People said all his time was spent in negative apologies for the one error of his youth; and it did look like it; for he was marvellously patient in the face of her most tyrannical whims, listening without a struggle to endless sermons which prated of the woe to come, reflecting that, poor soul, she had much to put up with. Although she was reticent and mysterious to an extreme degree, Arthur Wolfe knew that her lines were not cast in pleasant places; for did not flaunting Gillen abide at the very gates, whose odious vicinity caused her to shrink as much as might be from pa.s.sing beyond her own domains?

Time and this bitter pill had made of her ladyship a 'swaddler.' Like many of the oldsters of the patrician order, she grew sorely repentant for youthful peccadilloes, took to psalm-singing, displayed strong ultra-Protestant proclivities. The prejudices of a less enlightened age curtained her brain with cobwebs which excluded the daylight from the vermin they engendered. On this 12th of July she set aside, according to custom, the pearly grey which becomes her age so well, to don weird orange vestments which make her look like a macaw--she who is usually dressed in such perfect taste in a robe of silvered satin, with snowy hair in rolls unpowdered. Although she is but fifty-two, my lady is a white-haired queen Bess; and handsome in an imposing way, which she never was in youth. The thin nose looks higher than it used to be, and pinched. The cheek is pale and marked with anxious wrinkles; but the straight line of imperious brow remains the same, and the eyes--netted with crowsfeet--a.s.sume a more vigorous life by reason of the fading of their surroundings. The Countess of Glandore has in twelve years become an awful dowager, before whom the cottagers shake in their shoes; for to a misleading appearance of patriarchal majesty she adds a quick incisive way of speech, and the bodily activity of a middle-aged woman who enjoys a perfect const.i.tution.

Those startled eyes tell tales, though, of a diseased mind, and sleepless nights of tossing. And she does pa.s.s sleepless nights, despite the Consoler's fanning, when the secret chord is struck. Then as she lies on her laced pillows she sees once more the sheeted body at the clubhouse, hears the last warning wail, 'For my sake, for your own--that you may be spared this torment!' and then she lights a lamp and reads angrily till daylight--loathing herself for what her sound sense condemns as morbidness--lest peradventure her thoughts should drive her mad. Then rising with a headache and haggard looks, she sits in the window-seat and feeds the hounds, and reflects with stern satisfaction that the odious baggage who lives in the Little House has never found joints in her armour--has never caught her tripping with regard to her younger son. Since my lord's death no spiteful unduly-elected guardian could complain of the boy's treatment. Her purse had always been open to him; from childhood he was rich in guns and ponies. But she failed sufficiently to consider that there was one thing for which the warm-hearted lad had pined and which she had consistently denied him--love. It is evident that we cannot bestow that which we have not to give. This reproach therefore sat lightly on her mind. The deficit in affection was made up with bank-notes, and she bred unconsciously in her second-born a recklessness in spending which his after-income would by no means justify. Her influence over him was small. Not that this mattered much, for he was a bright good-natured lad, such as give little serious trouble to their elders.

He had a way of quarrelling with Shane though, which opened dread visions of possible complications in the future. Sometimes the brothers were so near the point of open rupture, that milady had to interfere, and then with undutiful fierceness my lord would remind her of the oath she had herself extorted, and she would be stricken dumb, cursing herself for the idle folly of the act. If my lady nourished old-fashioned feudal views about the conduct of one brother to another, she was clumsy in her method of realising them. Terence ignored the whole proceeding, and to prove his freedom kept the household in a constant state of simmering breeziness, which was more lively than comfortable. Shane, on the other hand, was disposed to be benignant if Terence would abstain from being rude. There was little in common between the two, and it would have been odd if Shane had kept his temper when Terence flogged his horse-boy, though he had a private young henchman of his own. My lady looked with uneasiness at the constant trivial squabblings, and was not altogether sorry, as the twain grew up, to see that their tastes divided them, that they met less and less; for Shane became engrossed with the pleasures of the capital, while Curran, taking a fancy for the second son, turned his attention to the Bar.

The young lord emanc.i.p.ated himself from leading-strings, and became a pattern Dublin buck. He wore gorgeous raiment, carried wonderful walking-sticks with jewelled tops and incrusted mottoes; was elected President of the Blaster and Cherokee clubs, which honourable post made it his duty to fight at least one duel a week, and to force quarrels upon people whom he had never seen before. There were several established ways (as all the world knows) of bringing this about.

Sometimes he sat in a window and spat on the hats of pa.s.sers-by, or stood over a crossing pushing folks into the mire, or kissed a pretty girl in the presence of her male protector, or flung chicken bones from a balcony at a pa.s.sing horseman in full fig. His mother took no heed of these vagaries; the ways of the Glandores had been imperious for generations. But in course of time an event happened which sent the blood rushing in a tumult to her heart. At a masquerade one night my lord met a maid who smote his fancy. She was cheerful, and not too modest (his one terror was a lady of quality), with eyes like a mouse and a good set of teeth. Her mamma, a homely, buxom dame of forty, invited him home to supper, and he was as surprised as charmed to discover that the sprightly pair were his neighbours, who on account of some crotchet or other his mother declined to visit. He was received with open arms; nothing could be more jolly than his welcome.

"Deed the s.p.a.ce is limited,' mamma observed, with a guffaw. 'If ye put your arm down the chimbly ye could raise the door-latch; but, sure, a snug mouthful's better than a feast any day.'

He remained toasting his hostesses till daylight; called in a week; stopped to dinner; was treated as an honoured guest. Madam was a Papist, he found out, which would account for my lady's prejudice, but my lord had no such prejudices. If a young lady touch your fancy, do you ask her to say her Catechism?

When the terrible fact broke upon my lady, she groaned in spirit and was stunned. The spiteful baggage, baffled by her rival's exemplary conduct as a mother, had hit on a new way to torture her. The damsel in question was Madam Gillin's daughter, who had been brought up a Protestant, at the late lord's special wish. The reason for this singular proceeding was only too clear. That low hateful wretch, who had remained quiescent till the countess was almost at ease, was still pursuing her. Of course she could not be so truly wicked as to mean anything serious--for her own child's sake. It was a sword tied over her head to force her to grovel down upon her knees. But boys (specially heads of houses) always begin by falling in love with the wrong people. This was a transitory flirtation. Shane would grow tired of the vulgar chit. Vainly my lady hoped. Then with beatings of the breast it occurred to her, that as Gillin was a Catholic she must of course be capable of any crime. Before things attained a hopeless pitch, would it be needful for my lady to bow her haughty neck under Gillin's caudine forks? Oh! the agony of a stubborn pride which must publicly do penance! Would the ruthless tormentor exact such abas.e.m.e.nt as an exposure to her own children of the insulting behaviour of their father? Would it be requisite to crave a boon of the too jolly tyrant?

Never! my lady decided that such humiliation might never be--death would be preferable. She would bide awhile and take refuge in religion, and pray that the cup might in mercy be removed.

The petty annoyances which made up the sum of my lady's bitterness were endless. She was in the habit of bestowing broken meats upon the cottagers with stately condescension, accompanied sometimes with drugs. Mrs. Gillin followed suit. There were two ladies bountiful in the field, and the dowager sometimes came off second best; for, as amateur doctors will, she made mistakes, and killed people with fresh patent medicines, whilst her rival escaped active harm, because her boluses were innocent through lengthened sleep in the village apothecary's phials. So the cottagers only trembled and curtsied when the chatelaine called to see them, and emptied her bottles on the sly, whilst they eagerly consulted Madam Gillin as to their ailments, a preference of which madam made the most, when the ladies met over an invalid. Faithful to her _role_, she never spoke to the scowling dowager, but addressed scathing remarks to a third person who was always the companion of her wanderings--one Jug Coyle, her ancient nurse, who pa.s.sed with many for a witch, whilst all admitted that she was a 'wise-woman.' This old harridan, who was learned in the use of simples, was established by her mistress in a one-eyed alehouse on the verge of her little property--on the outside edge of it which looked towards the Abbey. The noise of roysterous shouting there penetrated sometimes as far as my lady's chamber, yet she did not complain. It was one of her rival's thorns--one of the petty persecutions which the chatelaine was doomed to bear.

Sure the late lord would have spared his widow had he realised the worries which would come on her by reason of the proximity of Gillin.

The mistress of the Little House gave excellent rowdy suppers, and entertained the _elite_ of Dublin. The judges bibbed her claret, and shook the night air with choruses, whereas they only paid state visits to the abbey once or twice a year. Her nurse's shebeen--a tumble-down festering hostelry thatched with decaying straw--was no better than a dog-boy's boozing ken, a disgraceful trysting-place for drunken soldiers, who were enticed thither by its excellent poteen. Jug Coyle's shock-pated daughter Biddy was a scandal to the neighbourhood, so recklessly did she profess to adore sodgers; while as for mischief, there was none perpetrated within ten miles round but that red-poled slattern was at the bottom of it. By-and-by Old Jug hung out a sign, a rude picture of a chained man, with 'The Irish Slave' as cognizance; and after that mysterious persons were seen to arrive at unseasonable hours who might or might not be United Irishmen. My lady knew all these doings, and hoped fervently that the new clients would turn out conspirators, for in that case there seemed a chance that she might sweep away the nuisance which vexed her day by day. I say _she_ advisedly, because Shane was too busily engaged as King of Cherokees, to look after his property, and was only too thankful to his mother for undertaking the management of the estates.

In intervals of complaining about the still absent tea-maker, the countess exposed her views for the hundredth time, as to the enormity of the obnoxious Gillin, to her ally Lord Clare, who smiled and nodded. The chancellor was a constant visitor at the Abbey, riding over frequently to dinner for a gossip or a game of cards with his old friend. He told her the last scandal, discussed the political situation, dropped hints about the movements of the patriots, lamented the mad folly of her brother Arthur's _protege_; and unconsciously she came to see things through his spectacles, living herself a retired life. Not but what she heard something of the other side from Mr.

Curran; but then he seemed to avoid these subjects, while Lord Clare delighted in gloating on them. The two mortal foes met frequently at the Abbey as on neutral ground, and snarled and showed their teeth, and thereby exemplified in their own persons one of the most singular features of a society now happily died away. During the last tempestuous years which preceded the Union, members of all parties were accustomed to meet in social intercourse, dining to-day with men they would hang tomorrow, even in some cases advancing funds out of their own pockets to secure the escape of those whom it was their duty to convict. The cause of the anomaly is not far to seek. Dublin society, though magnificent, was limited to a tiny circle. Absenteeism being voted low, the great families became interwoven by a series of intermarriages, while they were torn at the same time by religious or political dissensions. If your wife's brother holds precisely opposite views to your own, and is in danger of losing his head, still he is your near relative, and as such you will save him from the gallows if you may. It was not surprising then that Mr. Curran, when at length he arrived with the rest, should have courteously taken Lord Clare's jewelled fingers in his own with a hope that his health was good, though he loved him as dogs love cats. Was he not obliged to meet him several times a day in the four courts, or at Daly's? The city would have been too small to hold them if they had come to open strife.

My lady dropped her jeremiad when the young people entered, for the Little House and its belongings formed a mystery which they might not fathom. If Shane chose to distress his mother by flirting with Norah Gillin, it behoved the rest to ignore his sin. Even independent Doreen, who would have liked to sc.r.a.pe acquaintance with a co-religionist, abstained from so doing lest she should offend her aunt. Once, when in a pa.s.sion, she threatened to call at the Little House, but my lady appeared so pained that she repented the idle threat.

My lady looked at Lord Clare as if to bid him start a subject, then shook her head at Curran for keeping the girls out so late.

Lord Clare was in excellent spirits as he crossed one natty stocking over the other, and, fingertip to fingertip, began to purr over the virtues of the new Viceroy. 'Lord Camden,' he averred, 'was an angel.

He was open to advice. Things would have to take place sooner or later which would make it essential that those who governed should be of one mind. The silly geese who dubbed themselves patriots had received a check by the discomfiture of young Tone, but the snake was scotched, not killed. They would doubtless find leaders, and again leaders, who would have to be crushed in turn, and Government had hit on a bright idea for the simplifying of the process of suppression. By virtue of an English law there was a foolish rule which forbade conviction for treason save on the testimony of two witnesses. How ponderous a piece of mechanism! The wheels of the Irish car of justice wanted greasing.

Why not one witness? One dear, delightful, useful creature, who would come forward and say his say and finish off the matter in a trice.

What did Mr. Curran think of it, that clever advocate?'

Mr. Curran sipped his tea in silence, while his dusky cheek turned dun. They would not dare pa.s.s so outrageous an enactment, he reflected. They would dare much, but, with the eyes of Europe on them, not so much as that. The chancellor was drawing him out. So he smiled sweetly, and, handing his cup to be refilled, observed that as Justice did not live in Ireland, it would be folly to provide a car for her.

The spectacle of an English Viceroy making believe to dally with the stranger would be as astounding to Irishmen as the spectacle of a horse-racing Venetian.

'Lord Clare likes his joke,' chorused the giant Ca.s.sidy, 'but Curran won't be hoodwinked.'

'I a.s.sure you I am in earnest,' declared the chancellor, eyeing his foe from under alligator lids. 'I protest the idea is splendid. If they are bent on hanging themselves, why not give them rope? One witness, my dear Curran, would surely be enough.'

'Your joke is a bad one, my lord,' returned the other, sulkily. 'There are hundreds of idle wretches, hanging round Castle-yard, who for a pittance would swear anything. Is it so much trouble to suborn two?

Major Sirr, your lordship's jackal, would see to it, I'm sure.'

'An admirable person!' murmured the chancellor.

'If he's not a villain,' retorted his enemy, 'give me as offal to the curs of Ormond Quay. Ca.s.sidy here was reproved only an hour ago by one whom we all respect for being too intimate with the rascal.'

'I can only repeat,' said Ca.s.sidy, with the crumpling of skin which made his flat face so droll, 'that I care nought for him, though I should be sorry if he came to be put away as his paid informers often are--_consigned to Moiley_, as the common people say. It is important for a poor man like me to have a friend at court. I might be taken any day on false information, and lie perdu in Newgate till my bones rotted. My Lord Clare is a kind patron, but too much engaged to heed the fate of such humble squireens as I. I have no genius like Mr.

Curran. My disappearance would cause no hue-and-cry. We must look after our own bodies, and Sirr is my sheet-anchor.'

The chancellor glanced at Ca.s.sidy with a whimsical expression on his face, half curiosity, half contempt, while Curran said:

'That town-major is too much considered. Beware, my lord, of Jacks-in-office, who, in the intoxication of gratified vanity, mistake the dictates of pa.s.sion for the suggestions of duty, and consider that power unemployed is so much wasted. But I'm a fool. Your lordship is laughing at me.'

Doreen, having presided over the tea-table, retired to the open window, for her heart was full of Theobald, and this chatter grated on her nerves. My lady seized the opportunity to discourse of the proceedings of the day, of how Lord Camden had marched round William's statue with all his peers, and of how the sc.u.m had looked stupidly at the pageant with angry scowls. 'I was glad to see it,' she went on complacently, 'for tribulation is good for their sins, and bears fruit. There have been a blessed number of conversions of late.'

'Some are too weak to endure oppression,' remarked Arthur, gently, 'and turn Protestant to escape from misery.'

'Then it is good that the oppression, as you call it, should continue,' returned his sister, with decision. 'The scarlet woman and her progeny of vices shall be extinguished. When people are so ignorant and brutish, they must be s.n.a.t.c.hed from the fire by any means.'

'My lady, my lady!' laughed Curran. 'Your speech and your deeds are ever at variance. Your words breathe fire and sword, yet none are more kindly to the poor. Extremes meet, you know. I believe that you will die a Catholic.'

My lady glanced at Doreen, pursed up her lips, and said nothing.

'Did we not agree t'other day about true religion? It lies not in abusing our neighbours, but in cultivating a heart void of offence to G.o.d and man. Remember that definition, Terence, and act on it, my boy.

It was a saying of the great Lord Chatham.'

'If only Luther had never been born!' groaned Arthur Wolfe.

'Christianity was good enough for Christendom in old days.'

This was an awkward subject. Lord Clare changed it with accustomed tact.

'Do you know, Curran,' he said, 'that Tone has left a sting behind him which till yesterday we did not suspect? We have reason to believe that the University, of which we are all so justly proud, has been tampered with. That's bad, you know. I am informed that there are no less than four branches of the secret society within its walls.

Severest measures may be necessary. As chancellor of Trinity I will see to it.'

Doreen turned round and listened. So did Terence, for he had many friends in Trinity.

'Have you any basis to work upon?' asked my lady.

'Certainly! A man whom I can trust in every way is hand and glove with them. The unhappy wretches have a traitor in their midst. Young McLaughlin is bitten with the mania, a sad scatterbrain and Bond, and Ford, who's half an idiot. The only one I'm sorry for is young Emmett, who should know better, being son of a State-physician. But then his brother, who dabbles in journalism, is a bad example. I should not be surprised if he were hanged some day.'

Poor Sara, who had gone to where Doreen was sitting, glanced from one at another, her pupils expanded by terror. She knew that the dear undergraduate had not taken the oath. But to be suspected at such times as were looming was a matter of grave jeopardy. Her father looked serious, and so did Terence. Both liked the Emmetts, and were sorry to hear about this traitor. My Lord Clare's flippant discourse was distasteful to all. Was he making himself disagreeable on purpose?

Curran was shaking his hair ominously. Terence burst out in defence of the young men who were, he swore, as good as gold, and his personal friends--more worthy than others who should be nameless. My lady, in her orange robe, looked like a thunder-cloud. Ca.s.sidy, to pour oil on the troubled waters, proposed that Miss Wolfe should sing, and Arthur, relieved at the diversion, drew out his girl's harp into the room.

Doreen would have refused if she had dared, for these covert bickerings constantly renewed upon topics which moved her so strongly, were wearing to the nerves. But everybody suddenly desired music.

'Something Irish, set to one of your own melodies,' suggested Ca.s.sidy.

'Sure, Curran will play a second on his violoncello; and I'll give you a new song afterwards.'

Well, anything was better than the grating of Lord Clare's harsh voice. Listlessly sitting down to the harp, Doreen permitted her shapely arms to wander over its strings. Then, fired by a kind of desperation, she lifted her proud head and began in a rich contralto, while Mr. Curran, on a low stool beside her, sc.r.a.ped out an impromptu ba.s.s:

'"Brothers, arise! The hour has come to strike a blow for Truth and G.o.d.

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 itself is only great when man devotes himself to be By virtue, thought, and deed the mate of G.o.d'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.