'This Irishman,' he laughed, 'talks monstrous fine about the low ebb to which the Irish lords have sunk--forgetting that his own place is lower still than theirs; but he does his burrowing with rare ability.'
So Lord Clare worked and wormed with consummate diplomacy and tact, while those who employed him despised their tool in increasing ratio with his success; and Lord Camden's seat of thorns became daily more galling, and the silly mice gambolled with a recklessness which compelled pity--and old Father Time hurried on, afraid to look behind him.
My lords and my ladies, finding Dublin very dull, began to vent their spleen. The chancellor therefore saw that he must break the ice, which had been freezing up too rapidly. He announced, accordingly, that the Castle festivities would not be postponed, as had been intended. The grand ball, usually given on Christmas Eve, would take place a week later instead--no other change would result from the threatening state of affairs. Gentlemen, however, were requested to wear their swords; for all sorts of rumours were abroad, which the executive sincerely hoped were merely the invention of the enemy. How any enemy could be so heartless as to plot and conspire against so angelic an executive, etc., etc., as usual.
That the great ball was really to take place, was hailed with universal delight. Everybody knows St. Patrick's hall--its magnificent proportions, the suite of state-rooms to which it leads; the splendid staircases, balconies, lobbies; ideal spots for flirtation--or conspiracy. All parties, patriotic and the reverse, rejoiced at prospect of this fête, for several reasons.
Sirr and his Battalion of Testimony were becoming so ubiquitous--informers had a way of turning up so unexpectedly--that it grew daily more difficult to hit on a place of meeting secure from their spying presence. Of course only gentlemen and ladies 'to the backbone' could expect to gain admittance to Castle dinners and concerts; but with the St. Patrick balls it was otherwise. These assemblies bore so official a character that respectable citizens of all denominations were certain of receiving an invitation. Lord Clare, aware of this, had made his calculations. The United Irishmen were sure to be there in force; it would not be his fault if they did not flounder into a hole.
It was for this ball on New Year's Eve that Norah Gillin had gone forth to purchase ribbons and plumes. It was for this ball that my Lady Glandore had waited--after which she and Miss Wolfe were to start for Donegal, changing their gala-dresses at the first stage upon the road.
Sara, who burned to see Robert and hear how his red-hot speech at the debating society had been received, importuned her father with unusual eagerness to take her to this ball. Was his little primrose becoming worldly? he inquired, with a gloomy smile. No, no! Twinkling feet should go with light hearts. Whose hearts might be light at this awful crisis? His girl must stop at home and say her prayers for Erin, and he would soothe himself and her by strains on the violoncello. That instrument was constantly in his hand now, whenever he was at home; and folks trembled as they passed by at night, for sure such dreadful sounds must come from the damned in agony!
Mr. Curran was exceeding sick at heart. His friend Wolfe upbraided him constantly for too openly opposing Government; whilst, on the other hand, anonymous letters arrived by dozens, abusing him for lukewarmness in the cause. He shook his head at the latter, muttering, as he tossed them into the fire, 'Blind fools! Mine is the waiting game. Ye'll be glad enough by-and-by that I stood neutral!'
But on the morning of the 29th a report came to the lawyer's ears which filled him with amazement. He put aside his beloved violoncello, and trotted to Dublin to see Emmett, Russell, Bond. The report was true, he found. Vainly he argued and protested--vowed that to save them from their madness he must go and tell Lord Clare. No! He would not betray them, but would go and intercede. The chancellor was not at home to him, though he saw him come from behind a curtain; so, retiring disconsolately to the Priory, he bade Sara fetch out her gewgaws, as he must even take her to the Castle after all.
St. Patrick's hall was crowded when he and his child entered it--she in a white muslin dress, with a single frilling round its short skirt, a scarf of soft green about her neck, for the night was bitter, and the dancing-room beset by draughts. It was a gay assemblage, for General Lake (who had arrived recently) and all his staff were present in glittering English uniforms, which were not to be outdone in splendour by the officers of Irish militia. Even Mr. Curran's unmartial figure was buckramed in gold and scarlet, for was not he too an officer of the Lawyer's corps, which forbade its members to wear mufti?