The days dragged on thus but slowly. Madam Gillin was a strange mixture of bravery and pusillanimity. As we have seen, she stood in terror of a particular gentleman, because he had discovered that she took her Protestant child to mass, and had threatened to expose the awful secret. Such a matter would disturb no one at the present day; but at that time it was a heinous sin, which would have pointed the sinner out for some practical joking on the part of the Protestant squireens. At the same time she fearlessly harboured one who was a marked man, upon whose head shortly a price might be set, who might drag her with him to ruin, if the worst came to the worst; and all because she had sworn an oath once to a dying paramour, and had watched, with anger mingled with sorrow, the career of the child she had promised to protect.
Knowing Ireland's wrongs better than he did, and learning from hearsay how proud-stomached a boy he was, she had always dreaded that which actually came to pass. She and Curran agreed that it would be deplorable if he joined the popular party; but as both secretly leaned in that direction, they could not discountenance him for having the courage to maintain, in face of danger, what they felt to be the rightful cause. For all their sakes, however, she acted with feminine tact. She kept him a close prisoner in a garret while it was day, sitting alone herself in the garden during fine weather, where all who passed along the high-road might perceive a strange figure they were little likely to forget. At night she took him out under personal escort to take the air, bidding Phil march forty yards in front and whistle at the first hint of danger, while Norah fulfilled the same office behind; Jug meanwhile being strictly enjoined to allow no strange foot to cross the threshold, under any pretence whatever.
In the course of these walks they wandered by the shore, coming quite accidentally, sometimes, upon a group of fishermen, who bowed to the young man with respect, and conversed with him in long and earnest whispers. It transpired by-and-by that some of the ubiquitous informers were beginning to turn their attention to the rage for fishing which seemed to have arisen about Strogue Point. Then Madam Gillin forbade even the solace of these nocturnal wanderings.
It became known that many of the marked ones were journeying to and fro, in a suspicious and mysterious manner, between Wexford and Dublin and the adjacent districts. It also became a matter of public scandal that the object of the journeys was to commune with a personage of rank, the only one who dared to prefer his country to his class. Unwise conspirators began to babble of a lordling who would shortly lead them to certain victory--who, English though he might be by lineage, did not forget how many centuries of sojourn bound his family to the sister island. They spoke with gratitude and pride of this rara avis, all the more incautiously, perhaps, because they knew him to be safely hidden beyond the ken of Sirr and of his bloodhounds.
Now as week followed week, and month glided after month, it chanced that my Lord Clare departed to the bath of Harrogate to drink the waters for his health. By a singular coincidence, Mr. Pitt also travelled thitherward. It was, of course, a coincidence; but folks did say--well, no matter what they said.
When Lord Clare returned to the Irish metropolis, he discovered, with concern, that the secret committee of Lords--the Wehmgericht who still performed in the shadow unholy and illegal deeds--had requested the Viceroy to issue a certain warrant.
Lord Camden, rather pleased for once to act upon his separate account, mumbled that the lords were quite right to keep their own nest clean; that it was shocking to think that one of their body should so fearfully misbehave himself. He went further. Other younger sons of an adventurous turn might follow this pernicious example. Not only must he be taken forthwith, but must also be made an example of. His brother might object possibly--that nice loyal young nobleman, who had assisted in building many Martello towers; but his outcry, should he presume to make one, must be stopped by timely courtesy. The Glandores of Strogue were earls; why should they not be created marquises?
So my Lord Camden delivered the warrant, which had for long been lying in his escritoire, to Major Sirr, and offered, as well, a reward of a thousand guineas for the culprit, alive or dead.
Quite a tremor went through both Houses. One of the nobles! This was serious. A few thousand peasants, more or less, mattered to nobody; but it was a pity to touch the noblesse. Then they talked of Lafayette, who was a marquis, whilst this was only an earl's younger son, and soon felt quite comfortable; even applauded the Viceroy's timely severity.
Lord Clare was more troubled, when he learned these things, than his enemies would have deemed possible. He wrote to his dear old friend at Glas-aitch-é, bidding her not grieve too much. It was done in his absence. He dared not openly interfere in favour of her misguided son, but would make a personal request to Mr. Pitt to urge his Majesty to clemency. He had done much work for Mr. Pitt (forgetting to state how dirty that work was); and no doubt his boon would be granted. If not, still must his loving mother not despair. Prison bars might be sawn; turnkeys were very shortsighted. There were boats about, and men to man them.