And Major Sirr pledged his hostess in his best manner, with a smirk on his thin features and a worldly twinkle glimmering from under his bushy brows, and departed presently to report at the Castle that Madam Gillin was a staunch loyalist who had miraculously escaped the taint which poisoned most ladies of her creed.
When he had departed, the good lady's face lost its dimples and grew long.
'That wicked fellow will bring them all to the gallows,' she muttered to herself, frowning at some one she saw in her mind's eye who was not Major Sirr. 'And my lips are sealed! It's a fearsome thing to have to watch what's going on, and not dare speak a word of warning. If he only didn't know that I take Norah to the mass! Yet I'm bound to do my best for the child's soul, though my lord would have her brought up a Protestant. Sure Father Daly said I must bring the pet to chapel for her soul's sake as well as mine.'
Then Madam Gillin, who was dividing the sheep from the goats in the matter of faded frippery in an untidy cupboard, resigned herself to unwonted meditation, with lines of gravity about her mouth which seldom rested there, as she recalled the day some time since, when he whom she had looked upon as friend unveiled himself to her in drunken frenzy as a viper; when she had stared into his big jolly face with an expression that had sobered him, while he explained that for the future she must do as she was bidden, or else all sorts of penalties would swoop upon her for tampering with the religion of a Protestant. On that occasion he fairly terrified her, and she kept the secret as to his being a viper in disguise, though it sickened her to think of it o' nights. She recalled the scene now for the thousandth time, and shuddered; and her best frock slipped out of her hands on the dirty floor while she contemplated that genial pleasant boon companion as she and only a few others knew him. Norah found her standing absently among crumpled gauzes when she returned from a jaunt to Dublin, and rallied her mother on her looks, with a smacking kiss like a whip-crack.
'Have ye heard a banshee, mamma?' she asked. 'See! I've done all the commissions. Feathers a foot long, lovely flowers for our skirts, and gloves to cover the elbow. I met Shane upon the road, and we went together; but I could not wheedle him into coming to the ball, though I did my best. He said the grand ladies frightened him--bored him more likely. He's mighty timid for a Blaster. It's a wonder he's not afraid of me.'
As the girl surveyed herself archly in the glass, she perceived why her lover feared her not. Indeed there was little of the grand style about the colleen. A rosy cheek; a liquid merry eye; a large ripe mouth, and an impudent upturned nose. No classical belle was poor Norah--only a healthy, comely wench--just such an one as would be likely to enchain a man with no loftier aspirations than Glandore's.
Though mamma was inclined to be glum, her daughter was in the highest spirits; for before her was the delicious prospect of the ball (such gaieties were becoming rarer and more rare), and she was quite convinced, from what Shane had said, that that spiteful cat the countess had lied when conversing at Crow Street with Lady Camden. It was true, certainly, that he was going away for a few weeks. It appeared that he had duties to perform, and she liked him too well to stand in the way of his duties. But as to that sinful, deceitful, odious story about bringing home a bride, the notion was quite too foolish. He had sworn as much with entrancing kisses, and was she not delighted to believe him? Why, there would be only two ladies of the party, he averred. Did his little goose suppose that he could lead his own mother to the altar? As for Doreen, the idea was quite as preposterous. Her frigid ways and tiresome national wrongs were not to his taste at all. Therefore Miss Norah was quite content, though she had just bidden her lover farewell. She would see him no more for several months, perhaps; for, to avoid attending a ball where objectionable fine ladies would congregate, my lord had settled to ride as avant courier to Drogheda, to superintend the preparations at the inn where my lady and the household were to sojourn.
Though the volcano was heaving in portentous fashion, society seemed of one mind as to dancing jigs upon it to the last. Upon formal proclamation of martial law, the yeomanry had thrown off all disguise. The squireens were ruffianly through ignorance, their betters through self-interest, for it was easy to detect which way the wind was blowing. The chancellor was plainly for harsh measures. 'I will make these Irish as tame as cats,' he was heard incautiously to say. It was to be a war of class against class, in which both parties were artistically goaded by dark suspicions and deftly-spread falsehoods. Internecine strife is always remarkable for a display of the vilest passions. It seems as if the flow of gall is the more bitter from the difficulty of first pumping it to the surface. Major Sirr and his gang took to prowling in the night-houses--to making evening raids on taverns--a species of political crimping which was fruitful of brilliant hawls. Lists were even despatched to the Staghouse by Mr. Secretary Cooke that the town-major's lambs might study them, and 'pencil off such as they deemed dangerous to the country.' Bands of armed squireens sallied out in the mad frolics begot by drink, to 'give their opinion' to the disaffected, and the result was such a succession of night-brawls that Lord Clare was sorry and hurt.
'What are we to do with these depraved turbulent creatures?' he plaintively inquired of the cabinet. And one and all--Arthur Wolfe even reluctantly consenting--admitted that stringent measures were imperative, or anarchy would surely supervene. So an order went forth that none should appear in Dublin streets after eight o'clock p.m., unless armed with a special permit to do so. The theatres were closed. The city was in a state of siege, as though really Hoche were at its gates.
But this was too dull for my lords and my ladies, who were not given to reading books, and had no intention that annoyance should fall upon themselves. They met for cards at one another's houses, their sedans protected by retinues of servants; but this was a poor pastime to folks who were accustomed to the public dances of Fishamble Street--the sumptuous entertainments at the Castle. They grumbled that this premature alarm was ridiculous. The French were not in Ireland, though the 'Shan van Vocht' was wont lyrically to declare at all hours of the day that they were on the sea. As for the United Irishmen, they were a 'Bugaboo.' With the troops which had been sent over any attempted rising could be frustrated at once; but they would not be so stupid as to rise--the tongues of these foul-mouthed patriots were more killing than their swords. My Lord Clare must be losing his nerve, he was not severe enough. They--the lords, urged by their ladies--would see that a proper spirit of terror was instilled into the scum, so that even if called on by their chiefs to rise, they would sit like beaten hounds--their tails between their legs. Lord Clare looked at Lord Camden from under his beetling penthouse. Lord Camden looked at Lord Clare and hummed, and hawed, and shuffled. For the unfortunate gentleman who represented majesty, though he lived as much as he could, like some Japanese monarch behind screens, could not hide himself so well but that unpleasant speeches reached his ears. He had consented tacitly to make a Guy Fawkes of himself, and permit the bearers of the pageant to explode malodorous squibs under his nose; but when the evil savours choked him he winced in tribulation. He grew to hate his tormentor well-nigh as much as the people did, which was no little. But Lord Clare's day of triumph seemed in nowise on the wane--everything went as he wished it to go. His ruthless bearing had made him a despot in the imbecile senate. His colleagues, forgetting their rank, their country, and their dignity, yielded to the spell of his dictation as a fascinated bird drops before the snake. The letters of congratulation which he received from Pitt and others were accumulating within his escritoire. So soon as he should have tamed the tiger-Irish, how great would his reward be! He saw in the distance a vision no longer dim. An English peerage. A position in the English House of Lords, where great statesmen should listen to his periods--where Nestors should encourage his ambition. There seemed no end to the gorgeous vista. Why not some day assume the place of Pitt himself, who, though young, was (at least the world said so) eaten up by debauchery and excess? And what was there which stood 'twixt himself and this glorious prospect? His own country, its interests, its safety, its political existence--nothing more! Pooh! Time works wonders. Things were going well. If those idiots would only fall upon the swords which were held out to them, there was no knowing what might not be accomplished. The Hibernian lords and gentlemen were in a fair way of exhibiting themselves to the odium of the world. Having danced their infernal dance at the bidding of those who clutched the purse-strings, they would make a sorry figure when the latter spurned them in disgust. What would they do then? Only sink lower still, and become more abject, till the pit of degradation should know no deeper depth. That was the way to work on them! To hold out threats that pensions would not be paid unless certain dirty work was done. To declare then that it was much too dirty--that by disobeying instructions they had forfeited the right to sit in the presence of decent people; that, having gone so far, all sense of respect must be abandoned; that, honour being lost, nothing was left to them but money; that with their own guilty hands they must cut the throat of their legislature, and drown remorse so long as the blood-money should last. This was to be the crowning edifice of my Lord Clare's scheme; and Mr. Pitt laughed a sardonic laugh as he tied a wet towel round his throbbing temples. He had got very drunk and lost at whist, had the gay young British premier; but the excellence of this conceit caused him to grin, despite his headache.