The idea that her Robert was not appreciated imbued the maid with such indignation as sat in comical fashion on her sweet, soft features. The hearts of both those who looked at her yearned towards this fragile flower. They had been strong and sturdy, yet were they utterly undone. Was this girl to pass, too, under the yoke? Doreen, in a gush of compassion, seized her slight figure in her arms and strained it to her breast, murmuring, as she did so, 'No, child; oh no, no! Not you too! Surely the pyre is piled high enough; the smoke of it blackens the heavens. The land is drenched; it can drink no more. Write to him, my dearest, and adjure him not to hope. Write and forbid his coming.'
Both Terence and Doreen were painfully aware that the element of sedition was dormant, not conquered. They were convinced, too, that the struggle was useless--were ready to bow to the consummation of Lord Clare's strategy, provided that they might stand aloof from among the traitors. If it were useless, why renew the struggle? Why help to bring upon the land again the horrors of the Hurry? Both Terence and Doreen saw through the cloak of Robert's mysterious words, though Sara apparently did not. Yet surely he could not be so utterly distracted as to intend again to raise the standard of revolt? The whole aspect of the case was changed since '98. Napoleon was too much bent on Continental laurels to allow France to think of Ireland. Money was scarce; merchants cautious; the people cowed. The Presbyterians were irritated by the Wexford massacre; the Catholics indignant at the supposed desertion of the northerners. A pretty time to think of flying to arms! No; Robert could not be so mad. But what did he mean, then? Was his combination to be a bloodless contest, such as was brought to a successful issue by the Volunteers? Combination, forsooth! It was not possible for Irishmen ever to combine for more than a few minutes together. Sara evidently had no notion that her Robert could imply a resort to arms, or she would not be purring in this kittenish fashion. As it was, she shook off the embrace of her dear friend, and was very angry in that she showed anxiety to keep Robert away, now that all danger to his sacred head, was past. She waxed exceeding wroth, begging to know why Doreen presumed to question Robert's wisdom; then, scalded by her own tears, she drooped into the arms of the older girl, registering a desire to be dead--a petition with which Heaven has been wearied by natives of Ireland time out of mind.
'I will see to her,' Doreen whispered. 'Now, do you go down, to please me, Terence. You will never regret having done your best to turn Glandore. If you succeed, what blessed visions will paint the walls of your prison-cell! Go and speak seriously to Shane, for all our sakes.'
Terence pressed his cousin's hand and promised. If it was his fate to languish through a long life on the cold crags of Moray Firth, that placid air of calm, the light of those solemn eyes, should soothe him to the last upon his pilgrimage. He was greedily laying up a store of precious memories. The time was growing very short. Orders must come very soon for that final parting. Whate'er befel, he promised himself to follow to the end his guiding star. Heaven would inspire him with words which should save his brother from himself. Doreen was right, as she always was. He strolled leisurely across to the stable-yard to inquire whether my lord had returned from hunting.
CHAPTER VIII.
[EAVESDROPPING.]
The Eumenides galloped in full cry after my lady. Their quarry was run down, scrambled up and staggered on again--was near the end of the run now. When Shane, apple of his mother's eye, gave the last unconscious stab, she bore it without wincing, and sat up and attempted a wintry smile, as he had bidden her. The goblet which, through her strength of character, she had been able to push aside during many years, was held at her lips by a ruthless hand, and must be drained. There was no help for it. She must go and grovel before the hated Gillin, and pray her in mercy to remove the obnoxious Norah. There was nothing else for it. Schemes had miscarried, plots had fallen through. What a sorry spectacle is a harried mortal in the death-grip of the hags of Até!
Even a year's absence at Glas-aitch-é had not blurred the memory of Norah in the heart of the young prodigal. Gillin still beguiled him to the Little House--the knavish, cruel woman! What steadiness of purpose she had shown all through her relentless course! And now she was waiting in her den with cool assurance to consummate her fiendish work. What a terrible thing to have to bow down and implore mercy from this common, vulgar wretch! Would she even now, with her rival at her feet, be merciful? Or would she, with the inherent ungenerosity of a low nature, spurn and deride the victim? Be that as it might, the ordeal must be assayed. It was no use to shake the fist at serene heaven in the impotence of rage. That would in nowise mend matters, and was silly besides. My lady resolved at last to take her cup and drink the draught, since there was no avoiding it. For several days she waited, hoping against hope for a means of escape. None came. She accepted the position, put on her hood, and sallied forth on the self-same afternoon upon which Terence decided to speak out to Shane.
Madam Gillin, in her amazement, swept down the jam-pots which she was stowing in a cupboard when Norah tore breathless up the stairs to announce that a leedy was coming up the walk who was no other than the Countess of Glandore.
'Holy Mother!' she ejaculated. The moment was come then--at last! and the two were to speak out, face to face. It could only be on one subject--an unpleasant interview. What could induce the countess now to strike her colours, and come of her own accord, who for years had declined to acknowledge her neighbour's existence? The haughty countess must be hard pressed indeed to humble herself in this wise. Peeping through shutter-chinks, she beheld the stately figure of my lady--as straight as an arrow, shrouded in a silken wrapper, moving slowly towards her door, and screamed out orders to Jug to get out her best gown instantly, and place some wine on the parlour table.