'What was the case?'
'Nothing particularly novel-another of the many evil results of the chancellor's Insurrection Bill,' grumbled Curran. 'One of its clauses breathes dire vengeance against such as administer illegal oaths. Rubbish! considering what you and I, young lady, know about a green bough in Britain's crown. Such oaths will be administered so long as this corrupt régime continues-just as they have been for five years and more. A fine would meet the case-and it should be a light one; for indeed the provocation is not slight. But now such administering has become penal. A soldier-a drunken fellow in the Fencibles-comes forward, swears that one Orr-a harmless, obscure farmer, against whom he probably has a grudge-has induced him to take the oath, "Are you straight? as straight as a rush," and the rest. Maybe he has, maybe he hasn't-that's not the point; the jury retire, and remain closed up for hours-all through last night-far into this morning, and by-and-by give in a verdict of guilty. That farmer, who, on my conscience, I believe was innocent, is swinging by this time unless Terence's mission has been successful.'
The two walked up the steep path, which led to the Abbey terrace, in silence. Doreen was thinking that her resolve was right. It should be no fault of hers if the French fleet failed to come with healing on its wings. Curran was plunged in sadness, for he was beginning to be convinced that the triumphal car of Government would bear him down-chosen champion, as he believed himself-with its overpowering weight, as it did others. Of what use was his eloquence as an advocate in presence of packed juries and bribed witnesses? It was talking to the wall-or worse, for at least the wall serves its purpose without shame, and is washed white, and receives no bribes; Major Sirr's juries and witnesses were accustomed, on the other hand, to arrange their affairs in a jovial fashion in the major's sanctum before coming into court. There was little of the whitewash about them!
When Doreen conducted the lawyer into the tapestry-saloon, my lady was concerned at her eccentric little friend's dejection; and easily prevailed on him to dine before returning to the Priory. Terence did not appear, which was of evil augury; so his chief took the opportunity of the ladies retiring to their toilet, to mount his nag and gallop homewards, with a leaden weight within his breast.
Neither the dowager nor her niece were theatre-going people. The former held dim uncomplimentary opinions about the private lives of actresses, and her pride of caste revolted at the familiar behaviour of the gallery, who were given to homely conversation with their betters in the boxes, and to making rude comments upon the proceedings on the stage. Miss Wolfe disliked the play, because mimic woes and mimic laughter were alike an insult to the soreness of her heart, and the too real sorrows of the world in which she lived. Yet both were compelled by fashion to show themselves in Crow Street whenever a specially prominent goddess of ton thought fit to command a night. On such occasions the auditorium was illuminated with wax candles; the rank of the metropolis in diamonds and feathers filled the boxes; pit-tickets were freely distributed among the tradespeople with whom the lady dealt, whilst she took up her own position at the extreme end of the refection-room (a fine gallery erected by Mr. Fred. Jones, the manager), bowing a welcome to all who rallied round her.
On this particular evening the Lady-Lieutenant herself had commanded the performance, so all the adherents of the Castle were there in state-members of the peerage in brand-new uniforms; the cabinet, consisting of the chancellor, the chief secretary, the speaker, and the attorney-and such a show of female beauty as Dublin can always boast. Lady Camden held quite a court in the refection-room, supported by Lord Clare, whose arrogant countenance beamed with the consciousness of strength. My Lord Camden had shuffled away to the curtained viceregal box, pretending to be engrossed with the wretchedness of Lucy Lockit; the fact being that his conscience began to worry him, and that he withdrew from public gaze as much as ceremony would permit.
My lord chancellor was not a man ever to lurk in corners, or to shun a few paltry hisses. He stood forward beside the Viceroy's wife, nodding to the crowds who bowed before him with a loathsome smirk, too coldly overbearing to reck what men thought of him, provided they bent the knee. He had reached at this time the acme of his power. His word was law. He browbeat his comrades in the cabinet till honest Arthur Wolfe quite winced. He had undertaken to mould into shape a corrupt upper class, and his first move had been to give a rein to their bad passions. His second was to cultivate an unusual urbanity; for it would be needful by-and-by to win the members of the Bar, and to lay in a good stock of promising raw material in the shape of young M.P.'s just rough from grass. He made a point, too, of being particularly civil to girls, for he said that if the confidence of the females in a house is won, the men may be counted on as gained. Satan found no footing in Paradise till he made sure of Eve.
So my Lord Clare tripped hither and thither in his natty attire, complimenting one, grinning at another; suggesting an ice to a young lady; confounding a sheepish youth by offering his jewelled snuff-box; laughing a hyena-laugh at some feeble joke; making himself so pleasant that folks stared in wonder. Ladies of highest rank rustled up and curtseyed, then formed into a parterre of shot silks and waving plumes behind my Lady Camden. It was a magnificent spectacle of brilliancy and wealth.
What mattered the cries of those who sat in darkness? what signified the cloud that was rolling quickly nearer? The Countess of Glandore, a grand sight, in the family jewels, swept into her place, led forward by Mr. Wolfe, who had advanced to meet his sister; whilst Lord Clare raised Doreen's fingers to his lips with a gallant bow, vowing that her father should be proud of such rare charms. And well he might, and was, indeed, for there lingered on the girl's face a heightened colour which gave a lustre to her eye, while the roundness of her tall figure was shown off at its very best by a tightfitting robe of yellow crape, elaborately embroidered with silver tassels. Her dark coils of hair were knotted round her head in a plain thick diadem, raised high behind to show its noble contour where it joined her neck; while the olive skin seemed to acquire a richer hue by contrast with a pale coral necklet and long ear-drops. Lord Clare looked at her with a half-sarcastic smile, and said:
'Will you walk in the lobby and survey the house? I always like to show myself with a lovely girl upon my arm. There is a sight there, too, that will please you, I think.'
Calmly she took his arm. Etiquette demanded that she should remain in the theatre for half-an-hour. It mattered little how she killed the time; nevertheless her eyes wandered restlessly about in search of Cassidy, to whom she was resolved to speak if possible. Suddenly she started and turned scarlet. In an upper box, talking earnestly together, were Cassidy and young Robert; with them Tom Emmett, Russell, and the rest, whom she supposed to be safe under lock and key within Kilmainham gaol.
'I thought you would be surprised,' drawled the chancellor. 'See how Government is maligned! The proceedings of those young gentlemen were such that we were obliged to lock them up. We could not do otherwise, you know. But having given them this lesson, you see we've humanely let them out again. Let us hope they'll be wise-wiser, for instance, than Mr. Tone appears to be-who is indeed singularly foolish. He seems to imagine that men of property will rally to his standard when he arrives with his precious expedition. Oh, my country! How truly is thy colour green! Here is an adventurer without a sou, grandiloquently promising to pay vast debts of gratitude!'
Doreen looked up in the speaker's face suspiciously. The very language of the letter she had received that day! Her aunt's warning, hitherto forgotten, flashed across her. 'See that your correspondence is not tampered with.' Verily, Tone was right. There was a Judas playing a devilish game somewhere.
'Mr. Tone has been long absent,' she said, with a troubled face.
'None the less mischievous,' retorted the other, carelessly. 'But his claws are cut, for we know all he does as soon as it is done. Now, if Government has erred, is it not on the side of leniency?'
'The fox was very civil to the bird on the tree-branch,' Mr. Curran observed dryly, who with Sara now joined them, 'until the fowl was fool enough to drop his cake! Your lordship is a bad Irishman, we know; but you should not take us for a race of idiots. The people are too quiet. You miss the trenchant articles in Tom Emmett's