For several weeks Terence and Theobald occupied the same cell--visited almost daily by Councillor Curran. The latter explained that Miss Wolfe, lately arrived in town, was burning to obtain access to them, but that her father peremptorily forbade her doing so. She sent them tender messages of hope, which both knew were futile, but which they answered verbally with thanks, pens and ink being withheld from them. Signs were not wanting that they were marked out as chief offenders, for precautions were taken in their case which were neglected in that of others.
Curran's reports of the state-trials were not encouraging. The jury were being skilfully manipulated into a likeness of independence. Three of the chiefs suffered in turn; two escaped. Terence was the sixth. With reference to him, which line would the jurors be instructed to take? The executive were dumb upon the subject. They also dallied with the life of Tone, till Doreen and his other friends became almost sanguine. As a French general he might perhaps be claimed by France, in which case England would certainly submit. Of course they would claim him. Yet how sluggish they were while a noble life was shaking in the balance! Theobald himself was the only one who never doubted. He rose quietly, and squeezed the hand of his companion without a word or gesture of surprise, when at length, on the 10th of November, the turnkey opened the door, and bade him 'Come!' for, being a soldier, he was not to be honoured with a state-trial--and he was glad of it.
The court-martial which was to cut his span was held in the cavalry-barracks, the roads leading to which were thronged by anxious watchers, amongst whom professional wakers were prominent like ravens. Tone wore the uniform of a chef de brigade. His calm air and firm deportment favourably impressed his judges. He was every inch a soldier. Would he plead guilty or not guilty?
'I will give the court no useless trouble,' the prisoner replied when questioned. 'From my earliest youth, I have looked on the connection between Ireland and Britain as the curse of the Irish nation, and have felt convinced that while it lasted my country could not be happy. That Ireland was unable alone to throw off the yoke I knew. I therefore looked for aid wherever it was to be found. I sought in the French Republic an ally to rescue three millions of my fellow-countrymen from----'
The president interrupted the prisoner, bidding him refrain from improper language. Had he any reason to assign why sentence should not be passed on him?
'I have spoken and acted with reflection and on principle, and am prepared to face the consequences,' Tone answered. 'You do your duty. I have done mine. All I would ask is, that the court would adjudge me a soldier's death. In consideration of the uniform I wear, I claim to be shot by a platoon of grenadiers.'
Then sentence of death was passed in usual form--the manner of it to be afterwards arranged--and Tone was led back to the cell from whence he came, where Terence was eagerly awaiting his return.
Dublin sank into stupor when the news leaked out, for all classes respected the single-minded young martyr of Irish liberty. Curran was the first to arrive at Strogue with the sad intelligence--his eyes red, his face worn. Doreen turned her head away, too sorrowful for tears. My lady sat in a trance as though she heard nothing, for the temporary energy which had brought her to town had waned; the ghost at her elbow fanned her with his pinions, mesmerised her free-will. As for Sara, she gave way to hysterical weeping. Sara was domesticated now at Strogue. Her father's position, by reason of his attitude at the state-trials, was one of peril. It was quite likely that some day the Priory might be sacked by enraged Orangemen. Sara was no longer safe there. Curran brought the evil tidings to the family circle, but with it a crumb of comfort. The sentence was illegal; for, holding no commission under King George, Theobald should have been tried by civil law with the other state-prisoners. It was painfully true that, intoxicated by impunity, no one cared now whether a thing was legal or not. Hundreds of peasants and traders of the lower class were sacrificed every day by the military tribunals, which was all very well for the minnows. But Theobald's case was different, Curran explained. He was a big fish. People would discuss the ins and outs of his arraignment. The French must be communicated with, and adjured to claim their general. Meanwhile time must be gained somehow. Curran would move for the case to be tried before the Court of King's Bench, which was sitting at the Sessions-House under the presidency of Doreen's father. This would give a week or two's respite--for Terence's trial was next upon the list, and that could be postponed by legal art.
The good lawyer trotted back to Dublin. For a whole day he interviewed influential persons--strove to obtain votes and money; but the torpor of fear chilled every heart. Not a finger would any of the cits stir for Tone--who had sacrificed his all for them. Then Councillor Curran, determined not to be beaten, went to the Sessions-House alone, and summoned my Lord Kilwarden, by virtue of his office, to claim the body of his godson. My lord gladly responded to the challenge. He despatched his sheriff to the provost-marshal, demanding that the culprit should be resigned to him; but that functionary declined to give up his prisoner. Curran groaned in spirit. His last chance was the Viceroy; but his excellency refused to interfere. There was nothing more to be done--absolutely nothing! The little lawyer wended his way back to Strogue in the evening, quite exhausted.
Doreen listened as he unfolded his budget, and, the last remnant of her artificial apathy melting away, girded up her loins for a struggle. She was not prepared, she said, to see the game so tamely given up. Tone first--then Terence! No, not without a supreme effort to save them. He of the silver tongue had failed? Well, then, she would even go now herself, and try what a simple woman's pleading could accomplish. She rose up straightway--it would not do to go quite alone--and bade Sara put on her habit. The two girls would force themselves into the presence of Lord Cornwallis, and wring those precious lives from the executioner. In the first instance they would importune the chancellor. Perhaps he would go with them and add his weight. Though it was growing dark, Curran offered no resistance. It was a last chance; their sacred mission should protect the maidens. Out of delicacy he had refrained from telling them that Theobald was cast for execution on the morrow.