How did his lordship's father espouse her ladyship? Was it not after the then prevailing fashion of high-spirited Irish gentlemen? Did he not carry her off before all competitors, as many another noble member of the Abduction Club had carried away his bride? True, the Abduction Club had ceased to exist five and twenty years ago; but in the present unsettled condition of the country, there was no reason why a leaf should not be taken from its book. Lord Kilwarden would hush the matter up, which would merely be a little scandal, strictly limited within the family circle. Miss Doreen would be Madam Shane: good luck to the winsome colleen! Her money would be his--so would be the forty-five thousand pounds for which he had sold his vote. Come what might, then, there would be no need to talk of drowning himself in claret--of being thrust forth a beggar in the world.
Shane listened and brightened up. The abduction idea was good, and jumped with his Irish romance. He would marry the ice-maiden without having to woo her--a proceeding that he knew he could not accomplish. But how about Terence? He would interfere--knight of the rueful countenance though he professed to be. My lady too--what should prevent her from speaking before these arrangements could be carried out? The ruinous words were on the tip of her tongue. Terence was at Strogue, and bound to remain there. He could not leave the grounds without breaking his parole.
Cassidy was delivered of a real inspiration; and nothing could be easier than to carry it out. Did not the chancellor say only an hour ago that the tussle was close at hand--that the Great Measure was to be again brought forward without delay? Well then. Master Terence must disappear. Nonsense! No sbirri in long cloaks as in an opera. Major Sirr and faithful Cassidy could manage that. He could be locked up by an error of orders just for a little. Was he not a state-prisoner on parole? and was not the younger Emmett--foolish young scapegrace, who thought he concealed his identity under the name of Hewitt--busily preparing to dash his head against a wall? What easier than to suggest that Councillor Crosbie--already so gravely compromised--had broken his parole and gone off to join the baby-conspirators? The Battalion would come up by dozens to swear it. They would minutely describe where and how--the other side of the country--they had captured him a second time; would claim rewards for doing so. Afterwards he should be forthcoming without a hair of his head being injured--his affectionate brother need not fear for his life. Apologies would be made if need were (for Government seemed determined to treat him very leniently), and all would be right as a trivet. Whether any one would speak or no, so that later on he might assume his title, was an after consideration. By the time he was released, Lord Glandore would have voted; Doreen would be Madam Shane; Lord Kilwarden would have blessed his children. The matter would be settled--Shane would be safely provided for. If the rumour of the councillor's escape and the breaking of his parole were deftly managed, his own friends would be disgusted; his mother, even, would see that confession would not help matters; Government would wash its hands of so determined a Croppy, when, the measure carried, his influence would be null and void. It would be very much more likely than not that those who could speak would irrevocably decide--after the escapade which they would father on him--that the secret must be kept for ever.
Shane was amazed and delighted. The babe and suckling had spoken wisdom indeed--admirable! Verily the best plans are the most simple ones, and nothing could be simpler than this. It was not possible more cleverly to meet every difficulty, to countercheck every contingency, than by this subtle scheme. He promised himself in the future to make Terence a splendid allowance as a salve to his own conscience--so soon as he held his portion of the blood-money, and Doreen's stocking and his marquisate, and a certainty that nobody would blab. So easily are we inclined to believe what suits us that his bugbear vanished into the air. Terence would never know. The crisis past, the prospective marquis would score a point before the world by laying claim to his brother's liberty, feigning to demand it for state services, instead of promotion in the peerage. Of course everybody would applaud so gracious, so affectionate an act. He would receive both favours. The clouds which threatened to smother him were melting unaccountably before a magic wand. How strange that the man who had power to work so potent a spell should be stupid blundering Cassidy!
He clasped the giant warmly by the paw, vowing eternal gratitude if he would see to this at once. Would he also consider as to what favour the prospective Marquis of Glandore should ask the Government for his dear friend--his excellent friend--his saviour?
Cassidy laughed with a great guffaw, which was not all innocence, at the change which his suggestions had worked. It was just possible that things would not turn out quite as the future marquis saw them. In a case of abduction there may be a rescue. The rescuer may carry off the prize. What if Doreen, instead of becoming by main force Madam Shane, were to return to the world as Madam Cassidy? The giant had an eye to that stocking, not for his patron but himself. He also had a consuming desire to possess its mistress--all the more that she had twice refused him; that she had declined his acquaintance altogether since the little party at Glas-aitch-é. It would be a fine revenge to possess her by right of conquest--a fine revenge on her and on the odious Terence. No; it was hardly likely that the giant intended to permit Miss Wolfe to become Madam Shane.
CHAPTER X.
[CONSIGNED TO MOILEY.]
When the fatal moment arrived, Dublin was agog. The influence of the lords, so dearly purchased, was brought to bear with all its force upon the members, for whose return to parliament they were responsible. Jupiter was showering gold on Danæ, resolved to consummate the sacrifice of her virtue. Debate followed debate with unequal success. First one side considered that the day was theirs; then the other triumphed; then the pistol-heroes rushed forth, and howled and swaggered, and pinked their men, and returned to go on with the argument which had been dropped in their excitement. In fact, both parties seemed agreed as to one point only, viz., their determination to behave in as undignified a manner as might be. It was the old story of physical bullying doing its best to conceal moral cowardice and turpitude--a scene of hectoring and license and vulgar abuse and uproar, which shamed both parties in equal measure.
Lord Cornwallis had done his best. In the course of the year which elapsed between the two attempts to carry the union he made two state progresses--one in the southern counties and the other in the north, and preached the millennium according to St. Pitt. Clare and Castlereagh both laboured on in town as sure no negro slaves ever laboured; and yet when the time came all was still provokingly uncertain. This Irish senate was unutterably vile. Having surrendered its scrap of virtue, it repudiated, like an irreclaimable strumpet, even the maxim of honour amongst thieves. It was clear that further. delay would only make matters worse by inducing senators to open their mouths yet wider. Portentous debates occupied the Commons; the House frequently sat all night, breaking up only at midday. Members declared that they must give up the ghost or have a holiday; some sought refuge among pillows and boluses from the Herculean labours of the House, while others dragged themselves, like martyrs to the stake, through the dense masses of the populace that had taken possession of College Green, to cheer non-unionists with vociferous shouts, and hurl mud and putrid eggs at unpopular legislators. On Lord Castlereagh fell the onus of wielding the thunderbolts of Jove, and he acquitted himself of the task most excellently. Like the chancellor, he had the 'gift of the gab;' was not particular as to the language he employed; was well versed in forensic Billingsgate; could return anyone, in sledge-hammer fashion, a Roland for his Oliver. The modest were overwhelmed by flights of astounding rhapsody; the patriotic silenced by brazen lies; the uncertain routed by bewildering irony. As the dogmatic chancellor (now that he no longer feared the Viceroy) trampled the peerage under his feet, so did the clever chief secretary discomfit the Commons. Money was poured forth lavishly; threats and promises were distributed with profuse hands. The tussle was sharp, but none could doubt which side would in the end prove victorious. Concerning Grattan (the man of '82), Lord Cornwallis wrote that he was no better than an old doll. The jaws of the ancient lion were toothless. 'Grattan,' he said, 'degraded as he is in the opinion of the respectable portion of the community, yet has a certain influence with the Roman Catholics of Dublin, who are disaffected, and hate British connection.' Of Curran also he felt no dread, for the little man was no longer in parliament--his silver tongue was gagged; he was apparently worn out by his efforts on behalf of the state-prisoners--was sickening (as he put it) with a 'constitutional dejection of the heart, which could find no remedy in water or in wine.' No wonder if he felt unwell. He saw members moved, like beasts, in droves--a picture of human degradation never equalled since Nebuchadnezzar went to grass.