Volume I Part 13 (1/2)

'Is it I that's the frog, and he the bull? Maybe it'll turn out t'other way. I'm mad, no doubt, to set my small pebble to stop his chariot, but many a trivial thing has proved the factor in a great catastrophe, and I'll even insert my pebble. Fudge, Arthur! I'm too popular, and my life's too open for even Lord Clare to wreak his vengeance on me.'

Then Arthur Wolfe persisted, entreating that at least he would avoid the charge of holding seditious meetings at his house. The weekly dinners at the Priory were jovial, he admitted, beyond compare. The cup went round as merrily as if Erin were a buxom wench, dimpled, and well-to-do--but there could be no denying that those who drank of it were marked men mostly, who knew the inside of Newgate as well as the Priory parlour, and these were ticklish times for political flirtation. What would befall Sara, honest Arthur pleaded, if an accident were to befall the councillor? So delicate a blossom would shrivel under the first frostnipping. On her father's head must rest the consequence if misfortune crushed his child.

At mention of Sara Mr. Curran would become exceedingly perplexed, torn by two apparently incompatible duties, as he reflected on his pale primrose. How wonderful are the decrees of Fate! Why are beings, abnormally sensitive and delicate--whose fibres are liable to injury by the most careful handling--pitchforked into a world of stones for the express purpose of being bruised? Sara's nature was one which needed sun and flowers, hourly solicitude and broidered blanketing, yet here was she cast upon a rocky coast, battered by cold winds, which threatened to become each day more easterly! Was she sent to earth merely to bear pain, to linger for a s.p.a.ce in more or less protracted agony, and then to die? Possibly. It is a cruel creed to accept, but the experience of the world we live in forces it upon us.

Perchance we shall learn to see a reason for it later on.

The crash was coming, as none perceived more clearly than Mr. Curran.

Might anything avert it? Nothing. What would happen to cherished ones in the throes of the hurricane? But how bootless was such self-communing! _Fais ce que devra!_ Mr. Curran was determined not to shrink from duty to the soil which gave him birth. Though the days of Roman virtue were overpast, he would sacrifice his heart's treasure on the altar if need were, trusting to G.o.d's mercy for the rest; and it was the kernel of his project to keep watch over the society--with it in the spirit, but not of it in the body. He was wont to say with pride that he had never wittingly snubbed any man who was in earnest.

Self-willed himself, he respected those who strove to make themselves, and respected men doubly if their aspirations were unselfish. He said to himself that the motives of this small self-sacrificing band were pure where all else was foul; that though for their own sakes he dared not espouse their tenets openly, yet it would be a coward's act to deprive them of his countenance and advice because they walked in danger. So he shook his head at time-serving Arthur Wolfe, and went his independent way, and waited for his chosen guests each Wednesday afternoon, caring no fig for Lord Clare's menaces, sorry only that he continued to exist.

He stood straddle-legged at the hour of five on a reception-day, among the dishevelled laurestinus bushes, which he was pleased to call his avenue, swinging his portly watch by its ribbon--as his way was when guests were late. The Priory was a snug abode, if not endowed with beauty; but then the works of man in Ireland are seldom in beautiful accordance with the handiwork of G.o.d. It was a frightful ungainly villa erected in the hideous style of Irish suburban architecture, with attenuated slits of windows and tall consumptive doors set half-way up in a bald waste of rough whitewashed wall. The usual alpine stair led to the entrance; arranged, as it appeared, for the purpose of setting an honoured guest on a glorious pinnacle of observation, till slipshod Kathy could hitch up her draggled skirts to let him in.

From the parlour window might be admired a prospect of barn, dunghill, dovecote, horsepond, piggery, which offered to the nose in summer a bouquet of varied sweets; while the usual yard or two of road swept round the usual dark circular gra.s.splot with a mouldy rhododendron in the centre of it. The orchard behind was christened by its owner his pistol-gallery, but it was at the same time a forum; for there might Mr. Curran frequently be seen of a morning, declaiming with Demosthenic energy, whilst he lodged bullets at intervals in the bark of special trees.

The odour of savoury viands a.s.sailed his nostrils as he stood statue-like on the pinnacle and whirled his watch, for he hated unpunctuality above all things. His beetle-brows were knit, his lower lip protruded, and he wondered whether any of his guests had been arrested. That was naturally his first fear, and he wagged his head with gloom at some ducks that quacked in a neighbouring puddle as he surveyed the lugubrious possibility.

'Idiots!' he moralised. 'Pictures of ourselves, who dream of dinner as though sorrow could not wake. Alas! Fate is common and the future is unseen, as the Arab proverb has it. You rejoice in the balmy showers, do you?--not knowing, in your cra.s.s ignorance, that they will make the peas grow! And here are we, as foolish as you, going in for a jollification, as though a few months might not bring grief to all of us! Ahem! It is well that we are a careless nation, or every Irishman would cut his throat before he grew to manhood.'

Terence, who was drawing corks as if catering for an army, laughed aloud, for he at least showed no signs of brooding melancholy; being prepared rather to take life as he found it, and enjoy it too, for his bright brave nature endeared him to all, and he was himself too frank to believe in the pervading blackness of the human heart. As Doreen pictured, he had attended the Castle b.a.l.l.s during the winter, and had led out his cousin for a turn of pa.s.sepied or rigadoon without much sighing; had dutifully called on his mother when Shane was safe away, and had spent the rest of his time yawning over briefs for the behoof of Mr. Curran.

These briefs caused little disputes sometimes between the two, which it became Sara's duty to smooth away--for Terence was wofully idle and abhorred his work, being wont to declare that intellectual labour was one thing, and unintellectual drudgery another, till his chief waxed exceeding wroth, and a.s.serted that idleness led to mischief. Sometimes there appeared a flickering flame of ambition in him, which Curran tried hard to foster; but before he had time to fan it, Terence would cry, 'Oh, bother?' and, flinging the brief into the garden, go forth to fish with Phil. No one could be angry with him long. Idleness seems to suit some natures, which appear moulded for the enjoyment of other people's labour.

In the ways of the world Terence was an infant; in the balance of right and wrong inclined to be unsteady from sheer indolence of brain.

His bubbling, brawling flow of spirits deceived casual observers, who set him down as frivolous, impelled by the lightest breeze. Doreen, whose experience was limited, thought him so with a feeling of affection, in which contempt was mingled; but Curran knew better. He knew that many a sensitive man wilfully a.s.sumes a disparaging exterior to mask his holy of holies even from himself. He knew that few among us ever quite know ourselves; but wake up sometimes in the decline of life to discover new virtues or new vices, of whose existence we were quite unconscious; that we come to know our own characters by flashes, just as we learn those of our nearest and dearest friends.

Terence was a general favourite; a hearty devil-may-care young fellow, with a good digestion and few individual troubles, and was looked upon with awe by gentle little Sara, as he helped in her household cares.

Indeed, Mr. Curran was justified in being cross this day, for the repast was ready, if the guests were not. Veal, turkey, ham--all piping hot--smoked in their respective dishes. Powldoody oysters smiled as a centre-piece, flanked by speckled trout, caught but an hour ago by Terence's servant Phil. Rows of wine-bottles garnished the parlour wainscoting; the trim little hostess was squeezing lemons into a jug on the hearthstone, with a view to prospective punch. He spun his watch faster and faster as moments waned, more and more certain that something untoward must have happened, and was no little relieved by the sound of horses' feet, and the sight of his party approaching.

'Hooroo, boys!' he cried cheerily, shaking off his gloom. 'Ye're late, but no mather; ye're welcome, and shall carry home what ye like with ye, rather than an appet.i.te.'

Sara had a becoming blush ready for her undergraduate, as he approached to kiss her hand. She looked shyly in his eyes, and marked with uneasiness that they were growing very dreamy, while an habitual contraction fretted his forehead, which she knew came from distress about his brother. She knew--for sometimes she took entrancing walks with him--that his temper was becoming soured and his spirit chafed, in that Tom languished on in prison without trial. Was not such injustice outrageous? The charges against him were grave, no doubt; that bit of paper which blundering Ca.s.sidy had failed to swallow was compromising in a high degree; but then others quite as much compromised were let off long since with a fine, whilst Tom remained untried. Any trial--before a jury however packed--would be better than such lingering suspense. If the worst came to the worst, the crown of martyrdom, which would go with conviction, would be some small comfort; but to have lain rotting in a gaol for a year, to be immured without a term till well-nigh forgotten, was like the death of a rat in a hole; and as ardent young Robert thought of it, his const.i.tutional dread of bloodshed almost went from him. Seeing what he was forced to see, he regretted his oath in nowise.

Among many enthusiasts few were so enthusiastic as this boy--few looked so hopefully for news of Tone and of his doings in France. The newspaper of his imprisoned brother had somehow revived, though the guiding hand was shackled, and wonderful articles appeared in its pages which might well have brought down, for the second time, the chancellor's vengeful claw on it. But such rash ebullitions of an imprudent ardour were just what Lord Clare required. n.o.body knew who edited Tom's journal now (possibly many had a finger in it). It certainly was not Robert, for he was but eighteen and a student still of Trinity; but that he helped and gambolled on the chasm's verge, his friends did know, and remonstrated with him more than once.

Curran was constantly lecturing him, but without effect, for the froward boy only bade him attend to his own affairs; suggested that if he wanted to save somebody from the vortex he had better look after his own future son-in-law, and this made Curran angry. Yes; this was one of the things which had resulted from Terence's leaving home.

Busybodies had winked and nodded, declaring that the little lawyer was wise in his generation; that, having feathered his nest, he might do worse for Sara than introduce her into the peerage with a plump dowry.

If a trifle reckless he was shrewd, they said; for whilst dallying with the United Irishmen he had taken care to drag along with him the brother of a great lord, who could not well interfere on behalf of a near kinsman without also throwing the aegis of his rank over another who ran in couples with him. The busybodies talked nonsense, as they generally do. Mr. Curran had no views as yet with regard to Sara, and required the protection of no aristocratic aegis. His reputation had risen so high during the last twelve months by reason of the splendid bravery with which he had defended the foes of established government, that neither Pitt nor Clare dared at this moment to touch the champion. His place at the Bar was so unique that there was no man, not merely next, but near him. Other advocates were to him as the stars to the sunbeam. In court he was at once persuasive, eloquent, acute, argumentative; striking with cunning hand the chord of pity, then (for he knew his audience) checking the rising tear with laughter. As a cross-examiner he was unrivalled. Let truth and falsehood be ever so intricately dovetailed, he could part them with a touch. Swiftly he would place his finger on a vital point, untwist a tangle and involve perjury in the confusion of its contradictions. So long as he retained his purity, it would never do to a.s.sail this Galahad. All were aware of that, and so he needed no help from a great lord.

Yet many wondered whether he might be secretly afraid of being ensnared; whether, foreseeing the struggle that was imminent, he might not deem it prudent to prepare a sure method of escape. The children of darkness have more ways of circ.u.mventing the children of light than it is at all pleasant for you and me (who of course belong to the latter category) to reflect upon. He was ill-judged, possibly, in throwing a young man like Terence into too close contact with the would-be reformers. But then was not that youth already a friend of the Emmetts and of Tone? Was not his innate laziness a bulwark of defence? Was he not in the habit of defending Lord Clare, and of pointing out that party-spirit embitters people to the point of shameful slander? As yet he declined to admit that the chancellor had horns and hoofs.

Although he scorned the worldly-wise advice of Arthur Wolfe, Mr.

Curran was careful, when he could, to check open expressions of sedition at his table. On this very day he found it necessary several times to change the current of talk before the cloth was removed, when Sara, nodding pleasantly to Terence and to her undergraduate, rose and withdrew to her chamber.

But there was a special reason on this particular day for an extra amount of wrath on the part of the young men, his guests, which did not fail to produce its answering growl from their host. That fresh arbitrary arrests should have taken place surprised him not at all--such proceedings were of daily occurrence. That Sirr, the town-major, should be enlarging his paid army of false-witnesses, who were becoming notorious as 'the band of testimony,' was also, alas, no new thing. That a man's life could be sworn away by one witness who had never seen him before was an awful fact; but then he, Mr. Curran, was at hand to protest, and the recognised forms of law still permitted an accused sometimes to baffle the paid malice of the informer.

It was an open question, all admitted, how far a government might go in espionage. In moments of peril to the public weal it is certain that ministers must draw their information from any quarter, however foul; but to offer a premium to rascality is surely criminal. To gain information of facts from detectives is quite a different matter from the employment of secret agents to tempt people into sin and then hound them down. Robert Emmett brought news with him this day that seemed to foreshadow a change of tactics on the part of the executive--ominous news the discussion of which had made the party late upon the road, and which caused the young men, so soon as their hostess had retired, to abandon social gossip for more grave communion.