But Shane was a parti comme il y en a peu. If he could only be induced to abandon the Doll Tearsheets, and direct amorous glances at the high-born young ladies of the metropolis, Doreen might be permitted to run her foolish race unchecked, for Shane could be well married without her. Unluckily the male heart is not too justly balanced neither. Shane liked something more highly spiced than an innocent miss, who, he declared, always made him qualmish with a smell of bread and butter. Nobody could accuse Doreen of anything so vapid, and Shane certainly liked Doreen after a careless fashion, though he never in his life had made love to her. My lady now proposed to rate him on this subject, for the possibility of choosing another bride for him in due time was finally put out of the question by the imminent danger of some catastrophe with Norah. It was clear, all things considered, that there was nothing for it but to remove my lord forthwith to his fastness in the north, and keep him there for a time; and it was quite certain that no high-born damsels with suitable attributes were to be found in the wilds of Donegal, straying about in search of husbands.

'Mother!' Shane said gaily, 'we had such a whimsical accident last night. George Fitzgerald wagered to keep three of the best of us at bay with his single rapier-point, for a whole hour. I saw he was too drunk to stand, so I took the bet at once, and off we marched, borrowing their lanterns from the watchmen as we passed, to the ring in Stephen's Green. George steadied himself against the statue, and really made superb play--I could not have done better myself--till somebody in the crowd shouted, "For God's sake part them!" to which another blackguard hallooed, "Let them have it out, for one will be killed, and the rest hanged for murder, and so we shall be rid of a bunch of pests." Of course this roused us, so we all turned on him, just to show he was wrong; and faix he was wrong, sure enough, for 'twas he that got killed, and none of us are ripe for hanging.'

'But, Shane!' my lady exclaimed, 'who was the man? You are so imprudent.'

'No one of any importance,' responded her son, carelessly. 'An old busybody--a shoemaker, I think, or a baker. Sure it was an accident, for George meant only to pink the spalpeen, and his sword went in too far--a miscalculation. Do you know, mother, that there'll soon be no end to the insolence of these ruffians? There's a report at the Castle that that crazy idiot Tone, to whom you were always much too kind, has succeeded in persuading the French to take up his cudgels. He'll dance the Kilmainham minuet, as the saying is, take my word for it, and serve him right; but Lord Camden really thinks it's serious. He talked with such mystery of plots last evening, of some scheme for attacking Dublin, that I thought his excellency was having a joke with us, till he said if things go on as they are going, there'll be nothing for it but to proclaim martial law.'

My lady meditated for a time, reviewing this intelligence. 'Then these United Irish did not intend to be mere wind-bags?' she thought, and my Lord Camden was beginning to be afraid of them. Her common-sense told her that if, in a tussle, they got even for a moment the upper hand, their vengeance would fall heavily upon the perpetrators of such reckless escapades as that which Shane had just narrated. At any rate, it was not good to give them such food for complaint. My lady's caste prejudices blinded her to the fact that when half-a-dozen youths (even blue-blood ones) set on a single man and slay him, the act is no better than murder, though they are content to deplore it for a minute as an accident. There was no doubt left in her mind that Doreen's advice had been of the very best. She must even go to Ennishowen, however great the pain might be to herself in the revival of unpleasant memories. So, shaking her head, she remarked: 'Dear Shane! in '45 the Scotch rebels advanced within a hundred miles of London. If 5,000 ragged Highlanders are capable of that, why should not the French army march on Dublin? Lord Clare spoke to me yesterday on the subject of the yeomanry. It seems that the Privy Council expect you to undertake this district.'

'I should like that!' Shane said.

'It would not be wise, though,' returned his mother, quietly. 'The aristocracy will have a difficult game to play if these silly people really aim at violence. The executive will have brought it on themselves, and it's only fair that they should get out of their own difficulties in their own way. In '82, when your father and I both wore the uniform, the case was different. Landlord and tenant were united, as lord and servant of the soil, against a foreigner who had maltreated both. Things have changed since then. The position of the nobles is different. They have become Anglicised. Much of their interest is English. Yet it would be best for them not too openly to join the foreigner in coercing their own tenants--at least, not just now.'

The cunning old lady was saying what she did not quite believe, having in view an object, and Shane looked at her in surprise.

'If riots take place,' the countess proceeded, 'the commander-in-chief will put them down, if he thinks proper, with the English troops who have come over lately; and he and they will bear the odium. The Irish nobles would be placing themselves in a false position by interfering against their own people with too great alacrity. At all events, they will gain a point by waiting.'

'But, mother, the other lords are heading the squireens. If I hold back they will say I am a coward!'