"You will be still more a fool to go," said he. "Sit down; eyes are on us already. Life may be nothing to you, but it is everything to me."

He spoke so eagerly, almost piteously, that I felt sorry for him, and for his sake more than my own took the seat at his side.

At that moment there entered the room a n.o.ble-looking young man, at sight of whom every one present rose to his feet and uncovered.

"It's Lord Edward himself!" exclaimed my companion, still trembling.

Lord Edward! I had heard of him before. It was he whose letter I had carried four years ago to Depute Duport on behalf of the unfortunate Sillery; and it was he on whom just now the eyes of all Irish rebels were turned for guidance and hope in the desperate enterprise on which they were embarked.

There was something fascinating in his open frank countenance and the half reckless, joyous air with which he carried himself. The a.s.sembly, which, till he arrived, had been sombre and mysterious, lit up under his presence into enthusiasm and eagerness.

He had news to give and receive; and as I sat and listened I came to learn more of the state of Ireland in half-an-hour than a week in Dublin would have taught me.

The fuel was ready for the torch. The United Irishmen were organised and drilled in every county. The English garrison was becoming day by day more slack and contemptible. What traitors there were were known and marked. The dawn was in the sky. A little more patience, a little more sacrifice, a little more self-restraint, and the hour of Ireland's liberty would soon strike.

But it was not in generalities like these that the speaker moved my admiration most. It was when the meeting came to consider the state of the rebel organisation in various parts that the soldier and general shone out in him, and convinced me that if any man could carry the movement through he would. The present meeting, as I understood, consisted of delegates from the north, where people were beginning to grow impatient for the signal to rise; and where, as some one boasted, one hundred thousand men were ready even now to move on Dublin and drive the English garrison into the sea.

"What of the Donegal men?" inquired Lord Edward, looking at a paper before him. "I see there is a question of treachery there."

"By your lordship's leave," said my companion, starting up, "I denounce Maurice Gorman of Knockowen as a traitor to the cause. He has been in Dublin within the last week in conference at the Castle."

Lord Edward's brow clouded.

"Was it not through him the Donegal men got their arms?"

"It was; and it's through him many of them have lost them, for he's as busy now disarming as he was a few years back arming."

"What is the reason of the change?"

"Money, my lord. He's grown a rich man; he must keep in with the government, or his estates will be taken."

Lord Edward shrugged his shoulders.

"We have not much to fear from a poltroon like him; but let the Provincial Directory of Ulster deal with the matter. Meanwhile we want to know that Donegal is as ready as other parts. We have some good men there surely. Order a return of all secretaries and officers in a month," said he to the clerk.

Then other matters were talked of, including the prospect of a French landing; and presently the meeting broke up. At the end of it Lord Edward walked straight up to me.

"Yours is a new face here," said he.

"It is, my lord," said I. "I am a Donegal man who has been abroad for four years; yet we have had dealings together before now."

"Were you at Hamburg or Basle?" said he.

"Neither; but I had the honour of carrying a letter from your lordship to a French deputy in '93, as well as another, franked by your lordship, for a certain Mr Lestrange in Paris."

He looked hard at me.

"You are not John Ca.s.sidy?" said he.

Then I told him the story of my adventure in the wood near Morlaix, and how I delivered the letters of his dead messenger in Paris.

He clapped me on the back.

"You are a good fellow," said he, "and I thank you. Little came of my letters; but that was no fault of yours. So you are one of us in Donegal?"

"No, my lord," said I. "I am here on false pretences, though not wholly of my own accord. I cannot expect you to be troubled with my explanations, but they are at your service if you require them. If not, here I am at your mercy."

He looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then he smiled.

"Walk a little way home with me," said he.

So I followed him out, the members present saluting as he pa.s.sed through them, and wondering, no doubt, what high official of the society was this whom the leader of Ireland chose thus to honour.

"Now," said Lord Edward, as we got to the end of the street, "what is this mystery?"

"Shortly, my lord, I am in love," began I.

He laughed pleasantly at that.

"There we agree entirely," said he.

"I am a servant to his Majesty, and have sworn him allegiance," I continued.

"His Majesty has more than he deserves."

"I am a sailor, sir, on leave. I arrived only yesterday in Dublin after four years' absence. To-morrow (unless you or your society shoot me through the head) I start northward, hoping to get a glimpse of her I love. By chance to-day I heard her father's name mentioned in the street as a man whose life was in peril. In a weak moment I so far forgot my duty to my king as to pa.s.s myself off to my informant as a United Irishman, in the hope of obtaining information which might enable me to help him."

"I trust you got it," said his lordship.

"I did not," said I; "the Provincial Directory of Ulster is to deal with the case."

Lord Edward stopped short.

"You don't mean--" began he, and stopped.

"I mean that I love Maurice Gorman's daughter--a hopeless quest perhaps--but the prize--"

"The most charming lady in Ireland," said he. "Your name is Barry, I believe?"

"Barry Gallagher, my lord."

"Are you a kinsman of Tim Gallagher of Fanad?"

"Twin-brother. Is he alive then?" and in my eagerness I seized his lordship's arm.

He did not resent the liberty at all.

"He is, and is a trusty member of our society, as I hope you will be even yet."