My lady's preparations were completed at last, and, thanks to her maternal supervision, so were those of her favourite son. Though so close at hand, she went little into Dublin; for the sight of many strange uniforms reminded her of a past time, the associations connected with which she did her best to bury. She knew only, therefore, by rumour what was passing--by the reports of the Gazette, by conversations with Lord Clare. As for Curran, there was nothing to be got from him. He was as surly and morose as possible; said rude things about the Orange Societies; told her details of atrocities which, she felt sure, must be exaggerated; quarrelled with her about the scarlet woman; showed signs of becoming as bigoted on one side as she half admitted herself to be on the other.
She grew almost reconciled to the necessity of going northwards, for Shane's conduct gave her serious alarm. He almost lived at the Little House, and she saw the possibility, if the journey were delayed much longer, of his declining to go at all. For all Norah's influence was evidently thrown into the scale against her, and she bitterly regretted now having shot off that arrow at Crow Street.
The artful damsel was striving to instil into her lover's mind that it was cowardly to go away at this juncture; and it was only by pretending to have private intelligence from the chancellor that his mother could soothe his amour propre to sleep.
She was credibly informed, so she declared, that Paris spies had told Dublin spies, who had whispered it at the Castle, that the French fleet would certainly make for the north. It stood to reason they would not sail into Cork Harbour or Dublin Bay, where their foe was ready to receive them. Not a bit of it. They would make for the lonely, rock-bound coast of Donegal or Antrim, and young Lord Glandore would cover himself with glory by appearing at the head of the yeomanry in the neighbourhood to harass the landing of the troops.
This was just such a wild idea as suited the youthful fire-eater. He saw, in his mind's eye, the shattered vessels on his iron rocks of Ennishowen; a feeble resistance and surrender--for a mere handful could do anything on those cliffs--and gave way, as usual, to his mother. But she felt that, if they were to go, they must be off as speedily as possible, or even her influence would fail at the last moment, and that which she most dreaded might take place, despite her efforts.
Her indignation against the lady of the Little House knew no bounds. That she should immolate her own daughter for the mean purpose of revenging herself upon a rival, was too horrible! It was really amazing to consider what these Catholics were capable of! They had no consciences. They were ready to commit any enormity, because when it was done they could go to confession, wipe the stain off the slate, and come back smiling. Lord Clare was perfectly right about the scarlet woman, and Mr. Curran in his dotage. For every sort of reason these Catholics must be kept down. No punishment was bad enough for them--they should be locked in cages like wild beasts--they were absolutely incorrigible--at least, so thought the Swaddler. Doreen was turning out abominably. If she too were not soon caged, she would be running off some day with a groom--or a United Irishman, which was worse, breaking her father's heart, and dragging his name through the mire. She preached to her brother on this subject, making him very uneasy, and gave up looking after her poor, lest, meeting Mrs. Gillin, she might forget herself.
Her preparations were complete, yet still she lingered at the Abbey. Society was in such a state of suspense that freedom of action seemed paralysed. The lady-lieutenant was frightened, and talked of fleeing to London, yet she delayed her journey. The mall and the Beaux-walk were both as full as ever. People went thither in hopes of decided news one way or other--which never came; and being there, they rode and gossiped and joked, because it was the habit to do so.
Emmett and his friends were becoming grievously troubled, for the split in their camp widened daily. Were the French playing with their Irish allies? This continued inaction on their part was incomprehensible; for summer had faded to autumn, autumn was shrivelling into winter--it was almost too late to expect assistance now. Must the effort be postponed till next year? or a forlorn hope be attempted single-handed? To make it now would be madness, for rains were pouring down with Hibernian vehemence--the country was sodden--would soon be frozen--the exposed patriots would die off like rotten sheep. To wait till next year was a bad prospect--who can calculate what may happen in six months? The evil acts of the executive were piling up with terrible velocity. A sense of treachery and of dismay seemed to hang over the capital, for none could be certain who had taken the oath and who had not. Fathers were known to be loyalists whose sons had received the tonsure. Peasant mothers had put pikes in hiding whose daughters were living with the soldiers. Friends met and dined, and laughed with each other about the wide divergence of their views, just as they had done for some time past; but the feeling that though they differed their friendship would not wane was beginning to be shaken, for Major Sirr and his sinister band were abroad. No one was safe from the informer.
There was a dinner-party at the Abbey--a party of typical incongruity. The chancellor was there, all smiles and airiness. Mr. Curran was there, who was becoming strangely absent and sour; his little primrose Sara too, who looked delicate and nervous, and shrank, as if in pain, from conversation, which of course turned on politics. Cassidy was there too, in humble attendance on Doreen; and young Robert Emmett, whom the chancellor condescended to twit scornfully on his behaviour.
'Keep your head out of the noose, my dear young friend!' he said. 'No one is so small as to escape the vigilant eye of a paternal government. Do you suppose we are not informed of your pratings within Trinity? Your bursts of baby-eloquence, which are flowery but foolish? It is a harmless amusement possibly within those aged walls, and the wild talk of undergraduates is of little moment, yet I warn you that it will not be permitted much longer. Oh dear no! We won't do you the honour of arresting you. That would give you too much importance. But it may become my painful duty, as chancellor of that university as well as of this realm, to erase your name with others from its books, unless you mend your manners--that's all; so be warned and wise in time.