The excitement when the grand day arrived was great in Dublin, while the provinces looked on with unconcern. The brew of my Lords Castlereagh and Clare had cost them sleepless nights. The Viceroy, as head-cook, made believe to supervise, but he held a perfumed kerchief to his august nose; there was no need for special exertion on his part, for his deputies were by this time familiar with the receipt. By the middle of the ensuing year at latest, every detail would be arranged; and then he would be able to depart, his mission accomplished, out of an atmosphere that poisoned him. But my Lords Clare and Castlereagh were only bunglers after all. They had not fathomed the baseness of the senate--the yawning depth of its abyss of greed. Certain members of both Houses turned round at the last minute. Some said that their consciences smote them; others admitted that their rapacity was not satisfied. After a sitting of twenty-one hours the measure was lost; and my Lords Clare and Castlereagh, baffled where success seemed certain, looked foolish.
Every one was disgusted. Lord Cornwallis apologised for the muddle to the British Cabinet. Odd straitlaced people, he explained, rose all of a sudden to the surface, who, if they had appeared sooner, might have done much to stop the ball. It was like the legend of Sodom and Gomorrah. 'Peradventure three righteous men might be found,' and so on. The affair would have to be postponed for a few months in order that the three righteous men might be tampered with. Of course the three righteous men had their price. My Lord Powerscourt had emerged from his Wicklow mountains to protest from his place against the sinful measure, and a shamefaced knot rallied round him--a nucleus of lords who objected to the bartering of freedom against a cartload of cheap mirrors and bead-necklaces. But retribution fell upon that ill-advised Lord Powerscourt before the setting of the sun that day. A national rabble who sallied forth from the Liberties to wreak vengeance on those who dared to vote for union, by a trifling error attacked Powerscourt House in William Street, and broke its windows and smashed its sculptured ornaments. They did not desist till some one explained that it appertained to a peer who all along had steadfastly set his face against the orgies of his fellows; against bloodshed, murder, and torture; and against Lord Clare. But, arrah! what was broke could be mended, and it was good for trade. Three cheers for Lord Powerscourt! He must acknowledge the warmth of Pat's nature, and make the best of the mistake.
Terence learned with heartfelt satisfaction, mingled with surprise and contrition in that he had wronged his brother so, that Lord Glandore had not voted with Government. My lady, he knew, was shocked with the entire proceeding. Perchance to her influence was this happy result due? Be that as it might, the heart of the younger was drawn towards his brother. They never cared much for each other--they looked on the world from a different standpoint. Since the Hurry, a marked coldness and spitefulness was evident in Shane's demeanour. But he was not so bad as he seemed, or so selfish, Terence assured himself. At all events he was repentant--regretted doubtless the part he played with reference to Theobald, though too haughty to admit it. He, Terence, was going away so soon--never, in all probability, to look upon Ireland or his family again--that it behoved him to carry as few regrets as might be to his prison. He must bid adieu to the world with a clear conscience--at enmity with no man, least of all his brother. He resolved to make the first advance to Shane; to congratulate him on his conduct even at this eleventh hour--to exhort him to resist temptation 'twixt this and the next attempt--to beg him to take care that he, though the measure would of course be carried sooner or later, was in nowise mixed up with the Iscariots. To this laudable end he strove to throw himself upon his elder's path, and met him face to face in the stable-yard on the very next day after the first failure.
Shane tried to avoid the gloomy trouble-fête, but finding that impossible, came forward with as debonair a swagger as a racking headache and impaired digestion would permit. His aspect spoke more of claret and its effects than of repentance. The coat of cream-coloured cut velvet that he wore was rent in several places; two of the filigree gold buttons had been wrenched away; his satin pantaloons were smirched with dirt; his handsome face was inflamed and bloated. What a contrast between the brothers now! Their characteristics seemed inverted from those which marked them in former days. Then Terence had shown too much of the florid farmer, too much of the bovine contented animal breadth which men exhibit who live much in the open air and look on cattle. Then nothing could be more refined and elegant than Shane--with his miniature figure, his faultless limbs and tiny hands, his clean-cut features whereon sat the expression of command which marks a man for one to whom authority is an undisputed birthright. Now the pair had changed places. Shane's lineaments were losing their fine lines by reason of sucking at a bottle; the look of command was departing with his self-respect: whilst Terence, in a dress of studied simplicity, as upright and square as usual, had assumed a carriage of reserved haughtiness. His locks had lost their brilliant colour, so had his cheeks, through care. That silvery sheen from the other world still glittered in his eye. The rollick of exuberant good-humour and enjoyment of life was exchanged for a sober melancholy. His voice even was lowered a semitone. His individuality had slipped into the minor key.
'Shane,' he said, 'I am so very glad, old fellow. I should have felt it sorely if you had espoused this measure. Of course it's not my business to try to direct your opinions; but now that it's all over for the present, I can't help telling you I'm glad.'
Shane passed across his throbbing temples a hand which was soiled with the dust of last night's cards, and shrank backward from his brother's advance. 'You are a nice one,' he sneered, 'to direct my opinions. You--who but for an accident would have danced the minuet like a peasant! We've been starting a new club--the Blazers--two days and nights! I'm losing my nerve. This won't do. Too young to be so shaky. I'll go to bed.'
He endeavoured to escape. His two pet pointers, Eblana and Aileach, came bounding towards him with yelps which woke the echoes of the yard. Terence felt that there was a mistake somewhere. His brother was upon his guard, as though he expected to be reviled.
'Am I wrong, Shane?' he cried, as the blood bubbled to his face. 'You didn't--did you vote with Government yesterday?'
'What if I did, Croppy?' was my lord's surly rejoinder.
Terence winced. 'Do not use harsh words,' he implored. 'Remember that where I go my life must be passed in retrospect. Pray do not let me carry away any memories of you but kind ones.'