My lady crawled along the carpet on her knees--a bundle of loose draperies--her head bent down, her white hair straggling, towards her son, who recoiled. The aspect of this piteous ruin--this soul-stricken wreck, the mainspring of whose life was broken, whose courage had ebbed quite away--suffused the heart of Terence with unutterable pity. He raised his mother in his stalwart arms, and pressing his warm lips to hers, whispered:
'Hush, hush! I know all. You have but one child now. Bless me!'
* * * * *
But little more remains to be told. Evil, though it seemeth to flourish like the bay-tree, doth not always prosper in the long run. Lord Cornwallis turned his back on Ireland, glad to depart. Cassidy and Sirr came to blows, and fought a duel on the subject of Terence's release. For those worthies had arranged to share together the reward which Shane was to have given for their little service. But Shane's murder altered the face of matters, and Cassidy, with a presence of mind which did him honour, flew off at once to set free the new Lord Glandore and claim the merit of having done so. The town-major, however, knew his man. The giant's endeavours were fruitless, and Sirr found him blustering at the provost-gate when, in obedience to Lord Clare's behest, he came, with feigned surprise, to carry the new lord back to his ancestral home. Sirr saw through his crony's intention, and branded him hotly with being 'no gintleman,' and a 'mean fellow;' whereupon the two met on Stephen's Green, and, after a few passes, declared 'honour satisfied.' The nests of both were well feathered. One became noted for pious works; the other set up as a patron of art, and formed the finest collection of snuff-boxes in the three kingdoms.
Robert Emmett was hanged in Thomas Street, and met his fate with fortitude. The same enthusiasm which allured him to his doom enabled him to support with serene courage its utmost rigour. His extreme youth and well-known talents filled the spectators with grief. He sang 'The Sword' with a firm and mellow voice, which never quailed till, the board on which he stood being tilted up, he was set free to join the band that were impatiently awaiting him beyond the Styx.
Lord Clare's ambition was not gratified. He who had been so unprincipled and arrogant, so insolent and overbearing, his cleverness no longer needed, was tossed aside by his employers. He carried his pretensions into the English senate, and was ignominiously insulted there by his Grace the Duke of Bedford. Pitt gave him no comfort, observing with a yawn that he was sorry his lordship was a failure; that he would do well, perhaps, to return to Ireland. He who had so deceived was himself betrayed. For a few years he lingered in obscurity, being heard on one occasion, when near his end, to mutter with sombre meaning: 'Earl and Lord Chancellor! It would have been better for Ireland if I had lived a sweep!' He died--some said of chagrin, and some of remorse. Showers of dead cats were thrown upon his coffin. His last eager directions were that his papers should be carefully destroyed unread.
Lord Castlereagh, as all the world knows, cut his throat.
Government, acting on the advice of the Marquis Cornwallis, accorded a free pardon to the new Lord Glandore, whose romantic history softened King George's heart--even though he added yet another to his sins by marrying a Catholic. It is possible that his Majesty's ire might have found vent in a seizure of the property of the incorrigible traitor; but, happily for the latter and for the nation, the King's few wits deserted him, and he was shut up--as he should have been many years before.
Lord and Lady Glandore sojourned abroad awhile, basking in the softness of a kindlier clime. They had suffered too much in Ireland to feel aught but pain in dwelling there. Moreover, they had those under their care whose sorrow hung over them, whilst theirs was at length assuaged.
The old countess and the Currans travelled over Europe with them. My lady never fully rallied. Though her son and daughter lavished every attention upon her which affection could dictate, the ghost was never laid, the startled expression never departed from her face. When they were present she tried to assume cheerfulness; but if one or other came on her unawares, it was to feel that her heart was not with them--that it was buried in the vault on the verge of Dublin Bay, by the side of the unlucky Shane.