Volume Iii Part 12 (1/2)

sake. It was with a dreary sort of satisfaction that she found her turbulent favourite was become suddenly so malleable. What signified the unsullied s.h.i.+elds of departed Crosbies? Unblemished honour will not renew exhausted tissues. It is well for those to prate who have never been tempted. Shane, like the rest, must sell his mess of pottage at the best market--_his_ so long as it was not claimed. Then the idea flashed upon my lady as she meditated, 'Terence is marked out for an arch-traitor. He was not convicted--yet is he sentenced. If his claims were to be admitted now, his property (as that of one attainted) would be forfeit to the state! Better far that Shane should keep it.' Scruples were manifestly absurd. A brilliant suggestion of the devil this--which went far to reconcile my lady to existing circ.u.mstances.

There was silence between mother and son. The thoughts of both were best left unspoken. Both were absorbed in their own dreams. Eblana's cold muzzle awoke Doreen from her reverie. She glided up the steps into the hall, crept with caution past the door of the dining-room, made for the young men's wing, where, in his own nest, Terence was brooding in despondency over his blank future.

He had nothing wherewith to reproach himself. Nothing! Of that he was quite certain. It had been his duty to lay the question of union clearly before his brother, who, as head of the house, must adjudicate thereon upon his own judgment. The responsibility lay with him.

Whichever way he chose to act, no dishonour could accrue to the younger from his decision, so long as he, Terence, had first registered his private protest. Shane had been most insulting--had stooped even to mock at his brother's deplorable condition. But that was of no moment. When we stand upon life's brink we can afford to contemn the foolish lapping of the waves. It mattered not a rush what Shane might say or think. Yet that scene in the rosary was not one of the rainbow-hued visions which were to fresco into warmth the cold walls of his prison-cell at Fort George. Knowing his brother's temper, it would have been more wise not to kick against the p.r.i.c.ks. Perhaps, situated as Terence was, he would have done better not to speak at all--but it is difficult in the prime of life and manhood to accept at once your position as a corpse.

The handle of his door was turned and shaken. It was an agitated hand that shook it--a woman's hand--for his hearing, sharpened by excitement, detected the sough of silk, the unsteady grope of fingers fumbling above a handle's usual place. His heart beat fast. Was the yearning of his soul to be gratified? Was it his mother, who, so cold and forbidding hitherto, had selected the long wintry interval previous to the last meal of the day to come and whisper with kisses of how she loved and pitied him?

He turned the key. To his surprise Doreen, who entered swiftly, double-locked the door, and, tossing away her mantle, stood before him with a smile upon her lips, which he had supposed was gone for ever.

Her bosom heaved as she held out her two brown hands to him.

'Terence, it's _you_ who are Lord Glandore!' she panted. 'Shane repulsed you when you spoke to him. I know it! He is ready to accept their blood-money; he is scheming basely for it at this moment; but he shall be exposed in time. It is your duty to turn the b.a.s.t.a.r.d out!'

Terence deemed that his star had left its course; for she stood, like a distracted dark Ophelia, on the verge of laughter and of tears; das.h.i.+ng the drops from her cheek with one hand, while the other crept shyly into her cousin's and remained there.

She told him quickly all she had heard and seen--all that was made plain by the light of what she heard and saw. She told him, with disdainful lip, of how her cousin had repulsed the whitehaired suppliant; how he had whined, complaining; how his mother, fortified by that engrossing love--transfigured, enn.o.bled by it despite her sin--had risen from her knees like a queen to comfort him.

Terence listened--one leg crossed over the other to support his elbow, while his chin rested on his hand--and instead of joining in her exultant joy, he only grew more gloomy. What was this will-o'-the-wisp that railed in such foolish fas.h.i.+on? At _him_ whose heart was dead, whose career was done, upon whom the gate of a lifelong prison was about to close, who was too weary to be very sorry for his own undoing? Silly will-o'-the-wisp, who, clad in siren-guise, thought thus to lure him back to love of life! He listened to Doreen's narrative in moody thought, plucking no consolation thence. It was a poignant subject of regret that her usually incisive common-sense should be bewitched by this vulgar tempter. After all, a woman's judgment may never be relied on. It must be his office, then, to rebuke her folly, and show where his true duty lay.

A great love, indeed--a sublime love! A love which is a crown of glory, but which was in this instance a wreath doomed to be wasted on the sterile rock. Shane cared for no one but himself. Was inclined even to spurn this love--nay, had dared brutally to repulse it, because it could not accomplish impossibilities. Not a drop from the precious phial had ever leaked out for Terence--not a single drop. And he would have prized it so! Yet was his duty carved plainly out; and with the gaze of one who belongs to another world, he saw it--through foliage and matted briars--with clear vision.

'It appears that I might perhaps save our name,' he said slowly, while he nursed his knee, 'from being mixed up with those of the recreants.

What is the price? Reflect, dear Doreen! If we were not beyond the influence of mundane hopes and longings, would you advise me to act thus? Would you----'

'Can there be any doubt?' cried impetuous Doreen, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

'Did we not agree this very afternoon that Shane must be worked on not to disgrace his lineage. Now it is in your hands. Surely you could not----'

'Hush, hush, my dearest!' Terence responded gently. 'Remember that we are to lay up no store of evil memories! At Fort George I am to think of you as the star that has guided my thoughts upward. Reflect calmly now! In order that Shane--poor misguided fellow!--may not drag us into the ranks of the Iscariots, I should have to make good my rights before the world. To accomplish that, I should have to brand with obloquy my mother's fair fame, which in the world's eyes is spotless.

Should I thus keep untarnished the honour of the Crosbies? No! The question of Ireland's fate is in G.o.d's keeping, not in ours. His decrees seem hard to our purblind vision, yet must we bow to them.

Forget what you discovered. Let this be as though it had never been.'

The girl's colour went and came; she looked earnestly at her cousin, as with prosaic action he nursed his knee.

'You are right,' she murmured at length. 'Do you know, my love, that I dared to despise you once? I said you could never be a hero!'

'Hero!' Terence echoed, with a laugh. 'I have looked into the other world too closely to care now for this. We have pa.s.sed through the fire, Doreen, have we not? and bear its traces on our flesh. G.o.d grant that it has purged away the worser part from both of us!'

CHAPTER IX.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SACRIFICE.

Madam Gillin called many times at Ely Place in her anxiety to astonish the chancellor, but failed to find him--for the best of all reasons, that he was not there. Again and again she rapped with the big bra.s.s knocker--always to receive the same answer, 'His lords.h.i.+p is in England.' Time was moving on; reports arrived in succession that the works at Fort George were progressing; that they were well-nigh finished; that they were complete. The unhappy exiles would be drafted off directly, and Madam Gillin was determined to astonish Lord Clare before that moment came. What on earth could he be doing in England?

He was an Irishman, if a bad one, and ought to stop at home. She was on the point of packing up a valise to pursue him across the Channel, when Jug brought the tidings that my Lord Clare's coach was on its way to Kingstown, and that therefore its master must be expected back.

The chancellor frowned ominously when he beheld his eccentric acquaintance ensconced in his favourite chair. The butler apologised.

The lady would take no denial, he explained. She had nearly worn out the knocker. He could not turn out one of the s.e.x by neck and shoulders. Maybe it was really something of weight that made her so persistent. But my Lord Clare was quite another man from when he went to London, and was in no mood to brook liberties. He had seen Mr. Pitt there; had, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of that gentleman, reviled my Lord Cornwallis, his policy, and his blunt manner; had explained away the fiasco at the first voting for union, and had been graciously received. Mr. Pitt had smiled on him while Mr. Fox sneered; had hinted that if he and Lord Castlereagh did their work cleverly there would be no end to the honours which his Majesty would heap on them. They must not be discouraged, but slave away--hammer and tongs--till the object was achieved. After all, it was at this juncture merely a matter of a little tact. As an earnest of future favour, my Lord Clare was created Baron Fitzgibbon in the Peerage of England, and returned home an inch taller and three times as overbearing as he had shown himself before.

Once the union arranged, Lord Cornwallis would depart; Lord Clare would resume his lofty position in Irish politics, and from his new place in the English House of Lords would coerce British politicians on special subjects, as he had browbeaten a succession of British viceroys. But before this delicious dream could be realised there was much to be done, which required careful manipulation. Lord Castlereagh had kept him _au courant_ during his absence of what pa.s.sed in Dublin.

He was aware that, fired by indignation at the breaking of the compact and the condemnation of his brother, untried, to penal servitude, young Robert had left London abruptly and gone home. The young c.o.c.katrice, as he elected to call him, meant mischief--would certainly give trouble--and at an inconvenient moment. He must be watched--bagged--gagged--swept away like a tiresome fly. It would not do to have insurrections now. He was aware that the Irish parliament--servile hitherto--was playing pranks and kicking up its heels, raising the price of its suicide, to the annoyance of Lord Castlereagh and the rage of Lord Cornwallis. He had seen a letter from the Viceroy to the Duke of Portland, wherein the former pleaded once more for the emanc.i.p.ation of the Catholics, declaring that if they were kept out in the cold, the important measure which was to be a new bulwark to England would have a foundation of sand; vowing that he was sick of dirty water; that if there was no prospect of getting out of the country he would offer earnest prayers to Heaven for immediate death. Mr. Pitt, when he showed this letter to Lord Clare, spoke openly without mincing matters. The King was obdurate about the Catholics. Lord Clare knew that. They must be cajoled, however; led on by specious promises and then betrayed; treated in fact after the ingenious fas.h.i.+on in which Lord Clare had shown himself so consummate a master in the matter of the compact with the state prisoners. The Irish Chancellor, primed by Lord Castlereagh, explained the difficulties of the situation with crystal clearness to Mr. Pitt. It was now merely a matter of s. d. How much or how little didn't signify, since the blood-money was to be supplied by the victim herself. The Lords and Commons having made the plunge, were totally divested of all shame. They made use of a small party of anti-unionists as a lever to dig out more gold; swearing that they would all go over to that party unless their demands were complied with in all their greed. Thus was it with the upper cla.s.s. The lower cla.s.s was apathetic and hopeless--all except a few United Irishmen, who were making a new attempt to attain their ends by stirring up discord and division. The anti-unionists were leaving no stone unturned to inflame the spirit of the people. But the spirit was gone out of them. There would be a tussle for it, no doubt. It would be well for decorum's sake to postpone the conclusion of the business for a few months, for it would look bad for the senators who were to be freshly bought to seem to change their opinions too suddenly. Europe would laugh if men who declared in April that union meant destruction were in May to turn round and vote in favour of it. Finally Mr. Pitt sent his tool home again, bidding him be discreet and diligent, and laughed in his sleeve so soon as his back was turned.