that he were victorious, he would soon weary of what to him must be a worthless and precarious possession, would carry it to market in a treaty of peace, and surrender it to expiate by yet more grinding servitude the false hopes which were born only to perish. But Mr. Curran (who didn't quite believe all this in his heart of hearts) might as well have talked to the trees in his own Priory orchard.
'You'll be dragged farther than you intend,' he urged. 'Your vanity will induce you to take an active part, and then you'll be punished by the revolting slavery entailed by a mob command.'
It was all in vain. Terence went away, and his chief gave out that he had despatched him on business to Cork.
The unfortunate Orr was hanged, and the result quite pleased the chancellor. A thrill of horror ran through all but the most callous. The oath anent the bough was taken by hundreds in desperation. The toast 'Remember Orr!' became a watchword. People shook their heads, wondering what would come of it. Riots grew more frequent, which were suppressed or not according to caprice. Major Sirr's Battalion of Testimony lived on the fat of the land, for there was no difficulty in unearthing traitors, now that the spirit of recklessness had gone forth. Lord Clare pretended to be pained. The ingratitude and wickedness of his countrymen-their hardened fits of daring-made him blush, he vowed. The country was in danger, the yeomanry must bestir themselves,