'The patriots should be defended!' Curran swore. He would defend them himself, no matter at what personal risk; in spite of any amount of threatening. The bursts of eloquence which before now had startled his audience to conviction, should be nothing to the burning words by which he would wring these unselfish lives from the jaws of death.
It was for this that he had rested on his oars so long. He had defended many of the proscribed with varying success. But these were the chiefs, the head and front of the offending. He felt that the power was there, a precious gift direct from God. He would blast the witness, whoever he might be, as he sat upon the table, till even a jury of the right sort would not dare to convict upon his evidence; he would paint in vivid colours what he and his fellows were--wretches who, buried as men, had slept in the tomb till their hearts festered and dissolved--to be dug up thereafter as informers.
He bade Robert be of good cheer, and listened, with a kindly arm about the lad's neck, to his project of going to England. He would go to the fountain-head, vowed Robert, for no mercy could be expected here; he would waylay Mr. Pitt himself--would force himself into the Royal presence--would compel England to listen to a recital of her sister's tribulations. The English could not know what was going forward--the King, whom people dubbed good King George, could not know of it. If he did, he was a hypocrite who ought to be unmasked--but of course he did not. The ardent lad quivered with excitement and noble fervour, while the little lawyer felt himself invaded by pity. The poor boy persisted in believing that Right was sure to triumph. He believed that his story would rouse the English to interference--Mr. Pitt to contrition for excessive sinfulness--that it would melt like snow the prejudices of the most ignorant and pigheaded monarch who ever occupied a throne. Poor lad! In spite of all he saw, his illusions had not yet been taken from him. Some people require an operation with pincers. The dreadful moment had yet to come when he would wake up and know with certainty that his doll's inside was bran.
'My boy,' the lawyer said, 'the impulse is excellent. Go, and prosper, if the Fates will it so. To tell the truth, I believe more in my powers of oratory here than yours over yonder. I ought to have special interest in you,' he pursued, with a sad smile, 'though it's to the lowering of my own conceit. I made the discovery this morning--what owls we old fogies are!--that it is not for the sake of my brilliant conversation that you young butterflies choose to flutter about the Priory. Upon my word, I used to think it was, and that your taste was vastly fine.'
Robert's face assumed a guilty hue, and he lowered his eyes.
'Nay--don't blush, man!' returned the elder, whilst Terence looked from one to the other curiously. 'When the spring comes, birds will mate even on battle-fields! The perseverance of nature, despite obstacles, is incorrigible! Would ye believe it, Terence? A girl to whom I'm a bit partial flung herself into my arms this very morning with shrieks, declaring that if all a foolish servant told her was true, and Ireland doomed to be a slaughter-house, one crathur at least must be saved--who was not her papa! She expects me, I suppose, to build an ark for this new deluge, and take in of every animal two after his kind.'
'Oh, sir!' Robert murmured timidly. 'If things go well----'
'No, sir,' returned Curran, with sudden roughness. 'Things aren't like to go well. Do not deceive yourself or her. You, for one, are nearer to the gallows than the bridal bed! When Ireland is free, when my lord chancellor is higher even than he is--as high as Haman--then maybe we'll talk of such follies, but not till then. Meanwhile, mark you, the gates of the Priory open to you no more. There shall be no more dangling after my Primrose till the crisis is over, for better or for worse. Get ye gone, now, and good luck betide ye! There must be a power of it somewhere, for here we've got ne'er a scrap.'
Young Robert did as he determined; and so for awhile we shall not look on him. In London he was kept dallying by a judicious diet of delusive hopes in accordance with a suggestion from the Irish chancellor, who wished him kept well in tow, lest haply he might turn out useful later. Amuse this baby brand, he wrote; manage him cleverly, and lull him for a few months to sleep.
Sara saw him no more. He came no more to the Priory, and she was glad of it. The child was dazed and bewildered by the reports which reached her through the servants. She made no pretence of comprehending politics. She only knew that so long as Robert remained away, he would be kept safe out of the perilous vortex. She had faith in her father's genius, and in his power, if need were, to protect both himself and her; yet woke she up sometimes in the night with a cry, having dreamed that misfortune had befallen Robert. She could not shake off a foreboding that, young and excitable as he was, he would entangle himself in the toils; and so it was with a whimsical thankfulness that she heard that he whom she worshipped was gone, and joyfully counted the months of his absence.