But the fellow, struggling lustily for his liberty, broke out with an Irish oath, and Mackie knew him.
“You are Lord Clancarty’s man,” he said in surprise, releasing him; “what means this? I am Sir Edward Mackie.”
“Faix, there’s naything the matther,” replied Denis sullenly, rubbing his neck; “I was jist givin’ thet dasignin’ hizzy a shaking fer bethrayin’ me Lord Clancarty—curse her!”
“You are mistaken, my man,” said Mackie, understanding Denis’s error, “I was at Secretary Vernon’s when Lord Spencer came in for the warrant. Lady Clancarty has just come from the Tower where she would fain have shared your master’s imprisonment. Her woman here, I doubt not, is as faithful.”
“The saints be praised!” exclaimed Denis piously, “I couldn’t b’lave ill of her ladyship, but whin there’s snake wurrk loike this, yer honor, I’m afther looking fer th’ woman; ’twas a woman, sir, that started in these dalings with th’ ould serpent himself. Me lord’s as good as did now,—woe’s me!”
“Say nothing like that to my lady, I charge you,” said Mackie sharply, “she cannot bear it.”
At the moment, Betty called Denis, having heard Alice’s story and divining his mistake.
“I will forgive you, Denis,” she said, “since it was for my lord’s sake; but you have nearly killed my poor girl with fright and she was only seeking me.”
“Forgive me, your ladyship,” he said humbly, “I can but die fer ye, me poor lord—” he broke down, and Lady Clancarty said no more; she, too, was overcome.
It did not occur to Denis to apologize to the victim of his mistaken vengeance, but when he learned that Lady Clancarty intended to make another attempt to get into the Tower, he joined himself to her party, without asking permission, and followed on, determined to go with her to his master, ignoring Alice’s abhorrence.