My Lords of Strogue. Volume 2 of 3. Wingfield Lewis
the determination that there was to be no more cowardice, she then and there resolved that the great coach should take them upon the very same evening within the Castle-yard, and spirit them forward on their way, instead of making a fresh start from the Abbey on the morrow. This resolution being come to, my lady's mind became calmer. As the blue light of wintry morning struggled in she felt quite relieved, and got up presently-as imperious as usual-to await Lord Clare's communication, and watch the stable-yard for Shane's return.
It was fully eleven o'clock before Lord Clare's carriage wheezed up the avenue-the casket which held Ireland's great man. For once Doreen had not bucketed forth on one of her wild rides. Shane had not yet come in.
My lady swept out upon the narrow terrace in front of the hall-door to receive her guest. He must stand in need of refreshment; what would he please to take?
He would take nothing for the moment. Yes-he would. It was a strange conceit in one who had visited there as a familiar gossip during so many years. He would take a view of Strogue Abbey-he would be shown over the mansion by its chatelaine. My lady was surprised. Indeed, she had not been over the quaint place herself for ages. What did my Lord Clare desire to see? Was it the dungeon? or the ancient kitchen and buttery, with its black woodwork, or the water-tower?
He would see everything while he was about it, he said. In the first instance the young men's wing, with its museum of fishing-rods and guns-and-what was that over it-an armoury? Oh, indeed! he would like to look at it.
'But perchance I should disturb the young gentlemen,' her guest said with hesitation. 'By-the-bye, has your son gone out?'
To Lord Clare's genuine astonishment, my lady reddened and looked away. Could she know the mission on which he had come? If so, then she was a greater mistress of her face than he supposed. If not, what troubled her? He forgot that shrined in her love there was but one son. That while he was hinting of the second, she, with sorrow, was thinking of the first-who was dallying-where?
The twain wandered in the young men's rooms-in Shane's, whose bed was smooth and neat-in Terence's, where faithful Phil was sitting, deeply engrossed in fly-making, as innocently as if he had never heard of a bough in England's crown.
'Both boys out, then? so much the better,' gaily quoth the chancellor, who chose for a moment to ignore Terence's mysterious absence. 'I hope Terence is safe; I can assure you Shane is; I saw him not an hour since. He roystered with the Blasters all night, and of course had to fight a duel in the morning. Is not the motto of their gay society "Nemo me impune lacessit"? But he didn't get a scratch-indeed he's a splendid swordsman-such a tactician-so sharp and quick of eye! I must really congratulate him when he comes in by-and-by. Those spiral stairs? Ah! That's the armoury.'
Phil dropped his flies, and leapt up from his seat. My lady and her guest, taking no heed of him, climbed upward, opened the armoury-door, went in and shut it. He could hear the creaking of their feet above. What could he do? Nothing! He sank panting on his seat, bewildered-then, stealing out, made the best of his way to the shebeen.
'By-the-bye, where is Terence?' asked Lord Clare. 'You don't know? I do. My poor old friend, prepare yourself for a shock. Sit down.'
With a gentleness which would have astonished his numerous enemies, the chancellor laid his two hands on my lady's shoulders and pressed her into a seat. The pupils of her eyes assumed that look, as of a startled hare, which shone in them sometimes. She sat down silently and waited.
Had Terence been guilty of something base? That was her first thought, in which there was a touch of remorse. Then came a feeling of anger in that he existed at all. Oh that he had never been born, or had died in his early childhood! This in its turn was followed by intense self-loathing; but her face remained immovable, while she looked up with inquiring gaze.
'I have most unpleasant news for you,' said Lord Clare kindly, for he liked my lady better than any one except himself, 'and thought it would come best to you from me. For we'll hush the matter up-rest easy on that score, trusting that no worse may come of it. Terence, as you know, was rude to me at Crow Street, t'other day. I didn't mind his petulance, of course; but for your sake I was hurt that he should have gone astray and made an exhibition of himself in public. It's your rough diamond Curran's fault, with his romantic balderdash about his country. He threw the young man into dangerous society, forgetting that it takes a seasoned head to weigh the hollowness of enthusiasm. Terence has been bitten by the prevailing rabies; the fever's hot upon him, and being of a higher breed than his companions, has rushed straightway into action, instead of merely prating like the others. As his mother, you should have greater influence over him than any one. Argue him out of his dangerous course. You think he's at Cork on law business? He's strutting up and down the landing-stage at Brest, with Tone and Hoche, and all the rest of the jays in peacock-plumes. He's urging the bevy of juvenile generals there to come across the water, despite the lateness of the season; in fact, he's beginning the risky game which brought Balmerino, Kilmarnock, Lovat, to the block. I'm sure of what I state-trust me for that. Why! these hot-pated fools do nothing that we're not informed of; and Mr. Pitt's staff in France is every whit as sharp as ours here. Do you desire a proof that I speak with authority? What are these things stacked here, under these cloths, within these presses, even piled, as you see, right up the chimney!' Lord Clare moved about the room with the precision of one who is sure of what he does. 'Pikeheads, my lady-rough but efficient-which are to rip his Majesty's soldiers when the struggle shall begin. It was an ingenious notion to store them under the roof of a known loyalist. Who placed them here? Your ingenuous boy, Terence, with the assistance of the people at the shebeen below. That "Irish Slave," by the way, must have a visit from us; also the fair dame on whose ground it stands. Look at this paper. A design for a pikehead, precisely like these, with written directions-in whose hand? Terence's! I gave five hundred guineas for that piece of paper. See! do not tremble-it's destroyed-the evidence is gone.'
My lady sat upright in her chair without moving, staring up at the speaker, scarcely comprehending what he said, through the singing in her ears. Terence, her son, had actually joined the disaffected-these deluded persons whose proceedings shocked all her prejudices-whom she sincerely believed were only fit for Bedlam. He might come to an ignominious death unless she put forth all her influence to drag him from the danger. What influence could she expect to have? Whose fault was it that she had none? Her sin was finding her out in an unexpected fashion. A great cry rose up within her, that her fortitude was near its end. It broke from her bosom in a sigh of weariness. She looked old and haggard as she stared up at the chancellor. Her ancient friends poke of the situation: of how the commander-in-chief my Lord Carhampton must inaugurate a new régime, now that martial law was declared; of how, all things considered, in the complications which were arising, it would be wise for the denizens of the Abbey to depart shortly. Terence might be expected back in a day or two; then his mother must speak to him and take him with her if she could. It would be well to take Miss Wolfe away too, as she was playing the fool most egregiously. She, too, had a hand in this pike-stacking.
My Lord Clare laughed in his disagreeable manner as he recounted how he had succeeded in terrifying poor vacillating Arthur Wolfe about her. At all events it was most wise that Lord Glandore should go; for it would be a terrible thing-supposing Terence proved obstinate-if the brothers should come to be in rival camps upon the scene of action.
'My dear lady,' he concluded, 'we shall have a hot time of it before we've done, I do assure you. Take your measures as I advise. Now I must be off to turn the screw upon the "Irish Slave."'
The coach rolled citywards. My lady, face to face with a new trouble, clung to the one speck of brightness which glittered like a star. Gillin certainly was committing herself. There was to be a search upon her premises. Her ruin would surely follow. The pressure from that side would be removed. Thank heaven for that! Yes! This was a real ray of light shining from out the gloom. Things at their worst must mend. With firm step the countess swept along the passages, striving to stifle the remorse which whispered that if evil came to Terence, she would be responsible. She would follow her friend's sage advice to the letter, she determined. It was time to do battle with Doreen, as to her proposed visit to the north.
Miss Wolfe was bending over the sun-dial in her little flower-plot, which was sad-looking with quaint-toned chrysanthemums, her head bowed upon her arms-a statue of despair. An open letter