THE 
 
 SHAN VAN VOCHT 
 
 A STORY OF THE UNITED IRISHMEN 
 
 JAMES MURPHY 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "HUGH ROACH THE RIBBONMAN ;" 
 
 "THE FORGE OF CLOHOGUE;" 
 
 ETC. 
 
 Brsbltn 
 
 M. H. GILL & SON LTD 
 
Printed and Bound 
 
 in Ireland 
 
CO NT E NTS 
 
 1 
 
 CHAPTER II— The Visitor— Helena's Glove ... 14 
 
 CHAPTER III.— Eugexe's Dagger ... ... 24 
 
 CHAPTER IV.— Forebodings ... ... ... 27 
 
 CHAPTER V.— The Listener ... ... 32 
 
 CHAPTER VI.— A Sudden Resolve ... ... 40 
 
 CHAPTER VII.— JSTews frou France ... - ... 42 
 
 CHAPTER VIII.— A Hurried Departure ... 52 
 
 CHAPTER IX.— Disaster ... ... 57 
 
 CHAPTER X.— Condemned as a Spy ... ... 64 
 
 CHAPTER XL— A Mysterious Warning ... 67 
 
 CHAPTER XII.— Suspense ... ... ... 79 
 
 CHAPTER XIII.— The Midnight Visit ... 82 
 
 CHAPTER XIV.— The Gold Rjxg ... ,.. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XV.— Ignominy or Death ... ... 93 
 
 CHAPTER XVI.— La Vengeur— The Sea Fight 99 
 
 CHAPTER XVII.— A Strange Meeting . . 107 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. -Ix Doubt ... .. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. — Moya's Advice ... ... 119 
 
 CHAPTER XX.— A Night ix Old Djblin. ... 123 
 
 CHAPTER XXL— Redmond's Story ... ... 130 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL— Midnight ox the ... 138 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII.— The Cry ox the Cliffs ... 147 
 
 ^sn & 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . \PTER XXIV.— A Strange Discover- ... 154 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. -More Mysteries ... ... 161 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI.— The Secret Letter ... 169 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII.— Midnight Terrors ... 172 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII.— The Sea giving up its Dead 175 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX— The Race begun ... ... 173 
 
 CHAPTER XXX.— Again a Prisoner ... 182 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI.— The Swim for Life ... 190 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII.— The Pursuit ... ... 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII.— Escaping . . ... 202 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV.— In France ... ... 215 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV.— Citizen Carnot ... ... 224 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII.— Vengeance is mine ... 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL— The French fleet Sails 241 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX.— The Storm ... ... 250 
 
 CHAPTER XL.— Defeat of the Expedition ... 255 
 
 CHAPTER XLL— The Cliffs of Lough Swill* 274 
 
 CHAPTER XLII.— To Dublin ... ... 28 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIL— The Wedding Breakfast ... 289 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV.— In the Caves of Donegal ... 295 
 
 CHAPTER XLV.— The Escape ... ... 303 
 
 CHAPTER XLVT.— An Old Story re-told ... 328 
 
 CHAPTER XL VII.— The Death of Tone ... 332 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIIL— Retubned 3-12 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX.— Conclusion 346 
 

 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT: 
 
 A STORY OF THE UNITED IRISHMEN. 
 
 CHiPTER I. 
 
 Hallowe'en. 
 
 The wind howled aronnd the old manor honse with that 
 peculiarly desolate cry the November night winds always 
 assume; and heaped in odd corners, in angles of the 
 honse, aronnd bases of trees, and nnder the door, the 
 fallen leaves. 
 
 Similarly it roared np the chimney, carrying with it a 
 shower of sparks whenever a log partly consumed fell 
 from its position into the glowing fire. Now and again, 
 in more than usually stormy bursts, it hurled small, 
 broken branches against the window panes, giving the 
 idea of some huge birds, storm-tossed, pecking at the 
 window for entrance and refuge. 
 
 Within, as compared with the outside, however, the 
 contrast was as great as it well could be. A merry group 
 gathered around the large and glowing log-heap that 
 blazed in the capacious fireplace — for the hands that built 
 Seamore mansion in past days had no notion or care 
 for the times when the use of coal would make more 
 restricted fireplaces necessary, and accordingly built it 
 after its present extensive fashion — and were enjoying 
 themselves in pleasant and agreeable mood. Candles, 
 hung in sconces around the wall, threw light on the vast 
 flagged apartment that did duty for kitchen; but they 
 were more or less overshadowed — perhaps I should say 
 over-lighted — by the fire, whose stronger gleams paled 
 their light and made the forms assembled around it throw 
 huge and grotesque shadows on the walls. 
 
 Nor was the happy glow of the apartment made less 
 cheerful by the pitches of bacon and ponderous hams that 
 
2 THV SHAN VAX VOGHT. 
 
 hurg OTOv the tirepbce, benefiting largely by its smoke ; 
 nor the sense of protection and security detracted from 
 by the heavy muskets that lay along the rack, their flint 
 locks every now and then flashing back the light of the 
 fire with a gleam somewhat akin to sternness. 
 
 The group that were assembled in the kitchen consisted 
 of the servants of the house and some neighbours of both 
 sexes that had dropped in; for the mansion, whilst 
 splendid in appearance, was ever open, through the kind- 
 ness of its owners, to the humblest of the surrounding 
 cottiers. Indeed, as there were few of them that at one 
 time or another, more particularly in the busy seasons, had 
 not worked therein, or on the spreading lands surround- 
 ing and belonging to the mansion, the kitchen in which 
 they now were was as familiar to them as their own 
 homes. 
 
 It was Hallowe'en Eve, which perhaps was the reason 
 why the kitchen had within its walls this night some who 
 very rarely mingled amongst its more habitual frequenters. 
 
 Id the first place, then — for place aux dames is a 
 chivalric maxim always in high honour with us — there 
 was the young mistress of the mansion, Helen Barrington, 
 whose very presence was of itself sufficient to diffuse a 
 sense of cheery happiness around. It would be very 
 difficult to be near her and not feel that there was some- 
 thing bright and happy, as well as beautiful, in her 
 presence. For to a form light and graceful, and a face 
 whose sunny beauty would brighten the darkest sorrow 
 that ever fell on men's hearts, the young hostess added a 
 spirit as gay and joyous as could be expected from the 
 nineteen years that had passed over her head. Indeed 
 the beauty that attracted attention from the most careless 
 eye seemed but the reflex of the happy spirit that dwelt 
 within ; and the deep blue of her eyes seemed at times 
 to deepen until it melted into the light of outcoming 
 laughter. 
 
 Nor were her accomplishments less than her beauty and 
 light-heartedness, for the ample means which her parents 
 possessed had enabled them to send her to the best schools 
 then to be had in the metropolis. Unfortunately, her 
 father and mother had both died within a few months of 
 
HALLOWE'EN. 3 
 
 each other some three years before ; and Helen "Harrington 
 was compelled in consequence to return home before her 
 education was quite completed, but not until she had 
 acquired enough of the grace of culture and education to 
 place her above many of the daughters of the surrounding 
 gentry whom she was accustomed to meet in society. 
 Since then she had governed the house for her brother, a 
 young fellow who had been for some two or three years in 
 the army, and who had sold out and come home when 
 the sad occurrence took place. 
 
 With Miss Barrington on this evening was, as indeed 
 was her wont on many occasions, her cousin from the 
 county Wexford, Kate Howard, much about the same age 
 — a tall, dark girl, as unlike in her grave and sedate 
 character to the former as well as could be. Although, 
 however, possessing little of the joyous nature of her 
 handsome cousin, there was a great deal in her serious 
 manner that many would perhaps prefer. Without being 
 at all a beauty, her face was attractive, and her manner 
 was so kind and courteous and quietly loveable that few 
 could remain long in her society without finding in it an 
 inexpressible charm. The attractions of society in Dublin, 
 as well as the pleasure of being with her friends, brought 
 her many times from her home in Wexford to Seamore — 
 which latter, we should have stated before, was situate 
 midway between Old Dunleary and Dublin. The name 
 is now lost, and the pleasant grounds that then surrounded 
 the house have long since, under the builder's hands, 
 been covered with stately terraces, but the mansion still 
 remains — much altered and modernised, however. These 
 were the two that, for the nonce, had taken their places 
 among the group gathered around the fire, and listened 
 with interest to the shanachus appertaining to Hallowe'en 
 that went around. It was too early, if there were no 
 other reasons, for the usual tricks and charms to be put 
 in force ; and meantime gossiping conversation supplied 
 sufficient entertainment. 
 
 " And why not, Cauth — what harm would there be in 
 it ?" queried Helen Barrington, as the old housekeeper, 
 Bitting knitting in the corner, demurred to some proposi- 
 tion that was put forward. 
 
 b2 
 
4 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 " What harm would there be in it ?" repeated Cauth. 
 " Every harm, Miss Helen — every harm. It's dangerous 
 work and ill ^doing meddling with these things." 
 
 " Upon my word, Grannie," said the young lady 
 pleasantly, " I am afraid yon intend to throw a shadow 
 on all amusement to-night. What harm can there be in 
 it P" 
 
 " If you knew as much as I do, Miss Helen, dear, you 
 would not ask the question," said the old woman, signi- 
 ficantly, drawing the hood of her red shawl over her head 
 more cosily, and pursuing her knitting with greater 
 industry. 
 
 " Well, Grannie, would you tell us why ?" said the 
 young hostess, a little put about as she saw a damper thus 
 thrown over the joyousness of tte night, for in the light 
 and brightness of her own heart she loved to see those 
 about her enjoying themselves. " It is not fair to frighten 
 us in this way without reason." 
 
 " Without reason, honey ! There's plenty of reasons 
 for it, not to go farther than this very house." 
 
 " God bless us !" said Helen with some alarm — " in 
 this house ! I never heard of anything happening iu thir 
 house that was strange or wonderful." 
 
 " You were too young to know of it, my dear — indeed, 
 now that I remember it, I don't think you were born at 
 the time. I am sure you were not ; but it happened all 
 the same." 
 
 " What was it, Grannie ? Do tell us," said the young 
 girl, as she threw a frightened glance around the vast 
 apartment, and drew her chair nearer to that of her 
 cousin. 
 
 " It mightn't be for your good to hear it, honey," said 
 Cauth cautiously, "and it's better for all to take my 
 advice than to ask for the reasons of it." 
 
 " You have awakened my curiosity now, Grannie, and I 
 shall think the story worse than it is unless you tell it. I 
 shall never sleep a quiet sleep in the house again unless I 
 hear it." 
 
 "Yes, tell it, Cauth — tell it," was echoed around the 
 circle. " It's worse to hint about an' not tell it, and so 
 ^«ep ns in suspense about it." 
 
HALLOWE'EN. o 
 
 " I think it would be better not tell it," said the old 
 knitter hesitatingly, " but as there's nobody here now or iu 
 the place that belongs to the story it can't do much harm, 
 even if it don't do good. Yon all heard of the Morrisses 
 of Knock Grove ? There's none of 'em there this many a 
 day, but time was when there wasn't a finer place nor a 
 braver family in Dublin county. It's better nor twenty 
 years — it may be twenty- three — since Rose Morris was 
 here on a visit just as Kate Howard is now, an' for all 
 the world of a Holly Eve night. You'd travel a long way 
 before you could meet a sweeter or a pleasanter girl than 
 she was; and her merry laugh is as fresh in my ears 
 this minit as it was that night — though she is under the 
 clay in Kilbarron graveyard this many a year. Well, 
 nothing would do herself and your aunt — she's dead and 
 gone, too, poor girl ! — that night, but to try the trick you 
 were talking of just now; an' so they hung out the 
 threads of flax with gloves at the end from the drawing- 
 room window to see who would come to take them — for 
 whoever did would be their luck. I knew well Rose 
 expected your father's hand, for he was not married then, 
 would be the one to take hers. So they hung them out, 
 and watched and watched, but no one came to take them. 
 After waiting for an hour or two they drew them up 
 quite disappointed, but, agra machree ! their disappoint- 
 ment gave way to fright when, although they had not 
 seen anyone, nor heard a step near the place, they found 
 Rose's glove gone — gone !" 
 
 A chill of fear grew over Helen's susceptible heart, the 
 roses fled from her cheek and she nestled herself still 
 closer to the more composed and less timid form of her 
 cousin. 
 
 " Gone, my dear. There was no sign of the glove, 
 though they were quite sure there had been no one there. 
 The poor things were terribly frightened ; but there was 
 worse in store for them, for when they sat here, just as 
 we do now, all trembling and shuddering, telling what 
 had happened, who opened the door but a sailor dripping 
 with wet — every stitch on him dripping with wet — a 
 rough, bearded man, with the remains of an old cut upon 
 his temple, that showed itself by a long white scar that 
 
6 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 was terrible to see ! He seemed the ghost of a drowned 
 man arisen from the deep ; and in a jabbering tongue, 
 that no one could understand, he spoke to us. I'll never 
 forget to my dying hour the fright that kem over us 
 when we saw him enter. We thought it was the Ould 
 Boy that had come among us. And the cry still rings in 
 my ears that poor Rose gave, afore she fainted, when he 
 held up in his hand — two of the fingers of which were 
 cut off — a hand that was black and fearful to look upon — 
 her glove !" 
 
 An uncomfortable feeling crept over the group assem- 
 bled, and each one turned his or her eyes around as if 
 fearful of the unexpected presence of some one in the 
 apartment. More especially was this the case with Helen, 
 whose gentle heart was more readily impressible. But it 
 quickly subsided as Katie Howard, passing her arms 
 around her neck, drew her over to her own chair. 
 
 " Her glove, my dear. An' though every one looked 
 upon it as a mere chance, I knew better, my dear, an' I 
 knew that he was her luck. It is not all tricks that are 
 played on Holly Eve night — and so poor Rose found it." 
 
 The old woman paused, as if her mind flew back to the 
 dead and buried past, and as if she forgot that there were 
 anxious hearers listening. 
 
 " Well, Cauth, and what else ? Who was he anyway ? 
 Where did he come from ?" asked Luke Mahon, a young- 
 fellow in the opposite angle of the fire-place. 
 
 "Where did he come from?" reiterated Cauth, as if 
 awakening from her reverie. "He came from the sea, 
 my dear. His vessel was wrecked in a storm out in the 
 bay — it was a night just as wild and stormy as this — and 
 of all the poor souls aboard, he was the only one that 
 reached the shore. The rest went down wid the ship 
 into the deep, deep sea — cannon, and powder, and guns, 
 and muskets an' all ; for it was a French man-o'-war, an' 
 he was her captain." 
 
 " A Frenchman ?" 
 
 " A Frenchman. That was why we could not under- 
 stand what he said " 
 
 " Well, an' what happened ? What became of him ?" 
 asked Luke again, as once more Cauth dropped the 
 
HALLOWE'EN. 7 
 
 threads of her story, arid knitted more rapidly those of the 
 stocking now fast hastening to its conclusion. 
 
 "Ah! what happened him?" again reiterated the old 
 housekeeper. " We had too much to do wid the fright 
 he threw us all into, and the faint poor Rose fell into, to 
 take heed of him ; but when the poor girl was carried u£ 
 into the parlour, and after some time recovered herself a 
 little, we came back here only to find him lying senseless 
 on the settle yonder. We were all sorry for neglecting 
 him so long ; they poured burnt brandy into his mouth 
 and recovered him a little — but he was in brain fever, my 
 dear, an' it was many a week before he recovered and was 
 able to tell who he was and what had happened him. I 
 don't know how it was, but poor Rose was so sorry for 
 him, and compassionated him so much, that she forgot 
 the fright he had given her, and nursed him all through 
 his long illness." 
 
 " He recovered, Cauth ?" 
 
 " He did, my dear. He recovered, sure enough, an' 
 you'd be surprised to see what a brave, handsome fellow 
 he turned out to be when he did. You'd never think it 
 was the same dreadful-looking, half drowned, fainting 
 creature that kem into the kitchen that Holly Eve night, 
 frightening us all with his terrible appearance. Such a 
 pleasant, gay fellow as he turned out to be — an' so hand- 
 some, only for that ugly cut across his temples, and the 
 two fingers that were gone from his hand. An', my dear, 
 so polite, an' so winning that when he got to speak our 
 language — an' it wasn't long till he did — he'd coax the 
 birds off the bushes." 
 
 " And Rose, Cauth ?" 
 
 " Ah, my poor Rose ! She fell in love with him — he 
 was her luck, as I knew he would be from the minit I 
 saw him, though no one else thought it — an' they wot 
 married. He must have been a high-up man in his own 
 country ; for when he was able to go into the city and 
 write to France he had money galore. But he never said 
 much about it." 
 
 " Did they live happily, Grannie ?" asked Kate Howard, 
 for the first time breaking into the conversation with a 
 question. 
 
8 THE 8 HAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " They did, my dear. An' a finer or a handsomer 
 couple you wouldn't see driving in Grafton Street — he 
 with his tall figure and dark, handsome face, save where 
 it was disfigured ; an' she the picture of loveliness — for 
 she was a dear, sweet girl — sitting beside him. But it 
 wasn't to last long, my dear ; for one day there came a 
 messenger from abroad with a letter, or something like 
 that, for him — an' the next day he was off, promising to 
 be back with herself an' her little boy an' girl in the 
 course of a few months ; but he never came back, my 
 dear — he never came back !" 
 
 " Never, Grannie ?" 
 
 " No, never !" There was no word of him ever after — 
 neither tale nor tidings — an' that's twenty long years ago 
 now. Some said he was tried an' shot for the loss of his 
 vessel ; some said he was put in jail for not returning to 
 France — but who'd have the heart to do that, my dears, 
 when they knew that there wor soft white arms around 
 him here, stronger to bind him to Ireland nor the biggest 
 cables on board the biggest man-o'-war in France ? — an' 
 some said he was made commander of a great fleet an' 
 was killed in a sea fight. Anyway, he never came back." 
 
 " And what became of Rose and her children ?" asked 
 Helen, the unaccustomed tears welling into her eyes. 
 
 " Ah, me ! it was so pitiful ! Week after week she 
 watched for his coming, but he never came. Month after 
 month she used to stay up at night waiting to hear his 
 knock at the door or the wheels of his carriage grating on 
 }he sand, but he never came. Then the war broke out an' 
 there was no chance. The look of handsomeness left her 
 face, and the merry brightness from her eyes, an' she 
 faded and withered away. Two years after he left — an' 
 on a Holly Eve night, too — her sweet face lay white 
 enough and her fretting heart calm enough — for she was 
 dead, dead, her troubles over for ever. Poor girl !" 
 
 There was a pause of some duration as the old woman 
 drew her shawl over her head, bent her face downwards 
 to the firelight, and pursued her knitting. There were 
 few of the group assembled unaffected ; but the tears, 
 unhidden, trickled down Helen's cheeks, whilst Miss 
 Howard's eyes looked dim a&the firelight fell upon them. 
 
HALLOWE'EN. 9 
 
 Brushing the tears away after a little while, the latter 
 asked : 
 
 "And what of the children, Grannie ?" 
 
 " When his mother died, the little fellow was sent to 
 school to England. A blithe, merry boy he was, with his 
 father's pleasant, frank ways, and his mother's bright 
 bine eyes. He used to come here during the holidays. 
 You might remember him, Helen astbore ; but you were 
 too young then, an' so many used to come back and forward 
 
 that" 
 
 •I think I do," said Helen quietly. " It's like a 
 
 dream to me when I was a child to remember a little boy 
 coming here at Christmas times." 
 
 " That was he, my dear. It would be hard to forget 
 him ; for a more loveable, frank, engaging boy you could 
 hardly set eyes upon. Your father — Lord rest his soul ! — 
 was fonder of him, I think, than he was of either yourself 
 or Redmond. It was the pleasant times we used to have 
 when he came here. But the time came when he didn't 
 come. Ah, me ! it was the sorrowful house that was 
 here when we heard it." 
 
 " What happened him, Grannie ?" 
 
 " No one knows — no one ever knew — except God. He 
 disappeared from the school one day, an' nor tale nor 
 tidings ever kem of him afterwards. Search was made 
 for him high and low, but he never turned up. Your 
 father went across to England and made search for him 
 everywhere ; but he could get no tidings of him. The 
 old luck, my dear — the old luck that kem with the 
 drowning sailor and the glove three-and- twenty years 
 ago !" 
 
 "And what became of the girl?" asked Helen 
 Barrington. 
 
 " The girl was a delicate child always, and, your father 
 having a cousin an abbess in a convent in the South of 
 France, he took her there after her brother's disappearance. 
 And she remained there since — only once, about twelve 
 months ago, when she came on a visit, as you will 
 remember, Helen." 
 
 "You don't mean Alice Trainan, Grannie ?" said Helen 
 with astonishment. 
 
10 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " I do, indeed, my dear ; she was daughter of the 
 stranger and poor Rose, and sister to the little boy." 
 
 " Why, I never heard that before, Grannie," said Helen 
 in great surprise. " I thought Alice was a cousin of 
 ours." 
 
 " Your father, having taken the child under his care, and 
 seeing the name she bore so unlucky, resolved on giving 
 her an assumed name. And it was under that name she 
 was always known both at the convent and amongst us 
 here. But her real name was Alice Lefebre. Lefebre 
 was her father's name, though your father often thought 
 and said that too was only an assumed one." 
 
 " Well, Grannie, you astonish me. I never thought but 
 that Alice was our cousin." 
 
 " So she was, for her mother was a distant cousin." 
 
 rt Really, Grannie, that surprises me. How little I 
 knew of her history when she was here ! What a dear, 
 sweet girl she was ! How we used to make her blush at 
 the attentions Trevor Mortimer paid her ! And how sorry 
 we were when she went away ! Is it not odd we have 
 not heard from her for the past few months ? And so 
 she was sister to that little boy." 
 
 " Poor child !" said Kate Howard. "What was thought 
 to have happened him, Grannie ?" 
 
 " The ill-fortune, my dear — the ill- fortune that comes 
 of tempting the future, that comes of Holly Eve tricks. 
 Some said he was drowned ; some said he was stolen 
 away to France ; others said other things ; but I knew, 
 aroon, that it was the luck — the ill-luck. It swept in upon 
 us with the storm and the rain that night long ago, when 
 the door opened and the strange man kem in. That's 
 the raison why, my dear, I'd never like my ould eyes to 
 see any girl calling up her luck, good or bad, from the 
 future, until God chooses to send it." 
 
 A pang of dread and remorse passed simultaneously 
 through the hearts of the two girls ; for just before 
 coming from the drawingroom they had, from the window 
 overlooking the orchard, passed down two threads of 
 woven flax, with a glove attached to each ; and the story 
 the housekeeper had just told them had therefore startled 
 them not a little. They would* moreover, have gone and 
 
HALLOWE'EN. 11 
 
 withdrawn them immediately, but that the eerie feeling 
 that pervaded, without exception, the company around the 
 fire, as the result of the story they had heard, made them 
 unwilling to face the corridors they would have to pass 
 through on their way. 
 
 "Anyhow," thought Kate Howard with a sense of 
 relief, " it can come to no harm even if they are taken. 
 There is no one to take them but Redmond and Trevor 
 Mortimer, for no one else can come that path ; they alone 
 have the key of the orchard." 
 
 With this consoling reflection, she gently managed to 
 turn the conversation into cheerier channels, and in a 
 short time the sad thoughts, that filled all present, were 
 banished. It is not easy to retain sorrow in youthful 
 hearts nor gloom on young faces ; and under the influence 
 of the blazing fire, and the bright firelight, the laugh 
 soon went round as if such things as sorrow and trouble 
 had no existence. 
 
 The wall of the orchard touched the centre of the house 
 at right angles, and about a yard from the latter a small 
 wicket gate opened into it, whilst at the further end of 
 the garden a corresponding one gave egress to the meadow 
 or shrubby land that sloped to the shore. 
 
 It was in the days of long ago, when the discoveries of 
 the present times were undreamt of, and when no prophet 
 had ever foretold that a machine running without horses, 
 and with speed as that of the wind, would whirl hundreds 
 of passengers along from Dublin to Old Dunleary. So it 
 was that naught but meadow or whin-covered lands lay 
 between the mansion and the sea. 
 
 A hearty burst of laughter, on the part of the company 
 assembled, at some passing joke, was interrupted by the 
 noise of the closing of the afore-mentioned wicket door ; 
 a step was heard ; and immediately after a hand was laid 
 on the latch. 
 
 "It is Redmond and Trevor Mortimer," thought Helen 
 Barrington with a quick palpitation of the heart, for, in 
 spite of her efforts at a repentant state of mind, she yet 
 furtively hoped that the latter would pluck her glove from 
 its pendent flaxen thread. But she was doomed to be 
 disappointed, as a tall handsome fellow of two-and-twenty 
 
12 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 or thereabouts entered, with a pleasant smile on his face, 
 and advanced towards the group bearing a glove in his 
 hand ! About five feet ten in height, broad shouldered, 
 with the healthy hue on his face which plenty of outdoor 
 exercise gives, he advanced with lithe step towards the 
 group gathered in front of the huge fire. 
 
 ''Well, young ladies," said he pleasantly, holding up 
 the glove in his hand, " I found this suspended from your 
 window as I came along. Whose is it ? Of what lady 
 fair and gay am I to be the chosen knight ? " 
 
 " That's yours, Kate," said Helen in a gratified whisper. 
 As "Redmond had taken hers, the inevitable result was 
 that Trevor Mortimer should take her own, and the 
 thought came with a throb of pleasurable anticipation at 
 her heart. 
 
 " Whose is it, ladies ?" jocularly asked the young fellow 
 again, as the two girls, half ashamed of the old house- 
 keeper and of the manner in which they had sinned against 
 the moral of her story, blushed and remained silent. 
 
 " Where did you leave Sir Trevor ? " dexterously queried 
 Miss Howard, to distract attention from the embarrassing 
 question. 
 
 " Well, if you won't tell — as I see you won't — I must 
 retain the precious souvenir to happier and more com- 
 municative times," said Redmond Barrington with a sly 
 laugh, as he placed the glove in his pocket. " Trevor ? 
 Well, I left Trevor behind me for a few minutes; he will 
 be here presently. Meanwhile," said he, as he drew a 
 chair over in front of the roaring fire and beside the two 
 girls, "it must have been something very pleasant that 
 caused that laugh that I heard as I opened the gate. Let 
 me participate in the pleasure of the night. Gro on with 
 the story. Who was telling it ?" 
 
 "Luke was telling it; and a very droll story it was," 
 said Helen. 
 
 "Well, Luke, go on with it. Don't let me interrupt 
 you." 
 
 " Sorra word ov id I remember now, Masther Redmond," 
 said Luke. " Your comin' in dhruv it altogether out of 
 my head. I'd have to begin id all over again." 
 
 " Well, supposing you do ?" said Redmond. 
 
HALLOWE'EN. 13 
 
 "1 object," said his sister. "A story told twice the 
 same night loses all its captivation. Yon. are very selfish, 
 Redmond, to ask such a thing." 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Redmond gaily, " I am agreeable 
 to anything ; and, as I have been the unwitting agent in 
 spoiling your story, perhaps I may make up for it by 
 coaxing Kate into singing one of her exquisite songs." 
 
 "If you will hand back that glove," said Kate, with a 
 quiet smile, and a very bright look in her eye as she 
 glanced towards him, " perhaps I might." 
 " It was yours, then ? " he asked quickly. 
 "I did not say it was," she replied, with ready wit; "but, 
 whoever owns it, I make it the condition of my singing 
 that you give it me." 
 
 " He is a bad paymaster, my dear Miss Howard, who 
 pays beforehand ; so I shall only give it when the song is 
 ended." 
 
 " But you promise it then ? " 
 " Well, yes — conditionally." 
 "Conditionally?" 
 
 " Yes ; if I like the song. Not the singing, Kate — 
 because you sing always exquisitely — but the song — the 
 words and air of the song. That's the bargain. T^ill 
 you have it ? " 
 "Yes ; agreed." 
 "Well, now, select your best." 
 
 The young girl smiled ; looked thoughtfully into the 
 bright flame of the logs for a moment ; and, turning her 
 eyes on him with a look in which drollery and pleasure 
 and affection were all combined, sang. The song was an 
 ancient Irish melody. Her voice was rich, sweet, and 
 musical ; and the plaintiveness of the air sank deep into 
 the hearts of the rapt audience. 
 
 She had scarcely concluded the song — rendered with a 
 grace and sweetness exquisitely telling— when, just as the 
 plaudits of the little group were about to be warmly 
 given, the wicket gate was heard again to open, and a 
 hand was again laid, after a short interval, on the latch. 
 " Trevor," said Redmond, shortly. 
 
 " Your glove, my dear," whispered the songstress into 
 the ear of Helen Barrington, who was sitting on the same 
 
14 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 chair with her, one arm encircling her waist. An answer- 
 ing pressure of her hand intimated at once the young 
 girl's assent and her delight that it was so. 
 
 The door opened as the latch was raised, and the new- 
 comer entered. 
 
 " You did not delay long after me, Trevor — What ! — 
 Who is this?" 
 
 Redmond Barringfcon had spoken at first without look- 
 ing around ; but when he did turn to see his friend an 
 exclamation of surprise broke from him. 
 
 Helen had arisen to make room for the welcome 
 wanderer; but as the exclamation from her brother caused 
 her to look around in the direction, she stood stock-still 
 for a moment, and then, with a cry that might have been 
 the echo of the cry of the dead and buried girl of twenty- 
 three years ago — in which fear, surprise, mortal terror 
 were all combined, and which made the blood run back on 
 the hearts of the group assembled — fell senseless into the 
 arms of her brother ! 
 
 For — standing a few steps inside the door was a 
 stranger, a gash over his temple, the white cicatrice there 
 showing distinctly where it had healed; and in his up- 
 raised hand he held a glove — her glove ! 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 the visitor — Helen's glove. 
 
 Tt would be difficult to picture the scene of amazement 
 and confusion that ensued at this moment, as perhaps it 
 would be equally difficult to pourtray the surprise with 
 which the stranger looked on the confusion his entrance 
 had caused. 
 
 Nor was his astonishment much less than that of 
 Redmond, who could not conceive why the simple entrance 
 of a stranger — a by no means unusual circumstance in the 
 hospitable mansion of Seamore — should give rise to such 
 terrors in the mind of his sister. 
 
 Helen was quickly borne to her own room by the 
 
THE VISITOR— HELEN'S GLOVE. 15 
 
 females of the house, the old housekeeper muttering to 
 herself sorrowfully the while — " her luck, mavrone — her 
 luck ! It's come to-night as it came three-an'-twenty 
 years ago. Woe is me — mavrone ! Woe is me ! " 
 
 When Redmond had seen his sister safely placed in her 
 room, and under the ministering care of the women-kind 
 of the house, he hurried back to see the unconscious cause 
 of the disturbance. 
 
 He was standing, with feelings of disappointment 
 depicted on his countenance, in the spot wheron he had 
 stood when Helen's terrified eyes rested upon him ; for 
 the remainder of the party at the fire were too surprised 
 to bid him welcome, or even to speak to him, and, if the 
 truth were known, were inclined to look upon his pres- 
 ence with almost as much repugnance as the fainting girl 
 herself. 
 
 So he stood there stock-still, apparently undecided what 
 to do. 
 
 But standing there, in his half-sailor, half-soldier, 
 uniform, he certainly seemed to be one who, upon even 
 ordinary scrutiny, was little calculated to cause terror to 
 any gathering, much less to the breast of susceptible 
 girlhood. 
 
 About twenty-two years of age — scarcely more— though 
 his weather-beaten, bronzed features might make him out 
 older, his appearance was decidedly prepossessing. To a 
 frank, open countenance, set off by a pleasant mouth, the 
 white teeth of which formed an agreeable contrast with 
 the dark moustache which was beginning to shade the 
 upper lip, was added a pair of dark-brown eyes which, 
 notwithstanding the look of half displeasure that sha- 
 dowed them, were attractive and striking. His forehead, 
 brown with exposure, was singularly marked by the 
 oblique cicatrice referred to, whilst under the sailor's cap 
 he wore, with its braided band of gold, dark locks peeped 
 out — so very dark that they almost made his forehead 
 look marble- white by comparison. His jacket, descend- 
 ing but little below his hips, gave him the appearance of 
 being much taller than he was ; and, on the whole, his 
 appearance, as we have said before, was but little cal- 
 culated to create snch unwonted alarm. 
 
16 TEE SEAN VAN VOOET. 
 
 So, at least, Redmond Barrington thought, as, having 
 come back again to where the stranger was standing, still 
 with the glove between his fingers, the latter smiled and 
 said : 
 
 " I am afraid I have unwarrantably disturbed you." 
 
 "You have disturbed us, certainly," said Redmond 
 courteously, and smiling in response, " though I do not 
 know why. It was certainly not your fault. Perhaps it 
 was because I, my sister, and her friend were expecting a 
 different visitor." 
 
 " I have disturbed you at any rate, and I have to 
 apologise for it." 
 
 " I beg you not to mention it," said Redmond, who, the 
 more he looked at the frank, attractive countenance of the 
 stranger, the more wondered what on earth frightened his 
 sister. 
 
 " I am not quite certain," pursued the visitor, " that it 
 would not be becoming in me to withdraw ; but perhaps 
 it is only right that I should give a reason for my un- 
 ceremonious intrusion and for the path by which I came." 
 
 Redmond had completely forgotten that the stranger 
 had come by way of the orchard — a way never permitted 
 to any but himself and his sister and friends — and he now 
 bethought him of it as a very singular circumstance, and 
 as, perhaps, in some way leading to his sister's sudden 
 alarm. 
 
 Checking, however, any appearance of concern, he 
 promptly said : 
 
 11 You must not think of going, and indeed, I should 
 apologise for inhospitably keeping you standing here so 
 long. You must not take it," added he pleasantly, " as 
 our usual way at Seamore. Come with me — the night is 
 cold and stormy for one travelling." 
 
 So saying, he pushed open the door t&at led into the 
 corridor, and proceeded up stairs to his own room, 
 followed by the stranger. 
 
 A fire was blazing in the grate and a lamp was burning 
 on the table. Redmond wheeled over an arm-chair to the 
 fire opposite to the one reserved for himself, and motioned 
 the stranger thereto. But the latter took no notice of his 
 gesture. He was standing, cap in hand, his black hair 
 
THE VISITOR— HELEN'S GLOVE. 17 
 
 curling over his temples, in the centre of the apartment, 
 looking around him. Having apparently satisfied himself 
 with his observation, he threw himself in the arm-chair. 
 
 "How well I know this room ! — how well I know every 
 article of furniture in it ! Nothing altered — nothing 
 changed !" 
 
 It was more of a soliloquy than as au opening of con- 
 versation; but it surprised E-edmond not a little, and he 
 said : 
 
 " Did you say that you knew this room ? " 
 
 " Well," said the stranger. 
 
 " I do not remember ever seeing you heie before." 
 
 " I was here, nevertheless," said the stranger with 
 something like a sigh. 
 
 " Pardon me. I do not doubt your words. But it 
 seems curious to me that you should, for you could not 
 have been here before my time — you are not much older 
 than I — and you certainly have not been here since, that 
 I remember." 
 
 " I have been here, nevertheless. There is not a secret 
 drawer in yonder oaken cabinet that I could not open in 
 the dark. I could find, blindfolded, the door in this room 
 that leads to the secret stairway into the cellars. " 
 
 " The first time ever I knew or heard there was a secret 
 stairway," said Redmond. 
 
 " It was a similar remembrance that prompted me to 
 
 come the old familiar way by the orchard instead of 
 
 Grannie ! " 
 
 Whilst he was speaking the old woman had entered the 
 room noiselessly, and — before he was aware of it — had 
 advanced towards him with outstretched arms. Her 
 movements at last attracted his unsettled attention, and 
 as soon as his eyes had aL'ghted on her face he sprang up 
 and in a moment she was clasped in his arms. 
 
 " Grannie ! Grannie ! have I seen you at last ? " 
 
 " Let me go, Eugene, until I see your face once more," 
 said Cauth, as her dim eyes suffused with tears. She 
 turned him round, and drew back a little, the better to let 
 the light fall on his face. If the old housekeeper's eyes 
 were suffused with tears the stranger's were not either 
 without visible marks of emotion. 
 
18 TEE SHAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 "It's the same face, my dear — the same face. You* 
 mother's eyes — I'd know them the world over. Oh ! 
 Eugene ! Eugene ! where were yon these many years that 
 yon never came to Seamore ? " 
 
 " I was many a place, Grannie, the wide world over; 
 bnt I never was any place yet that I did not think of 
 Seamore — never." 
 
 " How strong yon have grown ; or is it to my poor old 
 eyes that yon look so big ? " 
 
 " I have grown, I believe, Grannie. Sixteen years is a 
 long spell in a young fellow's life, and I suppose," said 
 the stranger, with a furtive and awkward attempt to 
 banish the unaccustomed dew from his eyes, " I have 
 grown somewhat in the time." 
 
 " If your mother could only see you now, Eugene ! " 
 
 The stranger turned away to the window, looked out 
 on the garden where the orchard trees were — stripped of 
 their leaves — standing bare and desolate, and, having 
 recovered himself, returned to his former position. 
 
 " One of my reasons, Grannie," he said o^ietly, but 
 brokenly, " in coming to Ireland, along with seeing Sea- 
 more, was to kneel once more upon her grave." 
 
 " Aroon, it would have been the forgotten grave this 
 many a year," said the old woman, "but for us in Sea- 
 more." 
 
 "I think, Grannie," said Redmond, who had been a 
 wondering listener to this conversation, "I must ask you 
 to introduce me to this gentleman ; for I protest that, 
 familiar as he is with the place, and well as you know him, 
 he has, I am sorry to say, passed from my memory." 
 
 " The ^oung soon forget, my dear," said Cauth ; "the 
 old have longer memories. But, even if you forget him, 
 you must have often heard his name. There was a little 
 boy here once, Eugene " — 
 
 "What!" said Redmond in a burst of delight and 
 welcome, and advancing to shake hands with the stranger, 
 "the little boy who disappeared from the English school, 
 and never was heard of again ! " 
 
 " Until now, dear sir— until now," said the strange; , 
 smiling at the warmth and welcome of the other's saluta- 
 tion. " I came," added he to tb>° housekeeper, "expecting 
 
THE VISITOR -HELEN'S GLOVE. 19 
 
 to see old familiar faces, and learned not half an hour ago, 
 to my deep pain and regret, that I might never look on 
 them again." 
 
 " That's the way of the world, my dear ; the old die and 
 the yonng grow np and take their places. I am the only 
 one left." 
 
 " I can only say," said Redmond, himself not a little 
 affected by the turn the conversation had taken, " that if 
 they were here you would not be more welcome than you 
 are at present." 
 
 " If [ thought otherwise," said the stranger brightly, 
 " I should scarcely have been here. But I have other 
 inquiries, Grannie, to make." 
 
 "About Alice ?" said the old woman. 
 
 "About Alice — yes," said the stranger. "You may 
 think it odd, Grannie, that all these many years I have 
 never come to see her any more than other dear friends in 
 Seamore. But my life since I was taken from school in 
 England has been cast on board ships and in distant 
 waters, where there was no more possibility of my coming 
 to Ireland than there was of going to Iceland. But I have 
 never forgotten her, and her childish face was often 
 present to me where there was nothing around but the 
 howling sea and the hurricane sweeping the face of the 
 waters. How is she ? Where is she ? " 
 
 " She is in France, and she is quite well." 
 
 " In France ? " said the stranger. 
 
 "The poor dear was not strong when a child, and she 
 was sent there. And there she remained ever since. She 
 was here for some months, about a year ago, on a visit." 
 
 "How has she grown, Grannie ?" 
 
 "Not quite so tall as Miss Helen; very pretty, with an 
 olive paleness in her face, and an engaging, loving way 
 ;vith her that wins upon you at once — in that way, like 
 her poor mother, the light of God's glory to her ! " 
 
 The stranger passed his hands across his eyes and was 
 silent for some time. 
 
 "I had expected to find her here," he said; "but that 
 pleasure lies before me shortly, when I return to France. 
 I am delighted to hear that she is well. Our meeting 
 will be a strange one after so many years. But I fear," 
 
20 THE SHAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 said he, addressing Redmond, "this conversation can 
 have little interest for yon — although interesting enongh 
 to Grannie and myself." 
 
 " Though all memory of you has passed out of my mind, 
 and all recollection from my eyes, your name is familiar 
 enough," said Redmond, " and your conversation most 
 interesting." 
 
 " I thought, Grannie " said the stranger, with a droll 
 look, "I should like to see whether I could climb the 
 orchard wall as readily as I did so many years ago. 
 Would you believe it ? I knew quite readily in the dark 
 the very crevices in the wall into which I used to place 
 my feet. That was how I came through the orchard. 
 And, curiously, as I came along the wind blew something 
 in my face, and, when I put up my hand and caught it, it 
 turned out to be a glove. This is it." 
 
 He had held the glove in his hand all the time, and now 
 glanced at it. As also did Cauth. 
 
 Her brow darkened, and a look of pain shot across her 
 face and eyes. 
 
 "It's Helen's glove," said she slowly, as she extended 
 her hand for it. 
 
 He did not seem to notice the motion ; but merely 
 said, with a quiet smile : 
 
 "Miss Barrington did not know that it was an old 
 though unremembered friend that called or she would not 
 have been so frightened." 
 
 " Never mind that, Eugene, if you will permit me so to 
 call you," said Redmond. " Helen is not used to such 
 weaknesses, and I am sure the effects will soon pass off, 
 and that in the morning she will be ready to welcome an 
 old friend to Seamore. And, by the way, Grannie, as this 
 is rather a cold way in which to receive a visitor, I wish 
 you would bring us up something to celebrate the occasion." 
 
 Grannie, whose brow had again become cheerful, left to 
 attend to the wish thus expressed, and the stranger placed 
 the tiny glove in his breast-pocket. 
 
 She soon returned with a servant bearing some tumblers 
 and a steaming kettle, and Redmond having produced 
 some cigars they were prepared to pass the night 
 pleasantly. 
 
THE VISITOR— HELEN'S GLOVE. _'l 
 
 "Isn't it odd, Grannie," said the stranger as the house- 
 keeper was about leaving for the purpose of seeing her 
 young mistress, "that, many years as have passed since I 
 was here, I could walk nearly blindfolded about the house. 
 There was an old cabinet in the drawingroom — companion 
 to this one here" — pointing to an oaken press fixed in the 
 wall, and to which he had before referred — " that I re- 
 member as wr 11 as yesterday. I think I could open it 
 this moment." 
 
 " If you could, Eugene, it's the first time it has been 
 opened since you left. The key was lost, and the poor 
 master that's dead and gone would not allow it to be 
 broken." 
 
 " I think I shall not need a key for it," said Eugene, 
 whilst a gleam of satisfaction flashed across his eyes, 
 "and I mean to try how far my memory serves me by 
 essaying it to-morrow." 
 
 The old woman shook her head — but whether at the im- 
 possibility of his succeeding in what he proposed, or that 
 the mention of the cabinet brought memories of the dead 
 and gone around her, the stranger failed to know, though 
 he glanced at her sharply. 
 
 Leaving the two young men to their conversation, the 
 old woman proceeded to Helen's room, where she found 
 the startled girl fairly recovered. Notwithstanding the 
 fright she had sustained — or perhaps by reason thereof — 
 she was, with all a woman's curiosity, anxious to know 
 something of the cause of it. Some of the female 
 servants had been already describing, in language of high 
 eulogium, the appearance of the strange visitor ; and her 
 anxiety to know something of him — an anxiety not 
 unshared by Kate Howard — had attained a high pitch. 
 
 Cauth was, therefore, much against her will, obliged to 
 give a detailed account of the mysterious arrival ; but she 
 concluded her narrative with the exhortation : 
 
 "An' now, Helen, honey, be led and said by me, an' 
 take no notice of him more than of an old friend that's 
 come on a visit for a few days. Luck nor grace don't 
 come of Holly Eve games, an' on that account have 
 nothing to say to him. A girl's heart is aisily turned ; an' 
 it would be a sore day if you let it change from Trevor 
 Mortimer, who loves the very ground you walk upon." 
 
22 THE SEAN VAN YOCHT. 
 
 It would have been better, perhaps, for the purposes and 
 intentions the housekeeper had in view if she had not 
 harped on this string or given this advice. Women are 
 at all times bad judges of woman-nature, and the advice 
 she gave only predisposed Helen for the result she desired 
 to avoid. For, as one result of this exordium, Helen, with 
 the waywardness of a girl's fancy, was now in the highest 
 impatience to behold the handsome young foreigner who 
 had become possessed of her glove and who had startled 
 her so much. Trevor Mortimer seemed commonplace 
 and unimportant by comparison with this wonderful 
 unknown. The sad story of Rose Morris paled into 
 non-remembrance in presence of this new sensation. It 
 was therefore with a nutter of delightful anticipation 
 that the two young girls — when they were left together 
 in their room — discussed the prospects of a meeting with 
 their new guest in the morning, and drew to themselves 
 fancy pictures of what he was like, and what appearance 
 he would present. 
 
 So animated and absorbing was their conversation that 
 they failed to hear — or, if they heard, to pay attention to — 
 a strange disturbance going on in the kitchen. It was only 
 after a considerable time that it became evident to them 
 that there was some clamour going on more than usual; 
 and Kate Howard was about placing her hand on the 
 silken bell-rope to ring to inquire, when the door opened 
 and Cauth, cautiously closing it again, approached them 
 and said : 
 
 " Miss Helen ! don't be afeard at what I'm goin' to tell 
 you. It's better that I should tell you than that anyone 
 else should." 
 
 11 What is it, Grannie ?" asked Helen, whilst her 
 trembling lip gave evidence of her fresh alarm at this 
 ominous introduction. 
 
 " Trevor Mortimer has just come in." 
 
 " Well, what more — Grannie ? I know there is some- 
 thing yet to tell." 
 
 " He has got hurt." 
 
 " Hurt — how ?" screamed the two girls in unison. 
 
 " I don't kow — no one knows." 
 
 " Can he not tell ?" 
 
THE VISITOR— HELEN'S GLOVE. 23 
 
 Before the old woman could answer, the door was 
 hastily flung open, and Redmond entered. 
 
 " This is an awful business, Helen," he said, whilst the 
 big drops of perspiration stood out on his brow. 
 
 " What is it, Redmond ? — what has happened ?" faintly 
 asked Helen, scarcely able to articulate the words. 
 
 " He has been struck — struck with a dagger — and I am 
 afraid he is dying," said Redmond in hurried and awe- 
 stricken accents. " He may know your voice, Helen — will 
 you come down ?" 
 
 Perhaps it was the desire to succour, perhaps it was 
 the fear of death to one so dear to her, that overcame all 
 considerations of self and banished her recent weakness ; 
 whatever it was that occasioned the effort, Helen rose 
 with firm and unfaltering steps, and hurried with her 
 brother to the kitchen. 
 
 A woful sight met her eyes. On the settle, stretched 
 at his full length, pillows supporting his head, apparently 
 dead or dying, lay Sir Trevor Mortimer. The blood that 
 poured from a wound over his left breast gave token of 
 where the blow had been delivered. In sight of this 
 appalling spectacle the weakness that unnerved Helen 
 Barrington previously, vanished ; and her ready hand 
 was soon at work to remove the stained clothes and to 
 staunch the wound. In this she received valuable assist- 
 ance from the young Frenchman, whom in the confusion 
 of the moment she scarcely thought of, but whose previous 
 experience in the matter of wounds made, him an invalu- 
 able aid at this juncture. 
 
 The morning light was breaking in through the opened 
 windows before the wounded man gave tokens of conscious- 
 ness. A doctor, who had been sent for, arrived, pronounced 
 him not in imminent danger ; and, tired Nature asserting 
 itself, the two girls retired to rest. Redmond and his new 
 friend, less susceptible to fatigue, having seen Sir Trevor 
 tinder the doctor's care, retired to their rooms to have a 
 cigar and discuss this unhappy and mysterious a ffair. 
 
 "This is a strange business," said Redmond. 
 " He was struck from behind — over the shoulder. The 
 wound was downward," remarked Eugene. " Has he any 
 enemies ?" 
 
24 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " I never knew he had one," replied the former. 
 
 "■ The blow was well meant at any rate. The striker 
 telt for his heart. His coat alone saved him." 
 
 " It was no weak hand that gave the blow." 
 
 " I should think not," said the stranger. "Weak hands 
 do not generally go in for that sort of work." 
 
 " Well, poor fellow, I am glad his life has been spared. 
 We shall know more in the morning or during the day, if 
 he be able to speak." 
 
 " The doctor spoke of fever. If that supervenes it may 
 be a long time until he is able to give any information," 
 remarked Eugene — " although I have seen men recover 
 from much more serious wounds in a short time. Who 
 is he ?" 
 
 Redmond proceeded to inform him, after which, having 
 shown Eugene to his bedroom, they retired to rest. 
 
 But the old housekeeper, as she sat at the bedside of 
 fche heavily breathing sufferer, muttered from time to 
 time. " He brought the ill luck with him, mavrone, as his 
 father brought before him !" 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 eugene's dagger. 
 
 The information which Redmond gave his friend as to 
 the wounded man the previous night we may shortly state 
 here. 
 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer was the son of a Scotch gentleman 
 who held high position in the Castle of Dublin. By the 
 death of an uncle he had recently become possessed of a 
 large but encumbered property both in England and 
 Ireland in his own right; but having lived so lcug in 
 Dublin and become accustomed to its society, he had 
 resolved on making it his home. He had met Helen and 
 her brother at one of the balls in Merrion- square, and 
 thereafter a friendship grew up between them, which 
 gradually ripened into an engagement between himself 
 and the young girl. 
 
EUGENE'S BAGGER. 25 
 
 Her brother looked with approbation on the relationship 
 that thns sprang up, and was very mnch pleased when 
 this formal engagement was entered into between them. 
 
 Possessor of property and position, and moving in the 
 best circles of Dublin society, Sir Trevor Mortimer was 
 considered on all hands to be an excellent match for his 
 handsome sister. For though by no means highly gifted 
 with good looks — and, indeed, regarded by some as pos- 
 sessed of rather sinister expression of eyes — Sir Trevor's 
 manners were so polished and so winning, his voice was 
 so soft, so courteous, and deferential, that one forgot in his 
 presence the absence of prepossessingness in his counte- 
 nance, and thought only of the charm and attractiveness 
 of his conversation. He was essentially a man fitted to 
 make an impression on women's hearts, and no one was 
 surprised when the engagement between himself and 
 Helen became formally known. 
 
 The wedding was to take place some time early in the 
 ensuing year, and was intended to be a time of great 
 festivities at Seamore. There was no particular day fixed, 
 but it was generally understood by Redmond himself, 
 and Helen, that it should not be long delayed. Under 
 the circumstances he was a constant visitor, and much of 
 his time was spent in Seamore. 
 
 In company with Mortimer and Redmond the two girls' 
 lives were passing very pleasantly. Occasional rides into 
 the beautiful country surrounding the mansion, occasional 
 yachting excursions into the bay, and occasional visits to 
 the theatres in the city combined to make their lives pass 
 in the happiest manner. Not the smallest cloud of sorrow 
 came to darken the quiet homeliness and happiness of 
 their lives — not until now, when this singular and unex- 
 pected sorrow had swooped suddenly down upon them. 
 
 This was in substance, leaving out the references to his 
 engagement with Helen, what Redmond Barrington told 
 the young stranger the previous night. 
 
 Who struck the blow — what spirit of ill-will or ven- 
 geance prompted it — was a profound mystery to Redmond. 
 He turned on his bed restlessly in vain imaginings as to 
 the cause ; but he only tortured himself uselessly. 
 
 Finally he fell asleep. Curiously enough, in vague 
 
26 THE SHAN VAX VOCHT. 
 
 dreamings, he in some way associated his new-found 
 acquaintance with the deed ; and he started up, once 
 when he dreamt that he saw the arm of Eugene raised to 
 strike his friend — only to find the former bending over 
 him. 
 
 " You have had a disturbed sleep," said the latter. 
 
 " Oh ! Is that you, Eugene ?" asked Redmond, more 
 disturbed in his waking moments than even in his dream, 
 so surprised was he to find the visitor there. " You are 
 rig en early." 
 
 " Or, rather, late. Do you know what hour it is ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " It is well nigh noon." 
 
 " I did not think I had slept so long. How is Mortimer ?" 
 
 " Much better." 
 
 "Conscious?" 
 
 " Yes, partly so. The wound was not very deep. His 
 thick coat probably saved him." 
 
 "I am heartily glad to hear that," said Redmond, 
 raising himself on his elbow. 
 
 "Yes, and the oddest thing in connection with the matter 
 is that he seems to have been struck by a dagger which I 
 carried." 
 
 " That you carried," said Redmond, with a curious look 
 of doubt depicted on his countenance. 
 
 "So it seems," said the other coldly, as he noticed 
 this expression, which had all the appearance of strange 
 distrust. " I must have dropped it when crossing the 
 wall, I told you of last night." 
 
 " Did you see any person near at the time ?" 
 
 " Well, I certainly thought I heard voices as I 
 approached, but the shrubs might have hidden them, for 
 I saw no sign of them when I came near." 
 
 " "Was there anything particular to attract your 
 attention ?" 
 
 " Well, yes, now that I recall it. I was chiefly attracted 
 by the sound of a girl's voice, which impressed itself upon 
 me by the fact that it spoke in a French manner aud 
 accent." 
 
 " Of course you heard none of the words." 
 
 " Yes, I did ; I remember, just as I was descending the 
 
EUGENE'S BAGGER. 27 
 
 wall, the words, spoken apparently in anger, ' I never 
 married yon.' or 'it was a mock marriage,' or something 
 of that kind." 
 
 " Some quarrelling folk, I snppose." 
 
 " I daresay they w T ere." 
 
 " But Sir Trevor had no connection with them. Why 
 should he be strnck down ?" 
 
 " There yon pnt a qnestion which I shonld find it 
 difficult to answer — or perhaps himself. Angry people 
 often strike a blow in mistake, and an infuriated person 
 finding my skean ready to hand might have struck a blow 
 at a chance passer-by, mistaking him for the proper party. 
 The words ' it was a mock marriage,' or ' I never married 
 you,' indicated a family quarrel of which he was the 
 innocent sufferer." 
 
 "It is very strange and unaccountable," said Redmond 
 ^.ubioiisly, as he arose and proceeded to dress himself. 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 FOREBODINGS. 
 
 The surprises and annoyances of the previous night were 
 succeeded by a day of rejoicing when it was found that 
 Trevor Mortimer's wound had not been as dangerous as 
 was anticipated. 
 
 Helen rose early and learned the good news with 
 rapturous delight. She hurried from her own apartment 
 to that of Redmond to bear him the glad tidings. On the 
 way past the drawingroom door a slight movement therein 
 attracted her attention, and, thinking it might be her 
 brother who had already arisen, she turned aside and 
 entered. 
 
 It was not Redmond, however ; it was the stranger. 
 He was kneeling before the little oaken cabinet already 
 referred to, and was apparently essaying to open it. 
 She stood for a moment undecided what to do — finally 
 resolving to retire quietly ; but the rustle of her dress 
 caught on his ear. He turned his head, and at once 
 stood up. 
 
28 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 The feeling with which Helen perceived him wau 
 largely blended with something akin to distrust — if so 
 nnsnspecting a nature conld possess it ; but this was 
 quickly banished by the frank, open manner in which he 
 approached her. 
 
 " I have been trying, my dear Miss Barrington," he 
 said, advancing towards her with outstretched hand, 
 " whether my memory is as faithful as I thought it. I 
 was vain enough to say to Grannie last night that I could 
 open this cabinet after sixteen years' absence, and I was 
 trying to see if I could make my words good. I find I 
 cannot. But I find I am speaking without introducing 
 myself. Permit me to say, then, that I am an old though 
 unremembered friend, who, for the first time in many 
 years, found occasion to visit old scenes of happiness, and 
 availed himself of it — Eugene Lefebre." 
 
 " You are welcome to Seamore," said Helen, accepting 
 the proffered hand with a strange and unaccountable 
 beating at her heart, " and I have to thank you for your 
 assistance last night in our trouble." 
 
 " I fancied you did not, in the confusion, notice me," 
 said the stranger with a courtesy and grace which 
 impressed her curiously. " It was not a time for intro- 
 duction, so I meant to present myself to you on the first 
 available opportunity, and I am glad it has arisen now." 
 
 " It is a long time since you were here before," said 
 Helen in her embarrassment, not knowing what else to 
 say. 
 
 "It is not very far from twenty years, and that is a 
 long space in one's lifetime. I scarcely remember you as 
 a child. I suppose you do not remember me ?" 
 
 " No ; I was so very young then." 
 
 " Possibly you may have heard of me. I should be 
 sorry to think that the little boy whose young life was 
 made so happy here should have been quite forgotten." 
 
 " You were not forgotten," said Helen, with a sligh^ 
 palpitation of the heart, as she remembered the curious 
 story in which his name was for the first time brought 
 under her notice. 
 
 " I am delighted to hear that," he said, with some 
 fervour. " I am glad indeed — heartily, truly glad — that 
 
FOREBODINGb. 29 
 
 the memory of the child was not altogether lost, who once 
 was so happy and so welcome here." 
 
 • And who is eqnally welcome now, though those whom 
 he knew and who loved him are not here to receive him," 
 said Helen, with a tremble in her voice and a changing of 
 colonr that showed how earnest were her words. He was 
 indeed welcome to her — welcome because that it had been 
 more than a home to him when a child, and that he was 
 loved and beloved as one by those so dear, now sleeping 
 in their qniet graves. 
 
 " I never had any donbt of that," he said softly, and with 
 a tenderness that won npon her, " even when thousands 
 of miles lay between me and Seamore. And yet I doubt 
 if I wonld have come had I known that those I knew and 
 loved were gone — that those dear to me, inexpressibly 
 dear to me — were no longer here. I did not anticipate 
 such changes." 
 
 The tears welled into the yonng girl's eyes, and her lips 
 trembled. Her heart was too full for speaking. 
 
 " I am glad, however, now that I have come," he con- 
 tinued after a pause, " for it brings me into the knowledge 
 and acquaintanceship of those that I am delighted to 
 know and shall not soon forget." 
 
 " You were very kind to us in out trouble last night," 
 said Helen, to whom these latter words of his brought 
 considerable embarrassment. She felt instinctively that 
 the conversation was growing too delicate as between a 
 young girl and an almost stranger ; and as she raised her 
 eyes to his handsome face and kindling black eyes the 
 feeling became stronger. Wherefore she sought to change 
 the conversation. 
 
 " Unfortunately," said he, " my life has been cast amid 
 scenes where sights of that class were far from uncommon, 
 and I was possibly enabled to be of more assistance than 
 I could be under other circumstances or than can happen 
 again during my short stay." 
 
 " But you are not going away shortly ; you are," said 
 Helen warmly, " going to remain with us a long time. 
 Redmond will be delighted with your presence, and," said 
 she, smiling, " your visit has been so long delayed that it 
 is only a good stav can make amends for it." 
 
30 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 •' It was your mother's voice spoke there, Miss 
 Barrington," said the Frenchman smiling in response, 
 " and I shall be happy to enjoy your hospitality in what I 
 used to call my old home — Seamore. But," he added, as 
 a shade of thoughtful seriousness crossed his face " my 
 movements are not my own ; and there is an old maxim 
 ' that those that are bound must obey.' " 
 
 " But you are not bound here, Mr. Lefebre. You have 
 no cares of business here." 
 
 "Duty follows one, dear Miss Barrington, in every 
 quarter of the world — and if one forgot it, the French 
 nation, whom I have the honour to serve, knows how to 
 compel it." 
 
 " Tou are in the French service ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I merely mentioned the matter in order that it 
 might not be forgotten. The two countries being at war 
 does not render it the more pleasant to dwell in Ireland 
 at present, Miss Barrington ; and whilst I should not like 
 to be a visitor here without being perfectly frank in saying 
 this much, it would make the time here pass pleasanter 
 that, being known, it were forgotten or left unmentioned." 
 
 " It shall not be mentioned outside this house you may 
 depend, Mr. Lefebre," said Helen, this little tribute of 
 confidence having the effect of putting her more at her 
 ease with him. 
 
 " I should not have come in uniform — I just landed 
 from a skiff on the coast outside — did I not know I came 
 among friends, and, perhaps, there was also the vanity 
 lurking in my breast to let the dear old friends I thought 
 I should meet here see what the little boy they once 
 welcomed had grown into. It was," he said with some 
 embarrassment, " a natural feeling, and one not to be, 
 perhaps, ashamed of." 
 
 Helen was silent ; and as she looked upon him war 
 inclined to think that if the motive was one not to bb 
 ashamed of, neither most certainly was the speaker ; for, 
 as he stood before her, he seemed to her, the very embodi- 
 ment of whatever was brave, handsome, and chivalrous. 
 She was already beginning to look upon him in the ligh\ 
 of an old friend rather than a stranger, wholly unknown 
 until last night. 
 
FOREBODINGS. 81 
 
 " And as I have said so much, Miss Barrington, perhaps 
 I may also say a little more. Whether my stay be long 
 or short — long with your delightful invitation, or short at 
 the call of those to whom my services are due — I would ask 
 you to take me on trust for what I am. If anything seems 
 to you in me or my movements strange or unusual, or — 
 perhaps I may use the word — distrustful, always remember 
 that what I was, when a little boy I played under yonder 
 trees in the orchard, that I am in all respects to-day — in 
 all. essentials. The world is full of mysteries, dear Miss 
 Barrington, whether men make them for themselves or 
 they are made for them." 
 
 Helen listened to this statement bat imperfectly con- 
 ceiving its meaning. What it meant or foreboded she 
 could not and did not try to guess, but as if by some 
 curious incidence there flashed upon her mind the warning 
 words : 
 
 " An' now, honey, be led and said by me, an' take no 
 notice of him more than ov an old friend that comes on 
 a visit for a few days. Luck nor grace don't come of 
 Holly Eve games, an' on that account have nothing to say 
 to him. A girl's heart is aisily changed, an' it would be 
 the sore day if you let it turn from Trevor Mortimer, 
 who loves the ground you walk upon." 
 
 It took some time on the previous night for Cauth to 
 say this much, but it flashed through Helen's mind whilst 
 the young Frenchman was saying his concluding words. 
 Conscious that she had been inhospitably silent, and that 
 some reply was expected from her, she said at last : 
 
 " We shall be delighted if you can prolong your stay 
 with us, Mr. Lefebre, and shall look upon your visit as 
 doubly pleasant because of those to whom you were once 
 dear and welcome." 
 
 " Thanks, Miss Barrington. And now, as I have 
 probably detained you from other matters, I shall, with 
 your permission, pay a visit to your brother." 
 
 " I was about going there myself," said Helen; "but, 
 as you will be a more welcome bearer of the good news, 
 I shall resign the mission in your favour." 
 
 With which genial leave-taking she left the apartment, 
 and proceeded to see the housekeeper. But she had 
 
32 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 scarcely parted from him than an indefinable feeling of 
 dread and insecurity and evil forebodements sprang np in 
 her breast, which she could not account for, and which 
 caused a quicker pulsing at her heart. 
 
 Eugene Lefebre, when she had left, walked over to the 
 window looking out on the orchard, and thereover on the 
 distant seas. There was a white haze over the latter, and 
 the horizon in consequence was limited. If he wished or 
 expected to see anything thereon, there was nothing visible 
 — and so, after a few minutes' observation, he left the 
 room and proceeded to that of Eedmond, who was still 
 sound asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LISTENER. 
 
 The days passed delightfully at Seamore. The injured 
 man grew rapidly convalescent. The wound rapidly 
 healed; for though there was no mistaking the intention 
 with which the blow was given, his thick overcoat 
 prevented its force proving fatal. 
 
 Many were the conjectures and surmises as to who 
 could have made the attack and the reasons therefor. 
 But as no reason could be alleged, the guesses had no 
 base, and resolved themselves into mere fancies. The 
 only one thing that stood out clearly was that someone 
 must have been close at hand when Eugene clomb the 
 orchard wall, had seen him drop the dagger, and had 
 waited until Trevor Mortimer came upon the scene and 
 had stealthily struck him therewith from behind. 
 Happily, however, the striker failed in his aim, as we 
 have seen, and Trevor was now with great rapidity 
 getting well. 
 
 Meantime, and awaiting his recovery, the time passed 
 very pleasantly. Eugene doffed the uniform, much to the 
 regret of the girls, who thought it handsome and becoming, 
 and attired himself in civilian costume. Redmond kept 
 a yacht, and whenever the stranger had no occasion to go 
 into town — which latter not infrequently happened — he 
 
TH11 LISTENER. 33 
 
 rigged it out, and in the November days ran out to sea or 
 swept down the Wicklow coast. It was a very joyous 
 company — Eugene, himself, and the two girls ; and as the 
 first-mentioned was seldom without some entertaining 
 narrative of his adventures abroad, and found ready 
 listeners in the others, it would be difficult to describe 
 the sense of enjoyment with which the time sped. 
 
 Many a laugh there was at the fright which Helen 
 sustained at the first appearance of the handsome French- 
 man, in which Helen herself, blushing deeply, joined; 
 but the incident of the glove, whether forgotten or not, 
 was never referred tc — never mentioned. 
 
 At other times Redmond saddled his horses, and the 
 four cantered along through the beautiful scenery and the 
 exquisite country — then wholly unbuilt upon — that lay 
 between Seamore and the mountains ; and not infrequently 
 the city lights were glimmering before they descended 
 the hills for their ride homewards. 
 
 " It would be delightful if this were to last always," 
 said Helen in a burst of enthusiasm, as one evening, glow- 
 ing with health and exercise, she handed over her horse to 
 the hands of the attendants and turned with Eugene to 
 enter the house. 
 
 " Yes, it has been a very pleasant time to me — the 
 pleasantest ever I spent, or — " said the latter gravely, " the 
 happiest I possibly shall ever again spend." 
 
 " You speak as if it were about terminating," said Helen 
 quickly, whilst a sudden gravity supplanted her enthu- 
 siasm. " I hope you have no intention of leaving us ?" 
 
 " If I have, yon may rely on it, dear Miss Barrington, 
 it is an intention begotten of no wish of mine, and comes 
 of causes I cannot control." 
 
 " But there is not, is there ?" said she, in undisguised 
 anxiety, " any present prospect of your leaving. I had 
 quite made up my mind that you would remain for the 
 Winter with us." 
 
 " It would not be of my own motion I should fail to do 
 so ; you may certainly believe me in that," said he some- 
 what evasively. 
 
 " But is there any doubt of your doing so ? Redmond 
 would be so grieved to bear of it." 
 
34 THE SHAN VAN VOGRT. 
 
 " And would there be no one else sorry, Miss Bar- 
 rington ?" asked he softly. 
 
 " Yes, all. Everyone would be sorry. Why not ? What 
 could be more delightful than the present time ?" 
 
 " I am scarcely gratified by that reason," said Eugene 
 disappointedly, and not without a touch of sadness in his 
 manner. 
 
 "But there could be no better reason," said Helen, not 
 failing to comprehend his remark, but desirous of evading 
 it. " It is always sad to part with friends, and always 
 sorrowful to see a time of enjoyment ended. Don't you 
 think so ?" 
 
 " I quite agree with you, Miss Barrington ; everyone 
 feels it more or less. But there are occasions when one 
 is more touched by it, and for deeper reasons than because 
 it puts an end to enjoyment. I should like to be regretted 
 <ior something more than that when I am gone." 
 
 " But you are not going," broke in Helen earnestly. 
 ' Say that you are not. You have quite thrown a gloom 
 >ver me by even mentioning it." 
 
 " You must remember, dear Miss Barrington, that as I 
 told you before, I am not the controller of my own actions. 
 Fortunately it is so, as otherwise I should never succeed 
 in tearing myself away from here. You cannot know how 
 inexpressibly dear to me Seamore — and — and those in it — 
 have become to me, short as has been my stay here." 
 
 There was a touch of tenderness in his words which 
 kept Helen silent, and they walked together slowly and 
 thoughtfully for a little while. 
 
 " I, too, should be sorry — very, very sorry. Bat I hope 
 — indeed I do most truly — that you will be enabled to 
 spend the Winter with us. Think how short you have 
 been here. Surely you have got no commands to go ?" 
 
 11 1 fear, even without them, it would be better for me 
 that I should. For many reasons, which I need not enter 
 upon at present, I think it would be better for my future 
 happiness that I should leave soon." 
 
 "For many reasons ?" said Helen, wonderingly. 
 
 "For many reasons, Miss Barrington." 
 
 " You puzzle me," said she after another slight paupo. 
 " I cannot comprehend why your stay here should interfere 
 
THE LISTENER. 35 
 
 with your future happiness. Yon are dearly welcome to- 
 ns for many sakes, and — I — I hope yon are as happy aa 
 we thought yon were, and as we wonld wish yon to be." 
 
 "It is because I am so very happy that I dread the 
 regret that will come to me when I am gone. Did it 
 ever strike yon, Miss Barring-ton — or Helen, if yon will 
 permit me to call you so " 
 
 He paused, as he stood by a laurel tree under the window. 
 
 "Yes, Helen, certainly," she said. "We are too old 
 friends to stand on ceremony." 
 
 " Well, Helen," said he, with a brighter tone in hia 
 words, " did it never strike yon that one might remain in 
 a place until feelings grew up in his heart he could not 
 control ; until chains of attachment and affection wound 
 around his heart that he could not rend; until a power he 
 could not break enthralled him, and until disappointment 
 might poison his whole existence ? It has arisen before 
 with many ; it might — nay, would — with me." 
 
 " Not here." 
 
 The words were so simply spoken that he thought at 
 once she failed to comprehend his meaning. 
 
 "Yes, Helen, here. My own heart tells me that it is 
 dangerous for me to remain." 
 
 4 ' Why ? Because of what — of whom ?" 
 
 " Because of you." 
 
 "Of me?" 
 
 " Of you, Helen Ever since that first night I saw yon 
 I cannot describe the feelings that possess me. Your face 
 is before me at all times. Your eyes break in on my 
 dreams at night ; I cannot " 
 
 " Oh ! for God's sake, Eugene," said the young girl in 
 affright, " don't speak thus. You don't know what yon are 
 speaking of. Yon don't know that- " 
 
 There w T as a rustle at the window overhead that startled 
 her, and Redmond's cheery voice was heard saying : 
 
 " What ! you here, Trevor ! I am delighted to see yon 
 able to move so far. Why, yon will be able to come out 
 with us in a day or two." 
 
 "I thought I should like to leave my room and get & 
 little fresh air at the window," said the invalid, who had 
 been sitting there silently all the time, in reply. 
 
30 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " Oh, my God !" thought Helen, " he has heard it all," 
 and with a most uncomfortable feeling flew into the house. 
 
 Eugene entered more slowly, and walked into the 
 apartment where the two young men were. The lamps 
 had not yet been kindled, and, save the dim light that 
 came from the dusky evening outside, there was none 
 other in the room. 
 
 He was, therefore, unable to see the pallor that over- 
 spread the face of the invalid, or the stormy light of anger 
 and jealousy that shone in his eyes. There was no trace 
 of any feeling but one of good- humour, however, when, in 
 a few seconds afterwards, the latter said : 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, I hope you have had an agreeable 
 ride." 
 
 " A most agreeable one," said Redmond cheerfully, 
 11 and only wanted your own presence, my dear Mortimer, 
 to make it perfectly enjoyable." 
 
 " Many thanks. I find myself much stronger this 
 evening." 
 
 " I am delighted to hear it. The fact is, I have been 
 just considering since I came in whether I have not been 
 acting a little selfishly in leaving you so much alone. But 
 the necessity of showing Eugene old scenes which he may 
 possibly never see again must be my excuse." 
 
 " Don't mention it," said the invalid. " I have been 
 the unfortunate cause of trouble enough without bringing 
 the house into additional gloom. If not with you in 
 person I am in spirit in all your excursions." 
 
 "Whenever Mr. Mortimer comes to France," said 
 Eugene, with frank good humour, " we shall make good 
 to him his present deprivation.'' 
 
 " Your French wine shall give him back some of the 
 strength your French dagger robbed him of," said Redmond 
 laughingly, as he lit the lamps and handed round a box of 
 choice cigars. " By the way, Eugene, someone has been 
 here looking for you to-day during our absence." 
 
 "For me?" 
 
 "Yes, so they tell me. I hope he brings you no abrupt 
 news." 
 
 " Did he leave no message ?" inquired the other with 
 quick concern. 
 
THE LISTENER. 37 
 
 " A letter. It is on the drawing-room chimney- piece 
 yonder." 
 
 Eugene went for the letter, looked at it cnrionsly, 
 opened and read it, and after some time returned to his 
 place. The lamp was lighting and the table was spread 
 for dinner. 
 
 " Well, Engene ; no unpleasant news, I hope. You are 
 looking rather serious." 
 
 " Am I ?" said Eugene brightly. " Then I shouldn't. 
 There is nothing unpleasant in it. Merely an invitation 
 to town to-morrow evening. But where are the ladies ?" 
 
 " Unfortunately," said the old housekeeper, " Helen has 
 a bad headache, and Miss Howard remains to keep her 
 company. So you will be deprived of the pleasure of their 
 presence." 
 
 " It is very unfortunate," said Redmond pettishly — 
 " particularly as it is the first occasion you, Sir Trevor, 
 have been able to dine with us." 
 
 "Helen is rarely subject to headache," said Sir Trevor, 
 " and for that reason it is all the more afflicting when it 
 comes." 
 
 " The ride was too much for her strength to-day," said 
 Eugene. " I am afraid I am to blame for her absence." 
 
 " It may have been something that tended to excite her 
 nerves," remarked the baronet, with a keen glance at the 
 young Frenchman; but the latter did not seem to notice 
 the remark. 
 
 The dinner passed over amid many anecdotes, in which 
 much of the then condition of things in France and 
 Ireland was discussed, and it was late when the gentlemen 
 retired. 
 
 When Eugene was in his room he took the letter from 
 his pocket, looked with fresh curiosity at it, remarking to 
 himself, " This letter has been certainly opened and 
 re-sealed It is singular if the sender should have done 
 such a thing in a confidential communication." 
 
 " I half expected this," he muttered, as he re-opened 
 the letter and read aloud : — 
 
 " Come in to-morrow evening. Important news has 
 come from France. It is more than likely you will have 
 to p& back hurriedly. Ome prepared for it. — 0. B " 
 
38 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " Bond might have taken more care with so important 
 a communication," he soliloquised. '" ' Gro back hurriedly.' 
 I half expected as much from the absence of communica- 
 tions for the past month. There is some blunder going 
 on, I'll be sworn. Heaven grant it may not be a serious 
 one. And so here ends my happiness for the present. 
 Better, perhaps, it is so. I should be madly in love if I 
 were to remain much longer. In love ! I fear I am that 
 already." 
 
 A smile passed over his face as a beautiful form and a 
 pair of bright blue eyes grew up before his imagination. 
 
 But the feeling was quickly replaced by more serious 
 considerations. " These papers !" he continued — " they 
 told me I should find them in that oaken cabinet in the 
 drawingroom. And I have completely omitted to secure 
 them. Shall I tell Helen ? No, better not. I shall leave 
 them there for the present. If it be necessary I should 
 leave, they can await my return. They concern no one 
 but myself." 
 
 With which soliloquy he retired to rest, first kneeling 
 down — a very unusual thing with Frenchmen of the day — 
 to say his prayers ; and taking out a gold crucifix from his 
 breast, ornamented with fleurs de lys, curiously engraved 
 in filigree work, kissed it, muttering " Poor father — dear 
 mother." 
 
 In a few moments he was asleep. Bright dreams and 
 fair faces haunted his slumbers ; and he awoke when the 
 sun was high in the skies, with Helen Barrington's blue 
 eyes, as he thought, beaming on him — but it was only the 
 stray sunbeams coining in through the hali'-closed shutters 
 and falling on his face. 
 
 " Hedmond," said Sir Trevor to his friend, when Eugene 
 had left, and before they proceeded to their respective 
 rooms. " I find I shall have to go into town to-morrow." 
 
 "Into town ? Why, you are not nearly strong enough 
 for that. It would be dangerous to attempt it." 
 
 "I am strong enough, and even if it were dangerous 
 to my health I must run the risk, for I have pressing 
 business ; but I am quite strong enough to go. What I 
 do feel is that I may not be strong enough to return, and 
 I dislike the idea of remaining all night in town in my 
 
THE LISTENER. 39 
 
 present condition. Could yon meet me there and we can 
 return together ?". 
 
 "I shall accompany yon in," said Redmond heartily. 
 
 14 jSTo, no. I should not care to take you from your 
 friends for the day. It would simply suit me quite as 
 well, if you were to meet me there, say about ten or 
 eleven o'clock at night — I shall not be ready to come 
 sooner — and we can then return together." 
 
 " I am heartily at your service. Fix the hour and the. 
 place." 
 
 " Say eleven o'clock, and at the Eagle in Eustace- 
 street." 
 
 " All right, I shall be there. I shall bring the carriage 
 with me." 
 
 " I should prefer not. "We shall hire one to take us 
 home. Truth is, Redmond," said he confidentially, " I 
 am rather ashamed to admit that my late illness has made 
 me somewhat nervous — and cowardly if you will. It is 
 not an agreeable character to bear before the ladies, and I 
 should therefore take it as a favour if you would not 
 state to anyone the reason of your coming." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Redmond. " There is no reason 
 why I should." 
 
 " Thanks. You were always such an agreeable fellow, 
 Redmond. This feeling I have referred to will wear off 
 when I get more out-of-door exercise, but you can well 
 understand one's weakness in desiring not to have it 
 known." 
 
 " Of course. And after the illness you have had your 
 nervousness comes natural enough. I shall not mention 
 the reason of my going, and I shall be there at the 
 appointed time. Your going may do you good, too, and 
 give you strength to accompany us on our future excur- 
 sions." 
 
 " It may. I am sure it will. Nothing has given me 
 more pain than not to have been able to enjoy the plea- 
 sure of your company and Eugene's during the past few 
 weeks." 
 
 " By the way, how do you like Eugene ? He is a very 
 agreeable fellow, is he not ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said Mortimer cheerfully. 
 
40 TEE SBAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " The girls like hiru very mncli — Helen particularly. 
 If," said Redmond, "yon had been able to enjoy his 
 company frequently I am snre yon would have been 
 delighted with him, too." 
 
 " It is a pleasure yet in store for me," said Sir Trevor, 
 with less heartiness, however, than Redmond had expected 
 " In a few days I trust to be able to make one of your 
 party." 
 
 " We shall all be so glad of it. Meantime you should 
 retire to rest without further delay. This being your 
 first night up, it may overtax your strength for your 
 proposed city visit to-morrow." 
 
 " I daresay you are right. You will not forget the time, 
 the place, and the secrecy." 
 
 " I shall remember all. Good night, Mortimer." 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 And they separated. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SUDDEN RESOLVE. 
 
 "You slept rather late, Eugene," said Redmond, as the 
 former entered the drawing-room. 
 
 " So I see," said Eugene gaily, " but I have an excuse in 
 that we had so long a ride yesterday and retired so late. 
 I hope our friend Mortimer has not suffered from the 
 unreasonable time we kept him up." 
 
 "Mortimer!" said the other, "why Mortimer seems 
 the strongest of the three. He has gone into the city 
 already." 
 
 " What ? Why I thought he was unable to stir from 
 the house." 
 
 "You would not have thought so had yon seen him 
 this morning. He looks as vigorous as either of us. His 
 recovery has been something wonderful." 
 
 " Much more than I expected. But when did he leave 
 for town ?" 
 
 "Not quite half an hour since." 
 
 "He made no mention of his intention Lust night." 
 
A SUDDEN RESOLVE. 41 
 
 " bfo. It was some snclden notion he took. Some 
 business matter that occurred to him probably. Or 
 perhaps, he wished to take some exercise to aid his 
 recovering strength." 
 
 "I am surprised he should not try it with us." 
 
 " Possibly he thought his strength would not be 
 sufficient for that." 
 
 " Well," said Eugene, " I am sorry we are deprived of 
 his company. When is he returning ?" 
 
 " Probably to-night." 
 
 " If he had waited until this afternoon I should have 
 had the pleasure of his company." 
 
 "Are you going to town to-night ?" asked Helen. 
 
 " Unfortunately I must." 
 
 " We shall have a lonely evening in that case," said she. 
 
 "If the ladies would only permit it, Eugene," said 
 Redmond, " I should be very glad to accompany you. 
 We shall be probably back with Mortimer." 
 
 " You would not deprive us of the company of all the 
 gentlemen, surely, Mr. Lefebre P" 
 
 " I would not of my own, I assure you, Miss Howard," 
 said Eugene gallantly, "for it brings myself too much 
 pain." 
 
 " You look this moment like one who is suffering by 
 anticipation," she said sarcastically. 
 
 Redmond laughed — as indeed did all — for the young 
 Frenchman looked at the moment the embodiment of 
 gaiety and enjoyment. 
 
 " But, surely, you are not going, Redmond ?" said 
 Helen. " Think how lonely we shall be." 
 
 " I shall undertake to bring him back early and safe 
 and sound," said Eugene. 
 
 " With that undertaking I think I shall venture it," 
 said Redmond indolently. "What time do you purpose 
 going ?" 
 
 " I shall not be due in town until after dusk. The 
 moon rises early. We shall nave a pleasant walk ; the 
 tide will be full in." 
 
 " Very well ; I am at your service." 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said Miss Howard, "it is very 
 unkind of you. How shall we two ladies pass the time 
 until your return r"' 
 
42 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "And the worst of it is," broke in Helen, "they have 
 all made up their minds to leave together." 
 
 " We must only make amends for the present by enjoy- 
 ing the time we have," said Redmond. " What say you, 
 ladies, to a long drive after breakfast ?" 
 
 " Of all things," said Helen. 
 
 " It is a delightful morning for one. How soft and 
 bright and mild the air is," said Kate. 
 
 "Always providing," said Eugene, "that we shall be 
 back in sufficient time to permit me to keep my engage- 
 ment. I am sorry to have to make such a proviso ; but, 
 unfortunately, my engagement is important and must be 
 kept." 
 
 " We must prevail on Redmond to remain with us," 
 said Miss Howard, addressing Helen. 
 
 "I have given my word to Eugene — he only can give 
 oermission to me to withdraw it." said Redmond. 
 
 "A permission I must withhold," said Eugene earnestly, 
 'for I desire and need his company very much. You 
 must remember, ladies, I am more or less a stranger in 
 the city." 
 
 " Under these circustances wo must see that the stranger 
 is protected," said Miss Howard, and amid much laughter 
 they sat down to breakfast. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 NEWS FROM FRANCE. 
 
 Redmond and his friend proceeded on foot to the city. 
 The night was clear and starlight ; and, as the tide was 
 full in, their walk along the sea shore, with the murmur 
 of the waves in their ears, was very pleasant. 
 
 Arrived in the city, they separated, with an arrange- 
 ment to meet at the Eagle, a famous inn that then stood 
 in Eustace-street. 
 
 The Frenchman proceeded swiftly in the direction of 
 the quays. Arrived at a narrow street leading off: the 
 Southern quay, he came to a public house, in the window of 
 
NEWS FROM FRANOK 43 
 
 which a small oil lamp was burning. There was but little 
 appearance of business in the shop, and the hostess sat 
 knitting, in the absence of customers, behind the counter. 
 
 Lifting his hat courteously, to which salutation the 
 good-looking landlady replied with a smile of recognition 
 and welcome, he passed rapidly through, and, pushing a 
 door open, ascended a narrow and lightless stairs that led 
 upwards. When he had groped his way to the top he 
 turned the handle of a door and entered. 
 
 A flood of light burst on his vision as he did so. The 
 apartment which he entered was splendidly lighted, and 
 its comfortable — nay, elegant — appearance was but little 
 indicated by the exterior of the house or the shop. A 
 number of gentlemen were scattered about — some seated, 
 some standing, and some playing at billiards. Evidently 
 they had been expecting him, for there was a general 
 movement towards the fireplace as he entered. 
 
 " Late in coming, Eugene ?" said a handsome-looking 
 man, as he presented the new comer with his cigar case, 
 the while the diamond ring on his finger flashed its 
 scintillations around. 
 
 " A little later than I intended, but not too late, I 
 hope." 
 
 " In these uncertain times it is difficult to say whether 
 one is too early or too late," said another, whose foreign 
 accent betrayed him as not of Irish origin. 
 
 "Why, Antoine," said Eugene quickly, "has the mes- 
 senger come ?" 
 
 " He is here since dusk." 
 
 " What news does he bring ?" 
 
 " Excellent — but he is here to speak for himself." 
 
 At this moment a hand was laid on his shoulder, and, 
 turning round, a young fellow, whose boyish face was 
 round and soft as a girl's, and whose age was certainly 
 not more than eighteen, stood before him. 
 
 " Hallo ! Francois," said Eugene in much surprise ; 
 " is it you that have come this time ?" 
 
 " Yes, man capitaine" said the youth laughingly, " I 
 thought I should come over and see what this new country 
 is like, and how it may look with the French banners 
 flying over it." 
 
41- THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " Well, I certainly did not expect to see you here, 
 Francois, but yon are welcome to Irish soil. Any des- 
 patches ?" 
 
 " Yes, here they are," said the youth, as, pressing' a 
 spring- in the head of a light cane or riding whip which he 
 carried, the top new open, disclosing a very small cavity, 
 from which he drew forth a slight roll of thin paper not 
 much thicker in diameter than a quill. 
 
 11 Well, Francois, before I read this, tell me how matters 
 are going on in France. It is so long since I heard anj 
 news from that dear land that I am really athirst for 
 information." 
 
 '* You have not heard the great news, then ?" said 
 Francois, with wonderment expressed on his face. 
 
 " No; how could I, Francois ? You are the first that 
 could tell me since I left. You don't suppose we are in 
 Paris ?" 
 
 " I find it difficult to think I am not," said the youth 
 gaily. " I fancy ever since I came in here that I have 
 only to step outside to be on the boulevards again." 
 
 " Well, Francois," said Eugene with a grave but good- 
 humoured nod of his head, "you will be much more 
 fortunate than some of your predecessors or it will be 
 some time before you tread the boulevards again." 
 
 The youth laughingly put his handkerchief to his eyes 
 as if to mourn for the afflictions that awaited him. 
 
 " Look here, Francois," said Eugene, as he watched 
 this fanciful piece of acting, "take my advice and remember 
 that it is not playing pranks in General Clarke's office 
 you are now. A hempen rope and a dance over the 
 battlements of Carlisle-bridge is a vastly different thing 
 from a saunter down the Rue des Victoires. But advice 
 was always thrown away on you. Tell me the news. 
 What is Bonaparte doing ?" 
 
 " Doing ? Carrying the French banners over Italy. You 
 have not heard that he has carried everything before him 
 there ? The Austrians were beaten at Castiglioni last 
 month, and Marshal Wurmser, who never saw his banners 
 in retreat before, was barely able to save his rereguard from 
 the sabres of the cuirassiers. So also the bayonets of the 
 infantry, under Bonaparte himself, swept the army of 
 
NEWS FROM FRANCE. 45 
 
 Alvinzi from his position at Areola, and with the exception 
 of Mantua, Italy from end to end is ours." 
 
 " He is a wonderfnl soldier," said Eugene. 
 
 " He is the great master of war," said the youth 
 enthusiastically. "The army is in ecstacies over the 
 triumphs he Las won and the glories he has achieved." 
 
 " I hope they will prove glories for France," said Eugene 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 " Of course they will. What is glorious for her army 
 is glorious for France." 
 
 " I trust so." 
 
 " Trust ! Of course they are." 
 
 " Well, Francois," said Eugene, laughing at the airy, 
 enthusiastic manner of his friend, " you are a very angel 
 of good news. And now for the despatches." 
 
 Eugene unrolled the delicate tissue of paper, and, 
 holding it up between his eyes and the light, read the 
 secret writing thereon with deep attention, whilst the 
 gentlemen assembled stood silently around him. 
 
 " This is wonderful news, gentlemen," he said at last, 
 after a pause of great expectation. 
 
 "What news does he bring ? What is in the despatch ?" 
 asked half a dozen of voices at once. 
 
 " De Morand de Galles sails from Brest on the 15th 
 instant with a French army on board, for the shores of 
 Ireland !" 
 
 A ringing cheer went np from those assembled. 
 
 " Head it — read it !" cried a dozen enthusiastic voices. 
 
 M Here it is, gentlemen," said Eugene once more holding 
 the paper to the light, and reading : 
 
 " ' Morand de Gralles will sail on the 15th December 
 from Brest for Bantry Bay, on the Southern Irish coast. 
 Hoche will command them.' That is all. Oh ! by the 
 way, Francois, you are likely to see your comrades sooner 
 than I wotted of. Here is yet another note from 
 De Galles, laconic enough too. ' Come back at once with 
 bearer — by any way you can, but come. You are appointed 
 to command a frigate.' There, gentlemen, is all the news 
 for you. The French fleet with a French army on board, 
 will sail for Ireland on the 15th." 
 
 "Can it be true? Is it really true?" was anxiously 
 asked. 
 
46 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " It is true enough," said Eugene. " Here is Clark's 
 signature at the end. There is no mistaking that G. The 
 Brunswicker's sabre on the plains of Valmy did not tend 
 to improve his handwriting." 
 
 " This is wonderful news, certainly," said the gentleman 
 who first spoke when Eugene entered the room. A buzz 
 of conversation immediately spread round the little party, 
 each discussing or giving his opinion on the last despatch. 
 *' He does not say what the number of ships to be des- 
 patched is ?" 
 
 "No; but the Directory are not accustomed to doing 
 things by halves. They who sent separate armies at the 
 same time marching on the high road to every capital in 
 Europe are not going to send a squadron of sabres to fight 
 England. Take my word for it, Clarke knows his business 
 too well for that. It will be your duty, gentlemen, to see 
 that his efforts are well seconded." 
 
 " We can readily answer for our country, can we not, 
 Bond ?" said a young gentleman who had remained silent 
 during the communication of the message, but who, now 
 when he did speak, was listened to with great respect and 
 attention. " A hundred thousand men will be ready to 
 lift the Irish banner the moment the first French cannon 
 thunders on Irish soil. All we want is arms and ammu- 
 nition, and officers to lead them." 
 
 " No doubt, my lord," said Bond, u we can promise such 
 an array of fighting men as never yet were under the 
 banners of France. But it seems to me that the point of 
 destination of the fleet is, next to its sailing at all, the most 
 important matter. The despatch mentions Bantry. Now 
 I am inclined to think that is a mistake." 
 
 " But you remember," said Eugene, " the first night I 
 came here we went carefully over all the possible places 
 of disembarkation, and Bantry was mentioned as one of 
 the most secure and ample harbours on the Irish coast." 
 
 " True," said Bond, " but I certainly do not remember 
 — I may be mistaken — but I do not remember that it 
 was urged as a suitable or likely place as the objective 
 point of the French expedition. It is, in the first place, a 
 remote position in the wildest and most thinly populated 
 part of the whole country. For any considerable body of 
 
NEWS FROM FRANCE. 47 
 
 m<m to array themselves under the French colours, they 
 would have to march immense distances. The reception, 
 therefore, our French allies would meet would be dis- 
 heartening at the outset, and that is to be avoided." 
 
 " I quite agree with Bond," said Lord Edward after 
 a pause. " The best place assuredly for a French army 
 to land would be in the centre of a populous district, 
 where the cheers of an enthusiastic people would greet 
 their disembarkation. With smart officers to drill them, 
 one week would place an army, such as no power of 
 England could dream of meeting, in your hands. I fear 
 that there would be many obstacles to success if so remote 
 a landing place as Bantry is chosen. The proper place to 
 strike is at the heart, and that place, so far as Ireland is 
 concerned, is — Dublin." 
 
 " You must remember that it will take some time to drill 
 the raw levies that will flock to our standard," said 
 Eugene, " and that you cannot drill and fight at the same 
 time. A short breathing time after landing is for that 
 reason necessary, and a remote district would give us 
 that." 
 
 " You have forgotten the question of the commissariat," 
 said Oliver Bond, whose vigorous mind grasped all the 
 difficulties of the position at once. " The fleet are not 
 supposed to carry more provisions with them than will 
 last the voyage ?" 
 
 " No," said Eugene, laughing ; "we carry better things 
 than provisions — plenty of bullets and powder, long 
 muskets and bright sabres — the sort of cargo that befits a 
 conquering nation." 
 
 "And how," asked Bond, " would you provide for your 
 French soldiers, not to speak of the people who would 
 flock to your standard ?" 
 
 "Why the matter is very simply settled by our generals, 
 at all times," said the Frenchman, interrupting with some 
 haughtiness. " If our troops are in a friendly country 
 they expect support, if in an enemy's they compel it." 
 
 " I am afraid you have mistaken the point of my 
 question," said Oliver Bond , smiling at the other's mistake. 
 " I did not refer so much to the manner of obtaining 
 supplies as to the possibility of getting them at all. My 
 
48 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 impression is that the country there for many miles 
 around would not provide, if it were all taken, as much 
 commissariat supplies as would last an army for two 
 days." 
 
 " Could they not march on Cork ?" 
 
 " That would be a long and weary march, and to little 
 purpose. They would be still a long way from where 
 they could meet an enemy or strike a telling blow. I 
 greatly befear me" — it was Lord Edward who spoke — ■ 
 " your generals would get disheartened fighting, not 
 against the enemy, but against the difficulties of the 
 position. No ; the only place a landing can be effected 
 with any hope of successful result must be somewhere on 
 the Eastern seaboard. One successful battle, a march on 
 the capital, and Ireland were free from Malin Head to 
 Cape Clear." 
 
 "You are forgetting, gentlemen. There nre two initial 
 matters to be thought of — one is the difficulty of landing 
 at all — the English fleet is by no means to be despised, and 
 our admirals must try and avoid it as much as possible. 
 A fight between a fleet prepared for an engagement and 
 one crowded with ammunition and guns and soldiers is 
 very unequally fought. It would be simple massacre. 
 Prance does not hesitate to shed the blood of her children 
 in the cause of freedom — whose eldest born she is — but 
 she will not needlessly sacrifice them. The first difficulty, 
 therefore, is the landing at all. The second is the safe 
 anchorage for the vessels." 
 
 "You cannot carry on warfare," said Lord Edward, 
 " with rosewater. A blow at England will in any case 
 entail sacrifices ; and I am, for one, of opinion that between 
 an expedition to Ban try Bay and none at all, there is not 
 much to choose. You must further remember that it is a 
 matter of life and death to us. We cannot hope to succeed 
 without your aid, but to be of use to us, that aid must be 
 effectually rendered. A failure in that respect would 
 place us neck and heels at the feet of England for another 
 hundred years." 
 
 This and much more was urged by other speakers, until 
 the young Frenchman's mind was much impressed by 
 their arguments. 
 
NEWS FROM FRANCE. 49 
 
 11 Well, gentlemen," he said at last, '' you pee hov? 
 matters stand. The fleet will sail on the fifteenth if not 
 otherwise counter-ordered. What wonld you have me 
 do ? Time is pressing, and it may be difficult, if not 
 impossible, to alter matters thus definitely fixed." 
 
 " I think," said Lord Edward, " that it is of the very 
 first moment that the destination should be altered, and 
 that I take to be the opinion of all here." 
 
 " But how is it to be done ?" anxiously queried Eugene. 
 
 " I see no other way for it," said Oliver Bond bluntly, 
 ** except by your proceeding immediately to France and 
 laying our views before Hoche and the Directory." 
 
 " A message by our young friend Francois would not 
 be sufficient?" suggested Eugene, whose thoughts weni 
 back to the mansion of Seamore and the friends therein. 
 
 " The matters progressing are too important," said 
 Lord Edward gravely, after some deliberation, "to place 
 the mission in any hands but your own. The consequences 
 of failure are too dreadful to think of anyone of less 
 importance undertaking it." 
 
 " Well, in any case/' thought Eugene, " this appointment 
 Clarke has bestowed on me would necessitate my departure 
 in a few days at the very furthest." Then aloud " Well, 
 gentlemen, I am completely at your service. Wh-n do 
 you think I should leave ?" 
 
 " At once," chimed in a number of voices. " This night." 
 
 " It will take some time to get a vessel ready." 
 
 M As for that, the boat by which this young gentleman 
 came," said Bond, " is lying safe and sound at Dunleary, 
 and, I have no doubt, long before daybreak will be ready 
 to sail." 
 
 "In that case, Francois," said Eugene, turning to his 
 young countryman, " you shall see the fair city of Paris 
 sooner than you expected. I am sorry you could not see 
 more of Ireland, but " 
 
 " Why, I shall come back with the expedition," said the 
 youth, with enthusiastic glee at the idea of his again 
 seeing his beloved Paris. " We shall have a holiday 
 march through Ireland, something like what we had 
 through Prussia with Davoust." 
 
 " Were you there ?" asked Eugene with a smile. 
 
50 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 "Yes, T was cl rummer boy in the regiment of which 
 Hoche was colonel," said the yonth proudly. 
 
 " That's it you see, gentlemen," said Eugene, addressing 
 the group around him. " It is little wonder that our 
 French armies march to victory when the drummer boy 
 in a few years wears the epaulettes of a sous-lieutenant." 
 
 " I hope to wear the baton of a marshal of France yet," 
 said the youth. 
 
 " Very well, Francois," said Eugene, laughing. " There 
 is nothing like aiming high, at any rate. Meantime, my 
 young marshal, there is many a swelling wave between us 
 and France at this moment, and if you have any traps to 
 prepare you had better be getting ready." 
 
 " They are all in the cutter where we landed." 
 
 " So much the better. It will take the less time. And 
 now, my lord," said he, addressing Lord Edward, " what 
 farther message may I bear across ?" 
 
 " Simply this. If Hoche lands with ten thousand men 
 on any of our Eastern seaboard counties, and with one 
 hundred thousand stand of arms, tell him from the Irish 
 Directory the freedom of Ireland is assured. An army 
 such as he never led to victory will be beneath his banners 
 within half a score days after his landing." 
 
 " Very well, my lord, that message covers everything. 
 And now, gentlemen, as the night is growing late — it is 
 closing on twelvo o'clock — I think my young friend and 
 myself may be taking our leave." 
 
 " If you will permit me to drive you to Dunleary — my 
 trap is in the stables," said John Sheares — "I shall have 
 much pleasure in doing so." 
 
 " You place me under great obligations," said Eugene. 
 
 "It is but a sorry way to entertain an ambassador," 
 said Lord Edward laughingly, " but we shall give you a 
 right royal welcome when the van of the Freuch army is 
 tramping with banners flying, through Grafton-street." 
 
 "Which may be very much sooner than you think," 
 said Eugene, falling into the hopeful mood of the hour. 
 
 11 And nol sooner than they will be welcome," said 
 Oliver Bond. 
 
 " I think, however," said William Byrne, the Wexford 
 delegate, who until then had remained a silent listener 
 
NEWS FROM FRANCE. 51 
 
 to the conversation, 'we are bidding our friends a most 
 on-Irish adieu. You have never heard of the stirrup-cup 
 in France, I suppose ?" 
 
 " The stirrup-cup ! What is that ?" asked Eugene. 
 
 " Upon my word, Byrne, I should not have thought of 
 it if you had not mentioned it," said Lord Edward with 
 hearty good humour. "My mind was so preoccupied 
 with the business on hands that I never once thought of 
 it. The stirrup-cup by all means." 
 
 Champagne bottles were promptly in requisition, and 
 as the silvery bubbles of the wine sparkled in the glasses 
 a feeling of trust and hopefulness in the future seemed to 
 breathe through the atmosphere of the room. 
 
 " Here's to gallant France !" said Lord Edward, as he 
 and others clinked their glasses against those held by the 
 two French officers. " May the light of victory never 
 darken on her banners," 
 
 The toast was drunk with enthusiasm. 
 
 M Gentlemen, one toast from me," said Engene, as he 
 glanced at the young sous-lieutenant, whose face, like his 
 own, was flushed with pleasure at the enthusiastic manner 
 in which the toast had been received, and whose eyes were 
 not undimmed as the hurrahs called up memories of their 
 native land : 
 
 " The men of Ireland ! may they soon be enabled to 
 strike a blow — and a successful one — for freedom !" 
 
 This toast was not less honoured than the previous one, 
 and a subdued hurrah, sounding most strange to unaccus- 
 tomed French ears, rang through the apartment. 
 
 " I claim the right," said Oliver Bond, when the acclaim 
 was over, " to give the final toast. It is : 
 
 " To our next meeting. May it be amid the thunder of 
 French guns bearing the crown of victory to the Irish 
 nation!" 
 
 Amid a cheering and laughing that was delightful to 
 witness, the toast was drunk ; and, amid hearty wishes 
 for his safe passage to France and the success of his 
 mission, Eugene and his friend Francois shook hands with 
 the gentlemen of the Directory of United Irishmen, and 
 in company with John Sheares. passed down the dark 
 stairway. 
 
52 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 Over these buoyant and joyous hearts, full of high hope 
 and expectation, but little of the shadow of coming dis- 
 appointment fell that night ! Coming events, it is said, 
 cast their shadows before ; bnt the statement was falsified 
 in that company. For the Fates were weaving their 
 gloomy shrouds for unfulfilled anticipations and dead 
 hopes even then, and unseen lips were already chaunting 
 the dirge for many of the gallant and high-hearted 
 gentlemen whose pulses beat with lofty and chivalrous 
 feelings. 
 
 There were no policemen to keep watch and ward over 
 the streets — none but the old^watchmen, "the Charlies" — 
 and so in a few moments they had passed the back way 
 into the stables, had harnessed the horses, and were soon 
 swiftly driving through the dimly lighted streets. 
 
 " You had better drive to the Eagle for a moment or 
 two," said Eugene, as they passed along the quays, "there 
 is a gentleman there for whom I promised to call." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A HURRIED DEPARTURE. 
 
 " Do not delay," whispered Sheares, as he sat, closely 
 muffled up, on the driver's seat. " There is but little 
 time to spare. You should be well down the channel 
 by daybreak." 
 
 " I shall not be long," said the other, as he stepped to 
 the door of the Eagle and knocked. It was opened 
 immediately, and he entered. He returned without delay, 
 alone. As he passed over to the car a form hurrying 
 quickly collided against him. 
 
 "Hallo!" called Eugene. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Lefebre, I did not expect to meet you here 
 so late." 
 
 " I have been just looking for Redmond and failed to 
 see him. Have you seen him, Sir Trevor ?" 
 
 " I saw him — that is — I mean to say I saw him i^ the 
 forenoon." 
 
.4 HURRIED DEPARTURE. 53 
 
 " But to-night?" asked Eugene. "Have you seen him 
 to-nigiifc ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " I am surprised lie has not met me. I wish to see him 
 particularly, as I leave to-night." 
 
 " To-night." 
 
 " Yes. I am going back to France. Tell Redmond how 
 sorry I am I did not see him. Good-bye, Sir Trevor. 
 Shall return soon. Good-bye." 
 
 They parted, and Eugene leaped upon the trap. 
 
 " It is very odd," he said, as he re-took bis seat, " the 
 gentleman has not called, although he promised to meet 
 me here an hour ago. He must have gone by some other 
 route. Drive quickly ; we shall have another stop to make." 
 
 " Was not that Sir Trevor Mortimer you spoke to," 
 asked Sheares. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I hope you did not tell him who was witb you or 
 where you were going." 
 
 " I told him where I was going certainly," said Eugene. 
 
 " Better you had not. He is a rnauvais sujet, that 
 gentleman. Not worse in Ireland." 
 
 The conversation ended with this. 
 
 The importance of the subject they had been discussing, 
 the joyous enthusiasm of the meeting, and finally the 
 necessity for proceeding without delay on his voyage, had 
 prevented Eugene from more than a passing thought on 
 Seamore. But now that they were alone on the road, no 
 conversation passing between them, the sob and sigh of 
 the waves breaking against the shore alone in his ears, 
 his thoughts went with wonderful yearning to the place. 
 The memory of the days he had spent there came with 
 strong force on his mind now that he was hurriedly 
 leaving it. He thought of Helen — of her welcoming 
 voice, of her winning and handsome face, of her eye so 
 bright with pleasure and delight when she saw him, until 
 his brain filled with dream-pictures of her, until the dark 
 night gave forth her face to his eye, and the murmur of 
 the restless sea her silvery laugh. Attached to her as he 
 had become, he never felt, until now that he was leaving 
 her, that she had become so dear — so inexpressibly dear — 
 to him. 
 
54 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT, 
 
 The dark cloud or mist — obscuring the starlight — that 
 hung over the sea seemed to him, as he vaguely gazed at 
 it, a barrier of gloom and disappointment that should soon 
 separate him from lier and beloved Seamore. There was, 
 however, the silver lining to it — the happiness that awaited 
 him when he should come back and rejoice once more in 
 the light of her presence. 
 
 Her presence ! Why, what right had he to rejoice 
 in her presence? She had never given him, in the 
 slightest degree, to understand that the feelings which he 
 now felt he so strongly entertained for her were recipro- 
 cated. She was warmly friendly to him, as became her to 
 one who was so well beloved of yore and so long absent. 
 Her frank and pleasant nature never concealed the delight 
 she felt in having him among them ; but that was all — 
 of love there was none. And, then, on the other hand, 
 Trevor Mortimer ! He knew well enough — he could not 
 be long in Seamore without understanding it — that 
 Mortimer looked upon her as one who, in the natural 
 course of events, should in time be his wife. Redmond 
 possibly viewed matters in the same light. And for aught 
 he knew, for no words passed between them on tho 
 subject, Helen might be possessed with the same views. 
 
 In the midst of these thoughts the trap reached the 
 meadow that led up to the orchard. He quickly got 
 down, desiring them to await his return, hastily crossed the 
 meadow, clambered over the orchard wall, as he had done 
 on the first night of his arrival — it was the shortest way — 
 and, lifting the latch, entered. 
 
 It was close upon one o'clock. A solitary light was 
 burning on the kitchen table, and one of the girls was 
 sitting up awaiting his return. 
 
 "I am sorry to have kept you up, Norah," said he, as 
 the girl, half-asleep, raised her head from the table. " I 
 suppose they have all retired to bed, along ago." 
 
 " Ay, these two hours and more." 
 
 " Give me a light, Norah ; I want to say a word in haste 
 to Redmond." 
 
 "Redmond!" said the girl, in sleepy surprise: "is he 
 not with you ?" 
 
 " With me ?" cried Eugene, in tones in which a sense 
 
A HURRIED DEPARTURE. 55 
 
 of disappointment was manifest. Do yon mean to tell me 
 Redmond has not yet returned ?" 
 
 " No," said the girl, in alarm, " he has not. He went 
 out with you, and we thought he would have returned 
 with you." 
 
 " So he ought, but he did not meet me at the appointed 
 place. I suppose he remained with his friends. I am 
 going away for a short time, Norah, and '* 
 
 " Going away," said jSTorah, now roused completely from 
 her sleepiness, " an' at this hour of the night ! Won't you 
 wait until morning?" 
 
 "Unfortunately I cannot, Norah. I shall be many a 
 mile away before morning. I wish to leave a message for 
 your mistress, Norah. You will give it to her ?" 
 
 " Yes, I'll give it," said the girl ; " but what am I tell 
 her abont Redmond ?" 
 
 " Redmond will likely be home in the morning, ,, said 
 Eugene, as he finished the letter. " He has probably 
 stopped with his friends in the city. Give Miss Barrington 
 this note, ISTorah ; and now good-bye. I am sorry I cannot 
 remain longer," he said. 
 
 " "When will you return P or how long will you be 
 away ?" 
 
 " Two questions pretty difficult to answer, Norah," he 
 said, smiling. " I don't know myself ; but I shall return 
 as soon as I can. Tell Miss Barrington so, although I 
 have said as much in my note. Once more — good-bye !" 
 
 He held out his right hand to bid her good-bye, and with 
 the other handed her the note, and a gold ring which he 
 took from his finger. 
 
 She took the former and returned the latter. 
 
 "I could not take this, Mr. Lefebre," she said. "If 
 there was anything I could do for you I would do it, and 
 with pleasure, but I could not accept a reward. You have 
 been too friendly and kind since you came, and •" 
 
 " It is not a reward, in the ordinary sense of the word 
 at least, Norah," he replied, as he noticed her rejection ; 
 " it is rather a memento to remember me by. In my 
 hurried departure it is the only gift I can make, and you 
 must accept it — at least until we meet again. Good-bye !" 
 
 Before the girl could make further motion he was gone. 
 
56 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Out into the darkening night, and this time by a 
 circuitous route, until he reached where the parties were 
 awaiting him. 
 
 "I fear I have delayed you," he said, as he resumed 
 his seat, " but though it was at rather an unreasonable 
 hour, I could not leave without a parting message." 
 
 11 We have not too much time to waste ; the night is 
 passing, and you would want to be well away from the 
 seaboard by sunrise," said John Sheares, as he handed 
 him his cigar case. 
 
 The Frenchman wrapped his cloak around him, lit his 
 cigar, and the vehicle whirled along the road to Dunleary 
 in silence, so far as the three travellers were concerned. 
 
 They drove swiftly over the rough, scrubby brushwood 
 — the Dunleary common — on which the town of Kings- 
 town now stands, and without stop or stay until they 
 reached the shingly strand, where in a sheltered nook the 
 Albatross was rocking to and fro in the plash of the 
 waves. 
 
 There was a weird silence around, when they had, after 
 tying their horses to a tree, descended the steep hillside 
 down to the little cove where, in the dim and misty moon- 
 light, the little barque lay vaguely on the waters like some 
 phantom vessel. There was no light on deck, and nothing 
 to indicate that there was anyone on board. A sharp 
 whistle, twice repeated from the lips of Francois, caused 
 the appearance of some dim figures over the bulwarks ; 
 and after another interchange of similar signals a boat 
 put off from her side, and with muflied oars was driven 
 rapidly shore wards. 
 
 In a few moments her keel grated on the shingle. 
 
 " Is that you, captain ?" asked Francois. 
 
 11 Yes, mon officer" said the skipper. " I did not expect 
 you back. We were just getting ready to start." 
 
 "I am glad you delayed," said the youth. "I am 
 going back wdth another gentleman. How is it out at 
 sea?" 
 
 "A fine spanking breeze from the Nor'-West ; just the 
 thing to suit us," said the skipper ; " but we have very 
 little time for delay. The night is waning rapidly. Jump 
 
A HURRIED DEPARTURE. 57 
 
 The young Frenchman jumped into the boat, whilst 
 Eugene and Sheares waited for a moment to exchange a 
 word or two. 
 
 A hurried intimation from the captain that the breeze 
 was freshening concluded the discourse ; and in a few 
 moments Eugene was by the side of his companion. In a 
 quarter of an hour or less the anchor was hauled up, the 
 sails expanded to the wind; and, as the United Irishman — 
 so soon to climb the steps of the scaffold — clambered up 
 the steep sides of the cliff to where his horses were 
 tethered, and stayed a minute on his way to look round, 
 a phosphorescent gleam on the water — a track of white 
 wave — showed him where the rapid keel of the cutter was 
 clearing its way out to sea, her sails showing in phantom 
 dimness through the white mist that gathered over the 
 waters. 
 
 " Good luck and God speed you," was the muttered 
 parting prayer, as he untied his horses and turned his face 
 homewards to the city. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DISASTER ! 
 
 The cold grey light of the dawn came slantingly from the 
 East, across the breast of the Irish sea, as the cutter ran 
 down the Channel off the Wicklow coast. The tops of 
 the Croghan mountains far above were turning into gold 
 as the rays fell on the white mists that circled their 
 summits and dispersed them. The long line of surf in 
 the wake of the boat, as the growing day-beams fell on it, 
 showed very strikingly the effect the breeze had on her 
 filling sails. 
 
 As it grew brighter, the captain swept with his glass 
 the rather limited horizon within view, but closed it up 
 again, as no sign of vessel on the sea gave indication of 
 danger. 
 
 " With this breeze at our heels and no need for tack- 
 ing," he said, "we shall be in the Atlantic in a few 
 hours." 
 
58 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "You don't anticipate any danger, I hope," said 
 Engene, who noticed his survey of the sea with some 
 concern. 
 
 " There is always cause for fear along this coast," said 
 the captain sententiouslv. 
 
 " Well, I hope not on" this occasion," said Eugene. " It 
 seems perfectly clear of sail of any kind just at present." 
 
 "A run of a few miles might change all that," said the 
 captain. 
 
 "You seem to me," said Eugene, as he stood up from 
 where he had been sitting, " to have some cause for dread 
 on your mind. Is that so. Have you ?" 
 
 " As I said, there is always reason to be more or less 
 uncomfortable." 
 
 " Is there any special reason for it now r" 
 
 " A little. Not much." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Well, as we came along last evening I thought I saw 
 more than usual of cruisers in the Channel Bnt our 
 little barque is rigged so like an English vessel, and so 
 unlike a French one, that they never noticed us. They 
 might now, though, seeing us coming back so speedily." 
 
 " They are on the alert in consequence of the move- 
 ments of the French fleet," said Eugene confidently; 
 " they have more weighty thoughts and cares on their 
 minds than looking after such small craft as we." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that," said the captain. " All is 
 fish that comes to their net at present; and if they even 
 do not suspect our mission they might readily overhaul 
 us for the purpose of strengthening their crew. The 
 press-gang is nearly as busy on sea as on shore." 
 
 " You are pretty much of a Job's comforter," said 
 Eugene, laughing. " It would be rather an unpleasant 
 exchange to make from that of captain, that is to be, of a 
 ^nree- decker, to an able seaman before the mast in an 
 enemy's vessel." 
 
 " More unlikely things have happened," said the skipper 
 significantly. " There are a great many seamen serving 
 on board the English fleet who learned their duties first 
 in Brest and Toulon. 
 
 " Well, I must say," broke in Francois, as he lit a cigar, 
 
DISASTER. 59 
 
 " your conversation is not of the cheeriest character. A 
 plague on all your ships, say I. I should rather ride beside 
 Hoche on the Champs deMars as a simple sous-lieutenant, 
 looking at the long lines of glistening bayonets and with 
 the thunder of the guns shaking the earth under your 
 feet, than walk the deck of tne finest 74 that ever rode 
 the waves." 
 
 "There you are wrong, Francois," said Eugene enthusi- 
 astically. " There is no sight on earth so magnificent as 
 a stately three-decker with her acres of canvas given to 
 the breeze, and with her long rows of shotted guns pro- 
 truding from her portholes, as she bears down like a thing 
 of life on the enemy. There is a sense of power as she 
 rides haughtily over the waves, crushing them with con- 
 tempt beneath her, that nothing on land can give. With 
 curving lines of grace and beauty she anchors off a hostile 
 city broadside on, and before morning leaves it a heap ot 
 smoking ruins. That is the sense of power that makes a 
 great ship at once so attractive and so glorious." 
 
 " It may be a matter of taste, but give me the charge of 
 a gallant regiment on the enemy. See the thunder of 
 their rush as the earth trembles and smokes under the 
 hooves of their horses ! See the glancing row of drawn 
 sabres speeding like lightning ! The waving plumes, the 
 flashing eyes of the horses that seem to catch from their 
 riders something of their gallant courage and chivalry; 
 and hear their cheer as they burst like a thunderbolt on 
 the foe ! Oh, it is magnificent !" 
 
 "Your ideas are very fine, gentlemen," said the skipper, 
 "and I am sorry to disturb them, but just now we shall 
 be running in the neighbourhood of strange craft. I 
 don't quite like the way the semaphores are signalling 
 along the coast ; and if you would take my advice you 
 would retire to the cabin and take a sleep. Your presence 
 here might attract the attention of curious telescopes and 
 bring inquiries upon us." 
 
 " I think your advice sensible; and, as I have not closed 
 an eye these thirty hours, I, for one, am quite prepared 
 to follow it," said Eugene, as he raised himself from the 
 little deck whereon they had been reclining over a heap of 
 sails. 
 
60 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "And I, too," said Francois. "I not only slept none 
 last night, but very little on my way here from France. 
 This sea-travelling does not suit me, I fancy." 
 
 "You can have a long sleep if you will," said the 
 captain, "for I do not wish — however much I like it — 
 your presence on deck until after the sun goes down. 
 We shall be then well into the Atlantic." 
 
 The two young men descended to the little cabin, where 
 the two seamen who, in conjunction with the skipper, 
 were to work the vessel to France, were arousing them- 
 selves from their short sleep; and but partially undressing, 
 turned into their places. 
 
 Fatigued as he was, and worn with want of rest, 
 Eugene felt himself unable to close his eyes or woo 
 sleep to his brain — although his young companion had 
 scarcely lain down when he was in a sound slumber. 
 
 He thought over the events of the past few weeks 
 at Seainore, so peaceful and hnppy; and, whilst he did 
 not murmur at the sudden call that brought him away, he 
 felt sorry that his time had not been longer there. He 
 wondered what Helen and Miss Howard would say, when, 
 in the morning, they read his hurried note. He could 
 almost see now — he felt sure that about this time the> 
 would have read it — the expression of surprise that would 
 fasten in Helen's blue eyes, and the look of disappoint- 
 ment that would pale her face. What would he not give 
 to have been able to say one last harried word to her, and 
 tell her that, though seas might roll between them, her 
 face would be for ever present to him, and how dearly he 
 loved her. How dearly, indeed, he loved her he did not 
 himself feel until now, when circumstances hurriedly 
 separated them. His very heart went forth to her in 
 passionate tenderness and yearning ! Every glance of her 
 blue eye brightening into a smile as she looked, every 
 movement of her graceful form as they rode side by side, 
 the airy grace with which she handled the tiller when the 
 breeze sent their little yacht aflying along the Dublin 
 coast and brought the rich tints of rosy health into her 
 cheeks, the musical voice as she carolled softly some old 
 lay whose cadences seems to sink into the most inmost 
 recesses of his heart and lie there — all came up on his 
 
DISASTER. 61 
 
 thoughts with great force. There was a loneliness at his 
 heart, a sinking of his spirits, as he thought that he was 
 going from her presence — going, without even knowing 
 that she returned his love, or that he might ever hope she 
 would. 
 
 One thought occurred to him to brighten .the gloom 
 that was clouding on him : he would speedily return — 
 the fleet, of which he was a commissioned captain, would 
 shortly spread its sails for the Irish coast; and, once 
 there, he would soon bask in the light of her beauty again, 
 and tell her those passionate thoughts of love that were 
 now passing through his brain and pressing at his heart. 
 
 In the middle of these reflections he fell asleep. 
 
 The sorrow of the separation that weighed on his heart 
 whilst awake acted on his dreams, which partook of their 
 desponding character. 
 
 He was at Seamore again, but, somehow, incongruously 
 as is the manner of dreams, as a prisoner. Lonely, 
 dejected, and outcast he was, amid the gaiety and joyous- 
 ness of the place. There appeared to be but scant welcome 
 for him, and, though surprised at this, he was unable from 
 his position to find the reason. He saw Helen occasion- 
 ally passing through the orchard at a distance, in all the 
 enchanting gracefulness of her handsome form, or on 
 horseback cantering along, turning her bewitching eyes 
 upon the cavalier in attendance, whom he knew with a 
 pang even in his dream to be Trevor Mortimer. A spasm 
 of pain, like sudden poison killing the life within him, 
 shot through his heart as he saw the easy, careless way in 
 which her glances of affection were received by Mortimer, 
 as if he were so certain of them and so assured of her love 
 that it were needless for him to take the trouble of 
 winning it. 
 
 Suddenly the scene changed. He stood beside the 
 pillar of a church, a looker-on at some ceremony of which, 
 for the nonce, he could not make out the meaning. By 
 degrees the scene became clearer — it was a wedding. The 
 altar was draped with flowers. The candles were lighted. 
 The forms standing before the clergyman revealed them- 
 selves into distinctness — oh, heavens ! — they were Helen 
 Barrington and Trevor Mortimer. A feeling of rage, 
 
62 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 despair, insanity, suddenly seemed to possess him and 
 render him helpless and stunned. The torrent of passion 
 rendered him for a moment all but unconscious, out of 
 which vacuity he was stirred by the words falling 1 dimly 
 on his ear: "Wilt thou take this man for thy wedded 
 husband p" and the answer came in Helen Barrington's 
 voice, low and soft, " I will." 
 
 Careless of place and time and circumstances, his 
 agonised heart cried aloud : 
 
 " I forbid it ! She is mine by reason of the strong love 
 I bear her ! — mine by reason of the heart and life she has 
 made her own I" 
 
 Undeterred by — indeed, uncaring for — the effect his 
 conduct had produced, he was pushing frantically his way 
 up to the altar to claim her, if not by her own will, by the 
 strength of his right arm, when a band rudely placed on 
 his shoulder — awoke him ! 
 
 A confused murmur of voices was in the little cabin ! 
 
 The sinking rays of the sun shone dimly in through the 
 window, darkened occasionally by the rush of the while- 
 crested wave as it flew by; but, though this was vaguely 
 palpable to him, so absorbed had his dreaming brain 
 become in the imaginary pictures called up before him, 
 that for some time his waking thoughts could not realise 
 whether it was imagination or a etna lit v ! 
 
 He was roused into complete consciousness by a rough 
 shake ; and a harsh voice said : 
 
 " Come, come, my good fellow, get up ! You cannot be 
 so sound asleep as all that. Don't have us to awaken you 
 with a cutlass point. It is a capital awakener, but might 
 be a trifle injudicious now, when his Majesty wants men 
 so badly. Get up !" 
 
 " Where am I ? What is this ? Who are you ?" asked 
 Eugene in half -awaked astonishment as he saw the strange 
 uniforms crowding the cabin, and the strange faces filling 
 the doorway. " Where am I ?" 
 
 " Where are you ?" said the speaker with a mocking 
 laugh, reiterating the question. "You are at present in 
 the cabin of the Albatross— as villainous a little craft as 
 ever tricked his Majesty's cutters, and stole treasonous 
 messages and traitors from Ireland to France. And if yon 
 
DISASTER. 63 
 
 ask who are we : T am first lieutenant of his Majesty's 
 ship of seventy-four, hard by, on board of which 1 must 
 ask you to accompany me." 
 
 '• fs this true, Francois ?" asked Eugene, still half 
 doubting that his senses were not deceiving him. 
 
 " True — yes," said the other mechanically ; and Eugene 
 saw at once from the manner in which he spoke that they 
 had been seized whilst yet he slept. 
 
 "I am a French officer," he said, "on active service in 
 the .Republican fleet, but at present proceeding on private 
 business ; and it is not according to the rules of war to 
 make me prisoner." 
 
 " The greater the reason why you will be welcome to 
 us. You will need less training," said the officer mockingly. 
 
 " This mockery is not the part of brave men to those 
 unarmed," said Eugene, as, having dressed himself, he 
 stood upright among them. 
 
 " Perhaps not," said the officer sneeringly, " they act 
 otherwise in your service. A swing from the yard-arm or 
 a fusilade on the quarter-deck is the distinguishing honour 
 you confer in your service on English prisoners." 
 
 "It is false," said Eugene angrily, " French officers 
 know how to treat a captive foe." 
 
 " So I have said," said the lieutenant with a wink at 
 his comrades, who answered with, a laugh. " They only 
 know it too well. But we have not time to discuss the 
 subject at present. We shall have ample time later on. 
 Meantime, I shall thank you for any papers you possess." 
 
 " Pardon, monsieur," said Eugene haughtily, as he 
 noticed with ill-restrained anger this disposition to jeer 
 on the part of his captors. " You must get these as best 
 you may. Even if I possessed them I should be sorry to 
 yield them up. You have no right to make prisoners of 
 men not in arms." 
 
 " Not in arms, possibly ; engaged on a treasonable 
 mission, yes. But if you do not wish to yield them up 
 we shall make search for them otherwise. Men, take the 
 prisoners on board the Thunderer." 
 
 The order was at once complied with ; and between 
 files of marines the five prisoners marched on deck and up 
 the gangway that depended from the side of the huge 
 man-of-war. 
 
64 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 After a long and careful search into every part of the 
 Albatross, the lieutenant and the few men that remained 
 with him clambered on deck also ; a long gun was run 
 out from one of the portholes and depressed on the little 
 barque. A puff of smoke, a flash of light, a sharp boom, 
 and the Albatross, shattered from stem to stern, filled 
 rapidly, and sank in the deep waters — her sails destined 
 never more to fill with the freshening breeze or her keel 
 to cleave the glistening waters. 
 
 Her voyages between France and Ireland were ended. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CONDEMNED AS A SPY ! 
 
 It was with a heart beating with conflicting emotions 
 that Eugene found himself in the officers' quarters of the 
 Thunderer, wherein at a large table sat the captain and a 
 number of gentlemen resplendent with all the gorgeousness 
 of naval uniform. If he had had time to analyse these 
 emotions he would have found the principal one to be a 
 vague sense of disappointment and loss and disaster. Not 
 loss or disaster to himself — for he knew well enough that 
 every man in warfare on sea or land must run the risk of 
 these — they are the incidents of his profession; but for 
 others. Simple as was the little barque in appearance that 
 was even then making her rapid way through the deep 
 waters to the bottom, she bore important fortunes. The 
 future of a gallant and brave nation struggling into the 
 light of freedom was in her keeping, and mayhap the safety 
 of a powerful and friendly fleet. He was convinced, from 
 all that he had heard the night before, that the only chance 
 for success attending the great venture which France was 
 about to make in Ireland's cause, was in making the Eastern 
 coast their point of debarkation ; and that unless the 
 present intention of the Republican leaders were altered, 
 sorrow would come to the cause now engaging the attention 
 of the high-hearted men whom he had left last night — and 
 misfortune to a French army and fleet. 
 
CONDEMNED AS A SPY. 65 
 
 Relying upon the great success with which hitherto 
 their messages had been conveyed, he knew the Irish 
 leaders wonld rely on this message reaching safely also, 
 and would not send a duplicate. Indeed, except himself 
 and Francois, they had no one sufficiently acquainted 
 with French customs and ways to do the work. He 
 shuddered as he thought of the tremendously important 
 efforts now making in France in the wrong direction, and 
 the impossibility at present of a warning or advising 
 voice reaching them. 
 
 He banished, with a strong effort, these ancomfortable 
 feelings and thoughts, as he perceived the necessity for 
 keeping a bold and unconcerned front to the group of 
 officers before whom he was brought. And his first 
 thought in this new train of ideas which his position 
 suggested was, what information as to his position and 
 recent doings should he give his captors, or should he 
 decline to give any at all ? The query had no sooner 
 occurred to him than he immediately answered it by 
 mentally adopting the latter course. But the first question 
 addressed to him showed how futile it was. 
 
 "Tour name is Eugene Lefebre ?" half queried, half 
 affirmed the captain, after glancing at a paper lying on 
 the table before him 
 
 ' ; Yes, that is my name," said the prisoner with great 
 surprise ; for he was quite unable to comprehend how 
 they had acquired knowledge of his name. 
 
 " First lieutenant on board the French Republican 
 frigate, La Vengeur ?" 
 
 "I hold that position," said Eugene, bowing. 
 
 " Tori have been in Ireland ?" 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " State to the court here assembled the mission or 
 business that brought you there." 
 
 " That I must decline doing." 
 
 " It is unnecessary for you to do so. It is all set out 
 here. Tou were, in the first place, sent on business, on a 
 treasonable errand, from the usurped Republican Govern- 
 ment to stir up disaffection in Ireland, and to give 
 countenance and aid and advice to certain traitors there 
 Is not that so P" 
 
66 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 " I decline to state." 
 
 " Be it so. You were further sent over to make arrange- 
 ments for the possible landing of a French invading force, 
 now or at some future time. Is not that so ?" 
 
 " I decline to state," said Eugene, with some difficulty, 
 endeavouring to keep a calm and unconcerned bearing in 
 face of these statements. He was completely puzzled how 
 they could have arrived at this information, considering 
 the secrecy with which his mission had been conducted. 
 
 " It is entirely unnecessary for you to do so; I see the 
 statements are quite correct. You see, lieutenant, how 
 well we are served in our information. This is a question 
 you can perhaps answer : What treatment is awarded in 
 your nation to emissaries caught stirring up rebellion and 
 anarchy ?" 
 
 " That is a question for yourself to answer," said 
 Eugene haughtily. 
 
 " Perhaps it is. What treatment is awarded in your 
 nation to persons found acting as spies from the enemy's 
 camp ?" 
 
 "I am no spy," said Eugene indignantly. " The French 
 service never sends its officers on such service." 
 
 " They do not give them that name, perhaps. We do. 
 Well, as you prefer not to answer, I shall answer for you. 
 If caught on land, they are shot on a trench side without 
 trial ; if on sea, they are summarily strung up from the 
 yard-arm without investigation." 
 
 " I fear neither the one nor the other," said the prisoner 
 proudly. 
 
 " Fear would be useless and unavailing before the 
 inevitable. We shall, however, recognise your position and 
 your youth by according you some time. We shall not 
 take you as short as your nation have taken many of our 
 brave officers — if we are strong we shall be merciful. We 
 shall give you the night to prepare for the next world. The 
 sentence of the court is, that you be hung from the yard- 
 arm at gun-shot in the morning. Take the prisoner away." 
 
 It was a short and inglorious termination to a career so 
 bright with hope and future promise. The glorious life 
 which he had pictured to himself in the French service 
 had vanished, as a cloud obscures a burst of sunshine of 
 an April day. 
 
CONDEMNED AS A SPY. 67 
 
 Yet he thought not of these things as he lay upon the 
 bnnk which was the only article of furniture in the ship's 
 prison wherein he was confined. 
 
 " I have too often faced death before," he thonght to 
 himself, as he extended his form thereon, " to fear it now, 
 though it presents itself in an unexpected shape. I have 
 often enough seen those bright with hope and radiant with 
 enthusiasm go forth in the morning — and never return. 
 There was no sorrowing over them, for they had died as 
 became brave men, in the high and honoured remembrance 
 of their comrades. Wherefore should I care for death ? 
 But — I should like to see Helen. I should like to see her 
 if for one instant only, to tell her of the deep love I bore 
 her. The only sad thing in this end of mine is that she 
 shall never know it. The will of heaven be done." 
 
 His thoughts went over to the seashore at Seamore, to 
 the orchard which he had passed so blithely through some 
 weeks before, and to the rambles in the soft November 
 sunshine through the meadows around or over the white 
 strand. He placed his hand on his breast to assure 
 himself that the treasured glove was there. 
 
 He placed it to his lips and kissed it. 
 
 Finally he fell asleep. The end was now come, and all 
 anxiety and care in the future for him was terminated. 
 Precisely as the convict — knowing the worst, and antici- 
 pating in the world nothing further — falls asleep the night 
 before his doom comes, so the young Frenchman, without 
 seeking it, obtained the sleep he vainly courted when in 
 safety, and in dreamless slumbers passed the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A MYSTERIOUS WARNING ! 
 
 When Helen awoke the next morning and rang the 
 bell, instead of her maid, it was the old housekeeper, 
 Cauth, who made her appearance, and with a letter in 
 her hand. 
 
 "Y^hat is that?" asked Helen. 
 
68 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " A letter, dear." 
 
 u A letter, Grannie— from whom ?" 
 
 Her words were not spoken without some alarm, as she 
 noticed the look of trouble that was over Cauth's face. 
 
 " From Eugene Lefebre, dear." 
 
 " Eugene Lefebre ! What should he send a letter for ? 
 Where is he ?" 
 
 " Gone " 
 
 " Gone !" cried Helen. " Gone where." 
 
 "I don't know. No one knows. He came late last 
 night or towards morning, and gave this note to Norah 
 for you." 
 
 " Does Redmond not know where he is gone to ?" asked 
 Helen tremulously, as she mechanically took the letter 
 addressed to her. 
 
 " Redmond has not come back yet." 
 
 "Where is Sir Trevor — does he know ?" 
 
 " Sir Trevor has not returned either, Helen." 
 
 " Not returned ! " said Helen, with a feeling of un- 
 accountable dread rising at her heart. " What happened, 
 Grannie ? Tell me. [ am sure your are concealing some- 
 thing from me." 
 
 "Nothing has happened that I know of, Helen. Don't 
 frighten yourself without cause. Redmond and Sir 
 Trevor are sure to be well. What would happen them ?" 
 
 "I don't know, Grannie, but I am awfully frightened. 
 Who came with Eugene ?" 
 
 " No one. He came alone. But read the letter, aroon. 
 He'll tell you all in that." 
 
 Helen opened the letter with trembling hands. It 
 contained but a few hastily written lines. 
 
 They ran : — 
 
 "Dear Miss Barrington — or dear Helen, as you have 
 permitted me to call yon — I am leaving Seamore without 
 having time to bid you good-bye. But I shall see you 
 again shortly. And until I do return, believe me there is 
 not a waking moment that your dear face and pleasant 
 Seamore shall not be in my thoughts. My heart is too 
 full to say more. Adieu, dear Helen. — Eugene." 
 
 Helen blushed as she read the concluding lines, and felt 
 how much warmth and love lay behind them. But the 
 
A MYSTERIOUS WARNING. 69 
 
 feeling of embarrassment quickly gave place to one of 
 trouble as she folded the note. 
 
 " He does not say a word in this of where he is going, 
 or why. Nor a word of Redmond. Could Redmond have 
 gone with him ? Nor of Trevor Mortimer." 
 
 " Why would Redmond have gone with him, Helen ? 
 What had Redmond to do with him?" asked the old 
 woman in a more cheerful tone, as she witnessed the 
 distress palpable in her young mistress's face. " Eugene 
 came, my dear, as his father came before him, and it's well 
 he went away without leaving, as his father did, sorrow 
 behind him. I was always afraid ever since the night he 
 came that he would bring, as his father brought, trouble 
 and grief about the house and to the family. I thank 
 God he is gone !" 
 
 "And you were so fond of him, Grannie !" said Helen, 
 with tender upbraiding. " And he was so handsome and 
 pleasant !" 
 
 "I was fond of him, Helen aroon," said the old wonan, 
 as the tears arose in her dim eyes, "and I was fond of 
 him when his head could not reach the table — for there 
 never was a sweeter or more engaging child ; but I am 
 fonder of others, my dear, and others that I am bound for 
 the sake of your father and mother to love more dearly 
 and take care of ; and, therefore, I say it again, I am glad 
 he is gone. And as to being handsome and pleasant, my 
 dear, there never was braver or pleasanter or handsomer 
 than his father, and see what came of it ! See the sorrow 
 and short ending he brought to a young life that never 
 knew care until she looked upon his face." 
 
 " I wish you would not be telling me these things," said 
 Helen, and her eyes suffusing with tears ; " they bring 
 distress to me." 
 
 "Better that distress now, my dear, than life-long 
 sorrow and distress — the distress that knows no ending 
 and no relief. It is sad to lose a pleasant acquaintance, 
 and no one can say but that he brightened the house, but 
 it is as well that he is gone. I am an old woman, Helen — 
 my hair was grey and my form bent before you were born 
 ■ — and you should be said and led by me. I see the world 
 in a different light from you, Think no more of him. 
 
70 -FILE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 He was a wild bird of passage that but appeared and 
 disappeared. But think of him that is true and tried, and 
 will always be beside you. And now, Helen, it is time for 
 me to go, and time for you to get up ; for Redmond will 
 be coming home shortly. I thought I'd come up with the 
 letter myself, for Norah, the hussey, would be only putting 
 rai?nshogues in your head." 
 
 The old woman's advice had but little effect, or rather 
 the opposite effect to that intended ; for as Helen dressed 
 herself when Cauth had departed she had a good hearty 
 cry to herself. The future in Seamore seemed so dark- 
 ened, wanting the light of his cheery presence ! and she 
 felt at once so indignant and mortified and sorry at his 
 abrupt departure without even seeing her ! At times her 
 indignation grew so strong that she resolved to think of 
 him no more, as one not worthy of their welcome and their 
 kindness; but the next moment she found herself dwelling 
 on some pleasant incident in their daily lives — on some 
 graceful and marked attention he had paid her — some 
 little trifling event that his innate taste and chivalry had 
 turned into an occasion to give her pleasure. 
 
 Helen would have laughed joyously if Kate Howard 
 had hinted whilst Eugene was there, that she seemed to 
 be more attracted by his attentions than by the warmer 
 devotion of Trevor Mortimer. It was so absurd ! But 
 now that he was gone it seemed to her as if all the light 
 and grace and beauty had departed from Seamore.. and 
 there was nothing but dulness and desolation left. The 
 remembrance of the fact that if the gay sailor had gone, 
 Trevor Mortimer still remained, hardly seemed to abate 
 in the least the sense of loneliness she felt. 
 
 " Why, Helen, what's amiss ?" asked Miss Howard, as 
 3he entered her friend's room and saw the signs of tears 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " Read this," said the latter, presenting the letter. 
 
 " How absurd !" was the unsentimental remark of the 
 other. " What a mysterious way he has of coming and 
 going. He first terrifies us by his strange appearance, and 
 then worries us by his equally strange disappearance." 
 
 " Is that all you care for the departure of a friend, 
 Kate ?" said Helen indignantly, her friend's practical 
 
A MYSTERIOUS WARNING. 71 
 
 way of viewing the matter grating' very harshly on her 
 tenderer nature — " one, too, whom we may never see 
 again." 
 
 " Have yon never had a friend leave yon before, Helen ?" 
 asked Miss Howard. 
 
 " Of course. Why should you ask the question ?" 
 
 "Because in that case, Helen, if you did not grieve so 
 much in that parting — and I am sure you did not — there 
 must be something more than usual in the circumstances 
 of this. And yet the idea of your being in love with him, 
 my dear ! It could not be." 
 
 " I have never said so," said Helen, blushing, " but even 
 if I did, what would there be extraordinary in it ?" 
 
 " Everything, Helen, my dear — everything. But as you 
 have said you are not, and as I am sure you are not, let 
 us not talk more of it. Come to breakfast. I am sorry, 
 too, he is gone, he was so cheerful and agreeable ; but we 
 did not expect him to remain always— did we, my dear ? 
 And to tell you the truth, Helen, he was always a little 
 too mysterious for my taste. You remember the alarm 
 he created the first night by his sudden and unexpected 
 coming ?" 
 
 " The fault was on my side for being so easily fright- 
 ened," said Helen, rather more inclined to stand up for 
 her late guest now that every one seemed against him, 
 "and not on his for coming." 
 
 " True, Helen, but it was a little startling, was it not ? 
 And you remember that matter of the glove." 
 
 "I had almost forgotten that," said Helen with a slight 
 recurrence of her old alarm. 
 
 " Well, I am glad you remember it now, and I don't 
 think you should regret his absence," said her friend, 
 noticing with satisfaction the change in her manner. 
 "Depend upon it, Helen, he is one of these gay foreigners 
 who delight in winning girls' affections for the triumph 
 of the thing, and who make themselves agreeable because 
 it pleases themselves to do so, more than because it 
 pleases others." 
 
 Helen said nothing, but, having completed her toilet, 
 descended to the breakfast room with her companion. 
 The mention of the glove, which had previously escaped 
 
72 THE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 her thoughts, gave them a new complexion— and a dis- 
 tressing one — but of this she said nothing. It was of a 
 very different character, however, from what Miss Howard 
 inferred. 
 
 They had, indeed, sufficient in the conjectures as to 
 what delayed Redmond — who did not turn up at break- 
 fast — to wholly change the subject of discourse. He very 
 rarely remained a night away from the roof, and never at 
 all without previously acquainting them of his intention 
 so to do, and his doing so in this instance gave rise to 
 many conjectures. 
 
 Kate was stronger minded, as we have said, than the 
 young lady of the mansion, and, therefore, to arouse the 
 latter's attention from what she considered her morbid 
 fears, suggested a ride before dinner, by which time 
 Redmond would have returned. To this Helen assented. 
 
 The day shone, for a November one bright and bracing. 
 The ground was hard and dry, and the sides of the hills 
 in the distance looked starred with rubies and amethyst 
 in the clear rays of the morning sun. The sea was still 
 and calm along the sands, though farther out the freshen- 
 ing breeze off the land sent the vessels within view 
 sweeping merrily along. 
 
 "I think we shall ride along the coast to-day," said 
 Helen, after they had cantered for some time in silence. 
 " It seems pleasanter than inland. What do you think, 
 Kate ?" 
 
 " I think, dear, as we have the day before us, and you 
 need some change, we shall ride inland." 
 
 Helen agreed and they turned their horses' heads 
 towards the mountains, where, on the hills over-looking 
 the Dublin coast, they spent an enjoyable hour. The 
 little fishing village of Bray, with its cluster of thatched 
 cottages, embowered in woods, stood to their right, whilst 
 the sea coast thence to Dublin — now almost a continuation 
 of the city and studded with mansions — lay in unbroken 
 solitude. To their left the city, lying close together as 
 befitted one of the " walled towns of the Pale," centered 
 upon the Liffey: for the splendid and stately townships 
 of Rathmines,* Rathgar, and Pembroke were then un- 
 dreamt of, and the districts they now occupy were covered 
 with gardens and orchards. 
 
A MYSTERIOUS WARNING. 73 
 
 A quick ride brought them back within sight of Seamore. 
 
 "As we did not take the sea ronte in the morning," 
 said Helen, " suppose we do so now. The tide will be in, 
 and once we get out of this scrub a canter along it will be 
 very pleasant." 
 
 " As you please," said her companion assentingly. She 
 was glad to see that the paleness of her friend's face, 
 arising from the news of the morning, had given place to 
 a rosy look of enjoyment. " The sea is really pleasant 
 to-day. Let us canter along this bypath here, and have a 
 gallop over the meadows. I am glad you are enjoying 
 the ride Oh, Moya ! is that you ?" 
 
 The address was delivered to an old crone who had 
 arisen from a seat by a bush on the narrow pathway, and 
 whose sudden appearance had caused the horses to swerve 
 violently. 
 
 " Why, you have frightened the horses, Moya," said 
 Helen. " What brings you out so late ? You cannot 
 expect to meet anyone to tell fortunes to at this hour ?" 
 
 "And why not, acushla?" said the old woman, leaning 
 on her staff and peering curiously at them both from under 
 her disengaged hand. Why not ? Is there anywan in 
 the world, gentle or simple, that wouldn't like to hear 
 what's comin to them with the winds of heaven and the 
 flow of the sea day after day ? Is there anywan human- 
 kind to whom the year that's comin' won't bring changed 
 fortunes that they might be wishin' to hear ?" 
 
 " If there be not, Moya," said Helen, laughing, " there 
 must a great deal of simple people in the world." 
 
 "Maybe ay and maybe no," said the old woman, with a 
 peculiar significance. " There are many that think them- 
 selves fortunate an' happy when from parts unknown the 
 very waves are carrying and the wind of heaven hastening 
 to 'em sorrow and trouble they know little of and dream 
 little of. And there are others that cry salt tears over 
 misfortunes that if they only knew about as I do they 
 would look upon as brightest blessings." 
 
 "Well, Moya, I was always an unbeliever; I am afraid 
 I shall remain so." 
 
 " Avoch, an' it's many is the sore day people had for 
 that same thing," said the old woman, " an' many a wan 
 
74 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 hastened the wearin' ov their shroud for want ov listenin' 
 to Moya's advice. An' maybe it's yourself that's havin' 
 the sore heart — if you'd only let on, Helen Barrington — 
 for what you 'ud rejoice at if you only knew it as well as 
 I do." 
 
 " What's that you say, Moya ?" asked Helen, but 
 faintly catching up the meaning of the old woman's 
 words. She had been letting her horse go forward, and 
 the motion prevented her hearing them exactly. She 
 now reined back the animal and gazed on the old woman's 
 face with wonderment. 
 
 " What's that you said, Moya ?" 
 
 " What I've said is said," said the old crone mysteriously 
 and with apparent indignation, "an' you'd have saved 
 yourself many hours of sorrow an' woe if you had 
 hearkened to Moya's advice when she offered it to you." 
 
 " You are speaking in riddles, Moya," said the young 
 girl, grievously disturbed. " What do you mean ? What 
 are you talking about ?" 
 
 But Moya, leaning on her crutch, had hobbled into a 
 sheep track that led to her cabin by the seashore, and, as 
 they well knew from her habits and character, was quite 
 unlikely to come back again to them. 
 
 There was nothing for it but to proceed on their journey 
 homewards, which somehow they did with but little of 
 the elasticity and enjoyment of heart they possessed when 
 they had first been startled by her appearance, 
 must be some dreadful meaning behind her words. She 
 
 " What in the world does she mean, Kate ? There 
 has made me feel dreadfully alarmed." 
 
 " What does she mean, Helen dear ?" reiterated Kate, 
 who herself felt but little at ease. " Nothing. Have we 
 not heard her rhapsodies dozens of times before ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know. But she seems to have more meaning 
 in what she says now. I know she has by the way she 
 looked and spoke." 
 
 "What meaning would she have? You surely do not 
 believe in her powers of fortune- telling ?" 
 
 " No ; but she has such wonderful acquaintance with 
 everything and everybody that I am sure she is predicting 
 some misfortune." 
 
A MYSTERIOUS WARNING. 75 
 
 " Predicting, Helen ?" 
 
 " Well, no ; but she certainly knows of it somehow. 
 Could you remember what she said ? I cannot rememben 
 a word of it, she so alarmed me." 
 
 " I was not paying attention enough to remember — nor 
 indeed is it worth while," said Miss Howard brightly. 
 "I remember, however, that she said something about 
 people sorrowing over troubles which may not turn out 
 troubles after all, but blessings — which, indeed, is perfectly 
 true, though old Moya said it. But the mists are rising, 
 dear, and the dusk is gathering. Let us go quicker." 
 
 " I hope Redmond has returned. I hope she augured no 
 evil to him," said Helen, whose heart was but little rejoiced 
 by her companion's words, 
 
 " Why should she augur evil to him or you ? You have 
 never done her harm. You have always been friends 
 with her." 
 
 " She was always made welcome whenever she came — 
 when father and mother were there — which was seldom, 
 I don't know why. But I know well they always more or 
 less dreaded her. I don't know why, either." 
 
 " But they never offended her ?" 
 
 "No. They were always kind to her as to others." 
 
 " And Redmond and you the same ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then, Helen, she would have a blacker heart than 
 most of her kind to croak evil to you or of you. But she 
 has done neither, you will find. She has been only airing 
 some of her crazy follies. Come quicker, dear." 
 
 The remainder of the ride was performed in silence, for 
 the dusk was falling and the white mists arising from the 
 sea were still further darkening the landscape. The 
 scrubby ground they were travelling over was not pleasant 
 in the dusk. 
 
 Arrived at Seamore, Helen dismounted, threw the 
 bridle to one of the men, and, gathering her riding dress 
 in one hand, walked gravely towards the hall-door, up the 
 steps, and into the hall. 
 
 " Cauth — Grannie !" she said, in a burst of anxiety. But 
 a look at the old servitor's face, with the signs of anxiety 
 also thereon, caused her to recoil, and the question died 
 unspoken on her lips. 
 
76 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " Redmond has not returned, Grannie ?" she said as 
 soon as she recovered her speech, interpreting the look 
 upon the other's face. 
 
 " There is no cause for alarm in that, Helen dear," said 
 the housekeeper; but her assurance came on unheeding 
 ears. Indeed her looks belied them. 
 
 " Grannie ! Grannie ! I know something has happened 
 him, for he would not remain away without telling us. 
 Could he have gone with Eugene ? I feel an unaccountable 
 dread of something having happened him." 
 
 " What would happen him aroon ? Men are not accus- 
 tomed to go astray. There is many a thing to keep men 
 away for a day or two when they meet friends. He may 
 have met some of his cousins and gone to Kildare for a 
 day's shooting." 
 
 " So he might, Grannie," said the young girl, much 
 relieved all at once by this suggestion, which she knew 
 to be a very likely one. " I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 He had not infrequently before driven down with his 
 friends to their place in the country from Dublin ; but 
 then it was mostly by appointment. Still it was not 
 unlikely — quite the contrary, it was very likely — that 
 having met them accidentally he had taken the notion and 
 driven down with them. Helen felt quite rejoiced, and 
 the weary load of forebodings that pressed at her heart 
 since morning was greatly lightened. 
 
 " But I'll tell you who has returned," said the house- 
 keeper. 
 
 "Not Eugene!" said Miss Howard, who had rejoined 
 her friend. 
 
 " And why not Eugene ?" laughingly queried and 
 interrupted Helen, whose spirits gradually rose to their 
 accustomed lightness in the warmth and protection of 
 home. "Who is it, Grannie?" 
 
 " Trevor Mortimer." 
 
 " Trevor Mortimer," said Helen, with a voice of pleasure, 
 but in which there was also a tinge of disappointment, for, 
 in spite of herself, she was hoping that it really might be 
 Eugeue. " I did not expect him." 
 
 "And he is not the less welcome for that, I trust," said 
 the gentleman in question, coming forward. He had been 
 
A MYSTERIOUS WARNING. 77 
 
 standing in the shadow of one of the pillars of the spacious 
 hall, an unseen and unobserved listener to the conversation 
 that had passed. 
 
 " No, indeed, Sir Trevor — the pleasure is only the 
 greater for that. But how strong you are looking ! Yon 
 have quite recovered." 
 
 " Quite. And I am none the less improved for seeing 
 yourself and Miss Howard again. But I am sorry to 
 hear that our friend has left. I had hoped to have the 
 pleasure of seeing both gentlemen again this evening." 
 
 " Mr. Eugene Lefebre has disappeared nearly as myste- 
 riously as he came," said Miss Howard, as she warmly 
 welcomed the new comer, " and that was mysteriously 
 enough in all conscience," 
 
 " How good it was of you to visit us when the others 
 had deserted us," said Helen. " I don't know what we 
 should have done by ourselves this evening. Do you, 
 Kate ?" 
 
 " Sir Trevor is always true to his trust — perhaps I should 
 say, true to his tryst. He is most chivalrous in his 
 disinterested championship of forlorn ladies," said Miss 
 Howard with malicious good nature, which not a little 
 embarrassed Kate. 
 
 " I am sorry trysts are not for such as I," said Mortimer, 
 joining, with easy self possession in the raillery. " I am 
 too matter-of-fact and unromantic for that." 
 
 " What a good natured soul !" said Miss Howard, taking 
 him by the arm with charming familiarity. " One always 
 knows where to find you — don't they ?" 
 
 " I trust my friends always will — and my enemies too," 
 said he, not a little proudly. 
 
 " If such a dear fellow could have enemies — a sheer 
 impossibility, I take it," she said. 
 
 " I am afraid this," said he, pointing to where the 
 wound over his breast was, " showed the impossibility was 
 very possible indeed. It was bad enough — don't you 
 think so ?" 
 
 " Your heart ?" said she, maliciously mistaking his 
 reference. " I did not think it was so bad as that. I 
 gave you credit for one that was large, open, and 
 chivalrous." 
 
78 THE SEAN VAN VOGIIT. 
 
 " It was large and open enough," said Mortimer, pre- 
 tending not to hear her earlier words, "but as to being 
 chivalrous, I fear it lacked something of that high 
 quality." 
 
 " Touching dinner, Grannie," interrupted Helen, who 
 had been an amused listener to this bit of repartee, " if 
 this pair would descend from their high world of com- 
 pliments and entertain the idea, I should be glad of it. I 
 shall not object to it, whoever else does." 
 
 " After a ride of some fourteen miles — it was that, was 
 it not, Helen, dear ? — I don't think I shall have any 
 scruple against it, either." 
 
 " If Sir Trevor would only do us the favour to " 
 
 suggested Helen. 
 
 " No entreaties necessary, my dear Miss Bairington. 
 I came a very long journey myself to-day, intending to 
 dine with my absent friends, but I do not see that I shall 
 sorrow much for their absence under the circumstances !" 
 
 " Well, Grannie ?" 
 
 " It is ready at any moment, and can be served at once." 
 
 The ancient housekeeper, as was her wont since the 
 death of Helen's parents, presided at the table — a position 
 her long standing and the affection entertained for her by 
 Helen and Redmond, readily accorded her. The former 
 took her place at the lower end; and, with Sir Trevor at 
 .one side and Kate Howard at the other, a very pleasant 
 and agreeable entertainment was entered upon. 
 
 The ruddy glare of the fire — not at all unpleasant in the 
 lowering darkness of a November night — and the brilliant 
 light from the chandelier overhead — for it was long pre- 
 ceding the era of gas — coupled with the musical laughter 
 of the girls' lips, made it a scene of rare happiness and 
 enjoyment. 
 
 For the time there was no shadow of care or misfortune. 
 If ill bodements were near, they must have stowed them- 
 selves away in the shadows thrown by the burning logs 
 and so hidden themselves, for they did not otherwise dim 
 the scene; and no thought of the fate of him who slept in 
 the Thunderer, 74 line-of-battle ship — with death on the 
 yardarm at sunrise for the pale watcher over his slumbers 
 — came to them; nor thought of him also unaccountably 
 absent — p-« J ^ot gone to Kildare. 
 
SUSPENSE. 79 
 
 % 
 YcrU y Moj a was not far astray when she said — " There 
 are many who think themselves fortunate when, from 
 parts unknown, the very waves are bearing and the very 
 winds hastening sorrow and trouble to them they little 
 know of and little dream of." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SUSPENSE. 
 
 The wonder and anguish of the girls grew and grew 
 as a day passed over, a second day, and a third day, 
 without Redmond's turning up. 
 
 Each successive day diminished the belief, that Helen 
 entertained, of his having gone to the country. 
 
 On the fourth day, early in the morning, Mortimer 
 undertook to ride down to the place in Kildare to look for 
 him, being actuated thereto, as he said, by the agony of 
 suspense which had grown up in Helen's breast. Inquiries 
 had been made about Redmond in Dublin, but at none of 
 the places where he had been accustomed to call had he 
 put in an appearance. 
 
 At one place only had he been seen — at the Eagle in 
 Eustace-street. There was no one with him there answer- 
 ing at all to the description of Eugene. Friends and 
 acquaintances he had among the members of Parliament 
 assembled in Dublin, and who were wont to spend an 
 evening at this great resort of country gentlemen ; but 
 the most minute inquiries among these failed to acquire 
 a knowledge of his coming or going. In the numbers of 
 young gentlemen who were accustomed to come to the 
 metropolis — the great centre of attraction at that time in 
 Ireland, the tendency to go to London not having then 
 taken hold of the Irish people — and who spent their gay 
 time between the theatres and fashionable resorts, it 
 would be out of the question to pay attention to anyone 
 in particular, or, indeed, to single him out from among 
 the crowds of wealthy young habitues. 
 
 Helen's heart was overwhelmed with suspense; but when 
 
30 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 Mortimer returned from Kildare, in company with one of 
 her cousins, with the news that he had not been there, her 
 anguish and agony knew no bounds. Indeed, the friends 
 in the country were not less surprised than she was, and, 
 thus in their anxiety, had despatched one of their people 
 to come to Seamore and see what way matters stood. 
 
 At a little family council that evening in Seamore it 
 was determined — and Mortimer undertook — to put the 
 authorities at the Castle in motion concerning him. 
 
 Various surmises were entertained as to where he had 
 gone, but the only tangible one — the only one that was 
 not based on the airiest conjectures — was that which set 
 him down as having departed on some secret errand with 
 Eugene. Were it not for this, and this alone, Helen's 
 heart would fairly have broken with the feeling of dread 
 and uncertainty and suspense which tilled it. 
 
 At times she buoyed herself up with the hope that this 
 was the case. But when she came to examine the matter 
 her heart again sank into seas of woe. He had never 
 departed that night, had he been with Eugene, without 
 acquainting her of his intention. No inducement would 
 have led him to leave her in such uncertainty. And then, 
 again, was not Eugene alone when he came F In his 
 letter there was not a breathed word about Redmond — 
 nothing that could give even the most unreliable colour to 
 the belief that they had departed together. 
 
 The terror of being alone — of losing the only one guide 
 that she had in the world — was driving poor Helen into 
 a state of agony that was indescribable. 
 
 What had become of Redmond? That was the question 
 that unceasingly passed through her thoughts. Had he 
 been secretly conveyed away or imprisoned — or, oh, 
 merciful heavens ! had he been drowned or murdered ? 
 
 There was more in the latter idea than might be thought. 
 In those remote days — though not quite a hundred years 
 ago — Dublin was but scantily lighted. The quay walls had 
 not been built — or were but partially built. The stalwart 
 array of policemen, who now guard the streets whilst its 
 inmates are sleeping, had for their predecessors the old 
 infirm " Charlies " — not unlike the celebrated watchmen 
 of Limerick — who generally managed to hide themselves 
 
SUSPENSE. 81 
 
 when an outburst in the dark street, not at all infrequent, 
 indicated a murderous brawl. 
 
 All these things smote in a vague way on her tortured 
 mind. 
 
 Meanwhile, in some way, Moay's strange talk on the 
 evening of their ride home occurred to her, and, taking 
 fast hold of her thoughts, became associated with her 
 fears and her terrors. 
 
 As she sat at the table absently listening to the subdued 
 conversation around her, she suddenly fixed on a resolu- 
 tion. She would go and see Moya — see her that very 
 night. She would throw some light — Helen felt sure she 
 would— on the mysteries that were surrounding her. 
 Helen always, though laughingly joking at the old woman's 
 dazed prophecies, had yet, like an impressionable girl, a 
 furtive belief in them. Her half -belief was now changing 
 into an entire one. The old crone's mysterious hints on 
 that evening evidently had reference to the present 
 troubles. What if she could throw light on the present 
 mysteries ? What if she could tell where Redmond was, 
 or what had become of him ? More unlikely things had 
 happened. 
 
 Helen's resolution was taken. She would that night 
 proceed to the hut by the seaside, and see the old woman 
 and interview her. It was an unusual thing for a girl in 
 her position to do, but the circumstances were unusual, 
 and Redmond's fate — nay, perhaps his life — hung in the 
 balance. 
 
 That night, when Mortimer had proceeded to town to 
 prosecute searches and set the authorities in motion, and 
 when Kate Howard had retired in disconsolate sorrow to 
 her room, Helen, drying her burning tears and wrapping 
 herself in her cloak, let herself out noiselessly, and, 
 opening the wicket doors that gave ingress and egress to 
 the orchard, passed across the scrubby sheep walks that 
 led in the direction of the old woman's hut. 
 
82 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT VISIT. 
 
 Helen Baurington knew very well that she was sure to 
 find the old fortune teller np. Often, when driving with 
 her father and brother on their way from the theatre late, 
 she had wondered to see the light bnrning in the old 
 woman's window. Redmond, out with his yacht at night 
 at sea, had often remarked when coming home, the nncanny 
 look her solitary candle or rushlight in the dim darkness 
 had. He always said it looked like an omen of evil. The 
 fishermen, coming in at or before daybreak of Winter- 
 nights, used to say when they saw it, " Old Moya's reading 
 the cards yet," or, " It must be the devil that's keeping 
 company with Moya, else she wouldn't be up so late." 
 
 All — as Helen thought of them — assuring enough as to 
 the chances of finding her up, but far from assuring in 
 other respects. 
 
 In truth, the farther she left her home behind her, and 
 the nearer she came to the old crone's den, the more her 
 heart failed her. She was in a tremble of terror, yet she 
 bravely kept on. Unheeding the coarse whins, whose long 
 ragged arms now and then sent a new shiver of fear over 
 her — so like ghosts did they seem to her — she pursued her 
 way with trembling courage, wishing to see the light in 
 Moya's window, and yet fearing to see it. And when at 
 last it did become visible — like the bale-fire of some evil 
 genius — her courage seemed suddenly to give way, her 
 knees bent under her, thick mists seemed to rise before 
 her eyes, and she felt as if she were about to swoon. 
 
 She made an effort to bless herself with the little gold 
 cross that hung suspended over her breast, and recovered 
 courage. 
 
 " It is for Redmond — for poor Redmond's safety," she 
 said to herself to strengthen her beating heart, and once 
 more moved forward along the sheep-track so fearfully 
 sentinelled on either side by the ghost-like waving arms 
 of the rugged whins. Her hands were scratched and torn 
 with them, and her face smarted under the pain they 
 
THE MIDNIGHT VISIT. 83 
 
 inflicted when they re-bent as she passed ; but, unheeding 
 either, she breathlessly hurried along — hurried to give 
 herself no time for thinking or faintheartedness. 
 
 She was running a race with her fears, and at any 
 moment they might overtake her and beat down her 
 resolution ! 
 
 She dropped upon her knees as she came in sight of the 
 half- closed door of the hut, through which a faint light 
 shone. It seemed to her now as if something unholy and 
 wrong was the object of her mission. She tried to offer 
 up a prayer as well as her disconnected thoughts would 
 allow her, and bent her head in fervency of the words that 
 placed her under the protection of the Queen of Sorrows. 
 
 She raised her head and was about standing up when a 
 cry rose to her lips — but died thereon. For passing out 
 through the opened door, and between her and the light, 
 came a form that she recognised in a moment. She could 
 hardly be mistaken. It was that of Trevor Mortimer ! 
 Her eyes had lighted upon it for a moment in the brief 
 space whilst the form was passing from the light into the 
 thick darkness beyond it — for a moment merely — but she 
 felt sure it was he. 
 
 "What could have brought him there ?" she thought in 
 wonderment so excessive that it banished her previous 
 fears. " What had brought him there ? He had set out 
 from Seamore with the intention of going to the city 
 direct. Did he know Moya, and if so how and why ? Or 
 had he been possessed by the thoughts that actuated her- 
 self, and, believing in the old fortune-teller's powers, had 
 come to test them in Redmond's behoof ? There was 
 nothing more likely. It was what a kindly, thoughtful, 
 high-spirited man would do in the interests of his friend." 
 
 Helen's heart rose within her, and, with les3 trepidation 
 than she had yet shown or felt, she moved forward to the 
 door — opened it gently, and entered. 
 
 The fortune-teller was sitting on a low boss or stra w 
 seat in front of the fire that burned on the hearth. The 
 room wa3 full of smoke, and through the haze Helen 
 could see her but dimly, as she crouched rather than sat, 
 with her head bent down upon her knees. 
 Mioya!" 
 
81 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 She called softly, for her motion entering was r«o 
 noiseless, that her light footfall disturbed not the 
 attention of the old hag. Nor did her name, now called. 
 
 "Moya!" 
 
 This time the strange voice struck on the old woman's 
 ear. She started tip in alarm, startled by the unexpected 
 call ; and as she did so a quantity of coin that she had 
 evidently been counting, fell to the ground with a 
 jingling noise. 
 
 "Who's that? Who's there?" she cried fiercely, as 
 raising her bent form, she turned her bleared eyes in the 
 direction of the visitor. 
 
 " It is I, Moya — Helen Barrington," said the latter 
 deprecatingly. 
 
 " An' what brings you here this hour ov the night, 
 Helen Barrington?" shrieked the hag still wrathfully. 
 
 " I came to talk with you, Moya — good Moya," said 
 Helen pleadingly. " I want your advice." 
 
 " Advice !" jibed the hag. M Advice ! Helen Barrington, 
 that always laughed at Moya's advice, comes now in the 
 dark hours of the night to seek it !" 
 
 "I am in trouble, Moya — in great trouble — and — and I 
 think you would help me. If you can, Moya — for the 
 love of heaven ! — do." 
 
 The old woman stared at the slender form of the young 
 girl, standing on the floor before her, for some time with- 
 out speaking. 
 
 " Sit down !" she said at last, motioning her to a seat 
 somewhat similar to the one she had arisen from herself, 
 but higher. 
 
 Her words were so almost menacing that the young 
 girl, though instinctively disliking to sit in the smoking 
 cabin, was fain to do so. 
 
 " What trouble are you in ?" 
 
 11 Moya, Redmond went into the city with a friend " 
 
 "Ay, the Frenchman! I know. A good companion 
 he had," said the woman sneeringly. 
 
 " Did you know him, Moya ?" asked Helen, the train of 
 her thoughts entirely disconcerted by this remark. 
 
 " Did I know him P" hissed the hag. " Did I know his 
 father before him ? Ay, and others had cause to know 
 him. Bad ; seed and breed — all bad." 
 
THE MIDNIGHT VISIT. 85 
 
 " Not Eugene, Moya. Good Moya ! not Eugene, I 
 hope." 
 
 " Not Eugene !" repeated in mocking terms the fortune- 
 teller. " Not Eugene ! not Eugene, with his hands red 
 with blood !" 
 
 "With blood!" cried Helen, her indignation for the 
 moment getting the better of her tears. " You are 
 mistaken, Moya, his hand and his heart were as innocent 
 as my own." 
 
 " Do you tell me that in my own cabin ? Do you tell 
 me, who watched him skulking around here night after 
 night until he found opportunity to strike a favoured rival 
 the coward's blow that would have been a murderer's but 
 that his hand failed him, and heart too, at the last minit. 
 Didn't I see him strike the blow ? Didn't I see him creep 
 along, the knife in his hand, until " 
 
 " Moya ! Moya ! for the love of the Blessed Virgin, who 
 are you talking about ? Who are you speaking of ?" 
 cried Helen, whose thoughts ran at once on Redmond. 
 
 " Who am I talking about ? Who were you talking 
 about ? Your Frenchman. Who else ? Didn't I see him 
 follow him " 
 
 " Follow whom, Moya ?" asked Helen faintly, her heart 
 in her throat. 
 
 " Who ? Sir Trevor Mortimer. Follow him — as the 
 ferret glides behind the rabbit — until he got near enough 
 to strike him, an' it wasn't the fault of his black heart but 
 of his weak arm that he did not creep into your house 
 that night a murderer in deed as well as in intention." 
 
 "Moya," said the girl with an intention of rising to her 
 feet, but her knees refused to lend their aid — " Moya, you 
 must have been mistaken. He could not do such a thing. 
 It is utterly impossible." 
 
 " Impossible ! Whose knife was found — whose daggei 
 did it? Tell me that!" 
 
 " It was his — but he lost it, and somebody who found it 
 made use of it, and with it struck the blow." 
 
 " Somebody who found it !" she cried exultingly. "Poor 
 deceived girl ! You were harbouring a monster in your 
 house. Where is he now ?" 
 
 " I don't know, Moya ; he went away suddenly." 
 
86 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 " To be sure he did, because he knew J knew who struck 
 the blow. And because I knew other things as well. 
 Who went with him ?" 
 
 " Redmond went into the city with him, Moya, and " 
 
 " And where is he now ?" 
 
 " I don't know, Moya," said the afflicted girl, bursting 
 into a flood of tears, hot with the agony and fears that 
 were twining themselves, like serpents, around her heart — 
 around her heart as if they would crush the life thereout. 
 " He never came back since that night. It was of him I 
 came to speak to you ?" 
 
 " You don't know wliere he is. Ma\ be I know." 
 
 " Oh, Moya, if you do, for the love of the good God that 
 sees and knows all things, tell me ! Tell me, for the life 
 is scarcely in me with fear, and terror, and suspense ! Oh, 
 Moya, if there was ever anyone that was dear to you, for 
 their remembrance and sake — tell me." 
 
 She placed her hands entreat ingly on the woman's 
 shoulder, and, bending over to her, her head came much 
 closer than before. Wherefore, when the old fortune- 
 teller turned her eyes up to her entreating face, they 
 seemed to Helen like the flashing eyes of a wild beast : 
 and she withdrew her hands and head in dire affright. 
 
 " Where is he ? Where would he be, d'ye think \ 
 Helen Barrington, when you threw off the old love that 
 you knew and trusted, and that loved you dearly, an' took 
 up with the one that crept out of the sea and kem into 
 your house, no one knew how but me, you brought trouble 
 an' sorra on yourself, an' you brought ruin on your brother. 
 Redmond Barrington is in the mud of Dublin Bay — dead 
 an' drowned, an' food for the eels — an' 'twas the French- 
 man done it ! — There !" 
 
 The cry that burst from Helen's lips might fairly have 
 made her father's bones stir in the grave for the suffering 
 of his daughter, or have brought his shrouded form to her 
 rescue — so terrible, so intense, was the agony it bore to 
 the listening night. She made one or two unconscious 
 efforts to rise, but failed; and, in doing so, fell fainting on 
 her knees on the floor. 
 
 Moya was not unstartled by this occurrence, but she was 
 still more startled when a step was heard on the threshold, 
 
THE GOLD RING- 87 
 
 a form strode into the apartment, and a cheery voice 
 said : " Well, old Moya ! what's all the row? Frightening 
 someone with your fortnne-telling — eh ? Merciful Pro- 
 vidence ! What is this ? Is this Miss Helen Barrington ? 
 God protect ns ! what conld have brought her to your 
 den ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE GOLD RING. 
 
 When Helen left her apartment under the belief that the 
 household was safe in bed, she erred grievously. They 
 were not all gone to rest, for two lingered by the kitchen 
 fire long after the others had departed, and these two were 
 Norah and Luke Mahon. The former was generally last 
 to retire, and the latter, referred to incidentally in a former 
 chapter, contrived also to remain up under the pretence 
 of looking after the horses in the stable, but really to 
 enjoy a tete-a-tete by the kitchen fire with his good-looking 
 fellow servant. It was very agreeable, Luke thought — and 
 we are not quite sure that Norah didn't agree with him — 
 to hold converse in the pleasant gloom of the fire-light 
 and in the glow of the smouldering ashes on the hearth 
 turning grey and white in their waning. 
 
 " Luke," said Norah confidentially, " isn't it very odd 
 about Redmond. Where could he have gone ?" 
 
 " It's that that's surprisin' to myself every hour in the 
 clay," said Luke, taking Norah's right hand in his own. 
 " I can't under the sun imagine what could have become 
 ov him." 
 
 " He never would remain absent this length of time of 
 his own accord." 
 
 " That he wouldn't," said Luke. 
 
 " The young mistress is in great distress about him." 
 
 " An' no wonder," thoughtfully assented Luke. 
 
 " I was in hopes he might have gone to Kildare, but 
 now you see he hasn't, an' Miss Helen will break her 
 heart over it — God help her ! He couldn't have been — been 
 killed— could he P" 
 
88 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 Norah 's voice sank to a whisper and her hand trembled 
 m his as she pnt the dreadful question. 
 
 " I don't think so, Norah. He wasn't the sort ov fellow 
 to get into a row or brawl, an' evt& if he did there was no 
 one he need turn his back upon. There wor very few 
 abler young fellows than Redmond, or more likely to hold 
 his own if anything of the kind took place." 
 
 " Unless he was set upon," said Norah. 
 
 " Who would set upon him ? He hadn't an enemy in 
 the world that I know ov. You know yourself he had 
 everyone's good word." 
 
 " But why doesn't he come back ?" inquired Norah, her 
 anxious heart much relieved by this cheerful statement. 
 
 " Who could tell ?" 
 
 " Or where is he staying ?" 
 
 "I'd just give a good year's earning to know." 
 
 " D'ye think, Luke, that he could Lave gone — d'ye think 
 it's possible — he'd have gone an' — got married P" 
 
 " Grot married ? " said Luke in a burst of amazement, 
 which was immediately followed by subdued laughter. 
 " I really think," said he, during an interval in his 
 cacchination, " that the womenkind never under any 
 circumstances have marriage out ov their heads for any 
 one half hour in the day." 
 
 And another hearty burst of laughter followed this 
 declaration. 
 
 " You've a great deal of impudence, so you have," said 
 Norah indignantly, and endeavouring to withdraw her hand 
 from where it was safely locked in his. " It's just like 
 the way wid the whole of you. When you are not bringin' 
 sorrow and trouble on unfortunate women with your 
 scapegracin' and your comin's and your goin's, you're 
 insultin' 'em with your laughin' and your jokes. Let go 
 my hand — let go my hand, I say !" 
 
 Her companion was not disposed to comply with this 
 indignant request ; on the contrary, having made, as he 
 said, his sides " sore with the laughin'," he took hold of 
 her hand, previously locked in his left with his right, and 
 placing the former around her waist, drew her over to 
 him, and, bending down his head, was about — in the best 
 humoured way in the world — to kiss her lips. 
 
THE GOLD RING. 89 
 
 Norah's offended dignity not being disposed to allo^v 
 her hand to remain in his, at least nntil he apologised for 
 his qnite unnecessary remark, was still less disposed to 
 allow of this familiarity — which she prevented by a pretty 
 sharp slap on his cheek with her left hand. 
 
 To prevent a recurrence of this defence, Luke caught 
 her left hand also ; but in a moment his fan and good 
 humour changed into seriousness, and he bent the captive 
 hand downwards where the smouldering logs still waningly 
 nickered and burned. 
 
 "Norah," he said gravely, "what's this ?" 
 
 "What's what ?" said Norah, quickly impressed by the 
 Budden change in his manner. 
 
 " This ring — this gold ring ?" said he. 
 
 " What's that to you what it is P It's a ring — that's 
 all," said Norah, with a saucy defiance, but with a beating 
 at her heart that was not pleasant. 
 
 " I see it's a ring, Norah," said he with great gravity, 
 " and a gold one, too. Where did you get it ?" 
 
 " Just wherever I pleased." 
 
 "Norah ! you must tell me where you got that ring ?" 
 
 " I won't then," said Norah, turning up her handsome 
 face angrily. " What is it to you where I got it ?" 
 
 "It's everything to me, Norah," said he, coldly but 
 earnestly, " it's everything to me that I didn't give it to 
 you." 
 
 " I'd like to see you offerin' me the like !" said Norah, 
 with womanly wilfulness, the while her heart throbbed 
 and the tears stood ready to burst forth. 
 
 " Well, Norah," said he, releasing his hold on her hand 
 and letting it go with indifference, " all I can say is : it's 
 what you oughtn't to have on your hand, an' what I didn't 
 ever expect to see on wan ov your fingers until I gave it 
 to you. It was time enough for you to wear it when I 
 did." 
 
 The fact was that Norah, from the moment Eugene had 
 given it to her until this evening, had kept it safely in hei 
 pocket, bat on this unlucky afternoon had taken the 
 opportunity of putting it on her finger, when she was all 
 alone, with a flutter of vanity, just to see how a ring 
 would look on her. Unluckily, also, she had forgotten to 
 
90 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 take it off ; and this gave rise to the sudden contretemps we 
 have just seen. 
 
 If the matter had not arisen so suddenly, Norah would 
 have had no hesitation in telling when and how the present 
 had been made her ; but in the spur of the moment the 
 opportunity was lost, and his quickly developed suspicion 
 destroyed, for the present at any rate, any chance of a 
 bridge of gold for the purpose. 
 
 There was no retreating, and nothing remained but to 
 act still more haughtily on the defensive. 
 
 " I wonder who told you, Luke Mahon, that I ever 
 wanted a ring from you ? I'd have you to know, then," 
 said Norah, rising and smoothing down the folds of her 
 dress with a most bewitching movement — " I'd have you 
 to know, then, that if you took that notion into your head 
 it was a very foolish one, and the sooner you banish it the 
 better. There now ! — A ring, indeed." 
 
 And smoothing back the masses of dark hair, that had 
 somehow fallen over her forehead, back into their places, 
 and without one look at her discomfited sweetheart, Norah 
 left the kitchen and proceeded in the dark to her room, 
 which was under her young mistress's, and which lay at 
 the back of the wall into which the great chimney was 
 built. This wall was, indeed, the dividing part of the 
 mansion — the sleeping-rooms of the family, and the 
 drawing-rooms, stady, and parlour being separated by it 
 from the apartments in which the servants slept — all 
 except that of Norah. 
 
 If Cauth had been to the fore at this untoward ending 
 of their conversation, and had seen the quarrel the French- 
 man's present had given rise to, she might well say that 
 he brought ill-luck with him. Here were two simple and 
 loving hearts, between whom he had been the unconscious 
 means of introducing unhappiness. In truth, it seemed 
 as if her words in his regard were perfectly correct, and 
 that his coming to Seamore had brought with it, and left 
 behind, sorrow and trouble. 
 
 Luke, left alone, and with very sombre reflections in his 
 head, did what most people would do under the circum- 
 stances — he raked the white ashes off the slumbering 
 embers, lit his pipe, and began thinking. 
 
THE GOLD RING. 91 
 
 His thoughts were not of a bright order, nor were they 
 cast in a cheerful mood; nevertheless, thinking of any 
 kind being very unusual, and, in consequence, very 
 fatiguing to him, he presently fell into a sort of disconsolate 
 doze, and was soon fast asleep. 
 
 From this he was aroused by a smart shake and a 
 whisper in his ear : 
 
 " Luke ! — Luke, I say ! Will you waken, you big 
 owmadhawn ? Is it sleepin' you are, an' you wantin' so 
 badlv ? Waken, I sav ! D'ye hear me P" 
 
 " What— N^rah ? Is that you ? What's amiss P" asked 
 Luke loudly, startled in this summary fashion out of his 
 sleep. "What's amiss ?" 
 
 " Hold your tongue, an' speak easier," whispered Norah 
 vehemently — not noticing, or caring to notice, the some- 
 what contradictory character of her command. 
 
 "Why, what in the world is amiss?" asked he again, 
 considerably startled by the breathless manner in which 
 she addressed him. " Is there anything wrong ?" 
 
 " Everything is wrong — an' you sittin' asleep here. Did 
 anyone ever see the like ?" 
 
 "Why, what is it Norah ? How did I know that I 
 should keep awake ?" queried Luke, in most ludicrous 
 distress. " Why don't you tell me ? Is the house afire ?" 
 
 "Did anyone ever hear the like of that?" asked the 
 distracted girl. " Is the house afire ?" 
 
 " You'll set me mad, Norah — that's what you'll do. Why 
 don't you tell me what's gone wrong ?" 
 
 " Didn't I tell you afore ? An* you sittin' there — doin' 
 nothing only taikin' ! The young mistress is gone !" 
 
 " The young mistress gone !" almost shouted Luke as 
 he jumped to his feet. "Is it Miss Helen ?" 
 
 " Yes — yes — yes !" said Norah, putting her hand on his 
 mouth to prevent his speaking too loudly. 
 
 " Where is she gone ?" 
 
 " I don't know. She's gone across the Rath — through 
 the scrub — and towards the sea." 
 
 " For what ?" 
 
 " I don't know, but she's gone. God knows for what — 
 only I think she's distracted. You must go after her, 
 Luke, an' watch her, an' see that no harm come to her. 
 The life will lave me with fright." 
 
92 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "That I will," said Lnke promptly. " Will I be abio 
 to overtake her ?" 
 
 "To be sure yon will. Hurry, man alive ! an' don't be 
 wastin' time. Across the Rath, Lnke, she went — an' if 
 you take the byepath to the low strand you'll get in view 
 of her; an' don't come within sight of my two eyes 
 evermore if you don't see that no harm comes to her, an' 
 bring the poor girl back safe and sound." 
 
 Luke didn't want to hear more, nor did he scarcely 
 wait — or perhaps if he did it was little more than wait — 
 for the encouraging kiss which Norah, in her thankfulness 
 to him for his alertness, bestowed upon him, but hurried 
 through the door and was quickly in the Rath through 
 which Helen was said to have gone. Having passed this, 
 he hurried in the direction indicated until be reached the 
 shore. The tall whins shut out his view previously, but 
 having arrived on the strand, the horizon, so far as it was 
 not limited by the darkness, was clear. But there was 
 no one in sight ! No moving form, as far as his vision 
 reached, disturbed the silence of the place, nor interrupted 
 his solitude. 
 
 He ran up and down swiftly on the low margin of grass 
 that bordered the strand in order that the grating of his 
 feet on the gravel should not prevent sounds or cries 
 falling on his ears. But in vain. There was no one 
 iround. No figure disturbed the calm of the night ; no 
 Foice or cry reached his ears — nothing but the sound of 
 the waves, beating softly and placidly, falling on the 
 strand. 
 
 The bead-drops stood on his forehead, partly with the 
 exercise but more because of the excitement and anxiety 
 he was in. 
 
 " Where did Helen go ? Why was she walking any- 
 where at this hour of the night ? Could Norah have been 
 mistaken ?" 
 
 These were the thoughts that coursed through Luke's 
 mind as he stood on a projecting rock above the scrub 
 bushes and looked around and listened. 
 
 There was no one in view. No sound came on his ear. 
 Only a distant light, faintly glimmering, attracted his 
 attention. 
 
IGNOMINY OB DEATH. 93 
 
 He knew the light well. It was the one that so constantly 
 burned in old Moya's cabin. Without any fixed purpose, 
 other than there was nothing to be done else, he turned 
 his steps in that direction, and entered the cabin just as 
 Helen, shocked by the utterances of the old crone, had 
 fallen on the floor. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IGNOMINY OR DEATH. 
 
 Eugene woke from his slumbers as the first beams of the 
 morning, glinting along the sea, came in through the port- 
 hole that gave light and air to his prison. The motion 
 of the vessel, the creaking of chains and rattling of cannon 
 balls as they grated against one another, gave evidence 
 enough to his ears that the ship was under weigh. The 
 rush of the white- crested waves apast the port-hole proved 
 it to his eye. 
 
 He marvelled much that they should have weighed 
 anchor with his execution so near. It was quite unusual, 
 at any rate in the French service, for executions to take 
 place on a vessel proceeding on her course. A floating 
 anchor was generally dropped, and the vessel stayed in 
 her course on such occasions. 
 
 Whilst he was revolving these thoughts in his head the 
 door opened, and a footstep sounded on the floor of his 
 cabin. 
 
 The prisoner jumped at once to the conclusion that it 
 was his acquaintance, the lieutenant, coming to make the 
 announcement of his doom to him. 
 
 He turned his head around, but curiously enough, it 
 was not the expected face upon which his eyes fell. 
 Instead of the officer whom he anticipated, a gentleman, 
 well dressed and in civilian attire, stood before him — one 
 evidently, too, from his fresh face and un weather-beaten 
 appearance, not long on board or at sea. 
 
 Noticing the curious look that grew on Eugene's face, 
 he said : 
 
 "It's clear, M. Lefebre, I am not the person you 
 expected to see." 
 
U THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " No," said Eugene. 
 
 " Well, I trust I shall be a more acceptable visitor." 
 
 " I trust so. I shall have no objection to your being 
 so." 
 
 The stranger's manner was so affable and agreeable that 
 Eugene was disposed to respond to the advances he made. 
 
 " It will certainly not be my fault if I do not." 
 
 " Nor mine either, I should fancy," Eugene said. 
 
 " I am glad to see that you are in such cheerful mood. 
 I hope you have slept well, M. Lefebre ?" 
 
 " Yes, quite well," said the prisoner. 
 
 u Notwithstanding your sentence P" 
 
 "Notwithstanding my sentence." 
 
 "Don't you think, M. Lieutenant, that it is a pity one 
 so young as you should die so unhonoured a death ?" said 
 the visitor, somewhat abruptly, taking his seat on a 
 projecting beam. 
 
 "I don't see that I have any very great choice in the 
 matter," said the prisoner. 
 
 "Well, I should think you have." 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 "There is no difficulty in the matter. You have been 
 in Ireland on business of which we have cognizance." 
 
 The visitor paused, as if seeking for suitable words 
 wherein to express his ideas. 
 
 "Yes. Well?" 
 
 "You must have intimate knowledge of the designs of 
 the conspirators. Information of that nature would be 
 invaluable to England just at present, and ours is a nation 
 that rewards with unstinted and lavish hand those who 
 do her service. In this case it would be an essential 
 service, indeed." 
 
 He paused again, as if with some embarrassment. Eugene 
 glanced through the port-holes, and on the wide sea over 
 whose surface the rising sun was now spreading a mantle 
 of rosy light. The eastern sky was red with the bright 
 effulgence of morning, and, higher in the horizon, the 
 fleecy white clouds were edged with crimson as its rays 
 just tipped them. 
 
 For the moment Eugene thought of Helen Barrington, 
 and the bewitching tints that occasionally crimsoned the 
 
IGNOMINY OB DEATH. 95 
 
 delicate whiteness of her cheeks. His eje turning on his 
 visitor, however, brought his wandering attention speedily 
 back to the present. 
 
 " Onrs is a nation that rewards," pursued the visitor, 
 " with unsparing generosity those who do her service. 
 Do you understand me ?" 
 
 "I think I do," said Eugene quietly. 
 
 " There are men high in command in your armies and 
 your fleets wl*^ can bear evidence to this. You under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 " I am afraid I do not," said the prisoner, whose face 
 promptly darkened with a red purple flush, not unnoticed 
 by his visitor. 
 
 " Well, I cannot enter into further particulars nor pursue 
 this matter further than to say that there are," said the 
 other guardedly, " IS"ow, it can be of the least possible 
 consequence to you, personally, what course things take 
 in Ireland. For a brave officer, young, and in a brilliant 
 service, what possible advantage can you hold out to 
 yourself by aiding a half- savage country like Ireland, with 
 a miserable, ignorant, and degraded population ? Is it 
 worth sacrificing your life in such an ignominious cause ?" 
 
 " I think I said before," said Eugene, again smiling — 
 but this time at the awkward manner in which the other 
 sought to cloak and at the same time reveal his object, 
 " that I have no choice in the matter. Your officers have 
 doomed me — me an officer in the French fleet — to death 
 at the yard-arm. It is they, not I, should fear it — because 
 of the consequences for them. It is not the British fleet 
 alone who hold prisoners of war." 
 
 " You are to remember — I say it with all courtesy — 
 that you are not a prisoner in the ordinary acceptation of 
 the term. You are and have been — I say it again with 
 all the respect due to your position in the French service 
 and to your present position as a prisoner — more in the 
 character of a traitor and a spy " 
 
 " What ! — do you use these words to me?" said Eugene 
 fiercely, leaping up from his resting place. 
 
 " Well, we shall not quarrel about words. It is in that 
 light, however, we look on it. We do not hold that you 
 can look upon yourself in the character of a prisoner of 
 
96 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 war. But, waiving all that, the question stands thus — 
 Are you prepared, for the sake of an ignorant, semi- 
 savage populace like the Irish., whose futile attempts at 
 insurrection might as well be essayed by a nation of red 
 Indians, to throw away your life and the bright prospects 
 that await you, or are you rather prepared to act the part 
 of a brave and sensible man by courting the advantages 
 which are now held out to you ?" 
 
 " What are they ? Service under your flag ?" suggested 
 Eugene, with a half perceptible sneer. 
 
 "No ; there would be many disadvantages in that. We 
 could probably neither offer, nor you accept, such a pro- 
 posal ? 
 
 " What then ? — for I am quite at a loss to understand 
 your meaning." 
 
 " It is this. Information as to the present intentions 
 and resources of what some are pleased to call the revolu- 
 tionary army of Ireland, their prospects and their leaders, 
 would be highly valuable at this moment — not that we do 
 not already know it, but confirmation at your hands of 
 what we do know would be regarded as quite as valuable 
 as if it came to us for the first time." 
 
 " You want me to give you this information ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And your reward for that ?" 
 
 " Your life, in the first instance. A draft on a Hamburgh 
 bank for any amount you choose to mention, payable in the 
 Bank of France at sight and signed by a Hamburg banker, 
 in the second. No trace of how you obtained, or from 
 whom you obtained, the draft can ever be by any means 
 discovered. We shall place you on board an English cutter 
 which we shall contrive shall be captured by one of your 
 vessels, and you can readily reach France without detection 
 and without suspicion." 
 
 "What if I were," said Eugene, turning his eyes fully 
 on his visitor, "to give you false information — unreliable 
 information ?" 
 
 " We shall trust to your honour as a French officer for 
 that." 
 
 " To my honour as a French officer ?" cried he, rising 
 from his seat. " And is it one who bears that title — that 
 
IGNOMINY OB DEATH. 97 
 
 honoured dignity — yon dare to offer the shameful and 
 degrading proposition you have now made me ? Do you 
 think that the humblest officer bearing the uniform of 
 France would 3ink so low as to accept all the gold your 
 country could offer as the price of his own degradation ? 
 No. I can readily meet death — I have met it often before 
 unshrinkingly — this," said he, pointing to the cicatrice 
 across his forehead, " bears witness to that — it was on no 
 carpet-tournament that was earned, but amid the smoke 
 and thunder of battle, where gallant men contended for 
 victory with their lives — I met death there fairly face to 
 face — and often before and since — but the proudest death 
 a man can die is that wherein unnoticed and unhonoured 
 he gives his life for the sake of a gallant though down- 
 trodden people. If I had a thousand lives I should give 
 them in the cause. Not all the wealth that England 
 boasts of could tempt me. Tempt ! — the very idea is 
 dishonouring ! — to breathe a word that could endanger the 
 brightening fortunes of her people ! I have known them 
 to love them. I have learned to respect their high spirit 
 and their undaunted bravery, and it was the highest hope 
 of my life to die fighting for their freedom. Go ! The 
 threat of death at the yard-arm was a tribute of high 
 respect compared with your insulting offer." 
 
 " There are those higher in your service than ever you 
 can hope to obtain who would not, and have not, despised 
 such a one," said the visitor cynically, 
 
 •' I disbelieve it. I should mourn tbe day, when the 
 flag of France covered such a scoundrel." 
 
 " Harsh words, monsieur. We?e you to live long enough 
 you would see the truth of my words ; and see it in the 
 disastrous ending of your boasted armament. I tell you, 
 if all the strength of France were put forward in your 
 vaunted expedition there are those within it who would 
 neutralise it — and not the subordinates either. You see we 
 know all. We need no information, though I would 
 gladly have saved your life at the price of what is really 
 worthless to us, because it is in our possession at present." 
 
 Eugene turned on his heel to the port-hole, the only 
 parting word he said being, "Go." 
 
 " You will think better of it." 
 
 H 
 
98 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Eugene made no answer. 
 
 " If yon shonld — I shall be here for a week — send foi 
 me. My name is Castlereagh — Lord Castlereagh. All 
 Ireland knows me." 
 
 Engene did not hear his concluding words. A chill of 
 deadly cold was at his heart. 
 
 Could it be possible the words were true ? Could it be 
 possible that there were within the French ranks, high up 
 in command, scoundrels who would sell their country for 
 British gold. His heart spurned the idea. And yet there 
 was something in the words of the visitor which showed 
 that in this instance, at any rate, he knew what he was 
 speaking of, and spoke truth. It is always so easy when 
 one really speaks the truth to see it : one may mistake the 
 false for the true, but the truth for falsehood — never. It 
 bears its own distinctive characters never to be mistaken. 
 
 He stood there gazing vacantly at the growing day 
 brightening the face of the waters, wholly unconscious of 
 what he was looking at, a dull sense of pain and dread, 
 and humiliation weighing on his heart like a foreboding 
 of unaccountable evil — evil not to himself, but to France 
 and to the cause of Ireland, with which he inseparably 
 linked Seamore. 
 
 How long he stood there he knew not, until a voice 
 behind him aroused him. It was the cook bringing him 
 his breakfast. 
 
 It was only then he remembered — and, remembering, 
 wondered at it — that the hour for his execution had long 
 passed without his once thinking of it. In presence of the 
 unseen danger threatening France and the expedition and 
 Ireland, all considerations of self had completely vanished 
 — quite as much as if he were non-existent, or a third 
 party who had no connection with himself. 
 
LA VENGEUB—THE SEA FIGHT. 99 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LA VENGEUR — THE SEA FIGHT. 
 
 Whatever change came over the counsels of the officers 
 on board the Thunderer, or whether it were merely a 
 threat to extort information from him, the death sentence 
 was not executed. Nor was he afterwards visited by the 
 gentleman whose discussion with him was narrated in our 
 last chapter. 
 
 Neither, however, was he allowed the freedom of the 
 ship. For some inscrutable reasons known only to his 
 captors, he was kept closely confined to his prison. Suuset 
 succeeded sunrise, and night succeeded day, with ceaseless 
 regularity, but still he remained a prisoner. Occasionally 
 the ship fell into company with others, when they dropped 
 floating anchor for some time, and an exchange of news 
 or of men took place, and a general intercommunication 
 between the officers of the different vessels. At other 
 times the vessel pursued her own way unaccompanied. 
 This much was apparent to Eugene as he looked through 
 the thick glass of the side light. She appeared to him to 
 be on some sort of sentinel duty, for, although for days 
 nothing but the wide waste of waters encompassed them, 
 at others his quick, experienced eye detected the mountains 
 of the seaboard lying like blue clouds dimly on the distant 
 horizon. 
 
 All this time Eugene wondered what had become of 
 Francois and the crew of the Albatross — whether they 
 were still on board, or whether they had bees transferred 
 to other vessels. Also, he marvelled what had become of 
 the expedition. Had it sailed, and, if so, what port in 
 Ireland was its destination ? What was its measure of 
 success ? 
 
 If it had sailed he knew well it must have escaped the 
 watchfulness of the British Fleet. There were no signs 
 of a conflict on the vessels they had come across. The 
 torn sides, the smashed bulwarks, the broken masts, the 
 ragged rigging and sails that showed the terrible effects 
 of a fight at sea, were absent from them. 
 
100 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT 
 
 All be could do was to wish it success when it did sail, 
 and to breathe a hope that victory might light upon the 
 banners of France when once they were nnfurled on Irish 
 soil. 
 
 The which thinking always brought his thoughts back 
 to Seamore. In the loneliness and isolation of his 
 position his mind kept constantly revolving about Helen, 
 until his dreams at night as well as his reveries by day 
 were haunted by the loveliness of her presence. Her 
 bright and laughing eyes beamed in on his sleeping brain 
 through the darkness of his cell, and her slender, graceful 
 form seemed at times to fashion itself out of the rolling 
 wave that rose, curled upwards, and swept by. He might, 
 in a more active life, mayhap, have forgotten her, or she 
 might have retained but a weak hold on his thoughts ; 
 but here, with nought to do but think of her, her face 
 stamped itself on his heart almost as if it had been seared 
 by burning brand ! 
 
 Knowing the danger of dwelling too constantly on one 
 idea, he essayed to think of other things that might attract 
 his imagination. Of the earlier days of his life in the 
 French Naval School, of his first voyages in La Vengeur, 
 of his transports when he first donned the gold epaulets 
 of an officer — in vain ! Every train of thought of the 
 kind brought him insensibly back to Seamore, and every 
 boyish dream of glory and renown, by some curious 
 metaphysical combination, brought before him Helen 
 Barring-ton's winsome face, the deep blue of her eyes, or 
 the wavy masses of brown hair above her white forehead. 
 
 " I shall go mad if I am longer left here," was his 
 despairing thought as one night he lay down to rest — 
 much disturbed by the fact that his remembrance of the 
 first gun which he had seen fired in conflict served only to 
 bring to his mind her silvery laugh. 
 
 "What an association of ideas!" he said. "None but 
 one whose brain was giving way would have yielded to 
 it." 
 
 He resolved within himself to detach his thoughts in 
 the future from her — else the love he bore her should 
 certainly get the better of his reason. In the midst of his 
 devising plans for this purpose he fell asleep. 
 
LA VENGEUR—TEE SEA F.WMT. lOJ 
 
 Only, however, to dream of her. ag-ai ;n !- He a^s walk- 
 ing with herself and Miss Howara or bh& me'idoW 'ju-nkis 
 that lay on the sides of Searnore, and Helen had leant on 
 his arm to cross a stile that intervened between them and 
 the shore. 
 
 The tonch of her hand on his shoulder awoke him ! 
 
 Was it that, or the rougher hand of the captain of the 
 watch, who stood above him with a lighted candle ? or 
 was it her silvery voice that was in his ear, but the 
 tones of the midnight visitor as he said gruffly and 
 hurriedly : 
 
 " Get up ! — come on deck !" 
 
 The illusion vanished at once. 
 
 " On deck ?" — iterated Eugene, wide-a-wake on the 
 instant. " Why ? What for ?" 
 
 "Ask no questions — but come !" 
 
 There was no ignoring the haste of the visitor; still 
 less was there chance of mistaking the unusual import of 
 his words. 
 
 Whatever was the cause, it was immediately palpable to 
 Eugene that there was pressing need for obedience on his 
 part. So, dressing immediately, he followed the retreat- 
 ing lantern as rapidly as he could. 
 
 Long before he got on deck his sense of hearing and 
 seeing told him that something unusual was on foot 
 Lights glimmered everywhere on the 'tween decks. 
 Sailors hauled at long ropes that worked the guns, and 
 ran them out through the opened portholes. Otherwise, 
 they were busy with rammer running home the charges 
 of powder, and roundshot and grape. Ammunition was 
 being rapidly passed from hand to hand ; and the calls of 
 the officers, the hurried exclamations of the men, the 
 clinking of the irons, the cleansing of cutlasses, the flitting 
 of lamps from place to place in the vast interior of the 
 vessel, and the stamping and tread of feet overhead, made 
 it a very pandemonium. 
 
 " They are preparing for action," thought Eugene, as, 
 hurrying along, his eye took in the preparations. " There 
 is an enemy in sight. Heaven grant there may. It will 
 be a friend to me." 
 
 Along the 'tween decks : stumbling* over cannon balls, 
 
102 THE SHAN VAN YOUHT. 
 
 ti?i|.pn:g : o^ec rup^R, and anon knocking his head against 
 the- low, white washed beams that supported the next 
 upper deck ; then up a ladder, then another, and, finally 
 climbing the companion ladder, he followed his leader — 
 until he found himself on deck. 
 
 It was a singular sensation for him : to feel the cool 
 breeze once more on his forehead, to see the deep vault oi 
 the sky with here and there a star peeping out through 
 the darkness, and to hear in unbroken freshness the rush 
 of the waves as they swept past the vessel. It seemed as 
 if a new life had been given to him, and the blood came iD 
 unwonted flow, coursing through his veins and throbbing 
 at his temples. 
 
 It was all the difference between bondage and freedom. 
 
 He had not long to experience these sensations un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 "Follow me," said his guide sharply, as Eagene stopped 
 for a moment to witness the scene so fresh and so delight- 
 ful to him. 
 
 A few moments brought him to the quarter-deck, 
 whereon the captain and some of the officers were gazing 
 with their night-glasses across the bulwarks. 
 
 So intent were they on the operation that they did not 
 notice the approach of Eugene. 
 
 " This is the French prisoner," said the guide, touching 
 the captain on the shoulder. 
 
 11 Ah, so it is," said the latter, turning round. " Is your 
 sight good ?" 
 
 11 As good," said Eugene, somewhat amused at the 
 oddity of the question, and at the abrupt manner in which 
 it was put, "as one's eyes can be who has seen but " 
 
 " Take this glass in your hand, and tell me what vessel 
 that is yonder." 
 
 Eugene mechanically took the glass, and, adjusting it, 
 swept the horizon in the direction indicated. For some 
 time he failed to detect the object he sought, but suddenly 
 his eyes caught it, and his heart stood suddenly still. 
 
 For, coming along, her prow obliquely towards them — 
 her white sails reflecting the lights that shone on her 
 decks and glared from her mid-masts, was a French man- 
 of-war. Lights streamed from her opened portholes — 
 
LA VBNQUB71—THE SEA FIGHT. 103 
 
 three long tiers of lights — that made her seem like a float- 
 ing palace whose windows were all alight for ball-room 
 festivities. The moving forms, vaguely showing on her 
 deck in the dimness, proved that the hands on board her 
 were busy at work. 
 
 " Can yon make her ont ?" asked the captain as Engene 
 steadily snrveyed her. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 4 ' Is she French or Spanish ?" 
 
 "French," said Engene, with difficulty concealing his 
 exnltation, as the prospect of probable deliverance sent 
 the chilled blood again bonnding in ecstacies from his 
 heart. 
 
 " Do yon know her ?" 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " What is her name ?" 
 
 " La Vengeur." 
 
 " How do yon know ?" 
 
 " She is my old vessel." 
 
 " What does she carry ?" 
 
 " A few 74-pounders — the rest smaller,*' said Engene, 
 anxions to minimise the fighting qualities of the stately 
 vessel that, like a thing of light and beauty careered over 
 the waves, lest the captain of the Thunderer should seek 
 to evade the challenge which she seemed prepared to offer, 
 and so render his chance of escape hopeless. 
 
 " How does she work in a half -gale ? For unless I am 
 much mistaken there is one not far off." 
 
 " Answers to her helm badly, and her lower tier of guns 
 cannot be worked with a heavy sea on," said Eugene 
 readily, the while he thought to himself. "I hope they 
 will rely on my honour for this one time." 
 
 "Humph! I thought as much," said the captain. 
 " She seems bent on challenging us. Don't you think 
 so ?" 
 
 " I certainly do," said Eugene, with his glass still steadilj 
 levelled at the stately foe. " If she has not changed 
 captains since I knew her, she is not likely to turn her 
 stern on any ship that walks the water. And, by heaven !" 
 cried he, as a red light flashed from her poop, so lurid 
 ^hat for the moment it completely extinguished the others 
 
104 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 and threw a purple glare upon her acres of sails, " there 
 comes her challenge !" 
 
 In the excitement of the moment he was about to 
 " hurrah," but fortunately checked himself, as the dull 
 boom of a cannon came slowly rumbling over the breast 
 of the waters. 
 
 The shot fell short, for the vessel was still a long way 
 distant. At any rate, in the dark space that lay between 
 the Thunderer and her it was impossible to say what 
 became of it. 
 
 But still out against the dark background of sky and 
 water the foe came gallantly on ! 
 
 It was a stirring sight — the three-master alight with her 
 many lamps, alone in the black darkness around ; her long 
 tiers of port-holes gleaming above the blackness of the 
 waters ; her sails filled with the freshening breeze ; and the 
 white surf surging up and around her cleaving prow ! 
 
 " They have mistaken the distance," said the captain of 
 the Thunderer coolly, as he took the glass once more into 
 his hand, and gazed at the stranger. "She is coming 
 pretty quickly forward. She will go back less quickly. 
 She is one of the vessels of the Irish expedition returning, 
 and wants to show some sign of work after their fruit- 
 less efforts." 
 
 "Has the expedition then sailed P" asked Eugene, with 
 beating heart, as this slight piece of information fell on 
 his ears. 
 
 But there was no answer. The captain closed up his 
 glass, and proceeded to give orders to his officers, who set 
 off to their various commands in the ship. 
 
 " I suppose," said he curtly to Eugene, " as you are a 
 non-combatant you would prefer being more or less in 
 safety below." 
 
 " I should prefer being here," said the other, in whom 
 the hope of escape was strong. " I am not unaccustomed 
 to such scenes." 
 
 " We can scarcely permit that. You would be quite 
 out of place here. Besides there is no use in throwing 
 away your life for no purpose and to no end." 
 
 '* I may be of service in assisting the wounded," said 
 Eugene, to whom the thought suddenly occurred. 
 
LA VENGEUB—THE SEA FIGHT. 105 
 
 " Quite so. I hadn't thought of that. You may remain 
 on deck — but not here. There will be less danger else- 
 where." 
 
 These last words were spoken in a much more friendly 
 manner. Eugene took them as a hint to leave, and 
 accordingly left the quarter-deck, and took his place at 
 the bulwarks between two cannon that stood ready shotted 
 — their gunners beside them with the lighted torches in 
 their hands. Here, in comparative darkness, he watched 
 with intense interest the advancing Frenchman. 
 
 Had the ship actually touched an Irish port ? Where 
 were her companions, and what had become of the division 
 of the French army it carried ? What story did La Vengeur 
 bear back from Ireland to France ? W hat would he not 
 give at this moment to know ? Who could tell but a 
 few moments might put him possession of the information 
 his heart was athirst for. 
 
 Meanwhile the freshening breeze grew up, as if the 
 captain's prophecy about the forthcoming gale were in 
 course of fulfilment, and, under its influence, the French- 
 man came tearing along, throwing up a cloud of silver 
 spray above her bows. 
 
 As she came nearer he could notice that some of her 
 sails were being reefed. 
 
 He looked around to see what arrangements were being 
 made near him. 
 
 The men were standing silently at their guns, every- 
 thing in readiness ; the lighted torches, hissing and flaring, 
 alone breaking the silence of the night. Every eye was 
 fixed on the approaching vessel, and every ear awaited 
 the sound of the captain's trumpet to train the guns on 
 the foe ! 
 
 It was a moment of wonderful suspense ; and the 
 groups of silent men around the guns at intervals along 
 the spacious deck, seemed to call up the idea of a phantom 
 war-vessel careering over the seas in the blackness of 
 night. 
 
 It was the stillness preceding the storm. 
 
 And what a storm ! 
 
 He had scarcely turned his head around again after these 
 short reflections when he was surprised to sec, within a 
 
106 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 few furlongs, the long tiers of La Vengeur rising high 
 over the water, her lighted portholes partly obscured by 
 her protruding guns. 
 
 She was clearing the Thunderer, broadside on. 
 
 He had scarcely time to wonder at the speed with which 
 she had come, when along her deck and from her sides 
 ran a line of red light, that made the black darkness 
 behind blacker still ! 
 
 A tremendous boom, a concussion of the air — and the 
 Thunderer fairly reeled and staggered in the water as the 
 round shot struck her sides, burying themselves in her 
 strong timbers or passing into the interior ! A shower 
 of splinters flew around him, indicating where a shot 
 had struck the bulwarks, knocking it into matchwood. 
 In a moment the La Vengeur was surrounded by a cloud 
 of white smoke that evolved from her portholes and hung 
 over her deck. 
 
 The trumpet call from the captain of the Thunderer at 
 once answered this message ! The flying splinters had not 
 descended on the deck from their flight through the air 
 when it resounded through the vessel. 
 
 In a moment the silent forms around the guns were in 
 motion. In the twinkling of an eye the men at the ropes 
 had hauled the guns into position to bear, had them trained 
 on the enemy, and almost simultaneously the torches were 
 applied. 
 
 A roar of thunder burst from under his feet and from 
 the sides of the vessel ; the sudden, sharp blaze of furious 
 light made Eugene's eyes, so long accustomed to the dim 
 obscurity of his cabin, close ; the vessel reeled with the 
 rebound of the guns ; and a shower of roundshot had 
 penetrated the cloud of smoke that wrapped up La Vengeur, 
 doing what damage it might — most mighty damage for 
 aught they knew ! 
 
 The Frenchmen had not let their hands rest, but whilst 
 their sailors tacked round to bring their vessel to leeward 
 of the Thunderer, the gunners had loaded again, and just 
 as she went round the stern of the latter a second broad- 
 side poured into her, and a swarm of grape swept the 
 whole length of the deck, doing great execution. It fairly 
 mowed down the gunners at their guns ! 
 
LA VENGEUB—THE SEA FIGHT. 107 
 
 Eugene felt a sharp pain at his side, pretty much as if 
 he had got a smart lash of a whip. 
 
 He saw the French vessel hear round on the other side, 
 so close that he could see the gunners on her deck stripped 
 to the waist working the guns ; could see where the line 
 of red fire again ran along the decks ; could hear the 
 storm of sound that seemed to burst in his own vessel 
 from under his feet ; and tried to run to the other side of 
 the vessel to watch the conflict there. His foot trod on 
 something slippery and he fell ; he felt his side wet, and 
 became dimly conscious that he had been wounded and in 
 his excitement had not noticed it ; and, with a vague 
 wonder whether he had been mortally wounded, he felt 
 his strength fading from him and the light passing from 
 his eyes. 
 
 He was dimly conscious that the conflict was becoming 
 closer and fiercer, and, with a cry of " Boarding- nets up !" 
 in his ears, grew unconscious ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A STRANGE MEETING. 
 
 It was pitch dark when Eugene awoke again. As far as 
 he could see, he was in the same cabin in which he had 
 previously been confined. But it was thick blackness 
 around him. He could only imagine where he was by the 
 position of the window, which gave no light now, but 
 showed merely that the darkness outside was of a different 
 colour from that inside. So at least it seemed to him. 
 
 The vessel was pitching and tossing terrifically ; a furious 
 wind was blowing ; a hurricane seemed to be sweeping 
 the breast of the sea ; and the ship appeared to be tumbling 
 about rudderless — now ascending on the crest of an 
 enormous wave, and again sinking on her side as if she 
 were going to the bottom. The heavy waves, striking her 
 with the force of hundreds of tons, seemed to make her 
 stagger, more than sail, through the sea. All this appeared 
 to him dimly, and as if more in a dream than otherwise 
 
108 the sb:an van voght. 
 
 But he was too ill and weak to take further note of it. He 
 was vaguely conscious that lie was lashed to his hammock, 
 and with this feeling of safety palpable to his languid 
 perceptions, passed back into his former state of sleep or 
 unconsciousness . 
 
 He was aroused again by the sound of voices in hi? 
 ears. The gale had moderated and the ship seemed to be 
 striving more easily through the water. 
 
 " Do you think he will recover ?" 
 
 " I should think so. His weakness arises chiefly from 
 loss of blood." 
 
 "Where is he wounded ?" 
 
 "A grape shot passed through his side, and a splinter 
 of wood or something of that kind lias given him a 
 contused wound on the forehead, bursting an old cicatrice 
 — which makes it the more difficult to cure." 
 
 " A former wound ?" 
 
 " Yes, a sword-cut or sweep of a cutlass in some 
 engagement. What is he ?" 
 
 "A prisoner — one of those French officers that are in 
 the habit of passing in spite of all we can do between 
 Ireland and France. He was over in connection with the 
 late expedition." 
 
 " You are not particularly anxious about his recovery in 
 that case ?" 
 
 '* Quite the contrary, I am. There is good metal in the 
 fellow, for he refused his life at our hands, which we 
 offered him on condition of his giving information about 
 these confounded Irishmen, and he volunteered to stay on 
 deck during the fight, and aid the wounded." 
 
 " That is a good deal in his favour." 
 
 " There is something more, however ; we have received 
 a message from the Admiralty to send him ashore as soon 
 as he is able after we return to Plymouth to refit. He is 
 to be sent on board the hulks as a prisoner — exchange 
 being refused. There is some importance attached to his 
 safekeeping by the people at headquarters — why, I don't 
 know." 
 
 " When do you purpose to return ?" 
 
 " We must cruise up and down within easy sail of the 
 harbour for some weeks — if we can keep afloat so long — 
 
A STRANGE MEETING. 109 
 
 there being no vessel to relieve us. All the ships are busy 
 watching the French and Spanish coasts, and we must 
 keep guard here if we do not go to the bottom, which is 
 likely enough in onr present disabled and short-handed 
 condition." 
 
 " It will be some time before he can be removed," said 
 the doctor — for it was he and the captain who had held 
 the conversation — as he took the hand of the apparent 
 sleeper, whose closed eyes and white, bloodless face 
 indicated a state of coma. " It will take weeks before he 
 can be moved, without danger, from where he lies." 
 
 " But there is no doabt of his ultimate recovery F" 
 
 " ^o, I should think not. He has youth and strength on 
 his side. And his wound, though severe, is only dangerous 
 from the consequent loss of blood." 
 
 " I would be sorry anything should happen him. Apart 
 from the courage and high spirit of the lad, the head- 
 quarters people are so interested in him that I should wish 
 you to pay him particular attention. He is, I fancy, of 
 high importance in France — some great family or some 
 connection of one of the Directory — and our people want 
 to keep him as a hostage or something of that kind." 
 
 " I shall pay special attention to him, you may depend, 
 captain." 
 
 " Do. I shall take it as a favour." 
 
 " It will be necessary to place some person in attendance 
 upon him. Have you anyone you could spare for the 
 purpose ?" 
 
 " I fancy some of the men newly pressed — and who are 
 not for the present of much service — might be utilised for 
 the purpose. I shall speak of the matter to the lieutenant." 
 
 " Have you none of those who were taken with him ?" 
 
 " ISo, they have been sent into other vessels as able- 
 bodied seamen. Our men are running scarce, and we must, 
 wherever we can, force prisoners into our service at sea, 
 as we may not do so on land." 
 
 " He will need special care, for, although his wound is 
 not dangerous — or, at least, not likely to prove fatal — he 
 is weak through loss of blood. Have you none of his 
 countrymen who could be put in charge of him ? These 
 Irish understand one another better than strangers. He 
 
110 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 might not receive the attention he needs at the hand of 
 our people." 
 
 " No doubt. I shall make inquiries when I go on deck. 
 Meantime I suppose we can do no more now." 
 
 " No ; I don't see that we can." 
 
 They moved away, and Eugene was left alone. His 
 mind was too weak for much thinking ; but in his semi- 
 comatose state there was one idea vaguely palpable to his 
 mind — palpable, mainly, because of the danger and terror 
 which surrounded and accompanied it. 
 
 The hulks ! This was the name that carried terror to 
 his heart. He well knew what imprisonment therein 
 meant. He had known young officers, brave, buoyant, 
 and light-hearted before being taken prisoners and con- 
 fined therein, and he had seen them, after a year, return — 
 old men ; every feature in their faces, every muscle in 
 their bodies, changed by the dreadful hardships they had 
 endured; their black hair changed to grey, their erect 
 forms bowed and decrepid, the light and brightness gone 
 out of their eyes as the gaiety and buoyancy had departed 
 from their hearts. Frenchmen shuddered at the idea of 
 these prison-hells, and Eugene almost incapable of think- 
 ing though he was, dreaded the fate in store for him. 
 
 Death by the foeman's hand at the yard-arm, death by 
 the sweeping grape of his friendly countrymen, death by 
 the sinking of the vessel in which he was confined — any 
 death at all — would have been preferable to this new out- 
 look. With a prayer for relief from this destiny, more 
 fervent than had passed his lips for a long time previously, 
 Eugene again fell into a doze. 
 
 He was awakened again by a fumbling at his door, and 
 a step on the floor thereafter. He was too weak and 
 indolent to raise his eyes, and too indifferent to care who 
 it was. Some person with food which he could not eat, 
 or, perhaps, coming to make inquiries. 
 
 The new-comer, however, advanced over to him and 
 laid his hand on his breast. 
 
 "Are you awake ? Here is a glass of brandy for you, 
 my poor fellow ! It will strenghten you. And from your 
 bandaged head I have no doubt you need it. Awake ! 
 It is not everyone on board the Thunderer that gets so 
 valuable a present, I can tell you." 
 
A STRANGE MEETING. 11J 
 
 Eugene awoke and turned his ejes on the speaker. 
 
 His misty dreaming had in some way turned to Seamore. 
 He was speaking with Helen Barrington, and her voice was 
 in his ears as he awoke. But when he tnrned his dim and 
 dull eyes on the stranger a new brightness and energy 
 shot from them, and an exclamation of mingled gladness 
 and astonishment burst from his lips ! 
 
 The attendant for a time stood still with equal astonish- 
 ment ; a look of recognition grew also into his eyes. In 
 the surprise, which well nigh paralysed him, he let the 
 ^lass and its precious contents fall. Unheeding of which, 
 however, he pushed the bandage with one hand from the 
 forehead of the invalid, hastily as if doubting even yet the 
 evidence of his senses, and cried : 
 
 " In the name of all that is wonderful and astonishing, 
 is it here I find you, Eugene ? For Heaven's sake, 
 speak ! and say if it is really you I see !" 
 
 But Eugene was unable to speak. His emotions, com- 
 bined with his weak state, were too much for him ; and 
 in the effort to raise himself on his elbow to grasp the 
 other's hand, he fell back once more on his wooden couch. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN DOUBT. 
 
 It was a long time before Helen had recovered from the 
 illness into which she was thrown by the information 
 given her by Moya. For many weeks she hovered on the 
 confines of life and death. Finally the former, aided by 
 her youth and strength, triumphed, and she was at last 
 on the fair road to recovery. Trevor Mortimer, as soon 
 as she was able to move about, took herself and Miss 
 Howard on short journeys when the days were fine ; and 
 his presence, together with the air of the Dublin moun- 
 tains and the fresh breeze from the sea, by imperceptible 
 degress began to bring the roses once more back to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 On these occasions her mind was withdrawn from the 
 
112 TEE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 incident that preceded her illness ; Imt when left alone she 
 invariably recnrred to her visit to the old fortnne-teller 
 and the extraordinary information she had learned thereat* 
 At times she was inclined to trust it implicitly; at others 
 she rebelled against the possibility of its being true. 
 
 " Could Eugene, so. generous, so frank, so brave to all 
 seeming and appearance, conceal under so fair an exterior 
 such malignant intentions ? It was impossible. Even if 
 he did, why should he bear enmity to Redmond ? They 
 had had no quarrel. There was nothing to explain it — 
 there was no motive to be even suggested. But, then, 
 again, what had become of Redmond ? He went away in 
 Eugene's company — why had he not returned r" That he 
 should have voluntarily gone away without acquainting 
 anyone in Seamore and have remained away, was wholly 
 out of the question." 
 
 These considerations landed Helen once more in a sea 
 of suspense and doubt perfectly agonising. 
 
 It was whilst sitting one evening, thus calling up 
 Surmises pro and con, that Sir Trevor Mortimer was 
 announced. He was immediately admitted. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear, dear Helen, that you are about 
 leaving." 
 
 " It was only yesterday I made up my mind to accept 
 Kate's invitation to Inch for a few months. I feel as if I 
 should never get well here. I feel a load of troable con- 
 stantly on my heart — and Kate advises me it is only 
 change of scene that can remove it. Everything reminds 
 me so of poor Redmond. The only thing that reconciles 
 me to the present is the hope that some day he may come 
 back. I am sure he will. Don't you think he will ?" 
 
 "I should be, my dear Helen," he said with gentle 
 kindness, " delighted to be able to answer in the way you 
 would wish. But I feel I should be only aiding to keep 
 you in the state of suspense that is so injurious to you, 
 and stating what I do not believe, if I were to say so." 
 
 "You do not believe " said Helen with a shudder. 
 
 " I believe it would be the wisest thing for you to accept 
 the inevitable, my dear Helen. It was an ill night that 
 brought strangers to Seamore — ill for you, and very near 
 being worse than ill for me." 
 
IN DOUBT. 113 
 
 "It cotild not be true what old Moya told me. Yob 
 surely do not believe that ?" asked the young girl 
 earnestly. 
 
 " I have not heard what she said, dear Helen, so I 
 cannot speak as to its probability or possibility," 
 
 " She said — if I remember her words aright, bnt I was 
 so greatly frightened that I should not be surprised if I 
 did not — that it was his hand that struck you at the 
 orchard gate. Surely that could not be the case ?" 
 
 " I am reluctant to believe it, but the circumstances 
 force me to do so." 
 
 "Circumstances ?" 
 
 "Yes. Firstly, it was his knife that was used. That 
 there is no question of, and that proves nearly every- 
 thing." 
 
 " What motive could he have ? Would it not be absurd 
 to think that he, an utter stranger, should on the occasion 
 of his first visit since his childhood to Seamore, strike one 
 whom he had never seen before, with intent to kill him — 
 for I believe there can be no doubt it was with that intent 
 the blow was struck." 
 
 " Very little doubt, indeed," said Trevor Mortimer, and, 
 as he spoke, his eyes sank in deep reflection, and, for the 
 moment, unconscious of even her presence, shone with a 
 gleam of frightful hatred and ferocity. So malignant was 
 the unconscious exhibition of vindictiveness — the evolve- 
 ment of the feelings that actuated him for the moment — 
 that Helen shrank from him in. terror. 
 
 He noticed the movement, and, at once withdrawing 
 himself from his reverie, knew what occasioned it, and 
 apologised. 
 
 w You must pardon me, dear Helen," he said, "if feel- 
 ings of indignation stir up within me at the remembrance 
 of that cowardly and treacherous attempt on my life. I 
 would fain forget it — if I cannot well forgive it — but your 
 words bring the remembrance of it fresh before me. As 
 to motive for it — there was the knowledge with him that 
 you and I, dear Helen, stood on terms closer than mere 
 friendship. The knowledge that I was blessed with the 
 affection of one of the best and sweetest, as well as the 
 loveliest of her sex— " 
 
114 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 He made a movement as if to take hold of her hana 
 and kiss it, but there was a palpable feeling of embarrass- 
 ment on her part which stayed him. 
 
 "As I have learned since," said he, after an awkward 
 panse, " he was no stranger to all this. He had been seen 
 skulking — I believe that is the proper word to use — about 
 the neighbourhood some days before he introduced him- 
 self here. He came over from France, an adventurer, 
 with the intention of seeking the hand and the wealth of 
 the heiress of Seamore ; and, finding me in his way — for 
 he had made himself acquainted with all that related to 
 the place — he, creeping behind me with the murderer's 
 stealthy step, did not scruple to remove me out of his path 
 with the blow that his hand was too weak effectually to 
 give." 
 
 " How did you learn this ?" asked Helen faintly, 
 shocked beyond measure at his words. 
 
 " From one who by accident saw him — from one who 
 by the merest chance saw the blow struck." 
 
 " When did you learn this ?" 
 
 "Almost the first day I was able to go out." 
 
 "Why did you not tell this before, Trevor "r" 
 
 " Dear Miss Barring-ton -forgive me, dear Helen — why 
 should I disturb the peacefulness and enjoyment of 
 Seamore by a public disclosure and scandal of this 
 character ? Why should 1 bring public attention and 
 trouble on a quiet home, and disturb the sanctity and 
 sacredness of its privacy by having the eye of the law 
 drawn to it ? If I did not mention it — as I now believe 
 I should have done — it was because the comfort and peace 
 of mind of those at Seamore were dearer to me than my 
 own life." 
 
 He spoke with such warmth and eloquence, and there 
 was such tenderness and care for her in his words, that 
 the girl's heart was touched, and the tears of warm 
 affection welled into her eyes. 
 
 " I did indeed intend," he continued, " some day to 
 make Redmond the confidant of my secret, but the occasion 
 or the opportunity did not arise. It was only on the eve 
 of the fatal — of the disappearance, I mean — of your 
 brother that I had finally made up my mind at all hazards, 
 to inform him." 
 
IN DOUBT. 115 
 
 " It perhaps would be well if yon had,*' said Helen, 
 her tears of affection rapidly changing into those of bitter 
 sorrow. "But do you really think that ttedmond will 
 not return ?" 
 
 " The fact of his disappearing so mysteriously — and 
 what I have already told you — leads me to infer the 
 worst. I fear it would be only keeping you in useless 
 suspense, dear Helen, if I were to say otherwise. I 
 would to heaven I could." 
 
 Helen wept silently for some time. The world seemed 
 reversed to her ; it seemed as if there were no reliance or 
 trust to be placed anywhere, and that the fairest seeming 
 and appearances only covered what was false, treacherous, 
 and untrue. 
 
 " Turning from these matters, which only distress you 
 to no purpose and to no good, dear Helen, will you forgive 
 me if I refer to what concerns us both, and what is and 
 has been pressing closest to my heart ?" 
 
 He paused, either waiting for her to speak or to give 
 himself time the better to express what he was about to 
 say ; but if the former he paused in vain, for Helen still 
 wept in silence. 
 
 " We have been pledged to one another now, Helen, for 
 twelve months. There is nothing, I would hope, since to 
 change or alter our engagement. You are left alone — 
 with the deepest sorrow I say it — in the world friendless 
 and desolate. The past cannot be changed. Would it not, 
 therefore, be better that our marriage, dear Helen, should 
 take place as soon as possible, and that you should no 
 longer be left without a protector ? My happiness is in 
 your hands, and my fate hangs upon your words." 
 
 11 It would not, I think, be befitting," she said quietly, 
 drying her tears the while, " that I should be married, 
 with Redmond's fate still unknown. It is very kind and 
 thoughtful of you, dear Trevor, to think of me in my 
 loneliness and desolation ; but I think it would be but 
 treating him — on my part, that is — unkindly to not wait 
 at least until we have a better chance of hearing from him. 
 Besides, I am not at all strong at present, and need some 
 rest before entering on new cares and new duties. When 
 I return from Inch I shall bo better prepared to talk 
 over it." 
 
116 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 "How long do you purpose remaining there, Helen? 
 Your wish is law to me, as it shall ever be ; but I need 
 not tell yon how anxionsly I shall await the termination 
 of the time that shall enable yon to say ' yes' to me." 
 
 11 Kate presses me to consent to remain with her until 
 May. We are only bringing Luke and Norah with us. 
 Cauth and the remainder of the servants will remain at 
 Seamore." 
 
 " May is a long time to wait for, Helen. Could you 
 not name an earlier day ?" 
 
 "No, I don't think so, Trevor. Not at present, at least, 
 for I have promised Kate. But I may change my mind in 
 the meantime. Redmond — poor fellow ! — may yet return, 
 for something tells me that he will ; and how delightful 
 it would be if he did, and we three were once more 
 together !" 
 
 " It is rather disappointing to me, Helen dearest, but I 
 am content to wait my happiness at your hands. I shall 
 have opportunities of seeing you, however — it would be a 
 desolate time for me if I could not — for there is an estate 
 of mine in Wexford which I have never yet visited, bat 
 which your presence there will give me an opportunity of 
 seeing, as it will be to me the happy occasion and means 
 of seeing you." 
 
 " It will be a source of infinite pleasure to us," said 
 Helen gracefully and warmly, " if we should have you for 
 a neighbour. It will be perfectly delightful, and I trust 
 you will come there as soon as possible. Inch, Kate tells 
 me, is by the sea, in the neighbourhood of old castles and 
 ruined abbeys, and it would be extremely pleasant to have 
 your company when visiting them. I sadly need some 
 change, for I feel very desolate and lonely here." 
 
 " I shall make arrangements this very evening, Helen 
 darling," he said, rising to take his leave and holding her 
 hand in his ; " and I trust that long before the time you 
 mention your mind will change, and that you will come 
 back to Seamore with a lighter and more joyous heart." 
 
 He took his leave with a courteous and chivalrous 
 tenderness which quite won upon Helen. He was so 
 thoughtful, so tender, so considerate, so ready to subor- 
 dinate his own ideas to her wishes ! She felt happy, and 
 
IN DOUBT. 117 
 
 Iter heart rose to think that there was one true man in the 
 world — one on whom a girl's heart might rest with implicit 
 reliance and trust. 
 
 When he had gone, Cauth entered the drawingroom 
 with Norah to light the lamps, for the evening was 
 closing. When the latter had left she took her place by 
 Helen's side at the fire and took her hand in hers, as was 
 her wont when Helen was a child. 
 
 t; Helen, dear, you are looking better this evening." 
 
 "I feel better, Grannie." 
 
 " Sir Trevor Mortimer remained a long time, darling. 
 What did he say to yon ?" 
 
 " What do you mean, Grannie ?" 
 
 " Did he," said the old housekeeper, pressing Helen's 
 hand with affection and anxiety, " did he ask you to marry 
 him?" 
 
 "He did, Grannie." 
 
 "And what did you say, my pet ?" 
 
 " I told him I could not at present — not at any rate 
 until after I come back from Inch in May. Don't you 
 think I was right, Grannie." 
 
 The old woman shook her head disappointedly. 
 
 "You don't seem pleased, Grannie — why?" asked the 
 girl, noticing the motion. 
 
 " He told me he would ask you to do so now, my dear, 
 and I hoped you would have said ' yes.' You are all alone 
 here now, Helen aroon, and the sooner you have someone 
 to take care of you and Seamore the better. A girl's 
 heart is sometimes foolish — and folly and misfortune go 
 hand in hand together. I am an old woman, my dear, 
 and I have seen a great many things that have made me 
 wiser than you. And I have seen, aroon, how near you 
 were to losing your heart to that young fellow that came 
 to us and went so suddenly, and what an escape you had." 
 
 " Grannie," said Helen, recurring quickly to what Sir 
 Trevor Mortimer had said, and what Moya had previously 
 stated, "You don't believe Eugene was as bad as it is 
 said ? You don't believe he would act the part of an 
 assassin ?" 
 
 " No, my pet. God forbid ! But there are people — 
 families — I have known them in my time — many besides 
 
118 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 his — that bring always ill-luck and misfortune with them 
 wherever they come or wherever they go. He is one of 
 them. His father was so before him. And from the 
 night he turned up with your glove in his hand, and " 
 
 " Oh, Grannie ! Grannie !" cried Helen, trembling, as 
 the remembrance of her alarm on that night came freshly 
 on her mind, " don't mention that ! For the love of 
 Heaven, don't mention that !" 
 
 " Very well, honey, I won't ; but I am glad he is gone 
 Dearly as I loved him when a little boy, for his own 
 winning ways and his sweet mother's sake, I am glad he 
 is gone — for more and more trouble would have come if 
 he had not. It comes with his very presence. Misfortune 
 stands at his right hand, whether he wills it or not." 
 
 •' Don't speak any more of it, Grannie. His very name 
 alarms me." 
 
 M Better that than worse — as it was near being and 
 easily might be. But I am glad that you did not put off 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer too long. There's many a slip 
 between the cup and the lip, honey ; and you might wait 
 long before you could meet one as true, as loving, and as 
 worthy of you as he." 
 
 Helen thought so too ; and Kate Howard coming in 
 at the moment, she kissed the old confidant for her kind- 
 ness and affectionate interest, who then left. 
 
 The two girls proceeded to discuss the manner and 
 means of their journey to Wexford — no inconsiderable 
 journey in these days — with the which we have nothing 
 to do. 
 
 But if Helen had been able to listen to a conversation 
 in which she w r as deeply concerned, then occurring not 
 very far from Seamore, her dreams instead of being, as 
 thev were, full of pleasure and of a roseate hue, would 
 have been crowded with terrors to which those she had 
 yet experienced would have been bat trifling. 
 
MOYA'S ADVIOE. 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 mota's advice. 
 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer left Seamore and Helen's presence 
 with a sense of deep mortification. He had come strongly 
 nnder the belief and impression that, in the lonely and 
 isolated circumstances in which she fonnd herself, the 
 young girl would have gladly accepted his proposal. 
 Everything tended to convince him thereof. 
 
 There was, firstly, the conviction, which he had taken 
 care, by chance hints, to impress upon her, of the treach- 
 erous conduct of Eugene, which, remaining uncontradicted, 
 was certain to poison her mind against him, assuming that 
 she did entertain any affection for him. There was, 
 secondly, the fate of Redmond, in itself quite sufficient to 
 make her fly for shelter and succour to one able and 
 willing to shield her from further harm and danger. And 
 there w r as, thirdly, their long engagement and intimacy 
 which he had done nothing to weaken, and which only 
 the French officer's arrival had in any degree estranged. 
 
 But he had found his calculations set at naught. The 
 weakness of his fiancee was too strong for him, and he 
 was now left with all the uncertainties attaching to a 
 prolonged delay. He was, therefore, in no pleasant 
 humour returning into the city. 
 
 On his way, however, he bethought himself of Moya's 
 cabin, and partly retraced his steps. Passing along an . 
 unfrequented track through the tall whins, he arrived at 
 the fortune-teller's cabin, and with very little ceremony, 
 entered. 
 
 "Back so soon ?" said the old woman, glancing at his 
 angry features. 
 
 " Yes, and I might have been back earlier for all the 
 success I had." 
 
 " Indeed," said she, half sneeringly. 
 
 " I find you have not done me much good, Moya," he said, 
 his ill-temper in no wise lessened by her curt remarks. 
 
 " I did you good enough if you only knew how to make 
 use of it. Did you ask her r" 
 
L20 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " An' she refused you ?" 
 
 "No, but what was as bad — or, perhaps, worse — she 
 postponed it until May. She is going, as you told me, 
 to Wexford, and would not entertain the idea until she 
 conies back." 
 
 " Well, an' what would you have ?" 
 
 " Something other than that, Moya. It is a long time, 
 a,nd many things may happen before then." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Why, you know them yourself as well as I do. He 
 may return, for instance, and his return would work 
 disaster. You know it would. And then, Alice." 
 
 " Ay, what of her ?" inquired the old woman keenly. 
 
 " She may turn up at any moment. The terror she felt 
 at first for the attempt on my life will grow less and less 
 by degrees. And though she has hidden herself away 
 since, the devil may prompt her to put in an appearance 
 at any moment." 
 
 " Could you not " 
 
 "No, Moya; I could not. The publicity of the thing 
 would in itself be ruin to me. How could I prosecute her 
 without exposing myself? And if nobody even would 
 believe her, how could I face Helen Barrington again 
 with my statements to the public contradicted by— 
 myself ?" 
 
 " I did not mean prosecuting her," said the old hag, 
 bending her face down to blow the dry bushes she had 
 placed on the fire-place into a blaze 
 
 " You did not mean prosecuting her ?" said Mortimer, 
 with a sudden change in his manner, and a lowering of 
 his voice. " What did you mean ? Not to -" 
 
 "And supposing I did?" said she cautiously, glancing 
 at his face with a look of keenness, as the light of the now 
 burning whins fell on it — " an' supposin' I did ? Would 
 there be anything worse in that than you have already 
 done ? Isn't it the aisiest way out of the trouble ?" 
 
 " You are not serious in this, Moya— are you ?" 
 
 He spoke in a whisper, and took his seat on the straw 
 seat beside her, the better to converse without the risk of 
 speaking loudly. 
 
MOYA 9 8 ADVICK 121 
 
 "What other way is there out of id ? Didn't she try 
 to do the same by you ?" 
 
 " She did, Moya ; but it was in the heat of temper and 
 madness. This wo aid be in cold blood." 
 
 " You are getting very tender-hearted," sneered the old 
 woman. "You should give up Helen Barrington, an' 
 stick to her. She is your lawful wife." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, stop that, Moya," said Trevor in 
 affright, every symptom of anger disappearing from his 
 face as he deprecated the jeering demeanour of the 
 fortune-teller. " It is your advice I want, and I require 
 it now of all times in the world." 
 
 " I have given you advice,*' grimly retorted the old 
 woman, " an' you won't take it." 
 
 " What do you advise, Moya ?" 
 
 " I have said it afore, an' I won't say it again." 
 
 "And you really mean that?" 
 
 " If I didn't would I say it ?" 
 
 " It's impossible, Moya — impossible. It couldn't be 
 done — I couldn't do it." 
 
 "If you don't you'll never see yourself the owner of 
 Seamore, nor the husband ov its owner. You'll never 
 put a weddin' ring on her finger. Let her but wance come 
 afore Miss Helen with that story, an' your chances are 
 gone as much as if you wor beside Redmond Barrington 
 in the mud ov Dublin Bay. It's not harder to do it nor 
 it was to strike him down." 
 
 " Hush ! Moya. Walls have ears." 
 
 " I don't care for them — if they had ears twenty times 
 over." 
 
 " I don't know about that, Moya," said Mortimer 
 significantly. " We are both in the same boat as far as 
 that and other things are concerned. What affects me 
 affects you. But this is not the time to speak of this. I 
 have been very good to you, Moya, and I am not going to 
 be worse now than I was. See here !" 
 
 He took from his pocket a purse and emptied the 
 contents into her lap. The grey eyes of the w ithered hag 
 glistened as the golden coin jingled in her apron. 
 
 " You see, Moya, I know how to reward faithful services. 
 A.nd I shall reward them yet more liberally. Now, Moya, 
 if I were to take vour advice " 
 
122 THE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 He paused. 
 
 " Go on," muttered the fortune-teller. 
 
 "See here, Moya," said he after a pause — "here's how 
 the matter stands. I am going down to Grey Abbey. 
 You know the place — you have not forgotten it long as 
 you have been away from it ?" 
 
 The hag nodded. 
 
 " The place is ruined and abandoned, as you know, for 
 years. I shall get it fitted up at once to live in. I must be 
 near Helen. I cannot live away from her. For good or 
 for evil, I must be in her presence. It is not alone that I 
 love her — it is that I dread when away from her that some 
 inkling of the truth may come to her in my absence and 
 ruin me." 
 
 He paused again, more in deep reflection than from any 
 remark or reply he expected from her. 
 
 " When I am gone there, Moya," he continued, " she 
 may turn up — nay, she will come from her hiding place. 
 She may come to you. If she does, Moya, could you not 
 tell her that I have forgotten and forgiven all ; that lam 
 anxious to see her ; that I am willing to receive her in 
 Grey Abbey, where she will be welcomed as my wife ? 
 You can come with her, Moya ; come in secrecy, and no 
 one will be the wiser. What do you think of that, 
 Moya ?" 
 
 " An' — in Grey Abbey ?" whisperingly queried the old 
 woman, an evil expression lending an additional repug- 
 nance to her puckered features. 
 
 " It is near the sea side, Moya. It is a lonely and 
 forgotten place. Let the future speak for itself." 
 
 " It'll be done. I'll bring her." 
 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer stood up from his seat, all irreso- 
 lution gone from him. He had cast aside in the brief 
 conversation whatever remained of goodness — and it was 
 not much — in his heart. There was ruin around him, and 
 in his desperation he resolved on the worst. 
 
 No human form should stand between him and his 
 resolve to win and wed the heiress of Seamore. 
 
A NIGHT IN OLD DUBLIN. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A NIGHT IN OLD DUBLIN. 
 
 Leaving th© cottage of the fortnne-teller, Sir Trevor 
 Mortimer proceeded with rapid strides along the path 
 over which he had an honr before retraced his steps, nntil 
 he came into the outskirts of the city. Then he proceeded 
 in a more leisurely manner until he reached College-green. 
 He was turning his steps towards Eustace-street when a 
 hand was laid upon his arm. 
 
 He turned round. 
 
 A girl's form, dressed in a long cloak, and with the 
 hood thereof descending over her head and partly shading 
 her face — as was the fashion in those days — stood beside 
 him. Without seeing her face, he guessed, not without 
 a sudden spasm of alarm, who she was. When she threw 
 back the hood, thereby disclosing a face that, as seen by 
 the light of the lamp overhead, must once have been one 
 of singular beauty, though now sadly marked by pain and 
 sorrow, his guesses were changed into certainty. 
 
 "Alice!" 
 
 " You did not expect to see me here ?" 
 
 "No Alice," said he, his surprise changing into warmth 
 of manner. " How could I — from the way we last parted ? 
 But I am glad to see you — very, very glad." 
 
 " Very glad I" said the girl, wholly taken aback by this 
 unexpected display of friendliness and affection. 
 
 " Ay, Alice, delighted. I forgive you everything — if, 
 indeed, it is not I who have a right to expect forgiveness." 
 
 " Do you remember how we parted P" 
 
 " I only remember it to forget it. It was only your 
 love forme that prompted what you did. It was affection 
 and not hatred that urged your hand. I am a changed man, 
 Alice, and during my recovery I often thought of the 
 wrong I had done you, and resolved to make atonement." 
 
 "If I could only believe that, Trevor," said the girl, 
 bursting into tears. " Oh ! how I have sorrowed over the 
 unhappy act since, and how eagerly I longed for and 
 learned the news of your recovery! But I was mad at the 
 
124 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 time and did not know what I was doing. I was, indeed. 
 Your words had made me desperate, and " 
 
 " Do not refer to them now, Alice darling," he said, 
 placing his hand on her shonlder with a tonch of affection 
 that made her form vibrate, so nnnsnal and unexpected 
 was any symptom of kindness from him. " It was all my 
 fault. But I have learned better since. Will you walk 
 along with me ? — it is so odd-looking to remain standing 
 here." 
 
 Drawing the hood of her cloak once more over her head 
 and face, the slender form of the girl moved beside him — 
 moved closer to him — as if hungering — panting — for the 
 love once, hers but long since denied her. 
 
 "As I told you, Alice darling," he continued, as they 
 proceeded along, " I am a changed man. I have had too 
 much time for bitter reflection during the period of my 
 recovery. I have had time to think of the wrong I had 
 done you in refusing you your proper title and position. 
 I am now anxious to make atonement." 
 
 "Trevor!" 
 
 She placed her arm in his in the excess of her joy and 
 love. A paradise seemed to have opened suddenly to her. 
 All the dried up streams of love and affection burst forth 
 again, and welling up, filled her heart with a frenzy of 
 delight and rejoicing. 
 
 " Yes, Alice," and he pressed her tiny hand to his side, 
 " you shall have no reason in the future to regret the 
 past. I shall publicly acknowledge you as my wife. I 
 should have done it long ago ; but it is not yet too late." 
 
 "Oh! Trevor," said the weeping girl — weeping in the 
 excess of her joy at his returned love — " if you but knew 
 the terror, the burning despair, that fell upon me when 
 that evening at Seamore you spoke of our marriage being 
 but a mock marriage performed by a mock clergyman, you 
 would feel how " 
 
 " That is all over and past, Alice. Let us forget what 
 is gone by and only think of the future. We have both 
 erred, and we have both been punished. Listen for a 
 moment, Alice." 
 
 She gave his arm a gentle hug, for her heart was too 
 full of unexpected happiness to speak. They had reached 
 
A NIGHT IN OLD DUBLIN. 125 
 
 the entrance to Eustace-street, and forebore to pass 
 farther in the direction of the gloaming lights that 
 showed where the golden youth of Dublin were enjoying 
 themselves at the famous hostelry. 
 
 " I am going to reside for some time at a place of mine 
 in Wexford, Alice. I shall have it ready for you to come 
 therein a few weeks. There I shall be ready to acknow- 
 ledge you as my wife, and after a short time we can return 
 to Dublin. It is better that it should be broken in this 
 way to my friends than all at once and suddenly here. 
 Promise me that you will come." 
 
 " I shall go anywhere all over the world with you," said 
 the girl with a burst of affection which might have won 
 upon the most callous heart, " to the ends of the earth — 
 only acknowledge me as your own." 
 
 "That I shall do, Alice dear. And as you may not 
 know how or when to come— for I shall be busy getting 
 the place ready for your reception — call to Moya ; she 
 will come with you at the proper time." 
 
 "Moya!" said the girl with an evident shudder of 
 repugnance. " Do not, Trevor dear — do not ask me to 
 call on her. I fear her, and — and — I dislike her." 
 
 " I do not wonder at it, my gentle girl. She is not one 
 with whom I should like you to associate — but in this 
 case she is the only one to whom T can with safety and 
 with secrecy entrust you. Conquer for this one time your 
 dislike. Alice darling, for my sake — for my sake !" 
 
 " Whatever you wish, Trevor, I shall do — God knows I 
 shall. I showed that long ago by leaving France to marry 
 you, and by keeping away since from Seamore because 
 you wished it." 
 
 " I know you did, Alice. I did not then value your 
 love and constancy, p«nd the sacrifices you had made for 
 me, but I do now. Trust me, Alice, and the future will 
 be brighter with happiness than it seemed of late it could 
 ever be." 
 
 " And ail the past will be forgotten ?" 
 
 "Quite, Alice. Even though your hand was raised 
 against me, I know well it was the outpourings of your 
 love — turned astray by my seeming coldness — that 
 prompted it. I said so before ; I now say it again." 
 
126 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 The girl sobbed in her excess of joy. 
 
 " But, Alice, remember — not a word of this to anyone. 
 I need not ask yon not to present yourself at Seamore, or 
 make yourself known there, until I shall introduce you as 
 my wife. I know I can trust you to do this. You have 
 yielded to my wishes before in the matter. I am sure you 
 will do so now also. Will you not ?" 
 
 " I will." 
 
 The delighted girl, fluttering with renewed hope and 
 love, readily acceded to his wishes, and gave the required 
 promise. All the old feelings of dread and desperation 
 melted away under the influence of his honeyed words, 
 and with a kiss on her upturned lips from him they parted 
 — he to enter the renowned hostelry in Eustace-street, 
 she to whither she had come. 
 
 Once inside the hotel he called for a measure of brandy, 
 and tossing off a tumblerful or two, proceeded to the 
 billiard-room. The events of the evening, his conver- 
 sation with Moya, the terrible resolution half formed in 
 her cabin, and the subsequent interview with the subject 
 of that conversation, had stirred a vague feeling of alarm 
 and terror in him — whatever remained in him of con- 
 science was prompting him with a thousand uneasy 
 feelings, to drown which he plunged into the gay company 
 assembled. 
 
 The billiard room was ablaze with lights, and full of 
 company ; so also the rooms leading off it, devoted to the 
 lesser games of whist and cards. It was a time of much 
 and heavy gambling in the city. Country gentlemen 
 coming up to attend to their Parliamentary duties in 
 College-green indulged in it largely, and many a fine 
 estate changed hands of a night over the card-table, and 
 many a heavy rental depended upon a lucky cannon or 
 fortunate fluke on the billiard board. Broad acres of 
 Southern and Western counties were charged with mort- 
 gages in the morning for losses sustained over night — 
 never to be redeemed until the Incumbered Estates Court 
 in after years wiped them out, and concurrently swept the 
 estates out of the hands of the unfortunate heirs. Fifty 
 years after, the reckless squandering in the Eagle gambling 
 ix)oras were to be atoned for in the beggary and ruin of 
 
A NIGHT IN OLD DUBLIN. 127 
 
 the oldest and proudest names in the annals of the 
 land. 
 
 No shadows of coming evil threw a pall over the gay 
 halls of the hotel nor over its high- spirited frequenters, as 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer entered the rooms ; and, amid the 
 smoke of perfumed Havannas and the clinking of glasses, 
 the clicking of ivory balls fell on his ears. The tables, 
 however, were all occupied ; and, too excited to enter 
 into conversation, and too restless to remain an unoccupied 
 spectator, he turned aside into one of the rooms. 
 
 " Hallo ! Mortimer," said one of a party of three sitting 
 at a table on which were some decanters and tumblers, 
 " you have come in good time. You are the very man we 
 want. Will you take a hand ?" 
 
 " I have no objection, my lord," said Mortimer, as he 
 threw himself into the vacant chair and filled the tumbler 
 that stood before him. " What do you play for ?" 
 
 "For very little, unfortunately," said Lord Kingston. 
 " Waterford is trying his hand at some new stroke off the 
 cushion, and bets are running so heavy on it that we can 
 find no one to indulge in a quiet game here." 
 
 " I wondered what the excitement was about," said 
 Mortimer carelessly, as if his thoughts had run very little 
 on the matter, which, indeed, was the case. " I suppose 
 there is something heavy on the affair." 
 
 " Beauchamp Bagnall stands to win or lose twenty 
 thousand on it." 
 
 " Backing Waterford, eh ?" 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
 " Then he stands to lose, I fancy. Waterford is a 
 duffer." 
 
 "Bagnall can readily afford it," said his lordship with 
 supreme indifference, as he shuffled the perfumed pack of 
 cards he held in his hands. "These Carlow acres are 
 fertile and rich, and will bear many a mortgage deed on 
 their broad backs." 
 
 " They will get sufficient to bear if he loses as he did 
 last night," said Mortimer curtly. " But I see you are 
 impatient, my lord. How shall we play, and for wbat ?" 
 
 " As you are sitting opposite me, what say you to being 
 my partner ?" 
 
128 TEE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "I have not the slightest objection if these gontlemer 
 have not." 
 
 " It is too much trouble to change seats," said Sir 
 Laurence Parsons. " I am prepared to take Sir George as 
 tay partner. Have you any objection, Ponsonby ?" 
 
 " None whatever," said Sir George Ponsonby. 
 
 " Well then, gentlemen, it is agreed," said Lord 
 Kingston, " that we play as we are. Now, what shall it 
 be for ?" 
 
 "Say fifties," said Sir Lanrence Parsons. 
 
 "Say hundreds," said his lordship. "What say yon, 
 Mortimer ? Yon gentlemen of the Government have not 
 to depend upon the vicissitudes of the season for your 
 long purses like us poor rent-roll owners." 
 
 " I go in for fifties, my lord. Until the Opposition 
 allows the strings of the public purse to open a little more 
 widely, we poor public servants must practise strict 
 economy." 
 
 "Egad! I wish I could practise a similar economy," 
 said Parsons, laughing. " Mortimer lost some thousands 
 fche night before last, and calls that economy." 
 
 " The long minority of the heirs of Seamore will recoup 
 him for all," said Lord Kingston, as he shuffled the cards. 
 " The funds at disposal there must now be something 
 enormous." 
 
 "And none now to come in for ihem but the bright- 
 eyed Miss Helen. Egad ! Mortimer, you are a lucky 
 fellow ! Here's the health of the handsome heiress !" said 
 Parsons, as he clinked his glass against that of the others. 
 
 " By Jove ! it is enough," said Sir George Ponsonby, as he 
 set his tumbler again on the table, " to make a fellow get 
 rid of his present wife by hook or crook, to get a chance 
 of the heiress and her hundred thousand. Eh, Mortimer ? 
 — Heavens ! what's amiss ?" 
 
 Mortimer had but placed the tumbler to his lips when 
 the baronet spoke; his hand trembled; the tumbler fell 
 with a crash, and its contents were dashed over the table. 
 Heedless of the confusion he created, he fixed his eyes, 
 with a sharp inquiring glance, on the speaker. 
 
 " What on earth has frightened you, Mortimer ?" 
 inquired the baronet. " Your face is as white as if you 
 
A NIGHT IN OLD LUBLIN. 129 
 
 had seen a ghost. Hoot ! man, I have no intention of 
 getting rid of Lady Ponsonby and competing with yon for 
 £he hand of the fair heiress." 
 
 "It was a sndden spasm — I am somewhat subject to 
 them of late," said Mortimer, reassured by the placid, 
 unconscious face of the speaker, and, judging therefrom 
 that no intentional meaning lurked behind his words. " It 
 is only so much precious liquor spilled," as he wiped the 
 table with his handkerchief. " I hope, my lord, the cards 
 have received no injury." 
 
 "ISTo; fortunately, I held them in my hands. Fill 
 another tumbler and let us proceed with the game." 
 " You cut, Ponsonby," said Lord Kingston. 
 "Here goes, my lord," said Ponsonby gaily, as he 
 shared the counters around, ten to each. 
 
 The game went on ; but towards morning, when the 
 sunbeams were beginning to share with the lamps the 
 work of lighting the room, Sir Trevor Mortimer rose from 
 his seat a loser of over five thousand pounds. 
 
 " This has been rather a bad night for us, Mortimer," 
 said his lordship, as he glanced at the pale face of the 
 other, whose losses had now completely sobered him. He 
 had been drinking rather heavily daring the night, but 
 the run of luck against him had had the not unusual 
 result of doing away with its effects. 
 
 " It is all the fortunes of war, my lord — reverses must 
 come to individuals as to nations." 
 
 " By Jove, it is well that you can take it so easily," said 
 his lordship, as he sat down and wrote a cheque for the 
 amount of his losses. " For me it is another pull at the 
 walls of Kingston Castle. It is well to belong to the 
 governing body in Ireland." 
 
 " I am sorry, if it is, that I cannot follow your lordship's 
 example. Ponsonby will have to take my note of hand 
 for the amount for a month or two. This has been rather 
 a larger pull than I came prepared to meet." 
 
 With more or less of grace the baronet accepted the bill 
 in lieu of cash, and Mortimer, bidding them a careless 
 good morning, passed out of the house. 
 
 There was a sense of rage and dismay lurking about 
 his heart, as he strode through the yet noiseless streets on 
 
L30 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 his way to his quarters in the Castle, that palpably showed 
 itself in his maddened eyes and white face. 
 
 " This has been an unlucky week," he said, " and this 
 the worst night of all. This means ruin if I do not meet 
 the bill I have just passed. And where shall the money 
 come from ? Where ? Heaven knows. Helen Barrington 
 must marry me — must, there is no other word for it." 
 
 With a muttered malediction which boded but little 
 good to anyone that stood in his way in his intentions with 
 regard to his marriage, he reached home, threw himself 
 on the sofa ; and, owing to the fact of his having been 
 up all night and the quantity of potations he had taken, 
 was soon sunk in a semi- drunken slumber. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Redmond's story. 
 
 "Why, Eugene," said the new attendant, "Wake, man! 
 Rouse yourself ! What's amiss with you ? Why don't 
 you speak ? Don't you know me ?" 
 
 " I think I do, Redmond, though I can hardly believe 
 the evidence of my senses," said Eugene when he had 
 recovered the power of speaking. "Where did you come 
 from ? What brought you here ?" 
 
 " It would be a long story to tell, and when I think 
 over it myself I can hardly believe ib. But if my presence 
 is a wonder to you, yours is still more so to me. When did 
 you leave Seamore, and why ? — And of all places in the 
 world to find you here ! — But I see you are too weak for 
 much conversation. Wait a moment till I shall bring yon 
 something to strengthen you." 
 
 He departed, and soon returned with a bottle and a 
 tumble*' in his hand. 
 
 "You are evidently a person of some importance here, 
 Eugene, for orders have been given that your treatment 
 shall be of the best. Take this, You will find it do you 
 much good. There ! that's better." 
 
 Eugene took a little of the liquor which was handed 
 
REDMOND'S STORY. 131 
 
 him, and found himself a good deal refreshed and 
 strengthened thereby. 
 
 " That's what we poor fellows before the mast do not 
 often get," said his companion pleasantly. 
 
 " Before the mast !" said Eugene, with perplexed sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Yes Engene, that's about the position I now find my- 
 self in." 
 
 "Redmond," said the prisoner, "this world latterly 
 has become full of unexpected incidents to me, but tliis is 
 the most unexpected of all. Sit down and tell me all 
 about it. I feel myself still scarcely able to believe that 
 it is you are here, and that I am not suffering under some 
 of the illusions of my illness." 
 
 •'You may readily believe it, then, Eugene. A very 
 unpleasant thing for myself, I assure you." 
 "And how did it come about ?" 
 
 "Well, Eugene, a few words will tell you as well as if 
 I spent a month in the narration. You remember the 
 night we went into Dublin together from Seamore." 
 " Yes, perfectly. It was on that night I left." 
 "You too?" 
 
 " Yes ; but don't heed me for the present. Go on with 
 your story." 
 
 " Well, that ni-^ht I had an appointment with a friend — 
 a mutual friend I should say, perhaps —-Trevor Mortimer." 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He asked me to meet him that night at the Eagle in 
 Eustace- street — that he had urgent occasion for my pres- 
 ence on business of importance — and to keep the matter 
 secret. This of course I readily assented to, and did meet 
 him, as appointed. He told me the business on which he 
 required me had been postponed, and we stopped together 
 for some time ; not there, but in another hotel in Dame- 
 street. We had some wine, and I cannot to this hour 
 know how it was that my head became so confused and 
 my feet so unsteady, considering the very limited quantity 
 I had taken. But so it was ; I felt that all ordinary per- 
 ception was gone from me, and that I could scarcely balance 
 myself on my feet. Mortimer wondered at it too, and 
 suggested that we should walk along the quays, where the 
 
132 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 clear cold air of the river might restore me. That mnch 
 I remember clearly, but very little more. I have a vague 
 remembrance of seeing the river, with the lights flashing 
 thereon — of wondering how confusedly the houses adjoin- 
 ing it seemed to cluster around me, I remember vaguely 
 a sudden blow on the head, which struck me to the ground, 
 and I found myself, in a few moments after, falling with 
 a splashing shock into the river. I remember nothing 
 thereafter until I found myself in a vessel at sea." 
 
 "Where was Mortimer?" 
 
 " I have not the slightest remembrance of his company 
 after I left the hotel. None. He may have been with 
 me, or he may not. Probably the latter, because on 
 thinking over the matter since, I have come to the con- 
 clusion that after I had been struck I was lifted and flung 
 over the wall into the river. If Mortimer had been there 
 he would not have permitted that." 
 
 " It is a very extraordinary story." 
 
 " So it is. You have it now just as I know it myself " 
 
 "Who could have struck you ?" 
 
 " I have not the slightest conception — nor could any 
 amount of thinking give me the least clue." 
 
 " You had no quarrel with any one — no enemy ?" 
 
 " I had no quarrel with anyone, and no enemy in the 
 world that I knew of. If I had he must have been a very 
 causeless one." 
 
 " It was clearly an attempt to murder you." 
 
 " I can see no other intention there could be. They 
 went — whoever they were that did it — in the most certain 
 way to effect their purpose. It is very extraordinary, is 
 it not ? considering the mysterious attempt that had been 
 made on Mortimer himself previously. Who could have 
 done it ?" 
 
 " It is very extraordinary," said Eugene slowly — " very 
 What makes it the more so in my mind is that Mortimer, 
 whom I saw later on that night, said he had not seen 
 you." 
 
 " Not seen me ! You must be under a mistake, Eugene 
 — or have forgotten his words." 
 
 "I may not remember the exact words, Redmond, but," 
 said Eugene, slowly and thoughtfully, " he certainly gave 
 
REDMOND'S STORY. 133 
 
 me, in some way, undoubtedly to understand that he had 
 not seen you. I was anxious about you, inasmuch as I 
 wished to see you before leaving Seamore." 
 
 "That brings me to the point I was anxious about. 
 Why did you leave Seamore, and how did you come to be 
 here ?" 
 
 Eugene told him in a few words, the circumstances of 
 which the reader is already aware, 
 
 "Your story is nearly as strange as my own," said 
 Redmond, when lie bad ended. "Is it not a wonderful 
 circumstance that we should meet here again — bere of all 
 places on earth ? One never knows what is in store for 
 him, they say, but be sbould have been gifted with a 
 wonderful amount of prophecy who could have foretold 
 that, when last we parted, we should meet again under 
 these circumstances." 
 
 " It was God sent you here, Redmond. Sit closer to 
 me. I have something to say to you that none but your 
 own ears must hear," whispered Eugene cautiously. 
 
 Redmond moved nearer to him, and in whispers Eugene 
 conveyed to him the purport of the conversation he had 
 heard passing between the doctor and the captain whilst 
 they believed him still in a state of unconsciousness. 
 
 " This is a dreadful fate in store for you, my poor 
 Eugene," said Redmond, with much alarm. 
 
 " It is," assented the latter. " If I am once placed in 
 an English prison, I feel certain I shall never come out of 
 it alive. Judging from the French officers I have seen 
 liberated after confinement of a year or two, I verily 
 believe that it would be better not. For they were com- 
 plete wrecks — ruined alike in body and mind." 
 
 " What do you propose doing ?" 
 
 Eugene lifted himself with difficulty on his elbow and 
 whispered into the other's ear — "Escaping." 
 
 Redmond started. 
 
 " It is impossible," he said, after an alarmed pause. 
 "And, even if possible, to attempt it would certainly end 
 in your recapture or death." 
 
 " Not the former, certainly ; the latter, very possibly 01 
 probably. But even that would be infinitely preferable to 
 imprisonment in the hulks. But we shall talk over it 
 
134 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 again. I am not at present strong enough to make any 
 attempt — even an attempt to get out of bed, or even raise 
 myself." 
 
 " Yon have had a sad time of it, my poor fellow," said 
 Redmond compassionately, as he glanced at the pallid 
 face and weakened form of his friend. "Better fall into 
 the hands of the press-gang, even as* I did, than run the 
 perils yon have run. Fortunate fellow, Mortimer, to have 
 escaped them." 
 
 " Do you know, Redmond," said Eugene, after a period 
 of silence in which both were sunk in thoughtfulness, " I 
 have some doubts about Mortimer's doings in this whole 
 business ?" 
 
 "You have?" 
 
 "I really have. Has it never occurred to yourself 
 that his conduct on that night is somewhat inexplic- 
 able ?" 
 
 "You have struck on a thought that has often arisen in 
 my own mind. But I have always banished it with the 
 reflection — what motive could he have ? None." 
 
 " I can't speak as to his motives," said Eugene, " but 
 the fact that a little drink had such an unusually stupe- 
 fying influence suggests to me " 
 
 " That it was drugged," said Redmond, seeing that the 
 prisoner hesitated. 
 
 " Something of that kind," assented Eugene very 
 thoughtfully. "Then surely, having induced you to walk 
 on the quays, he should and could have taken better care 
 of you." 
 
 "Unless he, too, was attacked and overpowered. I 
 have often thought of that." 
 
 " I am afraid you must banish that thought from you*' 
 head. You must remember I saw him afterwards." 
 
 "By Jove, yes ! I had forgotten that," said Redmond 
 with sudden revulsion of feeling. " You are quite 
 certain it was afterwards you saw him ?" 
 
 " There can be no doubt of it, from what you say," said 
 Eugene slowly, " But that is not all. I am inclined to 
 think that some of my misfortunes are attributable to 
 him. You remember the evening on which we came into 
 Dublin, and on which a letter had come for me ?" 
 
REDMOND'S STORY 135 
 
 J Yes, quite clearly." 
 
 " That letter was opened before I got it. It was in the 
 drawingroom, and he was there, as yon may remember, 
 before I entered. It strnck me at the time as cnrions ; 
 bnt the incident, with the other pressing matters that 
 followed, was banished from my head. I now remember 
 it anew, and, in the light of what yon have told me, it 
 crops np in my mind with fresh suspicions." 
 
 " What interest would he have in your letter ?" 
 
 "That I can only vaguely guess at." 
 
 " What was the subject of it ?" 
 
 " Why it somewhat incautiously hinted the fact of a 
 messenger having hurriedly come across from France, and 
 the tenor of his message was that I should leave Ireland 
 at once — that night if possible — which I accordingly did. 
 It was a matter of wonderment to me how surely we 
 were seized on our passage before we were twenty- four 
 hours at sea." 
 
 " Who did the letter come from ?" 
 
 " It came from the secretary of the United Irishmen in 
 
 Dublin. You will forgive me, Redmond, for not having 
 
 told you this before, but my chief business to Ireland — 
 independently of seeing old friends at Seamore — was 
 to carry out on the part of France the arrangements to 
 aid the Irish revolutionary party. I could not have told 
 you this without violating the order of secrecy I had 
 received." 
 
 " This seems to me to be nearly as strange as the rest 
 of the news I have heard," said Redmond, with amaze- 
 ment on his countenance. 
 
 " That is so, however," said Eugene anxiously, as he 
 saw the unpleasant expression depicted on his friend's 
 face, and grew afraid his statement might cause injurious 
 doubts to arise in his breast, "but you must remember, 
 Redmond, I had pledged my word of honour as a French 
 officer to reveal no word of my mission. I was therefore 
 under the unpleasant dilemma of accepting your friend- 
 ship and hospitality whilst concealing my true character, 
 or of leaving Seamore and residing elsewhere, which latter 
 I should have done with regret — for those in Seamore 
 were very dear to me." 
 
136 THE SHAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 He spoke with no small emotion, which was not un- 
 noticed by Redmond, who said : 
 
 " As possibly you may be aware, Engene, I sympathise 
 but little with the views held by that body ; but, after all, 
 I do not see that you should be the less welcome to 
 Seamore because of any political views or sympathies 
 you may hold. Nor, indeed, now that I think over it, was 
 there any reason why you should have stated your business 
 openly. ' It only concerned yourself. What did concern 
 as was — that you were welcome to us and that your stay 
 made the place very delightful to us. We shall not speak 
 of that matter again. And as you are, I can see, exhausted 
 with so much talking, I fancy we shall postpone all further 
 mention of the subject until I come to-morrow — which I 
 shall do early, unless I am prevented. Your words have 
 made me as anxious as yourself to leave this. I am in 
 grave doubts, after our conversation, as to how matters 
 may be with Helen at Seamore ; but we shall talk over 
 matters to-morrow, if possible, in regard to it." 
 
 They parted — Redmond to return to his duties in the 
 vessel in quality of his newly acquired position as pressed 
 seaman, and Eugene to rest himself and try to sleep. 
 
 But sleep was far from his eyes. 
 
 Curiously enough, both were occupied by the one 
 thought. It was Helen's position at Seamore. 
 
 The strangeness of the circumstances attending Red- 
 mond's finding himself one of the crew of the Thunderer, 
 and the new and unaccustomed duties he had to perform, 
 prevented his being able to think connectedly about her 
 previously. He had, indeed, often felt pained and worried 
 when he thought of the uneasiness she must have experi- 
 enced at his unexplained absence — a circumstance which 
 the strict rules of the service, forbidding pressed seamen 
 from communicating with their friends, prevented any pos- 
 sibility of avoiding. But now Eugene's words awakened 
 suspicions perfectly distracting in themselves and cease- 
 lessly harrying his mind. What could have been Morti- 
 mer's object if these suspicions were true — and they were 
 not without a reasonable amount of foundation — he who 
 had so long been his friend and intimate ? Moreover, he 
 was Helen's acknowledged suitor, and this circumstance 
 
REDMOND'S STORY. 137 
 
 (which for some reason not quite clear to himself, Red- 
 mond felt reluctant to mention to Eugene) made any 
 treachery on his part the more strange and nnacconntable. 
 But, on the other hand, where had lie been the moment 
 when the unseen hand had struck himself down, and mur- 
 derous hands had thrown him into the water? Could 
 Mortimer himself have done the 
 
 But no ; the suspicion was ungenerous and unjust 
 Mortimer could never have known of it. 
 
 With all these considerations balancing in his mind, he 
 felt an unaccountable dread of misfortune happening to 
 Helen, and a growing desire to get back — come what 
 would — to Seamore. 
 
 He tossed restlessly in his hammock, thinking how 
 this could be accomplished, but vainly. He could form 
 no idea of how it could be effected. Escape seemed im- 
 possible. 
 
 Eugene was similarly occupied. He, too, was full of 
 anxiety to get to Seamore. He felt strongly convinced 
 of Mortimer's treachery, and was full of fear that in the 
 absence of her brother he might prevail on the unbe- 
 friended girl to marry him. The very thought that this 
 could be the case — that she was lost to him for ever — was 
 perfectly maddening. Even while they were thus waft- 
 ing about on the sea his rival's wiles might be taking 
 effect ! 
 
 Finally, and as the result of these maddening conjectures, 
 he made up his mind. He would at all risks make his 
 escape or die in the attempt. Better that than live in 
 suspense as to how she fared. To think of spending years 
 in prison without hearing of or seeing her, or learning 
 how she was ! 
 
 Years ! — the very word sounded like an eternity to him ! 
 
L38 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MIDNIGHT ON THE SEA. 
 
 Redmond did not turn up next day. A strange hand came 
 instead. Why the change was made Eugene conld not 
 learn. 
 
 And so, to his infinite surprise, it continued for many 
 torturing days and nights. 
 
 But one evening, some weeks after, he was quite 
 surprised to see the welcome face of his friend again at 
 the entrance to his prison-chamber. 
 
 "Redmond !" cried Eugene, delightedly. 
 
 " Hush !" said his friend, placing his finger on his lip. 
 
 Eugene looked at him and quickly recognised that there 
 was something secret and important in his manner and 
 bearing. 
 
 " We are now at anchor," said iledmond hurriedly. 
 
 " Yes. I know — but where ?" 
 
 " Off the Wexford coast. Listen ! We must contrive 
 to escape to-night." 
 
 " To-night." 
 
 "Yes. I cannot stnnd it any longer. I am tortured 
 with anxieties about Helen and Seamore. Ever since we 
 were last speaking, the desire to get back has grown on 
 me more and more. I cannot sleep without unhappy 
 dreams about both. I am in constant trouble about it. 
 Come weal or woe, I shall escape — or try to — to-night." 
 
 " And I shall join you." 
 
 "Do you think you would be able?" asked Redmond, 
 with intense anxiety. 
 
 " I have been nursing my strength for this occasion. 
 If the idea of escaping has been growing upon you, it 
 has grown with ten-fold power and strength upon me. I 
 am ready." 
 
 " Then we shall try at midnight." 
 
 " But how ? — Redmond, be careful !" 
 
 " Look here, Eugene. This port-hole," pointing to one 
 which became visible to Eugene's eyes through the opened 
 door—" this port-hole shall be left open. Tinder it rocks 
 
MIDNIGHT ON TEE SEA. 139 
 
 a small boat — yon understand ? — We may not be heard, 
 or, if heard, they may take it as one of the boats going 
 ashore. Will yon be able to make the attempt ?" 
 
 " Trust me, I shall," was the confident reply of the 
 prisoner, who felt already the strength mounting in his 
 heart, and the blood coursing with fresh vigour in his 
 veins, as he thought of escape and freedom. 
 
 " Not a sound, until then ; but keep awake and vigilant," 
 and, closing the door softly, Redmond reascended on deck. 
 
 The minutes seemed hours and the hours years as 
 Eugene lay with palpitating heart awaiting the next com- 
 ing of his friend. 
 
 How long the dusk seemed falling ! How long until 
 complete darkness had descended ! How eagerly he 
 listened to every distant footfall, to every creaking noise 
 in the huge ship, in expectation of the summons ! 
 
 As he waited and waited in anxious expectancy, how 
 wearily and slowly the hours appeared to drag themselves 
 along! It seemed to him at last as if it must be near day- 
 light and that Redmond's heart had failed him, or that 
 unknown circumstances had compelled him to abandon 
 the attempt — when suddenly, the sound of a muffled step 
 fell on his ear, and the door slowly opened. 
 
 "Eugene!" 
 
 The whisper fell on his excited attention and hearing 
 with the distinctness of a trumpet sound. 
 
 "Yes; I'm ready — Redmond — I'm ready." 
 
 He felt almost as if his whisper could be heard on deck. 
 
 " Slip oif your boots and follow me." 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Eugene, 
 complying with the order, stood beside him. 
 
 They moved towards the open port-hole. 
 
 As they did so, Eugene moved against a cutlass that 
 some negligent hand had laid over the trunnion of a gun. 
 It fell, and the echoes on their startled ears seemed to 
 ring with the force of a broadside. 
 
 They paused a moment until the echoes had died away 
 and until they satisfied themselves that no attention had 
 been created thereby. 
 
 " For the love of heaven, Eugene, be careful !" whispered 
 Redmond, laying his hand on the other's shoulder. " J 
 
140 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 shall go first. I know better the way, and where the boat 
 lies." 
 
 He crept cautiously through the port-hole, head foremost. 
 
 How long the operation seemed to Engene watching 
 behind And what a throb of rejoicing came to his heart 
 as he saw him cling to a rope ontside and disappear ! 
 
 He immediately prepared to follow his friend's example. 
 He had got his head through far enough to see the dark 
 waste of waters around and the indistinct form of his 
 companion standing on the poop of the boat beneath. 
 
 A voice in command suddenly rang out on the deck 
 above. 
 
 For a moment he feared they had been discovered, and 
 drew back instinctively. 
 
 It was only the command of the officer relieving the 
 second watch. Eugene knew that this would be a time 
 of more or less confusion on deck, and therefore favour- 
 able to their attempt. 
 
 He crept out once more, laid hold on the rope that 
 depended from the side of the ship, and with a quickness 
 and agility begotten of his experience on board the French 
 fleet, quickly slid down, and was soon standing beside his 
 companion. 
 
 " That was well done," was the whisper in his ear. 
 11 For your life now not a word. Lie down in the bottom. 
 I shall scull her softly out." 
 
 Eugene did as he was desired. Redmond, placing hig 
 oar against the side of the vessel that seemed to lift 
 herself like a mountain above them, sent the little skiff 
 spinning noiselessly through the water. Then with his 
 hand he paddled her some distance so noiselessly that 
 Eugene, lying in the bottom of the boat, could scarcely 
 hear the sound. 
 
 They had in this manner got a considerable length from 
 the vessel — so far, indeed, that Eugene, lifting his head to 
 the rowlocks, could barely see her in the darkness, looming 
 like a huge spectral figure on the breast of the waters. 
 
 Over the darkness suddenly a trumpet sound rang out ! 
 
 " Jump to your oar, Eugene ! Quick !" said Redmond, 
 in hurried tones. " We have been discovered. There's 
 the signal. For your life, man ! — quick !" 
 
MIDNIGHT ON THE SEA. 141 
 
 The bugle rang a second time before Engene was ablt 
 to get his oar into position. He had some difficulty in 
 getting it from nnder the seat ; he had a further difficulty 
 in getting it into the rowlock, the clanking iron of which 
 made a considerable noise. 
 
 Meantime they could hear by the calls and cries and 
 other noises on board the distant vessel that there was 
 considerable running about ; and lights flitting to and fro 
 hurriedly appeared on her decks. 
 
 " Don't make so much noise, Eugene, but pull with all 
 your strength. Pull for your very life ! They are launch- 
 ing other boats. See !" 
 
 A red sheet of flame burst out from the side of the ship, 
 and long before the report reached them a shower of 
 grape struck the water near, throwing up a column of 
 spray. 
 
 " That was a random shot attracted by the noise, 
 Eugene ; but how near it was to doing its work ! Pull ! 
 the tide is with us, and they will hardly find us out in the 
 darkness." 
 
 It needed no words of encouragement or command to 
 make Eugene bend on his oar. Freedom and liberty were 
 before him — imprisonment and bondage behind. He was 
 from long habit a skilful oarsman ; and whilst his eyes 
 watched the many moving lights on the deck of the vessel, 
 betokening the haste that was made to put after them, 
 the little skiff flew along the water in obedience to their 
 nervous and vigorous strokes. 
 
 "How far have we to row to land, Redmond?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Three or four miles ; but there is no use running in 
 close at once. They will sweep inwards along the shore 
 looking for us. There is an island further up for which I 
 think we should make — that, or pull Nor'ards keeping this 
 distance out." 
 
 " The latter will be, I think, the best plan ; we had better 
 keep pulling whilst the tide is with us." ■ 
 
 By degrees the lights on the ship grew dimmer as the 
 distance from her increased. 
 
 Occasionally a cry of some seabird or a noise borne from 
 afar came on their ears, startling them into the belief that 
 
142 TEE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 the pursuing boats were on their track, and they leant on 
 their oars in breathless suspense to ascertain if their fears 
 were well grounded. Finding they were not, they palled 
 on again vigorously, until, after the lapse of a couple of 
 hours, they had so far increased their distance from the 
 vessel that her lights were invisible. 
 
 " We are approaching land," said Eugene, as the noise 
 of surf came on his ears, and he turned his head around, 
 to look over his shoulder. 
 
 " So we are," said his companion, looking around also ; 
 " this must be the island I told you of. The Thunderer 
 passed it up and down repeatedly recently." 
 
 " What shall we do now ?" 
 
 11 We are safe here for a while. Their boats must have 
 made for the shore in the belief that ive won Id have rowed 
 straight therefor also." 
 
 " Shall we remain here ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so ; for some time at least. We are a 
 long time from daylight yet. We can get out here and 
 rest our legs. I am perfectly crippled with sitting so 
 tight in this little boat." 
 
 " And I, too," said his companion. " But are we safe ?" 
 
 " There are nooks along these cliffs that they would 
 find it perfectly impossible in the dark to find their way 
 into, or in which to discover our boat. Besides, they 
 would never dream that we should make for this place 
 with the shore so much nearer and safer." 
 
 "Very well ; pull along, then. I shall be glad of room 
 to stand up." 
 
 " Steady, now, Eugene — we are in the surf. A little 
 this way ! Now ! — we are in the deep water again. We 
 are right under the cliffs. There is a little bay here, 
 apparently. Easy, Eugene — back water. Here we are ; 
 nothing could be better." 
 
 " Nothing," said Eugene, as the boat, swinging around 
 a projecting cliff, ran into a little narrow but completely 
 land-locked harbour, with high precipitous cliffs projecting 
 thereover. " It was specially marked out for the safety 
 of fugitive British seamen," added he, laughing. 
 
 " I am glad to see you in such spirits, Eugene," said 
 Redmond, as he stepped out on the narrow fringe of strand, 
 covered with heaps of seaweed, beaten in by the waves. 
 
MIDNIGHT ON THE SEA. 143 
 
 " He should be more dtlll of heart and gloomy of dispo- 
 sition than I am who would not rejoice at escaping from 
 the Thunderer, and the long captivity that lay beyond 
 her. This, indeed, is liberty — I never really felt what 
 freedom was before," he said, as he stepped out, threw up 
 his arms, and drew himself to his full height. 
 
 "And by the way," said Redmond, as he suddenly 
 placed his hand on his breast, " here is — is it not wonder- 
 ful I never thought of it during our long row ? — some- 
 thing that will add to our sense of relief." 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " A flask of brandy " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "Nothing less."' 
 
 " Well, God bless whoever invented that precious liquor. 
 I think it never came to more parched lips before." 
 
 " But that is not all." 
 
 " I think it must be all," said Eugene facetiously — the 
 airy character of his French nature developing itself at 
 once. " I fancy at this moment the world possesses 
 nothing more valuable." 
 
 " Except these — cigars." 
 
 " You don't really say so. You are an angel of deliver- 
 ance, Redmond. You are indeed. It is not an able 
 seaman before the mast but High Admiral of the English 
 fleet they should have made you." 
 
 " I am not very ambitious of that either. But here, 
 take something — a little to refresh and strengthen you. 
 You must need it very much. We have a long row yet 
 before we touch land, and Heaven knows how we may 
 fare then." 
 
 " Leave that to Heaven. Sufficient for the day is the 
 evil thereof, and sufficient for the present that we have 
 escaped from the Thunderer. And now for a cigar. How 
 shall we light?" 
 
 " I have provided that, too. Here are flint and fusee." 
 
 " Good again. How long it is since ray lips were 
 blessed with the fragrant weed ! I feel like a giant 
 refreshed. I could keep the oar going without ceasing 
 until daylight." 
 
 "You will need all your strength and vigour," said 
 
144 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT, 
 
 Redmond, as they stamped on the strand to circulate the 
 blood in their stiffened limbs. " We have a long row 
 before us." 
 
 " The longer the better if it will but pnt ns further 
 away from the sides of his Majesty's line-of-battle ship 
 Thunderer. We shall find friends on shore, I warrant 
 you. French officers are not unwelcome visitors on Irish 
 soil at present." 
 
 " I believe you are right — I had not thought of that," 
 said Redmond, pausing in his exertions. " And that being 
 so," he continued, " I daresay the best plan is to get to 
 land as speedily as possible." 
 
 " I think so," said Eugene cheerfully. " Who knows 
 how soon fate and good fortune may bring us to Seamore P" 
 
 " It is almost too much good luck to hope for. And 
 that puts me in mind, Eugene, of the conversation we had 
 on the occasion of our first strange meeting on the 
 Thunderer. I have often thought of your words since. 
 And, what is more — I am almost inclined to agree with 
 what you said of Mortimer." 
 
 " Say not almost, but quite, Redmond. I too have 
 thought over the matter since, and I have come to the 
 conclusion that he is at foot of all our misfortunes." 
 
 " What motive could he have ?" 
 
 " It is hard to fathom any man's motives. It is difficult 
 to get at the inner life of any man ; but that he " 
 
 " Hush !" said Redmond in a tremulous whisper, laying 
 his hand hurriedly on the other's shoulder. 
 
 " What is it ?" whispered Eugene, after a pause of dead 
 silence in which neither scarcely breathed. 
 
 " I heard a voice whilst you were speaking." 
 
 They listened again for a considerable time. 
 
 "Your ears deceived you, Redmond," wkispered his 
 companion. " There is no boat on the waters near us. It 
 was your imagination." 
 
 " Perhaps it was — but I certainly thought I heard a 
 voice calling." 
 
 "It must have been the spirit of some drowned fisher- 
 man or sailor, then," said Eugene, unbelievingly, as, after 
 cautiously walking to the projecting rock, and looking 
 around it, he returned to where his friend stood, " for 
 there is not a living thing to b<5 seen around." 
 
MIDNIGHT ON THE SEA. 145 
 
 " I am quite certain I heard it. A weak voice calling 
 or moaning." 
 
 " If yon did it was no living voice." 
 
 "By Jove, P^ugene, I feel quite an eerie feeling creeping 
 down my back. I suppose my anxiety led me astray. Still ! 
 By heavens ! there it is again. Did you hear it ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Eugene, quite as startled as his companion, 
 " I heard it. Somewhere near us, too." 
 
 " Yet there is no one near us." 
 
 "No, there is nothing around but the cliffs " 
 
 " It is very singular." 
 
 "Very," said Eugene solemnly. 
 
 They listened for a short time. 
 
 Again the voice came. It was the weak voice of one in 
 great agony. 
 
 " By heavens, Redmond," said Eugene, " it comes from 
 the seaweed. From that heap yonder It is some drown- 
 ing person the tide has washed in." 
 
 " I believe you are right," said Redmond, moving 
 quickly towards the spot. 
 
 " Good God ! Eugene come here ?" cried he, as he bent 
 down. " It is a girl buried in the seaweed. Come here — 
 come quick !" 
 
 Going there, Eugene saw indistinctly what his com> 
 panion had seen before him — the form of a girl lying on 
 the masses of seaweed. Her dress was black, and as she 
 lay with her face apparently buried in the soft mass under 
 her, she was undistinguishable, in the darkness, from the 
 surroundings. 
 
 " Heavens ! how could she have come here ? She 
 breathes ! — she is living, but unconscious ! What could 
 have happened her ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you how it is, Eugene," said Redmond, as he 
 issisted to lift the senseless form of the girl, and turned 
 her bruised and bleeding face upwards ; " she has fallen 
 from the cliffs. Her life was saved by falling on this 
 mass of seaweed, else she should have been dashed to 
 pieces. It was the providence of God that sent us here to 
 save her. Merciful heavens !" he added, as he glanced at 
 the precipice above him, steep as the wall of a house s 
 " what a fall the unfortunate girl must have had !" 
 
146 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " Her face is cut and bleeding, too ? poor thing. Heaven 
 help her ! what a frightful accident must have happened 
 her ! What shall we do ? Have vou anything left in the 
 flask?" 
 
 " A little, but sufficient for the purpose. Hold her in 
 your arms, Eugene, for a moment." 
 
 Redmond poured, as well as he could in the gloom and 
 darkness that surrounded them, a few drops of the liquor 
 into her parted lips. The light barely afforded him power 
 to do so. An answering pulse of life through her form 
 rewarded his efforts, and reassured him that it had not 
 been wholly quenched. 
 
 " What shall we do, Redmond ? This poor creature 
 cannot be allowed to die here." 
 
 " No ; certainly not," said his friend. 
 
 " What do you propose ?" 
 
 " I'll tell you what we shall do — row directly to the 
 shore. We shall find some means, once there, of bringing 
 her into succour and help. Mayhap her friends are at this 
 moment wondering where she is." 
 
 " I think you are right — even though we fall in with 
 the search-boats of the Thunderer." 
 
 " Even though we should. Better have us retaken than 
 that we should allow her life to be lost without an effort 
 to save her." 
 
 " Such a thing is not to be thought of," said Eugene 
 promptly. " It would be murder." 
 
 " Are you able to resume your oars ?" 
 
 "I am able to row," said Eugene bravely, "until 
 morning, if the need be." 
 
 " Good fellow ! — Assist me to lift her into the boat. 
 Gently. There !" 
 
 "Now," said Eugene, as he took off his coat and folded 
 it around her, and under her head for a pillow, "let us get 
 the boat apast these rocks, and she shall have a fair chance 
 for her life. Poor girl !" 
 
 They got the little skiff out into the sea once more, and, 
 turning her head to the shore, pulled with all the vigour 
 of brave and gallant hearts. In a short time the little 
 rocky islet disappeared from their view, and they were 
 once more on the open sea, the night-clouds and darkness 
 
THE CRY FROM THE CLIFFS. 147 
 
 alone around them. Still they rowed on with unceasing 
 exertion, spurred thereto by the low moan of agony that 
 at intervals broke from the unconscious form lying at 
 their feet. 
 
 " Who can tell," said Redmond, " what frightful sorrow 
 and trouble her friends may be in, nnknowing what has 
 become of her." 
 
 Who, indeed ? Not they, two, surely — rowing athrough 
 the dark sea to the unknown coast, the beat of whose surf 
 on the rocks grew more strongly each moment on their 
 ears. 
 
 So strangely fate weaves her threads ! So wonderfully 
 involved are the golden web and woof of human lives ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE CRY FROM THE CLIFFS. 
 
 A few weeks saw Helen Barrington and Kate Howard in 
 the latter's comfortable home at Inch. Here, in the midst 
 of new and agreeable surroundings, the former gradually 
 began to forget her troubles, or, if not to forget them, to 
 bear them better. The roses came back into her cheeks, 
 and the old winsome smile into her eyes. 
 
 So also a short time saw the old deserted mansion at 
 Grey Abbey being put in repair. It had been long dis- 
 used and neglected, but now its broken windows were new 
 glazed, and the place rapidly put in order. And no sooner 
 was it habitable, than, to the surprise of Kate Howard, 
 but not at all to that of Helen, Trevor Mortimer made 
 his appearance therein. 
 
 Inch House lay in a sheltered nook some distance — half 
 a mile or thereabouts — inland, protected from the sea- 
 storms by an intervening hill. Its topmost windows 
 alone gave view of the sea. Grey Abbey stood along the 
 coast about a mile distant and near the strand. Between 
 lay the ruins of an old monastery, whose walls, spray-swept 
 and whiteued with winter storms and bleached by 
 summer heats, propably supplied to the builder of the lately 
 
148 TEE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 ruined, but newly tenanted, mansion its picturesque name. 
 At some time, so remote in the lapsing centuries that 
 history had lost ken of it, the abbey must have been built 
 a distance inland, but the action of the ceaseless sea had 
 gradually swept away the cliffs, until now it stood so nigh 
 that some of the walls had actually fallen over. 
 
 It was rather a matter of wonder with the people living 
 in the neighbourhood, to see Grey Abbey refurnished, and 
 most persons were disposed to look on its new inhabitant 
 as a sort of government official guarding that part of the 
 coast — a not extraordinary guess, considering the troubled 
 condition of Wexford at the time. 
 
 "And who have you living with you, Sir Trevor?" 
 asked Miss Howard, one day when he rode over, for the 
 first time after his coming, to pay them a visit. 
 
 " Only an old housekeeper," said he gaily. " I meat 
 only to use it as a shooting box, or rather, I should say, a 
 fishing- box, while my friends remain here." 
 
 " How delightful it will be to visit and explore the old 
 mansion ! One can imagine ghosts and skeletons starting 
 up out of old hiding places of years." 
 
 " I shall be glad to show you over the old fabric when 
 it is ready, but at present it is scarcely fit for ladies' eyes 
 to see — not to speak of the fact that my housekeeper is 
 not at all disposed to do the honours of so uninviting a 
 mansion." 
 
 " Well, let us know when you are prepared to receive 
 us, and we shall be glad to pay you a visit." 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure." 
 
 The subject was dropped, and to Mortimer's great 
 satisfaction was not resumed again for some time. 
 
 Meantime, however, his visits grew frequent to Inch 
 House, and as, in consequence of the disturbed state of 
 the country, many of the gentry had gone to reside in the 
 metropolis, and society was therefore scarce, his attention 
 was very acceptable, as tending to relieve the ennui of the 
 place. 
 
 Helen began once more to be pleased in his society. 
 Somehow the events that preceded and followed the dis- 
 appearance of her brother and Eugene had tended to 
 make his presence more or less distressing ; but now she 
 
TEE CRY FROM THE CLIFFS. 149 
 
 was beginning to look upon the past as irrevocable, and 
 to regard the previous relations that existed between 
 Mortimer and herself as undisturbed. 
 
 Wherefore it was that she was constantly in his com- 
 pany whenever he came, and if he were a day or two 
 absent, almost felt lonely for his presence. Thrown, almost 
 without further society, into his company, it was no 
 wonder that his old power over her and her old liking for 
 him began to be restored. And insensibly his statements 
 constantly repeated began to impress her with the force 
 of conviction, until whenever she thought of Eugene, it 
 was with a shudder for his dreadful and unaccountable 
 treachery and ingratitude. 
 
 Mortimer was delighted. He could not conceive that 
 so welcome and fortunate a change could come for him 
 from this visit to the country. Instinctively he began to 
 find that her old regard for him, which seemed abating, 
 had returned in greater strength. There was no need 
 that she should tell him so; he knew it by mere intuition. 
 And, so knowing, he resolved to profit by it — by pressing 
 his suit as earnestly and vehemently as he could. 
 
 And so one evening, as they stood on the brow of the 
 hill that intervened between Inch House and the sea, he 
 urged her to be his wife without delay — and she consented. 
 He pointed out to her her isolated condition, the long 
 understanding that subsisted between them, the unreason- 
 ableness of further delay, the approbation with which her 
 brother had looked upon their projected union, and after 
 some objections on her part — put forward faintly and 
 waveringly, but beaten down or waived aside by his 
 passionate pleadings — she consented. 
 
 Immediately she gave her consent other preliminaries 
 were arranged. She was to return to Seamore in a few 
 days, and once there the marriage was to take place with- 
 out any unnecessary delay. Indeed, now that her adhesion 
 to his wishes in the principal matter had been concluded, 
 there was no reason why there should. 
 
 Thence afterwards he was constantly at Inch and un- 
 ceasingly by her side. A gayer or more agreeable suitor 
 it would be difficult to find. Miss Howard was in delight 
 that her friend was likely to be soon so happily placed. 
 
150 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 and, whilst mourning over the disappointment her owr 
 heart had sustained by Redmond Barrington's disappear- 
 ance or death, rejoiced unselfishly on account of Helen's 
 happiness. 
 
 But if Trevor Mortimer was so joyous and light-hearted 
 in his betrothed's presence, he was torn with very different 
 feelings when away from her. 
 
 There were so many things to interrupt this chance of 
 good luck that offered itself to him. There was one who 
 might, at any moment and unexpectedly, turn up to mar his 
 prospects. If he once were married to Helen Barrington 
 he could afford to despise her threats. He could repudiate 
 the French marriage with her It was not the law in this 
 country, nor would there be many under the circumstances 
 at present existing between France and England to think 
 ill of such repudiation. As to what Helen thought, once 
 he was her husband and master of Seamore and its rich 
 estates, it would matter very little to him. She might 
 ihink well or ill of it just as she pleased. He wonld 
 take care that it should give him very little trouble or 
 concern. 
 
 But until he really were married how many circum- 
 stances might turn up to ruin him ! She had not come 
 according to his arrangement with her. Who knew but 
 she might, hearing how matters stood, present herself 
 before Helen and warn her that she was already his wife. 
 That would be utter and certain ruin. That would be a 
 final and impassable barrier to his hopes. That would be 
 a final ending to their engagement. His heart filled with 
 malignant terror at the idea. The love — if it could be 
 called love — that once he bore her had turned to impla- 
 cable and burning hate. She came to his mind as the 
 bearer of ruin to him ; the demon would have seemed to 
 his inflamed thoughts as less abhorrent. 
 
 There was a further source of trouble around him in 
 the sense that some knowledge of his gambling propen- 
 sities and his heavy debts might come to Helen's ears. 
 There was also the pressing necessity for paying his debts 
 of honour to his gambling associates in Dublin — else his 
 name might be suddenly posted in the clubs as a blackleg, 
 and his name ostracised in Dublin society. 
 
THE CRY FROM THE CLIFFS. 151 
 
 Bat these latter became merged in the more dangerous 
 trouble caused by the possible appearance before Helen of 
 — of — his wife. It was with a curse of vengeance that this 
 name occurred to him. If he could only be rid of her — if 
 he could only 
 
 It was in some such abrupt and malignant manner of 
 thinking as this that one morning as he opened the hall- 
 door of the dilapidated mansion of Grey Abbey there 
 presented itself before him the form of — his wife. 
 
 If a thunderbolt had suddenly fallen from the skies at 
 his feet he could not have been more surprised, although 
 he had expected and arranged for it, and although he 
 often feared she would not come. He had been on his 
 way to Inch, and her appearance was furthest from his 
 thoughts. 
 
 But he was equal to the occasion, and promptly recovered 
 himself. The look of dark displeasure and surprise quickly 
 vanished from his face, which became immediately 
 wreathed with smiles. 
 
 " Come, at last, Alice dear ?" he said, embracing her. 
 " How long and how anxiously I have expected you !" 
 
 " I could not come earlier, Trevor," she said, tears of 
 rejoicing bursting to her eyes at the warmth of his recep- 
 tion. " I came as soon as I was able — for I have been 
 very ill." 
 
 " I am sorry I have not a more suitable house to enter- 
 tain you in and welcome you to, Alice, darling, but your 
 stay will not be long. How did you come ?" 
 
 " By the night mail. You know you wished me to 
 come privately." 
 
 " So I did, Alice. Such a good girl as you are — so true 
 and loyal. Did anyone travel with you ?" 
 
 " No, no one. There was none but myself in the mail. 
 It was so lonely a journey — oh ! so lonely ! But I was 
 cheered by the thought of your welcome — of seeing you 
 
 " And you shall be still further cheered and rejoiced, 
 Alice, darling. Come in. — Moya, Moya !" he called as they 
 entered, " see who has come — see who has come, Moya !" 
 
 Alice was delighted with the warmth of her reception 
 and the excitement her coming had caused ; and as the 
 old woman hobbled towards her she overcame her repug- 
 
152 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 nance and threw her arms around her in a bnrst of 
 gratitude and affection — as fervent for the moment as if it 
 were around her dead mother's form she twined her arms. 
 Leaving her after some time, during which his delight 
 was manifested in many ways that filled the weary 
 wanderer with new feelings of joy, he took his departure 
 for Inch. There he impressed upon Helen Barrington the 
 necessity of her speedy return to Scamore. He had not 
 much difficulty in inducing her to accede to his wishes, 
 and the next day, or at furthest the next but one, was 
 fixed therefor. 
 
 That arrangement made, he returned. 
 Alice and he walked, during the late afternoon, along 
 the more unfrequented way towards the sea, and in the 
 direction of the ruined abbey. In ecstacies at her new- 
 found happiness, she hung upon his arm and listened with 
 the old rapture to his honeyed words. 
 
 To one not burthened with his feelings at the moment 
 she would have seemed a graceful and handsome girl, her 
 pale olive face contrasting finely with her black hair ; and 
 her handsome black Provencal eyes flashing with the light 
 of new-found love — one, indeed, who but lately must 
 have looked striking and impassioned, although now a 
 certain air of suffering pervaded her appearance. 
 
 The sea looked so glassy and beautiful — not a ripple 
 ruffled its surface — that Alice could not help admiring it. 
 The afternoon light fell on its waters, giving them a ruddy 
 glow that turned them into molten gold. 
 
 "How beautiful!" she said, leaning on his arm. "It 
 reminds me of the sea on the Southern shores of France. 
 Shall I ever see it again, I wonder." 
 
 " You admire this, Alice," he said, pausing m his walk, 
 as a sudden thought struck him. They had been walking 
 towards the cliffs whereon the ruins of White Abbey 
 stood — overhanging the sea. 
 
 "I do!" she exclaimed enthusiastically " It reminds 
 me of 'the happy days before — before I loved you, Trevor." 
 " Would you like, Alice, a sail on the waters, this 
 evening ? There is an island yonder — you can faintly see 
 it from here — whereon the sunsets are perfectly — surpass- 
 ingly — beautiful. You will think you are looking at dear 
 
THE GEY FROM THE GLIFFS. 153 
 
 San Grande again. It will be so delightful to be alone 
 on the sea as we used to be there. Would you like it ?" 
 
 " Of all things — with yon," was her reply. 
 
 " It will be so pleasant, and remind us so of old times," 
 he said, as they turned to walk back. 
 
 Returning to where his boat lay anchored under the 
 mansion, they entered it, and, fixing the sails, were soon 
 on their way over the dancing waters. 
 
 The sail was to her entrancing. It reminded her of 
 many similar ones on a foreign sea. Hundreds of miles 
 lay between the two scenes, but the happiness her heart 
 experienced was the same. 
 
 Similarly entrancing was the walk over the high and 
 grassy cliffs of the little island, when they reached it. 
 How perfectly beautiful was the aspect of the sea as the 
 golden sunset threw its flood of rays over it, reflecting in 
 its breast the crimson sky overhead ! 
 
 " Trevor ! How glad my heart is !" she said, as they 
 stood on the uttermost verge of a cliff looking far over 
 where the waters of the Channel joined and became lost 
 in the broad waters of the Atlantic. " How little I dreamt 
 a few weeks ago that I " 
 
 Watchers — if there were any around the little islet — 
 might have been startled as a cry, such as in its concen- 
 trated terror and agony seldom issued from human lips, 
 suddenly burst on the silence around ! The cliffs, as if 
 frightened at the fear, and horror, and surprise, and 
 affright that were blent in its piercing power, gave it 
 back in weird echoes ! 
 
 The storm-birds, terrified from their sleeping crevices 
 in the rocks, flew around and around in shrieking sur- 
 prise. Such cry had never come before on their hearing 
 — even from the lips of drowning sailors or fishermen ! 
 
 But the shriek of agony died out unheard on the 
 voiceless waters ; the echoes ceased ; the sea-birds aban- 
 doned their whirling flight and once more sought the 
 repose of the beetling cliffs ; silence — the unearthly silence 
 of fear and death — and the growing dusk, wrapped the 
 ciiff and crag and harbourlett in weird tranquility. 
 
15^ THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 What was that awful <jry ? What heart affrighted or 
 in mortal agony gave utterance to it ? Why was it 
 quenched so suddenly. 
 
 Trevor Mortimer returned alone to Grey Abbey. 
 
 The old hag glanced at his pallid lips and white haggard 
 face. 
 
 "Well?— Is she " 
 
 " Moya," said he hurriedly, " I shall not sleep here 
 to-night. I shall stop at Inch. I shall not return again. 
 You will close up and come away as soon as you can." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 
 
 With quick and nervous strokes the two men swept the 
 boat over the reach of sea that intervened between the 
 islet and the shore. 
 
 They were not long in reaching the latter, but as they 
 approached they were considerably startled to see lights 
 moving over the water further inshore. 
 
 " Stay your oars, Eugene," said Kedmond, as the light 
 fell on his eye ; " These are the man-of-war's boatmen 
 pulling along the shore in search of us. Keep quiet as 
 death for a while. Let the boat rock along with the 
 tide." 
 
 " It is not a boat," said Eugene, after they had left theirs 
 drift for some time; "it is a light moving along the 
 strand. I hear no sound of voices, and that motion is not 
 the tossing motion of a light on sea. It is someone walk- 
 ing on the strand with a lantern." 
 
 " I believe you are right," said his companion, after an 
 earnest and attentive gaze at it, " and, see ! yonder, higher 
 up, is another and steadier light. That is in some house. 
 We are near succour. Thank Heaven, for the poor girl's 
 sake." 
 
 " Shall we pull in." 
 
 "Yes, I think we may." 
 
 " Lay to, then." 
 
A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 155 
 
 They bent to their oars in order to carry the boat 
 swiftly and strongly through the surf and ground her on 
 the sand safely. 
 
 Just as Eugene thought, the light was not on sea but 
 on shore ; their skiff headed for the latter — it advanced 
 to meet thein ; and when, after a rapid run through the 
 white surf, the boat grounded firmly on the strand, the 
 light and its bearer stood but very little away from them 
 in the darkness. Save and except the light, however, 
 very little of the bearer was to be seen, for the gleaming 
 white phosphorescent foam made by contrast the darkness 
 around blacker still. 
 
 Eugene stepping out on the strand, addressed the bearer 
 of the light : 
 
 " We are strangers here. We are in great need of assist- 
 ance — in urgent need. Can you " 
 
 Bat to his infinite amazement the light was suddenly 
 extinguished, and they were left in utter darkness. 
 
 Redmond called to him 
 
 " Steady the boat, Eugene, or it will turn on its side. 
 Help me out with this poor girl first." 
 
 Eugene did so, and with difficulty they lifted the still 
 unconscious form out of the boat. 
 
 " What shall we do now, Redmond ? Where was that 
 light ? Was it not most strange that it was extinguished r"' 
 
 " Very. It was more worthy of wreckers in Cornwall 
 than of our Irish people. They do not usually act so to 
 people in distress." 
 
 " What step shall we take now ?" 
 
 " Why, the first thing would be to shove the boat out, 
 and let waves and tide bear her whither they will. If we 
 leave her here she will be a clue to where we are." 
 
 " Very true," said Eugene, as he caught hold of the 
 prow, and with a vigorous push sent her spinning, stern 
 foremost, into the boiling waves. " I had not thought of 
 that. There she goes. She will have drifted miles away 
 before daybreak." 
 
 " And the next thing is to bear this poor thing to the 
 shelter of that light we saw higher up. I trust it will be 
 of more service to us than that which has so singularly 
 disappeared." 
 
L56 THE 8HAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " Will yon be able- to bear her weight, for I mur , confess 
 I am not able ?" 
 
 "With the greatest ease; she is not tb© weight of a 
 feather, poor girl." 
 
 Fortunately the ground sloped, a litti*- oigher np, to the 
 cliffs above ; and after some searching *ind groping their 
 way, Engene going first and acting as leader, they reached 
 the top, whence the light again became visible, steadily 
 bnrning as before. 
 
 " Ton are right, Redmond ; it is a honse. That light is 
 bnrning in a room — perhaps for someone ill. If so we 
 shall have further assurance of sympathy and shelter." 
 
 "Let as push on; this poor thing breathes heavily 
 She may die in our arms before we get there." 
 
 They hurried on and reached the house, the door of 
 which, fronting them as they approached, stood open. 
 Without delay they bore her inside — into a large ruined 
 hall empty of all but darkness. 
 
 Finding no one, Eugene stamped on the hall. 
 
 There was no response. There was no answering stir 
 to indicate that anyone ljad heard them. 
 
 He stamped again with his heel. 
 
 But the echoes of the stone floor in the empty hall 
 alone gave response. 
 
 A third time proved equally fruitless. 
 
 " Search for a door and knock at it. The house must 
 surely be inhabited," said Redmond, who was beginning 
 to find himself growing weak and faint from his exertions. 
 
 Eugene did as he was desired — found a door in the 
 darkness and knocked strongly against it. But further 
 than adding to and changing the form of the previous 
 echoes, there was no result. 
 
 " Anyone here ?" Redmond called aloud impatiently. 
 " Is there anyone in the house ? Strangers are here — 
 needing assistance !" 
 
 His voice came back to him from distant corridors and 
 rumbled up stone staircases ; but it died out as they 
 listened, and again all was silence. 
 
 " This is extremely strange ;" said Redmond after a 
 pause ; "there seems to be no one living here. I declare 
 I think we are bewitched." 
 
A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 157 
 
 " We are like people under some curious spell, certainly,' 
 whispered Eugene. "What on earth is the meaning of 
 it ? Where can that light be ? Here, Redmond, come 
 here '"he added, as in groping around he opened a door. 
 " There is a light yonder. And shelter. Come !" 
 
 Redmond bore his burthen to where his friend stood, 
 and, glancing along a dark corridor, saw, where, at some 
 distance, a light from a room leading off it was reflected on 
 the wall. 
 
 Thither they advanced, calling aloud as they did so, but 
 no person made appearance. Finally they reached the 
 place, and pushing the door, which was ajar, open, 
 entered. 
 
 There was no one there either. But the lamp burning 
 on the chimney showed the room to be a bedroom, and 
 very comfortably furnished. A fire blazed on the hearth, 
 
 " By Jove ! this is extraordinary," said Redmond in 
 dire amazement ; " but it is very fortunate, all the same. It 
 really seems as if we had arrived in fairy land, or that 
 some special Providence is guiding us." 
 
 He deposited his senseless burthen on the bed, and took 
 over the lamp to see how she looked. 
 
 Her long hair fell over her face, and neck, and shoulders 
 to her waist. He put it back from her face, and tenderly 
 wiped therefrom, also, the stains of blood and clay that 
 crusted on it. 
 
 Eugene- had discovered and opened a cupboard in which 
 were a quantity of bottles of wine and other luxuries, and 
 was about informing his companion of the fact, when 
 an exclamation of surprise and horror from the latter 
 drew him at once to his side. 
 
 " What is amiss, Redmond ? She is not dead — is 
 she ?" he asked in affright. 
 
 "Alice — Alice Trainon !" said Redmond with difficulty, 
 for his lips almost refused to perform their office. 
 
 "Who ? Do you know her ?" 
 
 "Alice — Alice Trainon," said Redmond incoherently. 
 
 " Who is Alice Trainon ?" asked Eugene in much sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Alice Lefebre — your " His lips refused to con- 
 tinue their office further. 
 
L58 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " Your — your what? Speak, for Heaven's sake," said 
 Eugene. 
 
 " Sister." 
 
 " My sister ! Ts that what yon say r" 
 
 Redmond conld scarcely nod an affirmation. 
 
 "Alice Lefebre — my sister ! What can you mean ?" 
 asked Eugene, with a strange expression of snrprise in 
 his voice, placing his hand on the other's shoulder and 
 turning him around. 
 
 "It is she, Eugene. Merciful providence of God ! 
 What conld have brought her here ?" 
 
 " You must be dreaming, Redmond. Alice is in France," 
 said Eugene, with a cry of dismay and perplexity. 
 
 " It is she, Eugene, however she came to be here. I 
 saw her lately- You have not seen her since childhood ! 
 It is she beyond all mistake." 
 
 Eugene stood in a stupor — a stupor in which astonish- 
 ment and doubt, and boundless perplexity, nearly paralysed 
 his every nerve. 
 
 " See Eugene ! Stir yourself. She will die if we do 
 not attend to her. Is there anything to drink in the 
 room ? Quick ! get me some, if there is." 
 
 Eugene walked mechanically over to the cupboard, and 
 brought over a decanter of brandy. Pouring out some 
 into a wine glass, Redmond poured a few drops slowly 
 between her lips. A stronger breathing showed that the 
 stimulant had helped to revive her. 
 
 " Take oif her boots, Eugene, and fill that bottle with 
 hot water, and place it to her feet. There ! Wrap them 
 up warmly. I wonder is there any womankind in the 
 house ? Stay here for a few minutes whilst I see." 
 
 " Redmond, if you are right ! — but you cannot be ! It 
 is impossible ! " 
 
 Indeed it was no wonder he concluded it impossible. 
 The events of the night had been of themselves sufficiently 
 strange, but this seemed so marvellous as to border on the 
 region of coherency and dreams, so that Eugene appeared 
 to himself to be half-dazed, and was in truth quite unable 
 to realize the statement of his companion. 
 
 "I am correct enough," said Redmond, glancing again 
 at the unconscious face. " Whatever extraordinary occur- 
 
A STRANGE DISCOVERY. 159 
 
 rence brought her here, it is surely she. Heaven save 
 her !" 
 
 Tossing off a tumbler of brandy to strengthen him after 
 his exceeding fatigue and the extraordinary shocks of 
 surprise he had received, Redmond went on a visit of 
 exploration, with a candle in his hand. 
 
 In a few minutes he returned. 
 
 "There is only another room in the house furnished, 
 and that is untenanted, too," he said, when he returned. 
 " The place seems a ruin, inhabited only lately for some 
 passing occasion. I wonder where the inmates are. It is 
 very strange," he added perplexedly. 
 
 " I had better close these shutters. This light may 
 serve as a beacon in case our friends from the Thunderer 
 may be searching for us," Redmond said again, suiting the 
 action to the word. 
 
 " It seems to me as if I am only dreaming, and that I 
 am on board the Thunderer still," said Eugene, when he 
 had performed the offices for the patient desired by 
 Redmond, and her more composed breathing indicating 
 that she had profited by it, he took his seat by his friend 
 at the fire, their tumblers full of the agreeable and highly 
 acceptable drink, resting on the chimney-piece. 
 
 " Just the very thought that was passing through my 
 head, Only that these " — pointing to the fire and the 
 tumblers — "are not accessories found on board ship, I 
 should certainly believe it." 
 
 M I have had a good many extraordinary adventures in 
 my lifetime since I was carried away from school and 
 placed as a midshipman on board La Vengeur, but they 
 all pale before the events of this night. You cannot be 
 mistaken here ?" nodding towards the bed where the 
 patient — whose heavy breathing was louder than their 
 whisper — lay. 
 
 " No. I am quite certain." 
 
 " What could have brought the dear girl there ? She 
 could not have been coming across — on board a vessel 
 that was wrecked." 
 
 " It would be useless guessing at present. Our first 
 business when the day comes will be to get her proper 
 assistance, and see if her life can be preserved. The next 
 
160 TEE 811 AN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 thing will be to place ourselves in a place of safety. For 
 a diligent search will be made along the coast for us." 
 
 The daylight peeped through the closed shutter whilst 
 they continued their subdued, but anxious and perplexed, 
 conversation. It was impossible to throw light on this 
 singular occurrence — and in a state in which Eugene 
 could scarcely realize that he was not dreaming, or the 
 subject of some singular hallucination, they awaited the 
 dawn. 
 
 " It is time, I think, to extinguish this and admit the 
 morning light," said Redmond, as he blew out the lamp, 
 and walked over to and opened the shutter. 
 
 A flood of light burst into the room as he did so, 
 showing that the dawn had long passed whilst they 
 talked. It was, in fact, quite bright. 
 
 "We seem almost to be on a desert island," said 
 Redmond, as he surveyed the scene before him ; " there is 
 nothing but rocks and ruin around." 
 
 " Hallo ! Eugene, come here. Quick ! come here. Look 
 yonder !" 
 
 Eugene hurried to the window and glanced in the 
 direction indicated. 
 
 His heart suddenly stopped beating. On the sea, about 
 half a mile distant, the man-of-war's boat's crew was 
 visible proceeding downward along the coast, and attached 
 to the stern of their vessel by means of a rope was a small 
 boat. 
 
 " We have had a narrow escape. What is that they 
 have in tow ? It cannot possibly be our boat ?" 
 
 "It is nothing less," said Redmond, as he watched 
 keenly the distant rowers; "it has drifted nor'arus with 
 the tide, and they have found it. Furthermore, I fancy 
 they are turning inwards. There — these confounded ruins 
 shut out the view." 
 
 "If they do we shall be undoubtedly discovered." said 
 Eugene. 
 
 " We shall, not a doubt of it, for we cannot abandon 
 poor Alice, under any circumstances. I shall creep over 
 to yonder ruins that now hide our view, and see what 
 they mean. You remain here, Eugene, until I return." 
 
 Sheltering himself from observation by the rocks and 
 
MORE MYSTERIES. 161 
 
 old walls -which lay in his way, Redmond reached the 
 mined abbey. From behind a wall whose stone case- 
 mented window gave open view of the sea, he watched 
 the enemy. At first they tnrned their helm towards 
 the shore, and his heart throbbed within him. They 
 seemed to be nndecided what to do ; divided connsels 
 seemed to exist on board, as the boat lay motionless for a 
 while. Finally, they tnrned her head once more to the 
 sea, tacked aronncl, and bore away. 
 
 With a genuine prayer of thanksgiving, Redmond 
 watched the retreating boat as the wind filled her sails 
 and swept her off. 
 
 He was abont turning ronnd to bear back the joyful 
 news to his friend, when a rustling behind him caught on 
 his ear. 
 
 A hand was laid on his shoulder, and a girl's voice 
 said behind him : 
 
 " Luke." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 MORE MYSTERIES. 
 
 Redmond turned around his face, for the voice seemed 
 familiar to him. 
 
 As he did so, however, and before he could bring his 
 eyes to bear on his accostress, a scream of surprise rose 
 from her lips. 
 
 " It is Redmond ! — merciful God ! — It is the dead 
 appearing !" 
 
 And without further stop or stay she fled. 
 
 " Who under heaven is this that knows me here ?" said 
 he, gazing with much astonishment at the retreating 
 figure. 
 
 " This will certainly lead to discovery — certain dis- 
 covery," he thought. " I must see who it is. We cannot 
 always have these mysteries surrounding us — confound 
 them ! I shall see who it is at any rate." 
 
 The girl had disappeared through a broken doorway in 
 
 M 
 
162 THE SHAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 one of the ruined walls, with a flying speed that nothing 
 but extreme terror conld give rise to. 
 
 There was no time to be lost, if concealment were to be 
 ensured, or if he were to elucidate this new mystery. 
 
 Whereupon with as much rapidity as he could, he ran 
 over the fallen debris, the ruined tombs, and through the 
 broken arches ; and came up with her just as she was about 
 emerging from the ruined abbey into the slope lying 
 beyond it. 
 
 She had heard the step following her, and had in con- 
 sequence redoubled her pace. 
 
 But when, having come up with her, he laid his hand 
 on her shoulder, her screams were quite sufficient to have 
 been heard by the boat in the distance. She fell on her 
 knees, and covered her face and eyes with her hands, while 
 her cries still poured forth unceasingly. 
 - " Don't scream ! I am not going to hurt you. Who 
 are you that know me here ? Speak ! Because if you 
 know me, I want your assistance very badly." 
 
 Seeing that she did not cease either in her affright or in 
 screaming, and that this state of things, if of long con- 
 tinuance, might lead to further perplexities, he gently but 
 firmly withdrew her hands from her face. 
 
 " Why, God bless my soul ! it's No rah !" he cried in 
 astonishment as soon as he got sight of her face, which he 
 had much difficulty in doing. " Don't you know me, 
 Norah ? What on earth are you afraid of ? I'm Redmond 
 Barrington. Surely the world has not turned upside 
 down that you should be afraid of me ? Look up at me !" 
 
 The girl had, by the time he had done, ceased her 
 screaming, tremblingly lifted up her eyes to his face, and 
 took consolation therefrom. It was certainly no unearthly 
 form that was speaking to her, but Redmond himself, and 
 — though curiously dressed and much changed every way 
 — still undoubtedly alive and in the flesh. 
 
 " That's right, Norah," said he, as he saw her satisfied 
 glance. " Stand up, and tell me what brought you here, 
 and why you screamed so. Why did you scream ?" 
 
 "I — I — I thought it was your ghost," said Norah, 
 shiveringly. 
 
 •'My ghost !" 
 
MOBE MYSTERIES. 103 
 
 " Yes," — with growing courage. 
 
 " Well, Norah, yon see it isn't, but myself alive and 
 well" 
 
 " Glory be to God for that !" said Norah, in trembling 
 thanksgiving. " Where wor you, or where did you come 
 from, Master Redmond ?" 
 
 " That would be too long a story to tell you now, Norah. 
 And besides," added he, as he bethought of Alice Lefebre, 
 " I need your assistance badly. Will you come with me 
 as far as yonder house, liorah ? There is a young lady 
 lying very ill there." 
 
 " There ! Why, Master Redmond, that house — is— — " 
 
 "No matter about the house, Norah. I want your 
 help there — will you come ?" 
 
 "All the world over," said Norah cheerfully, " I'd go 
 for you. But sure I ought to go back an' tell " 
 
 " You must go nowhere, Norah, but with me. You 
 don't know how much your help is needed. I'm all 
 impatience until you reach there." 
 
 ISTorah was so fluttered and frightened, and so out 
 of breath with her race, and Redmond was so impatient 
 to get back to Grey Abbey, and walked so hastily and 
 swiftly for that purpose, that she had much difficulty in 
 keeping up with him, and had no breath to spare for the 
 question she was a-thirsting to ask him, or the information 
 she desired to give him. 
 
 The confusion that existed in her mind was doubled and 
 trebled when she reached the apartment where the injured 
 girl lay, and where she met, to her great surprise and 
 delight, Eugene. 
 
 Leaving the former to her ready and helpful hands for 
 the present — and with no unnecessary conversation, cir- 
 cumstances being so pressing, Eugene and Redmond 
 betook themselves to the upper rooms of the house, whence 
 their eager eyes swept the sea and the distant horizon for 
 3ome sign of the Thunderer ; but there was none. 
 
 " She has probably left these waters," said Eugene after 
 some time. 
 
 " I trust so. And now that that weight is off our minds 
 for the present, I am anxious to know what brought Norah 
 into this part of the world." 
 
164 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " She has probably got married during our absence. 
 What I am anxious to know," said Eugene, " is, who are 
 the good genii that left us this mansion thus fully fitted 
 up for our needs ?" 
 
 " Upon my word I had quite forgotten that," said 
 Redmond ; " in the multiplicity of strange events and 
 surprises that have been occurring within the last dozen 
 hours or so this had been quite forgotten by me. I 
 wonder how it came to pass." 
 
 " Seeing that Norah lives in the neighbourhood, she 
 may throw some light on it." 
 4 ' She may, and no doubt will." 
 " Suppose we ask her ?" 
 
 " No, not yet. She will call on us when she is ready. 
 I told her where we were coming." 
 
 " But the great mystery of all remains incapable of 
 explanation," said Eugene sorrowfully — " what brought 
 Alice here ? I have grave doubts still that you must be 
 mistaken." 
 
 " There is no room for doubt, unfortunately," said 
 Redmond. " I should know the dear girl's face among 
 ten thousand." 
 
 " Hist ! there is some one calling," said Engene. 
 " It is No rail's voice. Let us see what she wants." 
 Norah's foot was heard on the rickctty stairs ascending, 
 and she met them as they were about to descend. 
 
 "Masther Redmond," said she, " it would be well if you 
 were to send to Wexford for a doctor. I am sure Miss 
 Alice is in need of one. There is no sign of her recovering 
 her senses." 
 
 "And how shall we send there, Norah ? We dare not 
 appear." 
 
 " Why, I'll go over to Inch," said Norah, sufficiently 
 understanding, without being told, how matters were, and 
 too anxious to have her advice carried out to need or ask 
 for further information. " I'll get help enough there." 
 " Inch !" cried Redmond. " Are we near Inch ?" 
 " Within a mile or so." 
 
 " And is it there you are stopping, Norah ? Who is 
 with you ?" 
 " Miss Helen." 
 
MORE MYSTERIES. 165 
 
 " Helen," cried both young men together. 
 
 " Unless she is gone out of it since I left. She was to 
 go back to Searuore to-day." 
 
 " Good heavens, Norah ! why did yon not tell ns 
 all that before P" 
 
 " I was about tellin' yon just after I met you," said 
 Norah, "but you stopped me." 
 
 " And how long has she been there ?" 
 
 u Some months." 
 
 "Well, thank God!" said Redmond gaily, "we are 
 near friends at any rate. And, Norah, who is it that 
 lives in this strange house, or did live in it ?" 
 
 " Trevor Mortimer." 
 
 "Sir Trevor Mortimer!" 
 
 " He came down here," said Norah, in continuation, 
 " when the young ladies came to Inch ; but he was to go to 
 Dublin this morning with Miss Helen and Miss Howard. 
 They are all in great fuss about it ; there's nothin' talked 
 of but it." 
 
 " You must go at once, Norah, and tell Helen I am 
 here — that tve are here." 
 
 " 111 do that with a heart and a half," said Norah ; "but 
 I am afeard Sir Trevor was in such a hurry to reach 
 Dublin that they'll be gone before I get back. It was to 
 take place in a day or two." 
 
 " No matter, Norah ; go at once. You will find some 
 of the Inch people there, even if the young ladies are gone." 
 
 " Faix, an' its gone I'm nearly certain they are," said 
 Norah ; " for he was pressing Miss Helen to let it take 
 place as soon as possible." 
 
 " What on earth are you talking about, Norah ?" said 
 Redmond impatiently. "It! What is it? You have 
 mentioned that word half a dozen times." 
 
 " Why, don't you know ?" said Norah, blushing rapidly. 
 
 " Is the girl gone crazy ?" cried Redmond, in a fever of 
 impatience. " Here is the day waxing ; and so much to 
 be done. What is this you are talking about ?" 
 
 " The marriage." 
 
 "The marriage ! What marriage ?" 
 
 " The marriage of Miss Helen and Sir Trevor Mortimer. 
 It's to take place as soon as they reach town." 
 
166 THE SHAN VAN VOOET. 
 
 Redmond blew a long, low whistle indicative of 
 astonishment at this new feature that matters had 
 presented, whilst Engene staggered back against the wall, 
 his whitening face and trembling lips showing how the 
 unexpected information had affected him. 
 
 " Do yon hear this, Engene ?" said Redmond, after a 
 moment's pause of astonishment. 
 
 "Yes," was as much as the latter's lips would permit 
 him to say. 
 
 "See here, Norah. Go as fast as you can to Inch. 
 Tell Helen we are here, if she be not gone. And bind her 
 to secrecy. If she be, tell some of my cousins to come 
 over at once ; and do not say who is here, but bid them 
 eome. Make all haste, for I must go to Dublin at once if 
 Helen has gone." 
 
 " I'll do that sure enough," said Norah, " an' I'll engage 
 the grass won't grow under my feet till I'm there and back 
 again. So, stay wid the poor girl that's below until I 
 return ; an' here's a letter — keep it safe — that I got in the 
 poor thing's breast. It's sealed, and was kept close, so 
 see that it's safe for her by the time she recovers." 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 IN THE CAVES. 
 
 Norah left Redmond and Eugene at the door, and hurried 
 away with step as light and swift as a fairy, in the direction 
 of Inch. 
 
 Her heart fluttered with the joyful news she was bring- 
 ing to her mistress. 
 
 In the multitude of distracting: things that had occurred 
 to her within the last two hours she had been scarcely 
 able to realise the wonderful character of the mews she 
 had learned ; but now as she had more time to think, she 
 began to recognise its importance, and her step flew so 
 lightly over the sea- swept plain that, as she herself would 
 say, " she'd hardly bend it lily with her step." 
 
 She was passing over a stile and bad sprang lightly on 
 
IN THE CAVES. 167 
 
 to the other side, and had resumed her speed again, when 
 she ran right into the arms of a person approaching the 
 other way. 
 
 " Where are yon rnnnin' to, ISTorah ? or what's amiss 
 widyon, or are yon goin' distracted ?" said the new-comer, 
 taking advantage of the accident which threw her into his 
 arms, to give her a good hug. " Where have you been 
 these hours ?" 
 
 " Let me go," cried Norah impatiently ; " let me go, 
 Luke Mahon. For the love of God, let me go," cried she, 
 struggling to get free. "I have wonderful news for the 
 young misthress." 
 
 " I'd rather you had some news for me," said Luke, 
 determined not to let his prize go so easily. 
 
 " I tell you, Luke, let me go. Yon don't know the 
 aews I have or the hurry I'm in." 
 
 " I see the hurry you're in, an' the sorra fut you'll lave 
 this or get out of my two arms until I hear the news too." 
 
 " Let me go, Luke — let me go ! I can't tell you. 1 
 must see Miss Helen — at wance. Let me go !" 
 
 " Oh, the sorra fut," said Luke, " until I hear the news." 
 
 It was not to be wondered at that Luke hesitated to let 
 her out from her imprisonment ; for, what with her haste 
 and what with her excitement, there was a glow of colour 
 in her face and a brightness in her eye that made her the 
 picture of rustic beauty and comeliness. He had, there- 
 fore, no disposition whatever to liberate her, and ISTorah 
 instinctively felt that there was no chance for her without 
 communicating some of the startling news to him. 
 
 "Will you tell me ?" said Luke facetiously, threatening 
 her with an additional hug. 
 
 " Let me go, Luke, for the love of Grod. I have," putting 
 her lips to his ear, " seen Redmond Barrington !" 
 
 " What r" cried Luke, releasing her at once as if he had 
 received a shock from an electric battery, and falling a 
 few paces back. " Redmond Barrington ! Where?" 
 
 " I kem up this mornin' to the ruins, where I lost the 
 ring last evening when you were tryin' to take it from me, 
 to look for id. I thought it was you were standin' lookin' 
 over the sea, and when I laid my hand on your shoulder 
 and you looked around it was — Redmond !" 
 
168 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Luke's eyes were nearly ready to leap out of his head 
 at this rather startling way of putting the information, 
 and he crossed himself devoutly. 
 
 "Redmond! Was he alive?" 
 
 " To be sure he was alive, you ownshuch" said Norah 
 breathlessly. " Let me off to tell Helen." 
 
 " Heavens and airth, Norah ! You must be dhramin' !" 
 
 " Oh, the sorra dhrame," said Norah ; " an' they're above 
 at Grey Abbey this minit — himself and Eugene Lefebre." 
 
 " May the blessin' ov God be about us ! that's the most 
 wonderful news ever I heard in all my born days ! But 
 wait a minit, Norah," said Luke, as a thought struck him. 
 " Where did they come from, do you know ?" 
 
 " Sorra a wan of me knows," said she hurriedly, and 
 preparing to resume her speed ; " I never thought of 
 askin', and if I did aself I hadn't time. But you'd hardly 
 know Redmond in the dress ov a common sailor." 
 
 " Be the powers o' war !" said Luke excitedly, "that's 
 it ! I have it now ! — They escaped from the man-ov-war, 
 and they're the very two the sojers are lookin' for every- 
 where." 
 
 " The sojers !" said Norah, all her winsome blushes 
 racing back from her cheeks into her heart, and leaving 
 them pallid and white as snow. " The sojers !" 
 
 " The sojers, sure enough. They're searchin' every- 
 where for 'em, and if they're caught, the sorra fut they'll 
 ever set on Ireland's ground again." 
 
 " Good God ! What'll be done P" 
 
 " Run back, Norah, for the love of Heaven, an' tell 'em. 
 I'll go back and bring the news to Inch." 
 
 " Do, an' God bless you ! Don't tell any wan but Helen 
 or Miss Howard, an' if they're not there, tell Mr. George 
 Howard, an' no one else." 
 
 Without further delay, Norah raced back on her new 
 jonrney, whilst Luke went with equal speed in the opposite 
 direction. As Norah approached the house she was 
 horrified to see at some distance to the northwards of Grey 
 Abbey the red uniforms of soldiers on horseback. This 
 sight, instead of paralysing her, however, only lent 
 additional wings to her speed, until, quite out of breath 
 and wholly unable to speak, she swept into the room where 
 
THE SECRET LETTER. 169 
 
 the injured girl lay and where Redmond and Eugene were 
 conversing on very serious matters. 
 
 "You are back very soon, JSTorah," said Redmond, as 
 the panting girl stood before them, one hand on the back 
 of a chair, and making hurried gestures with the other — 
 which gestures they failed entirely to comprehend. 
 
 " What's up, Norah ? Why don't you speak ?" said 
 Redmond again, with impatience, as both looked at her 
 frightened face and heaving breast, " Take your time, and 
 tell us what has frightened you." 
 
 Norah made several attempts to speak, but her breath 
 or her lips failed. 
 
 With an immense effort she at last spoke : 
 
 " Run ! run ! For the love ov the life that's in you. 
 run ! The sojers are comin' ! They're yonder !" 
 
 There was no need to question ; neither was there time. 
 Every quivering motion of her form, every heave of her 
 excited and panting breast, was eloquent of danger — of 
 threatening and imminent danger. 
 
 " The ruins !" whispered Redmond hurriedly. " Come 
 with me. We can shelter there." 
 
 At once they were on their feet ; out through the hall- 
 door, into the sheltering rocks that crept up on the cliff, 
 and with many winding ways until they got within the 
 ruined walls of the abbey. There they rested for a moment 
 like hunted deer, and turned to look for the searchers. 
 
 The red uniforms of the soldiers shone in the distance, 
 approaching the mansion they had a few moments before 
 left! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE SECRET LETTER. 
 
 When ISorah had left the cottage the two young gentle- 
 men proceeded to inspect the carefully sealed letter which 
 she had handed them. 
 
 " I wonder, Redmond," said Eugene, " if we should 
 open this. It may throw some light on the circumstances 
 attending the unfortunate position this poor girl is found 
 in. Should we ?" 
 
170 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " It seems like a desecration to open it," said Redmond. 
 
 " But it may be a cine to ns as to what brought her 
 from her quiet home in France, to be a waif cast away on 
 the rocks here. When I think of it, it seems to be like a 
 horrible nightmare which I am only dreaming and shall 
 wake from shortly. I can scarcely realise it yet." 
 
 "It is real enough," said Redmond, " whatever may be 
 the extraordinary circumstances that led up to it." 
 
 " There must be something unusually strange and singu- 
 lar about it," said Eugene — "something almost beyond 
 what could happen in real life ; and it seems to me that 
 this letter might be a help and a guide to us in regard to it." 
 
 " No doubt, Eugene. But still it does seem, somehow, 
 an unmanly and unwarrantable thing to do — particularly 
 under the circumstances." 
 
 " But it is precisely under the circumstances I have the 
 right and the need to open it," said Eugene, gazing at the 
 letter, with its three red seals upon it. " Whatever it is," 
 he continued, " the poor girl attached importance to it. 
 The whole mystery lies" enwrapped here. In the name of 
 Grod — I si] all open it !" 
 
 He walked over to the window, and broke the seals. 
 He took therefrom a printed document with blank spaces 
 filled up with writing. 
 
 He gazed at it like one in a dream for some time. 
 
 It would be impossible for the greatest master of word- 
 painting to describe the look of blank amazement and 
 horror that stood depicted on his face, as Redmond looked 
 thereat for some indication of what the letter contained. 
 
 A pause of some minutes' duration ensued, in which 
 Eugene's eyes were rivetted on the document he held in 
 his hands, and Redmond's on Ms face. 
 
 " Redmond," said the former at last, in choking accents, 
 "Alice — she was married !" 
 
 " Married !" cried Redmond, aghast. "When ? To 
 whom ?" 
 
 " To— to — " said Eugene, with difficulty speaking, "to 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer." 
 
 " To Sir Trevor Mortimer !" echoed Redmond, for the 
 moment believing his companion had taken leave of his 
 senses. " To Sir Trevor Mortimer !" 
 
THE SECRET LETTER. 171 
 
 " Yes ; here is proof of it. This explains everything. 
 Can yon read this ?" 
 
 Redmond took the docnment mechanically, and gazed 
 at it amazedly. 
 
 "Eugene," said he at last, "who would have believec 
 this ?" 
 
 "Married in Marseilles," said Eugene — "married in 
 Marseilles ! — my God ! who conld have dreamt of this F 
 Who could have dreamt of this ? Oh ! merciful Heavens 
 was there no pitying angel near to warn her ? How could 
 it have come about ?" 
 
 " I unfortunately know now. He met her at Seamore 
 during her visit. He must have followed her to France — 
 he was there for his health during the Summer — and in 
 some way induced her to marry him." 
 
 " Were they much acquainted at Seamore ?" 
 
 M Not remarkably. He paid her attention — nothing 
 more than one would pay to a graceful and handsome 
 girl ; and we used often joke with her about him, and 
 laugh at how readily she blushed when he was mentioned. 
 But it was the merest pleasantry." 
 
 " It was not all pleasantry for her ! — oh, my poor sister ! 
 It is clear enough she fell into the power of the arch- devil 
 when she listened to Ms words. Do you know what, Red- 
 mond ? As surely as I stand here living, she was thrown 
 off the rocks — flung off the precipice — and it was his hand 
 that did it. He lured her here for the purpose." 
 
 Redmond nodded his head in assent. The same thought 
 had flashed across his own mind. 
 
 " And do you know what further, Redmond," said 
 Eugene, as he crumpled the letter, and, laying hold of the 
 iron bar that had fastened the shutters, bent it with the 
 strength of his hands — the strength of his feelings swel- 
 ling every muscle in his arms until they stood out like 
 whip cord. " He did the murderous deed to put her out 
 of his way and enable him to marry Helen Barrington !" 
 
 "Stay, Eugene; don't say that!" a thrill of terror 
 passing through every vein in his body. " You forget 
 yourself when you say that." 
 
 Redmond was in the mood when anger, begotten of his 
 own consciousness of danger to his sister, would have 
 quickly supervened on his previous feelings. 
 
172 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "Don't be angry with me, Redmond, if I say precisely 
 as I think," said Eugene, his own feeling warming pretty 
 well into frenzy. " You know as well as I do that what 
 I say is precisely what may at any time take place; 
 and, moreover, it is to yon that " 
 
 " To me — what?" asked Redmond, with fierce expression. 
 
 Just at the moment Norah burst back into the room 
 with her breathless message, with what effect and result 
 we have seen. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MIDNIGHT TERRORS. 
 
 When Sir Trevor left Grey Abbey in hurried fashion on 
 that evening we have heretofore seen, he made his way 
 with flying feet to Inch. 
 
 There he met Helen Barrington, and there he persuaded 
 her to return to Dublin next day. Save and except from 
 Miss Howard and her brother, all was for the present to 
 remain secret. 
 
 Helen readily promised. 
 
 With continual entreaties from him — without cessation 
 and without intermission — what was she to do ? Her 
 brother dead — how or by whose hand she knew not ; 
 Eugene, her presumed other friend, set down, with proof 
 circumstantial enough, as his murderer — what was she to 
 do ? What other friend had she to look to ? 
 
 Old Cauth's words came home to her — the words of 
 wisdom from aged lips : " A girl's heart is aisily turned, 
 an' it would be a sore day if you let it change from Trevor 
 Mortimer, who loves the ground you walk upon." 
 
 No doubt at times, in spite of herself, forbidden thoughts 
 of the handsome young Frenchman, so brave, kindly, 
 chivalrous in his devotion to her, came before her ; and 
 in these moments her mind indignantly rejected the in- 
 sinuations that had been made against him. 
 
 But she banished these thoughts on further considera- 
 tion. They were purely temptations presented before her 
 for the purpose of luring her from her good. 
 
MIDNIGHT TE11H0BS. 173 
 
 Wherefore Helen, not without some misgivings, gave 
 her consent. She would start in her cousin's carriage 
 early for Dublin. 
 
 Sir Trevor, to comply with the necessary formalities, 
 would go by the early mail, and, in order the better to 
 enable him to do so, he would sleep at Inch that night. 
 
 So far all went satisfactorily with him. His plans 
 were working smoothly and without hitch. He had made 
 a great venture, and, with the result attaching to all 
 bold adventures, had succeeded. It was far advanced in 
 the night before all these arrangements had been con- 
 cluded. 
 
 Too excited, however, to retire to rest, he sauntered out 
 nominally to enjoy a cigar, but really to cool his excited 
 and heated feelings. He ascended the slight slope that 
 sheltered the house from the sea-storms, and lit his cigar 
 and smoked it mechanically. 
 
 The sea lay beyond him. The low murmur of the waves 
 beating on the strand fell on his ear. Far over, in the 
 cloud of darkness and night that lay on the waters, unseen 
 and solitary, was the little island. A thrill like the searing 
 of hot iron along his veins ran through him as he thought 
 of it, turning presently into a chill to which the touch of 
 ice would have been as heat and warmth. 
 
 That island ! What form, mangled and torn, lay in the 
 embraces of its dark precipices ! That face so fair and 
 winsome — those eyes so dark and flashing that looked up 
 to his !— 
 
 A shudder of terror passed over him as he snatched the 
 cigar from his lips and flung it on the ground. He 
 would think no more of this. He would think of Helen 
 Barrington — of the good luck that was in store for him 
 in the future — of anything but the horrible thought that 
 was in his brain, and the agonising cry that still rang in 
 his ears. 
 
 He shuddered to find himself alone in the night and the 
 darkness ! 
 
 He would turn back and go into the house — into the 
 light and heat and peace of the house. 
 
 He retraced his steps until the lights glimmering in 
 its bedroom windows fell on his eyes. But they seemed 
 
174 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 no harbingers of Welcome now. Rather, they seemed like 
 white eyes watching him intently. 
 
 He placed his hand on his brow. The bead- drops stood 
 ont thickly thereon ! 
 
 He knew he looked excited — fearfully excited! — and 
 feared to let any of the inmates see him in his present 
 condition of terror and nnrest. Why had he promised to 
 sleep there ? Why had he not said he wonld sleep in 
 Grey Abbey for the night ? What if he went there now ? 
 He conld make excuses readily enough in the morning 
 foi his absence. 
 
 He turned away again from the lights. 
 
 Stumbling over the uneven ground as he hurried away, 
 he hastened to place the slope between him and Inch. 
 
 Yet he did not turn to Grey Abbey. Reluctant as he 
 was to sleep at Inch, he was still more reluctant to rest 
 within the walls of the former. The very idea, when he 
 was once more in darkness, was abhorrent to him — a 
 nameless horror orept over his heart at the thought of it. 
 
 Mechanically his steps sought the direction of the 
 ruins. 
 
 He would wander about until morning came, and with 
 the welcome daylight — never so welcome to anyone in 
 this wide world before — the mail car. 
 
 Oh ! the horror of this darkness — and the sob of the sea ! 
 Oh ! his terror of the storm-birds as they swooped by him, 
 their shrill cries startling him in his feverish fancies as if 
 it were the cry of 
 
 He feared to mention the name. 
 
 But that despairing, agonised cry ! How it still rang 
 in his ears ! 
 
 Rang ? As he walked along, stumbling over the rocks 
 and debris that lay in his path, it seemed to him still to 
 come from over the sea with appalling force — the rocks of 
 the distant island, hemmed in by night and darkness, 
 echoing it forth unceasingly. 
 
 Once, indeed, he thought it came so plainly — so really 
 and unmistakably — that he paused shiveringly to listen ! 
 
 He was fairly overcome with unmentionable horror and 
 terror. 
 
 The clothes on him were wet with perspiration, and his 
 
THE SEA GIVING UP ITS VEAD. 175 
 
 feet moved in his shoes with a splashy feel as if he had 
 been wading throngh a qnagmire. 
 
 Pausing to listen, however, his terror ceased — only to 
 assume a new form. The dread of the supernatural 
 vanished only to give place to a fear of pressing, imme- 
 diate, and personal danger. 
 
 He stood beside the outer wall of the ruined abbey, and 
 directly in front of an ancient doorway, broken and fallen. 
 
 Hehad scarcely stopped thereat to listen to satisfy himself 
 whether the cry he thought he had heard was real, or 
 whether the fears growing at his heart had not deceived 
 him, when suddenly there rushed through it, in the dark- 
 ness, a form ; and before he was almost conscious of its 
 presence it had flung itself against him ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE SEA GIVING UP ITS DEAD. 
 
 It was a woman's form. 
 
 " In the name of the devil, who are you ?" he asked. 
 His thoughts ran instantaneously to the cliff: on the 
 island. 
 
 " Is that you, Sir Trevor," cried a palpitating voice. 
 
 "It is, Moya," answered he, much reassured, but still 
 much frightened and surprised. " What brings yon here ? 
 What brings you out at this hour of the night ? Where 
 are you going ? And why did you leave Grey Abbey ?" 
 
 " I was coming to see you," she said breathlessly, in 
 answer to his many queries. 
 
 " To see me ? What did you want to see me for ? 
 What have you to say to me ? Is there anything wrong ?" 
 
 " Yes, everything." 
 
 " Everything — what P" 
 
 " I have seen him." 
 
 " Seen who P" 
 
 " Redmond Barrington." 
 
 " Redmond Barrington ! You are dreaming, Moya, or 
 you're mad, or have grown frightened. No living eyes 
 will ever see him a^ain." 
 
176 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 "I'm neither mad nor dreaming," said the fortune- 
 teller; "and I have seen him; and Eugene — the French- 
 man — too, and another." 
 
 " Another Y Stand a moment and think, Moya. Collect 
 yourself. For heaven's sake think over what yon are 
 saying. I have enough, cause for trouble without your 
 unnecessary fears increasing it. Stay and tell me. Who 
 did you see, or what; and where ?" 
 
 " I seen thim, I tell you — seen 'em wid my two lookin' 
 eyes this night— not ten minutes ago." 
 
 "Where?" asked Sir Trevor, incredulously. 
 
 Curiously enough, in presence of the alarm her pre- 
 sence and her news created, his former fears seemed to 
 him most foolish and childish. He would have faced 
 all the terrors of the supernatural now and scoffed at 
 them if he were certain that Moya was only dreaming or 
 merely frightened. 
 
 " Where ? On the shore. There's where I saw 'em." 
 
 " What were they doing ? What brought you there ?" 
 
 " What brought me there ?" reiterated the old woman, 
 pausing to take breath. " I couldn't sleep — I couldn't 
 rest. I did what I often did in Dublin when I couldn't 
 rest aither — I walked about on the shore. An' to know 
 my way back, I took the lantern with me. There now it's 
 for you : but I saw 'em !" 
 
 An imprecation rose to Mortimer's lips, but it died 
 there. He could not afford to quarrel with her, even 
 though his terrified wrath rose to hear of her wandering 
 about in the night, courting danger and exposure as it were. 
 
 "Well, Moya," said he, more quietly and soothingly, 
 " what did you see — whom did you see ?" 
 
 " Thim I tould you." 
 
 " Where were they ?" 
 
 " Coming in — in a boat." 
 
 "In a boat! Surely not Redmond — not Redmond, 
 Moya ?" 
 
 "Ay, as sure as ever I saw him in life. An' the 
 Frenchman wid him. And another — her /" 
 
 " Moya, I gave you credit for more sense than to per- 
 plex me thus with idle talk. There's no reason— there's 
 no sense in that." 
 
THE SEA GIVING UP ITS DEAD. 177 
 
 " Sense «r no sense, there's the truth for yon, T may 
 not be sure abont her, becanse I only saw the form lyin' 
 in the boat — bnt somethin' tells me it is she. Bnt I am 
 snre abont the others." 
 
 " Ton conldn't be mistaken, Moya ? Engene might by 
 a miracle come ashore — he is on the warship gnarding the 
 coast here — bnt the others, never. Iso miracle conld do 
 that." 
 
 " I dnnno whether a miracle conld or not, bnt he is 
 there, and, I make no donbt, she, too, snre enongh. An' 
 I was hnrryin' as fast as my feet conld carry me to warn 
 yon. Pnt as many miles as yon can between yonrself an' 
 this place before the light comes, or " 
 
 " Assuming yon are right, Moya," said Sir Trevor, a 
 fnll conscionsness breaking through his former unbelief 
 that the old woman had some grounds for her statement, 
 " I cannot leave before daybreak. I must await the mail. 
 Helen Barrington comes to Dublin to-morrow to be my 
 wife," 
 
 " Then if you don't hurry you'll never put a ring on 
 her finger. The only ring will ever be put on is the ring 
 of skebeash that goes around your own neck." 
 
 "Moya!" he said angrily, with a movement towards 
 her as if he would strike her and so quench her malignant 
 prophecy. 
 
 "Ay, that's what T say. If you're not out of this — she 
 an' you — to-morrow, sorra ever you'll be master of Sea- 
 more, nor anything else except a grave in the prison-yard. 
 You need not try to frighten me, Sir Trevor — you've 
 enough on your hands to " 
 
 "See, Moya," said he, not having, in his own impetuous 
 thoughts, heard one word of what she was saying ; "you 
 have possibly seen Eugene ; that is likely enough, for 
 he is on the guardship watching the coast here — per- 
 dition seize the souls of the Frenchmen that they did 
 not sink her in the fight ! — and he has maybe escaped ; 
 but, as for the other, you are mistaken — quite mistaken, 
 Moya. Here is what yon have got to do. Watch them, 
 whoever they are. See where they have gone to — where 
 they are hiding. I shall send word — or go with word — 
 to Wexford before dawn, and send the soldiers on their 
 
178 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 track. Yon be their guide when they come here. Do yon 
 hear, Moya ?" 
 
 " I hear." 
 
 " Very well, Moya. That done, come back again to 
 Dublin. I shall be no more troubled with them if you do 
 your work aright. Here is gold, if you should need it." 
 
 He passed his purse to her, merely deducting so much 
 as was necessary to defray his expenses to Dublin, and 
 turned on his heel to the high road that led to Wexford. 
 
 The dawn was breaking when he reached the barracks 
 there and saw the officer on duty. In a short time after 
 he had caught the Wexford mail for Dublin, which started 
 at daybreak or a little after, and, with a host of emotions 
 — of evil emotions — torturing his breast, was on his way 
 to the metropolis. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE RACE BEGUN. 
 
 The fugitives were fortunate in finding sheltering place. 
 Underneath the ruins the encroaching sea had wormed 
 itself into the cliffs. In times long gone, the former in- 
 habitants of the abbey had dug for themselves underground 
 recesses — catacombs, as it were — never dreaming that 
 place so secure could ever be disturbed. But the never- 
 ceasing wash of the sea had long ago found these out, and 
 the storm beat and the waves lashed themselves with 
 hollow moaning sound into the recesses thus laid bare. 
 
 Into one of these Redmond and Eugene, descending 
 from the cliffs, made their way. Here they were perfectly 
 secure. Not even one of the inhabitants around ever 
 thought of making entry into these winding caverns, ottt 
 of which the merciless sea at times washed ancient stone 
 coffins and dead men's bones. ■ 
 
 "Well, Eugene," said Redmond, as they rested them- 
 selves after their escape, and stopped to take breath, " we 
 seem to be surrounded with dangers by sea and by land. 
 How could these soldiers have come so quickly ?'* 
 
THE RACE BEGUN. 179 
 
 " Unless the Thunderer sent word to Wexford," replied 
 Engene, thoughtfully. 
 
 " A very likely matter enough ; but how should they 
 come so accurately on the place where we were staying ?" 
 
 u An impossible question to answer — for the present. 
 It is only of a part with all the other incomprehensible 
 things that are surrounding us. The question is what 
 course now to pursue, assuming that we escape them." 
 
 They had sufficient food for conversation in the events 
 already occurred to occupy the hours they spent in hiding. 
 But the chief topic of discourse lay in the intimation con- 
 veyed by Norah of the approaching marriage of Helen and 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer. 
 
 " See, Eugene," said Redmond finally, " the simple short 
 and long of the matter is this : as soon as night sets in we 
 must follow at once to Dublin — if Helen be gone there. 
 My cousins at Inch, when they come to know of the cir- 
 cumstance, will take care of Alice ; but we must at all 
 kazards prevent the further machinations of this man 
 iiking effect." 
 
 " I agree with you. Time presses dreadfully on us, 
 and it is simply maddening to be cooped up here, with 
 such dreadful issues depending on a few hours. But 
 listen — do you hear the noise ?" 
 
 "It is the soldiers searching," said Redmond. "How 
 clearly we can hear them above us ! What a pity the 
 power of defending ourselves even is not left to us. How 
 thoughtless of me not to have brought a pair of cutlasses 
 in the boat with me ! It would have enabled us to sell 
 our lives — should it come to that " 
 
 " There would not be much use in them, even if it did," 
 said the Frenchman, carelessly. "It would-be but a poor 
 fight to fall in. I am not at any time much disposed to fly 
 from danger ; but I protest at this moment I would brook 
 any stigma of cowardice and forfeit the brightest epaulettes 
 in the French service to find myself unharmed and on the 
 way to Dublin. It may or may not be bravery or gallan- 
 try, but I confess it is the feeling uppermost in me this 
 moment." 
 
 " I wonder will Sir Trevor have any knowledge of out 
 presence here ?" 
 
180 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " He will have knowledge — clear and ample knowledge 
 — of it the minute my eyes — if ever God gives me life and 
 strength to do so — see the lamps of Dublin," said Eugene 
 bitterly. " Bnt — hush ! Redmond ! Is there not some- 
 one darkening the entrance ?" inquired he, after a long 
 pause in which both remained silent, occupied with their 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Some shadow has passed over it certainly. Yes, I see 
 a form — two. There are two of them — They are soldiers !" 
 whispered Redmond hurriedly. 
 
 " It seems to me they know pretty well what they are 
 about," whispered Eugene back, "for they are coming 
 straight in this direction. If they are soldiers they seem 
 to " 
 
 "Why, I know them," said Redmond joyfully, as his 
 eyes, straining through the gloom, recognised them. 
 " That one to the right is Luke Mahon, and that other is 
 George Howard." 
 
 In a few minutes they had come nearer and established 
 their identity, to the great delight of the two fugitives. 
 
 When the first burst of welcome and rejoicing was over, 
 Redmond asked : 
 
 " How did you manage to come unobserved by the 
 soldiers around ?" 
 
 " We first dispatched them on a false message towards 
 Wexford, by informing them that a pair of suspicious 
 characters," said his cousin, " such as you, had been seen 
 taking their way in that direction. But you are quite 
 safe now. You may come with us. My only regret is 
 that Helen is not aware of the joyful news." 
 
 " Helen !" said Redmond, " is she not here ?" 
 
 " No, she is gone." 
 
 " Gone — gone where ?" 
 
 " Herself and Kate left in the carriage some hours ago 
 V>r Seamore." 
 
 " Good heavens ! Are they far on the road ?" 
 
 " They must be more than quarter on their way by this 
 time. They had two spirited, fresh horses under the car- 
 riage, that were pretty certain not to let the grass grow 
 under their feet until they reached Arklow." 
 
 " Thfm. George, you must provide us with another pair 
 
TEE RACE BEGUN. 181 
 
 without delay. I must follow at once. It is a matter of 
 more than life or death." 
 
 " Life or death ?" laughed his consin. "Why it's no- 
 thing more or less than a wedding. Are you aware that 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer and Helen are about to be married, 
 and are proceeding to Dublin for that purpose ?" 
 
 " I know — I know — I heard that," said Redmond, with 
 intense impatience. " It is to prevent them that I must 
 hasten at once to Dublin." 
 
 " To prevent them, Redmond ? Surely you would not 
 signalise the joyfulness of your return by interrupting or 
 marring their happiness ?" 
 
 " Happiness ! You do not understand what you are 
 speaking about, George. He is married already, the 
 scoundrel !" 
 
 " Married already ! What are you thinking of? Sir 
 Trevor Mortimer married ?" 
 
 "It is not his fault that he is," said Redmond, " or that 
 his wife is living. I am sure no one regrets it more than 
 he. But explanation must come afterwards. At present 
 the one thing necessary is to provide us with means of 
 reaching Dublin without delay. More pressing need 
 traveller never had." 
 
 " You do not propose to travel to-night. The dusk 
 will be falling soon." 
 
 " To-night ! This moment. If the road were as dark 
 as Erebus we must go. An hour's delay would drive me 
 mad." 
 
 " Very well, Redmond. This is most extraordinary 
 news — incredible ! But I suppose you have good grounds 
 for what you say. Come and have dinner, and as soon as 
 you have refreshed yourselves I shall have a carriage 
 ready for the road." 
 
 They left the hiding place, and ascended the cliffs on 
 their way to Seamore. 
 
 " Are you not coming, Eugene ?" asked Redmond, as 
 the latter paused for a moment when they had reached 
 the heights. 
 
 " I shall come presently," said Eugene. " For the 
 moment, I shall call to see how Alice is." 
 
 " How unthinking of me riot to have anticipated you !" 
 
L82 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Redmond said with momentary self- upbraiding. M So 
 shall I. Yon mnst excnse me, Eugene, bnt my mind is 
 quite astray with the number of things pressing on it." 
 
 "There are no excuses needed," replied his companion; 
 and without further comment or remark they all deflected 
 in the direction of Grey Abbey. 
 
 Alice was still in the same condition — living, but quite 
 unconscious. Evidently some injury to the head — sus- 
 tained how they were unable to tell — was the cause of her 
 non- recovery. 
 
 A hurried consultation took place between them, end- 
 ing in this — that Redmond, of himself and by himself, 
 should proceed straight to Dublin ; that Eugene — as he 
 wished and willed it — should remain with his sister; and 
 that George Howard should direct his way to Wexford 
 and seek the best surgical advice he could get. 
 
 It was rather a sad and disconsolate council, save and 
 except when Eugene's feelings burst into torrents of bate 
 and vengeance against the man who had done him and his 
 so much evil. In the which, Redmond, when he thought 
 of Helen, was not much behind. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 AGAIN A PRISONER. 
 
 When Redmond Barrington left on his hurried journey to 
 the metropolis, Eugene, who had been seeing him off, 
 returned to Grey Abbey. 
 
 Troubled with many thoughts, he turned his footsteps 
 to the old ruins to give himself time for reflection ; and, 
 the better to consider over the incidents that had been 
 crowded into his life during the past few days, lit a cigar 
 from the case which Redmond had given him, and, with 
 slow and thoughtful steps, passed through the scrubby 
 tangle that lay between him and the ruins. 
 
 Once there, he seated himself on the mossy rock, shel- 
 tered by higher walls from observation on the land side, 
 but with full view of the spreading reach of waters that 
 lay before him. 
 
AGAIN A PRISONER. 183 
 
 He had many things to think of — of the singular and 
 most marvellous incidents connected with the discovery 
 and rescue of his sister, which, now that he had time to 
 reflect on it, seemed to him scarcely realizable, and more like 
 a dream, or incident occurring to the heated imagination 
 of a story- writer. There was also the projected marriage 
 between her intending murderer and the dear, sweet girl 
 at Seamore — the very idea of which sent a thrill of horror 
 through his breast. He had, however, sufficient faith in 
 Redmond's energy and untiring vigour to know that 
 whatever man could do to save her from peril, and worse 
 than danger, her brother's hand was surest to effect. 
 
 Then, there were also considerations as to other matters 
 attending his visit. 
 
 " These papers !" he thought, •' I wonder if they are 
 there still. How important for me to know — and, oh ! 
 how fortunate I did not seek to bring them with me to 
 France last time. Else, they were unavoidably gone — 
 gone for ever. And how providential — what I thought so 
 unfortunate at the time — my capture ! Otherwise Alice, 
 poor girl, were lying in lonely death this moment — un- 
 tended and forgotten. How wonderfully the hand of God 
 brought it all about ! Well, a few days will bring us to- 
 gether to Seamore, where the past — the sorrowful past — 
 shall be forgotten. I shall see if the papers, of which I 
 have heard so much from the old lawyer in Versailles, and 
 which are of so much importance, are still there. Pray 
 Heaven, they be !" 
 
 The falling of some stones or the displacement of some 
 triturated mortar from one of the ruined walls behind 
 him attracted his attention. He turned his head around 
 and was displeased and annoyed to see the form of a bent 
 old woman hobbling away through a broken archway be- 
 hind him. 
 
 " Some old creature gathering faggots," he thought. 
 
 But the presence of any human being disturbed his 
 reveries ; broke on the high tension of his thoughts ; and 
 made him uncomfortable ; and he rose to leave. 
 
 The broad sea lay sleeping before him. Not a ripple- 
 broke on its surface, and scarcely a distant sail interfered 
 with the brisrht monotonv of its calm. Save and except 
 
184 THE SHAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 where, on the white sands below, the slow-rolling wavelet! 
 broke in snrf, lazily scattering itself on the level strand 
 and as lazily withdrawing itself, everything was motion- 
 less. A gnarled rock projecting itself into the sea to his 
 right prevented him from seeing the coast in the directioD 
 of Wexford. 
 
 " I shall go down the sands, climb up that rock, and 
 see what the further stretch of coast yonder may be like," 
 thought he. 
 
 Lighting another cigar, he took his way carefully along 
 the dangerous and winding path that led down the steep 
 declivity — in some places so very steep and requiring such 
 caution that he had to hold on by tufts of grass or clefts 
 of rocks to steady his footing. 
 
 At length, and with much difficulty, he gained the 
 white strand and turned to look upward at the height 
 from which he had descended. The action of the sea had 
 so worn the face of the cliff away that not only was it in 
 places steep as the wall of a house, but in others rocks on 
 high projected over the denuded face of the bank beneath, 
 and threatened at some not distant day to topple over. 
 
 As Eugene's eye rested on the most prominent of these 
 latter it seemed to him as if a flag or coloured garment of 
 some kind appeared for a second over it and instantly 
 disappeared, This, in a careless way, caught his attention, 
 for he had seen nothing of the kind whilst he sat above. 
 He looked again, but there was nothing visible on the 
 protruding rock. 
 
 Dismissing the matter from his attention, he walked 
 slowly on. 
 
 " How curiously those caves are formed, and what an 
 sxcellent place for hiding in ! I fancy it would be diffi- 
 cult," thought he, as he gazed at the long caverns which 
 the ceaseless action of the waves had made in the soft 
 stratification, or, perhaps, which the ancient monks had 
 made for burial purposes, " to follow an escaping pri- 
 soner through .them. This rock prevents the view of 
 the southern coast. How shall I climb it ? — it is so steep ? 
 Stay, here is a crevice through which I can pass more 
 
 readily What ! How dare you ? Hands off, fellow !" 
 
 He had been seized suddenly from behind, and his arms 
 fast pinioned. 
 
AGAIN A PRISONER. 185 
 
 With a vigorous wrench he tore himself free from his 
 assailant and thrust his hand into his pocket for the pistol 
 Redmond had given him. Alas ! it had been left behind 
 in the mined mansion. His captor, noticing and under- 
 standing his action, stepped back and quickly unstrung 
 the carbine that was strapped on his back. Another 
 moment would have been fatal Eugene threw himself 
 on his foe, ere yet the barrel was levelled, and sought to 
 wrest it from him. 
 
 Even while he did so the shrieking tones of a woman's 
 voice came from the high rocks above. 
 
 " Seize him ! That's the escaped prisoner. Seize him 
 and bind him. That is the Frenchman that came to 
 Seamore — and if you let him go, may your arms be 
 paralyzed ! — Moya watched him. Moya tracked him. 
 Yonder he is ! Yonder he is ! Seize him — bind him fast 
 and secure him or he will escape !" 
 
 Notwithstanding the struggle in which he was instantly 
 engaged — nay, perhaps, because of it, for his senses were 
 so strung to high tension that they were electrically alive 
 to outer objects— every word of the old woman's shrieking 
 voice fell distinctly on his ears. 
 
 Even whilst they swayed and struggled for possession 
 of the gun — his weakened frame strengthened by the 
 consciousness that it was a struggle for life or death, or 
 at least for liberty or imprisonment — the meaning of the 
 scene became apparent to him, 
 
 " Moya ! That was the old fortune-teller at Seamore ! 
 What brought her ? Why is she here ? Why has she 
 tracked me ?" 
 
 In some such disjointed manner flashes of thought like 
 these shot through his brain the while he struggled with 
 bis more burly antagonist. 
 
 Eugene was full of activity — the lithesome activity of 
 a sailor — and but for his recent illness the soldier would 
 have had no chance in his hands. As it was, whilst still 
 wrestling for the gun, he placed his foot behind the heel 
 of his opponent, and with a sudden and vigorous effort, 
 flcmg him from him, and wrested the gun from his pos- 
 session. In the effort, by some curious accident the 
 firearm, which was held upright, struck against the 
 
186 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 ground. A burst of smoke and a flash of light blinded 
 him for a moment, and the latter singed his eyes, as the 
 gnn exploded. An inch nearer and the bullet would have 
 blown his temple off. 
 
 " That was a dreadfully narrow escape !" was his first 
 sensation when the shock had passed ; but, in the instant 
 succeeding, a shriek of wild agony and despair came ring- 
 ing from the cliffs above, and at the same time a rush was 
 made from behind, and half a- dozen hands had grasped 
 him at once. 
 
 Eugene had had scarcely time to realise that he was 
 now assuredly a prisoner, when an exclamation from his 
 captors and an upstretched hand from one of them caused 
 him involuntarily to glance upward through the wreathing 
 smoke which was dissolving itself into transparency. 
 
 A glance showed him the cause of the outcry. 
 
 Falling, tumbling downwards from rock to projecting 
 ledge and then to grassy slope, and finally on to a steep 
 and terrific descent which there was not rock nor bank to 
 break, until it fell at his feet on the shingle — was the form 
 of an old woman ! A glance from her dying eyes, wild 
 with affright and green with the deadly venom of un- 
 quenchable hate, met him as he looked in wonderment for 
 a second at her. 
 
 " Moya is avenged ! Helen Barrington of Seamore " 
 
 Whatever more the old fortune-teller had to say or what 
 threats to utter, remained unspoken ; the last word was 
 said with a shrieking effort ; a convulsive movement 
 passed through her mangled form, her lips parted, her 
 eyes suddenly became glazed — and her life of mystery and 
 misery and revenge was over. 
 
 Eugene had only time to notice a small blue mark in 
 her wrinkled forehead — it showed where the musket so 
 accidently discharged had sent its leaden messenger — 
 when he turned away with a shudder of horror and 
 disgust. The wrinkled lineaments of the hag, yellowing 
 and hardening in death, seemed to gather unto themselves 
 a greater and more implacable malignity. 
 
 "D — n her ! she had no business here !" was the com- 
 mentary of the sergeant of the party that had arrested 
 him, as he turned from the repulsive object and gave 
 
AGAIN A PRISONER. 187 
 
 his attention to his prisoner, who was now securely hand- 
 cuffed. " Did you know her ?" 
 
 "I saw her once or twice," said Engene, who, seeing 
 that further resistance was hopeless, suffered himself 
 quietly to be made prisoner. 
 
 " Well, she deserved what she got, the old , though 
 
 only for her we should not have found you. It was she 
 who gave us the information where you could be found." 
 
 "She!" said Eugene. 
 
 " Ay. She watched you for us, and was most anxious 
 you should be taken. She had a nice liking for you — she 
 had. But we had better be getting along. Whistle for 
 the boat to come around." 
 
 " What shall we do with this ?" said the man addressed, 
 motioning towards the dead form before them. 
 
 " Let her lie there and be ," was the response. 
 
 A whistle from one of the men was responded to by the 
 noise of oars from the other side of the rock, and in a few 
 minutes the prow of a man-of-war's boat appeared round- 
 ing it, 
 
 " You have led us a nice dance these past twenty-four 
 hours," said the sergeant, as, all parties having seated 
 themselves, the rowers bent on their oars and the boat 
 swept southwards. "You and your friend made a bold 
 run of it, and were near succeeding. I never saw so 
 clever a thing done before. It is almost a pity you did 
 not get off." 
 
 " Where are you taking me to ?" 
 
 " The Thunderer. She is anchored off Carnsore Point. 
 She should have sailed for Plymouth by this if the old 
 hag had not brought in the news of your being here." 
 
 Eugene was silent — silent because of the rush of con- 
 flicting thoughts that crossed his brain. * Alice — Red- 
 mond — Helen Barrington — imprisonment — the hulks — 
 Moya. Ay, Moya ! What had he done to incur the old 
 woman's enmity — enmity that had proved to him so 
 Unfortunate?" 
 
 In some such fashion as this the crowding thoughts 
 surged on him. 
 
 " Don't be downhearted mate, ' said the sergeant, 
 wrongfully interpreting his silence. " You'll not be lone- 
 
188 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 some. Tour companion will be with yon before long. 
 The dragoons are upon his track already." 
 
 " The dragoons ! What is that yon said ?" inquired 
 Eugene hurriedly, the words banishing his abstraction. 
 " What dragoons ? Where ?" 
 
 He had but half heard the soldier's words, and caught 
 but indistinctly their meaning. 
 
 " To Dublin. Your companion has gone to Dublin — 
 hasn't he ?" 
 
 " Has he P" 
 
 " You know he has. The old hag told us so, and if hei 
 information is as true as in your case he will soon be 
 beside you." 
 
 " When did she give yon this information ?" 
 
 " Same time as she told ns about you." 
 
 " And " 
 
 "And," said the soldier, interrupting his unasked ques- 
 tion, " the dragoons were despatched after him. He had 
 some hours' start, but they will, unless he goes very fast, 
 be likely to catch up with him." 
 
 A feeling almost of despair grew over the prisoner's 
 heart. His own capture paled into nothing before this 
 new danger. Redmond captured ! Redmond, the only 
 one that was left for the protection of Helen ! 
 
 What if he were captured before he was able to see her ! 
 — before he was able to prevent the nefarious designs of 
 Sir Trevor — before he was able to prevent the projected 
 marriage — that marriage which would be the consumma- 
 tion of the ruin of his own earthly hopes and happiness ! 
 His head grew dizzy and his brain swam as the terrible 
 thought presented itself to him. Oh ! if Redmond could 
 only know — could only be made aware — of the danger 
 that followed so swiftly on his track ! 
 
 With a fervent prayer for his safety and his unhindered 
 arrival in Dublin — there was nothing else in his power to 
 do — Eugene turned his thoughts to what lay before him. 
 
 "What will become of Alice?" he thought. "What 
 will become of her. Ah, Norah ! — Norah will see that she 
 is attended. What a month of misfortunes." 
 
 But regrets were unavailing, and he banished them. 
 
 " How far are we from the vessel ?" 
 
A PRISONER AGAIN. 189 
 
 "Yonder sbe.is," said the sergeant. 
 
 Looking forward Eugene saw her. Her sails were in 
 course of lowering. 
 
 " She will sail presently," said the sergeant, noticing 
 his glance. 
 
 " Where to ?" 
 
 " To Plymouth — for repairs." 
 
 " Is she going out of commission ?" 
 
 " Only for a while — during repairs. Times are too 
 pressing now to let her remain long idle." 
 
 " Have you many Irishmen on board ?" 
 
 u Plenty," said the soldier with a grin. " But you will 
 not get that chance again. I don't think you will again 
 get that opportunity." 
 
 " I had no thought of it." 
 
 " Better not try it, even if you got the chance. It is 
 not once in every hundred times that an escape is planned 
 and carried out so safely as yours." 
 
 "Any French prisoners on board." 
 
 " Not now. We had one lately — a young fellow. Oh ! 
 I remember now. He was taken with you." 
 
 " Yes. What became of him?" asked Eugene eagerly. 
 
 "He was put on board the tender and sent to Ply- 
 mouth." 
 
 " When ?" 
 
 " A week or less after being made prisoner. But here 
 we are. This is your old friend the Thunderer. They 
 will be all glad to see you back again." 
 
 The boat came to the ship's side, and he once again 
 stood a prisoner on board the vessel from which he had 
 so recently escaped. 
 
190 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE SWIM FOR LIFE. 
 
 It is needless to dwell on Eugene's second reception on 
 board the man-of-war. 
 
 As the sergeant had stated, the prisoner was no sooner 
 on board than the anchor was weighed, the sails unfurled, 
 and the ship started on her way to Plymouth. 
 
 Once there Eugene was sent on board the hulks. 
 
 These were large, dismasted, worn-out men-of-war in 
 which the French prisoners were confined, and anchored 
 some distance out in the harbour, or in the man-of-war 
 roads. Gunboats at either end of the tier of vessels thus 
 used as hulks were placed with shotted guns at all hours, 
 day and night, ready to put down with showers of grape 
 any attempt at mutiny or sign of insubordination, much 
 less of escape. To prevent any chance of individual 
 escape, guard boats rowed sentinel-like around the prison 
 fleet with unvarying regularity throughout the twenty- 
 four hours. 
 
 When on board the hulks, however, he found that he 
 was not to be placed with the other prisoners, nor to be 
 treated like them. Some subtle influence was working 
 for or against him, he could not tell which. 
 
 Abandoned to the control of a crowd of petty officials, 
 much of whose perquisites were obtained from the plunder 
 and sale of the provisions intended for the prisoners, the 
 unfortunate Frenchmen, cooped up in the hulks, were 
 slowly starved to death. Instances were not infrequent 
 when the hungry men had been left for two or three days 
 together without any food at all. They had not, as in the 
 case of famine in a beleaguered city, excitement to sustain 
 nature ; and so, bereft of air, of liberty, of food, they 
 pined and drooped spiritless, until the vital spark rather 
 wasted into nothing than fled. 
 
 It was not an infrequent thing for a prisoner waking at 
 morning to find his comrade dead of exhaustion beside him, 
 and the dead body was suffered to remain there, before 
 means were taken for its removal, until it became unbear- 
 
TEE SWIM FOB LIFE. 191 
 
 able, and added still further to the terrible atmosphere of 
 the 'tween decks. What made matters still worse was 
 that the prisoners had nothing to do ; there was no work 
 to their hands ; and after roll-call in the morning they 
 were abandoned to themselves. Save the parties of guards 
 that with loaded fire-arms stood at the ends of the decks, 
 there was no further notice taken of them. With nothing 
 to read and with nothing to do, time hung heavily on their 
 hands at first; grew heavier as the imprisonment lengthened ; 
 until finally each hour seemed a day, and each day a 
 year ; and when to this was added the pangs of hunger, 
 the sufferings of these imprisoned ones grew to be absolute 
 hell. 
 
 The dull sloth and rusting idleness were so inimical to 
 their active French nature — the fogs, that, rising from 
 the harbour and settling around them in gloom and dark- 
 ness, were in such contrast to the bright and joyous sun 
 of France, that it was difficult to say which it was — the 
 mind or the body — that suffered most. Repeatedly the 
 reason of prisoners gave way — the delicate organisation of 
 the mind failed under this never-ceasing torture — and day 
 after day some unfortunate broke the bounds of prison 
 discipline in his delirium. In these cases the result was 
 summary. Any violation of discipline was visited with 
 death. Any unusual case of insubordination was met by 
 a levelled musket on the instant, which effectually quelled 
 irrestraint for ever ; in other cases by the court-martial, 
 which sat daily on Ooard, the usual finding of which was 
 death. The offender was placed on the upper deck stern, 
 and a platoon of marines did the rest. There was no 
 day the report of musketry was not heard, or on which 
 the smoke of guns was not visible 
 
 There was no classification of crimes ; there was no 
 such thing as inquiring into causes ; oftener than other- 
 wise the offender whose riddled body lay on the deck was 
 unconscious of the crime he had committed. The mind 
 in the mental blankness of his prison — in the eternal 
 weariness of gloom and idleness — in the vain pining for 
 home and freedom and sunlight and France — -had gradu- 
 ally given way. That was all. 
 
 At other times a frantic desire to escape forced itself 
 
192 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 simultaneously on many of the prisoners. Although per- 
 fectly assured that escape was as hopeless as climbing to the 
 moon, an unreasoning longing seized on a body of them at 
 the same time. Acting under the pressure of irrestrain- 
 able wish and intense yearning for freedom, they formed 
 designs for seizing the vessel or the guard, or some other 
 equally futile project — the outcome of their diseased hopes. 
 The first revealment of this intention was answered by a 
 fusilade from the muskets of the guard, and the smoke 
 cleared off only to exhibit a number of the conspirators 
 strewing the deck with their bodies. If necessary a 
 second fusilade followed the first, until the half insane 
 rioters were quieted. The living were forced to sew up 
 the fallen in canvas sacks, to carry them on deck, and 
 hurl them over into a barge beside, whence they were 
 carried to land to be thrown into a pit in the prisoners' 
 graveyard, or, as sometimes happened, carried out to sea, 
 tied together and sunk. That done, the survivors were 
 compelled to swab the decks wet with the blood of their 
 brothers until they were completely free from stain, and 
 after that they might again linger and mope in maddening 
 idleness between the decks, the light wherein forming a 
 dim compromise between daylight and dark. 
 
 It was into such companionship as this Eugene was 
 thrown, and, although kept apart from the general body 
 of prisoners, his weariness and dreadful sense of imprison- 
 ment were not lessened thereby. Indeed it was rather 
 increased, for in the isolation of his position he had more 
 time for reflection, and the misery of his fellow-countrymen 
 added not a little to the agony caused by suspense and 
 want of knowledge of matters that concerned him both in 
 Ireland and in France, until death itself wo aid have been 
 deemed a welcome release. 
 
 So weary weeks passed over, which finally rolled into 
 months, until his position became unbearable. There 
 seemed to be no limit to the duration of his imprisonment. 
 The sun rose and set, marking the progress of each day — 
 but that was all. No news came to him of the outer 
 world — no news from France and Seamore. Even the 
 new French prisoners that were introduced were kept so 
 far apart from him that he had no means of ascertaining 
 
TEE SWIM FOB LIFE. 193 
 
 how the armies of France fared in the desperate struggle 
 for superiority that was rending the Continent. 
 
 At times fresh vessels were commissioned and despatched 
 from the harbour laden with troops ; at others battered 
 and dismasted vessels — line- of -battle ships home and 
 foreign — were towed into the bay, the victims of terrible 
 sea-fights afar off. And Eugene's heart was pained to see 
 more than once the towering men-of-war of his own 
 nation — mere floating wrecks, with broken masts, battered 
 hulls, and sails torn into ribbons — towed into port ! 
 
 He felt that his heart and strength were going; that 
 his mind often trembled unsteadily in the balance ; and 
 that if left much longer in this floating hell he would only 
 return, if ever the day for his liberation arrived, a wreck 
 in mind and body. 
 
 He therefore determined, come what would, to escape. 
 The prison arrangements had been much relaxed lately 
 as far as he was concerned, probably because he had shown 
 himself during his imprisonment so quiet and unobtru- 
 sive. 
 
 A small boat lying out towards the mouth of the 
 harbour had for many days past attracted his curious at- 
 tention. It was occasionally med during the day-time by 
 parties outside the harbour for some business or other — 
 who, he noticed, always when they returned, moored it at 
 the same place. At times, however, it remained there for 
 days untouched. But it always attracted his attention the 
 first thing in the morning and the last at night. And of 
 late it remained in his thoughts all night. It was to 
 him as a little star beckoning him to the far-off land of 
 France. The small flag that fluttered from its tiny mast 
 appeared to wave him a welcome to freedom The pair of 
 oars lazily swaying and balancing in the rowlocks seemed 
 to invite escape. 
 
 With this little skiff before his eyes clay after day the 
 yearning on him to escape grew stronger and stronger, 
 until it was finally irrestrainable. He could stand it no 
 longer, and determined to essay the effort. 
 
 Death could be the only alternative, and death was 
 preferable to his present unendurable position. 
 
 He had always been a skilful swimmer, and, unless his 
 
194 THE SHAN VAN YOCm. 
 
 imprisonment had taken the strength ont of his arms, 
 would readily be able to make his way to the boat. 
 
 Accordingly one evening when over a year had been 
 spent in his floating prison, he waited on the deck nntil 
 the dusk of a June night had settled on the waters. He 
 had acenstomed himself to do so of late, and there was no 
 notice taken of him. 
 
 When it was quite dark he slipped off his shoes and 
 stood in his bare feet as was the habit of the watch. 
 Further, he contrived to doff his coat and supply its 
 place with a jacket of the kind the seamen wore. Then 
 he lay stretched as if in a slumber beside a coil of rope, 
 as was often the manner of the guards on board also. 
 
 The sentry, musket on shoulder, marched leisurely along 
 the deck, ready at the first movement to fire, and so bring 
 a troop of soldiers to his side. 
 
 Eugene waited with breathless anxiety turn after turn 
 of the vigilant guard, as he passed and repassed from one 
 end to the other. 
 
 Often he essayed to make a rush to the ship's side 
 where a rope hung swaying, but as often some imaginary 
 noise stopped his attempt. 
 
 The sentry had passed him with measured step, and his 
 forni had almost disappeared in the gloom of the night at 
 the other end, when lifting himself to his bands and feet 
 Eugene luade an attempt to move. But a pistol placed on 
 the coil of rope, unperceived by him, was thrown down by 
 his action, making a noise on the deck that seemed, in his 
 ears, as loud as the report of a sixty-pounder ! 
 
 He at once lay still on his face, expecting to hear the 
 quick report of the guard's musket and the rush on deck 
 of an armed force. But the noise, loud as it seemed in 
 his anxious ears, was unheard or unattended to by the 
 sentry, for no response came ; the heavy measured tread 
 in the distance still sounded in his ears, then returned 
 with unchanged slowness, passed him and repassed. 
 
 Softly placing the cause of the alarm in his breast 
 pocket he essayed the effort a second time — this time with 
 more success. With cat-like movements he gained the 
 bulwarks, crept noiselessly over them, caught hold of the 
 rope, and swung himself down. 
 
THE SWIM FOB LIFE. 195 
 
 Once under the side of the ship, he allowed himself to 
 depend in complete motionlessness and silence — the step 
 of the sentinel over head, and the soft surge and plash of 
 the waters against the vessel's side, alone falling on his 
 ear. 
 
 For a moment his heart ceased to beat as the steady 
 tread overhead faltered when just above him, and the 
 sentinel strode to the bulwarks and looked over. Evi- 
 dently something had attracted his attention, for he 
 paused a moment and stood still. 
 
 Every second — and seconds to Eugene seemed hours in 
 duration — he expected to hear the warning gun fired. 
 For an instant he doubted whether or not it would not 
 be better at once drop into the sea and make a swim — 
 unavailing or not — for life ! 
 
 This dangerous resolution was as suddenly checked, 
 for apparently satisfied that all was right, the guard again 
 resumed his walk. 
 
 " Thank God !" was the fugitive's fervent prayer, as he 
 heard the step repass overhead, and grow faint in the 
 distance. 
 
 He slid quietly down the rope, until all but his shoulders 
 was in the water ; then placing his feet against the side of 
 the vessel, gave himself, as he let go, a gentle move for- 
 ward so as to bring himself out of reach of the suction of 
 the ship ; and with noiseless movements of his hands, 
 drew himself into the darkness, where he lay as a log 
 until the guard had again repassed. 
 
 Then, with bolder, more vigorous, but still noiseless, 
 strokes he drew himself into the open water ! 
 
 He was swimming, with fresh courage growing into 
 his heart, albeit the unaccustomed cold water was chilling 
 him, when suddenly an unexpected noise struck on his 
 ear, making his senses grow dizzy. He let himself sink 
 in the water until only his mouth was above it. 
 
 The noise grew swiftly louder on his hearing. 
 
 It was the guard-boat rowing around the hulks. 
 
 Louder and louder the plash of the oars grew, louder 
 the whispers of the rowers — for they were not permitted 
 to speak openly — and then the form of a boat swept into 
 view out of the gloom and darkness ! 
 
196 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 Ho could almost distinguish the faces of the men, sc 
 near they were ; and the oars, as they uplifted, dashed the 
 water into his face ! 
 
 But the boat swept by without its occupants noticing 
 him, and once more disappeared into the gloom. 
 
 Beyond him in the night, far beyond, shone a watch- 
 light. Of this Eugene had taken careful notice, for the 
 tiny skiff lay in a line with it. Guided by this directing 
 beacon, he swam stoutly in its direction. But his arms 
 were unaccustomed to exertion, long and enforced idleness 
 had enervated his system, and swimming in one's clothes 
 is at all times difficult and fatiguing. More than once his 
 strength failed him and he thought he was drowning. 
 
 But he cheered himself with the thought that France 
 and freedom and Helen Barrington were in the future, 
 and stoutly braced himself for further effort 
 
 His brave heart finally won the victory over his failing 
 muscles, and a tide of fresh warmth and blood swept 
 through his veins, as, out of the night and gloom and the 
 dark water, rose the tiny skiff. Too tired to lift himself, 
 he hung with one hand on its side, suspended in the 
 water, to rest himself and take breath after the sustained 
 exertion of his long swim. Then placing the end of an oar 
 under a seat and using the other as a lever, he with much 
 difficulty, wet and chilled, raised himself into the skiif . 
 
 Seated at last in safety, he took a long rest and looked 
 around him. 
 
 The hulks lay moored afar off, only visible through the 
 gloom by the lights that here and there flickered from the 
 cabin windows. Further over on the shore, and up where 
 the town ascended to the headlands, lights innumerable 
 twinkled. To his left the friendly beacon that had guided 
 him through the water shone with undiminished and en- 
 couraging brightness. 
 
 A prayer of thanksgiving swelled from his heart to his 
 lips as the fresh air of the sea blew through the harbour 
 entrance on his face. Heaven had guided him so far 
 safely, and a bounding hope arose in his breast. The 
 hand of God was more powerful than his enemies, and he 
 felt certain that as he had been successful so far, so he 
 should be in the future. 
 
THE PURSUIT. 197 
 
 Much refreshed by his rest, Engene rose to unfurl the 
 sail. There was no sign of his escape having yet been 
 detected, but how soon might there not be ? Haste was 
 argent, and minutes now were or' incalculable value. 
 The breeze was beginning to rise, and with it rose his 
 chances of success. 
 
 Once out of the harbour, a few hours under its freshen- 
 ing influence would place him far from the coast of 
 England and nearing that of France. 
 
 Whilst yet engaged in unfurling the sail, the noise of 
 muffled oars fell on his ears. 
 
 Could it be anyone in pursuit of him ? 
 
 A sudden pang of dread shot through him. He sus- 
 pended his work and listened. 
 
 The boat was undoubtedly approaching ; still it might 
 not be coming his way, so many boats passed — so many 
 had occasion to pass — through the harbour at night. 
 
 In breathless suspense he ceased his work, and, to 
 prevent his being seen, lay down quietly at the bottom of 
 the skiff and waited — waited, oh ! with what breathless 
 suspense ! 
 
 The boat came towards him almost noiselessly — but 
 not noiselessly to Ms ears, for each drop and lift of the 
 muffled oar-blades fell with clear distinctness on his 
 hearing. 
 
 All doubt of their object and their mission was at an 
 end when, with a shock that was to him as a volley from 
 a platoon discharged at his breast, the prow of the 
 advancing boat struck against the little skiff in which 
 he lay ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE PURSUIT. 
 
 A short time found Redmond, with Luke for driver, 
 speeding swiftly on his way to the metropolis. 
 
 On the journey he learned much from his companion of 
 what had happened both at Seamore and Inch during 
 his absence, and the news did not serve to appease the 
 
198 TEE S7IAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 haste and impatience that possessed him. He now saw in 
 a clearer light than ever the evil intention that possessed 
 the baronet in his regard- It seemed as if a cloud had 
 previously overshadowed his understanding, as if a web 
 of mist had been drawn over his eyes through which he 
 could see nothing. 
 
 But it had departed now, and he looked back on the 
 past with a clearness and a light which revealed all to him 
 thoroughly. But the more he understood the more his 
 anxiety to get forward increased. 
 
 Dusk found them at Arklow. Here there was no 
 change of horses to be had. Previous comers, together 
 with the necessary change for the mail, had bereft them 
 of the available stud. 
 
 " Previous comers — who were they ?" 
 
 " Two ladies and a gentleman, proceeding with all 
 speed to Dublin." 
 
 "Two ladies and a gentleman," said Redmond turning 
 m dismay to Luke, who nodded his head in intelligent 
 sympathy, " The gentleman, now — what was he like ?" 
 
 "Gentleman," innkeeper thinks, "was about five-and- 
 thirty years of age or thereabouts, tall, well-dressed, 
 fashionable, and spoke with an English accent." 
 
 " Mortimer !" ejaculated Redmond, glancing again at 
 Luke, who again intimated his assent by a nod. 
 
 " The ladies — what sort were they ?" 
 
 Innkeeper could not say — they were so closely muffled 
 up. " It was after dusk, too," innkeeper explains, "and 
 there was but little light to see them with. They did not 
 even leave the carriage, they were in such haste." 
 
 " Heavens ! how often people rush unconsciously to 
 their own undoing !" said Redmond, giving utterance 
 to the thought that struck him. 
 
 " They were not rushing or going to Dublin," innkeeper 
 says, mistaking his words ; " they spoke of Seamore." 
 
 "Just as I said, Luke," said Redmond, aghast. "Mor- 
 timer and the girls. No persons else." 
 
 "He was not with them leaving," said Luke; "they 
 were coming by themselves. Was the gentleman with 
 the ladies when they arrived ?" This of the innkeeper. 
 
 Innkeeper thinks so ; nay, more, is sure of ft. Saw 
 
THE PURSUIT. 199 
 
 them come up, in fact, in a handsome carriage with two 
 horses ; but the latter dead beat and worn after a furious 
 drive. 
 
 " He was to go by the mail," Luke says. " He must 
 have waited for the young ladies and got into their car- 
 riage on the way." 
 
 " Good heaven3, Luke, they may be — nay, are — in 
 Dublin by this time, whilst we are waiting here. What 
 shall we do ?" 
 
 Innkeeper thinks they must wait until a change of 
 horses can be provided ; which they most reluctantly do 
 — most reluctantly, for Redmond is possessed by the belief 
 that the soldiers may be on his track. They had come 
 at such furious pace that pursuers, if such they were, 
 would be left far behind. But delay here might give 
 them time to come up. 
 
 Gold can at all times work wonders. Redmond's purse 
 was in speedy requisition, and with such largesse as inn- 
 keeper had never seen before given for posting fare, he 
 was induced to make greater efforts to provide the neces- 
 sary steeds. And with success. 
 
 Even so, however, some time must elapse before the 
 horses can be provided— which period seems to Redmond 
 an age. His mind is tortured with impatience — - 
 with thoughts of what may be taking place in the city 
 whilst he is constrained to remain in this remote village. 
 But there was no help for it, and the slow- consuming 
 minutes pass on, whilst he, restless and unable even to 
 converse, awaits their ending in a state of feverish 
 unrest. 
 
 At last they are on the road. 
 
 "Pray Heaven it be not too late," thinks Redmond. 
 " Now, Luke, for the love of Heaven ! let the horses go as 
 horses never went before. If we can reach Seamore by 
 nightfall I shall be content," 
 
 The blue peaks of the Wicklow hills sentinelling the Irish 
 coast pass them in quick succession as their smoking 
 steeds pace along the highway. 
 
 Changes of horses take place ; wayside stations, little 
 villages, creep up on their horizon and are left behind 
 them as they pursue their rapid way. 
 
200 THE SHAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 The dusk falls upon them as they pass Dunleary, and 
 night throws her dark pall as they pass into the gates of 
 Seamore, and sweep np to the hall- door. 
 
 Wearied and tired, and from long sitting scarcely able 
 to stand, Redmond dismounts from his seat and rushes 
 into the hall. The first his eye falls upon is the old 
 housekeeper. 
 
 •'Cauth! Grannie!" 
 
 Her back is to him, but his familiar voice rings in her 
 ears. She turns around. 
 
 A cry bursts from her lips. 
 
 " Redmond, Redmond ! is it you come back again ? 
 Is it yourself that's in it, or ?" 
 
 '• It is I myself, Grannie," said Redmond, hurriedly, 
 gently disengaging himself from the embraces of the de- 
 lighted henchwoman, who had thrown her arms around 
 him ; " but where is Helen ?" 
 
 " Helen !" said the old woman. " Redmond, asthore, 
 you don't know the way the world has gone here since 
 you left — an' sure it's the light that comes into my old 
 eyes to see you come back again to " 
 
 " I know, I know, Grannie," said Redmond, kindly, 
 but with excessive haste and impatience ; " but forgive 
 me — I want to know where is Helen ? Tell me at once." 
 
 " Helen is in Inch, Redmond, darling ; she went 
 there " 
 
 " I know she did," he said, almost thrusting her from 
 him with his impatience ; " but she came back last night 
 or this morning. Where is she ?" 
 
 " Came back ! What's amiss with you, Redmond, 
 honey ?" cried the old woman, judging from his fierce 
 gestures, uncouth appearance, and rambling words that 
 he was demented. " Sure she is not to come back until 
 May." 
 
 "Oh, my God!" said Redmond, clasping his forehead 
 in his hands in the bitterness of his agony, " my worst 
 fears are realised ! They are married !" 
 
 "Redmond, dear," said the old woman, in pitying 
 sympathy for —as she thought — his mental derangement, 
 " come in and rest yourself. Don't you know you're in 
 Seamore —your old home, an' where we're ail glad to see 
 
THE PURSUIT. 201 
 
 you. God knows, my poor boy, how often 1 prayed for 
 yon to come back safe an' sound — from the time the stars 
 came out in the sky until the dawn came over the tree- 
 tops — but sure I never thought you'd come back like this. 
 Oh! Redmond " 
 
 " Grannie," said Redmond, understanding even in his 
 terrified impatience, the thoughts that were running 
 through her mind, " there's nothing wrong with me, but 
 don't worry or interrupt me, for I cannot bear it at 
 present. Helen has come back — come back some time 
 last night or this morning. If she has not come here, 
 she must be married. And if she has, Grannie, it would 
 be better that she were drowned in the Deadman's Bay a 
 thousand times over !" 
 
 "Married !" cried Cauth, "married, did you say, Red- 
 mond?" as a sudden thought struck her. "Oh! not to 
 Eugene, Redmond — not Eugene — I always knew sorra 
 and trouble would come of him. I always knew that " 
 
 But Redmond had turned away from her unheedingly, 
 and had passed once more out through the hall- door to 
 where Luke was standing with his trap and horses. 
 
 " Luke," said he in a hoarse whisper — so full of despair 
 and excitement was his heart — " Luke ! she is not here. 
 They must have been married, since they have not come. 
 Heaven protect me ! What shall I do ? Do you know 
 the Eagle in Eustace-street r" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Will your horses take us there without a change ?" 
 
 "At once?" 
 
 " Yes, without a second's delay." 
 
 "Hardly. They'd be all the better for a change, 
 Masther Redmond. They've had a long journey an' " 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course ; but can they do it ?" 
 
 " To be sure they will. If they must, they must." 
 
 " Then drive me there at once," said Redmond, springing 
 into the trap. "It is the only place where I can find 
 tidings of him. Even if the horses fell dead when you 
 reach, let me down at the door in the shortest time their 
 strength can make it." 
 
 Whipping his steeds into a trot, which their previous 
 long drive made them bat scantily able to accomplish, 
 
202 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 they passed once more out through the gates of Seamore, 
 out through the carriage sweep of winding oaks on to the 
 high road, and, as the horses grew warmer, with increasing 
 gpeed until they got within the circle of the city lamps. 
 Thence by the shortest and quickest ways until the 
 carriage swept down the uneven and ricketty pavement of 
 Eustace-street, and stopped opposite the gleaming coloured 
 lamps of the Eagle — the latter in all respects unchanged 
 since last he saw it. 
 
 The excitement now pervading his frame had rendered 
 him insensible to fatigue, and had much the same effect 
 on his limbs as active exercise would have had. Where- 
 fore he lightly leaped from his seat and entered the hotel. 
 
 " Hallo, Barrington," said a gentleman, as he entered, 
 " you're quite a stranger here lately. Have you heard 
 the news this afternoon?" 
 
 " What news ?" asked Redmond, at once understanding 
 that the question in some way affected him personally. 
 " What news F" 
 
 "What news! Why where have you been that you 
 have not heard it ?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ESCAPING. 
 
 " Safe at last," whispered a voice, as a hand was laid on 
 
 the side of the skiff. 
 
 " Yes, thank Grod ! at last." 
 
 " Step in quickly — there is no time to be lost!" 
 
 '• What shall we do with this boat P" 
 
 " Let her go adrift." 
 
 " Shall we take the oars with us ?" 
 
 "No. Don't you see there are oars here ?" 
 
 "All right. Step in then, in the name of God." 
 
 A form from the other boat stepped on the rower's seat 
 
 of the skiff . 
 
 " Here, take this valise. Be quick — there is not a 
 
 moment to be lost !" 
 
ESCAPING. 203 
 
 " All right. I hate it. Come in. Send the other boat 
 adrift ; she may be in our way presently." 
 
 As the first of these whispered sentences fell on Eugene's 
 listening ears, something in the voice of the nigkt-farer 
 struck him as familiar. When the conversation continued 
 this familiarity grew stronger, until with the force of an 
 electric shock the recognition flashed upon him ! 
 
 With a cry of joy he raised himself from his prone 
 position ! 
 
 But his sudden appearance had an unexpected effect 
 upon the strangers. 
 
 An exclamation of affright and apprehension burst 
 from them simultaneously, and the bright flash of a 
 naked cutlass swiftly drawn, fell upon Eugene's eyes in a 
 twinkling. 
 
 "It is I, Francois! It is I!" Eugene cried, as he 
 threw himself upon the uplifted right arm of the other. 
 
 " Who is this. Who knows me ?" was the surprised 
 exclamation that followed. " Who are you ? Hold a 
 tnoment, MacNevin ! — do not fire ! Who are you ?" 
 
 " I am Eugene, Francois. Don't you know me." 
 
 " Mon Bieu ! it cannot be — yes, it is — Eugene ! Eugene 
 Lefebre ! In the name of all that's wonderful," whispered 
 Francois in utter and bewildered astonishment, " what do 
 you here ?" 
 
 " Escaping," whispered Eugene in return, withdrawing 
 his hold of the arm that held the cutlass. 
 
 " Philip — Philip ! Here — come here quickly ! Was 
 there ever such a meeting as this ?" called in a low, but 
 emphatic voice, Francois to the third party, who, having 
 pushed out in his boat a little from the skiff, was looking 
 with intense dismay at this most unexpected rencontre. 
 
 The party addressed, somewhat reassured, pulled in 
 until the two boats lay alongside. 
 
 iS Do you know who this is, Philip ?" 
 
 " No. Who ?" 
 
 " Eugene — Eugene Lefebre." 
 
 " What ! our fellow-traveller on the Albatross." 
 
 " The same !" cried Eugene, in frantic delight. 
 
 " Where did you come from, M. Lefebre ?" asked the 
 captain hurriedly. " Have you dropped from the skies, 
 or risen out of the water, or come from the grave ?" 
 
204 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " I am escaping. I have swam from, the hulks," said 
 Eugene. 
 
 "So are we," whispered Francois, "though we have 
 not come from the hulks. And there is not a moment to 
 be lost. Discovery may come at any moment." 
 
 " Yes, at any moment," urged Philip. " Liberty or life 
 may hang on an instant of time." 
 
 " Eugene," said Francois, " what shall be done ? This 
 skiff will hold only three — two to work and one to steer. 
 I have it ! I shall return in the boat, and you three sail at 
 once — make your escape while there is yet time." 
 
 " You will do nothing of the kind," said Philip em- 
 phatically. "I shall return in the boat, and you three 
 leave — and leave at once." 
 
 " Philip," persisted Francois, " it is I that shall return. 
 You will be more needed and more useful on the way." 
 
 " Certainly not. There is not time for discussing the 
 matter. You must go and I shall return," said Philip 
 emphatically, pushing away his boat. " Good-bye all ! 
 Good-bye, Mr. Lefebre ! We shall meet in happier times. 
 Don't lose a moment in putting yourself beyond the pier- 
 head. For God's sake make haste ! Good-bye !" 
 
 The speaker, taking the oar in his hand, soon disappeared 
 noiselessly in the distance, and the night shut him out 
 from view. 
 
 " He speaks aright," said Francois. " Help me, Eugene, 
 to spread the sail. There ! Take the tiller. You are 
 handier at this than we. Now ! There — we are under 
 weigh. Turn her head to the harbour-mouth. The 
 breeze will aid us. Heaven sent it. Now ! she is gliding 
 easily. Not a word — but dead silence !" 
 
 The skiff, as he said, glided easily along. The three 
 took their seats ; and silently as a phantom bark the little 
 boat sped through the gloom. Not a word was spoken, 
 scarcely a breath was breathed, as with vigilant eyes they 
 passed out — the pier- head rising frowningly above them 
 in the darkness. 
 
 Out into the open sea, where the breeze grew stronger 
 — out, shooting like an arrow, into the Channel, where the 
 fog lifted and the long reach of swelling waves became 
 visible 
 
ESCAPING. 205 
 
 On — and on— and on : every moment leaving the shore 
 behind them, and the wide waste of visible water growing 
 continuously larger. On and on, nntil an exclamation 
 from Francois — the first that broke the silence — drew 
 attention, and he pointed to where in the east a rift in the 
 night- clonds on the verge of the horizon showed the first 
 faint approach of dawn. 
 
 " Glory to God! who has led me thus far!" was the 
 heartfelt prayer that burst from Eugene's swelling heart, 
 as the dim light, beginning to spread about like a faint 
 whiteness, showed no sail near. 
 
 "Eugene!" said Francois, from where he sat holding 
 the cord of the sail in his hand. 
 
 " Yes, Francois." 
 
 " It has been a long watch we have had." 
 
 " It has. Heaven be thanked ! it has been successful." 
 
 " I think we may speak now. I may fasten this sail. 
 There is no need to alter our course. Keep the helm as it 
 is, and anywhere we strike the coast of France will serve 
 our purpose." 
 
 " Yes, anywhere. Any place will suit us." 
 
 " Eugene, it is a long time since we saw one another. 
 Let me see how you look. Merciful Providence ! how ill 
 you seem ! — or is it this cold grey light that makes you 
 look so ?" 
 
 " I suspect I look so — because I am so," said Eugene, 
 gravely. " Twelve months in the hulks is not calculated 
 to improve one's appearance." 
 
 " Did they send you to the hulks after your capture ?" 
 
 "Not then. I stood on Irish ground since." 
 
 "On Irish ground ?" 
 
 " Yes, but was retaken. It is a long story — too long 
 to tell now." 
 
 " The hulks have left their story written on your face. 
 You have grown years older — and look very ill." 
 
 " A swim from the prison to the skiff, Francois, was not 
 calculated to improve one whose only exercise for twelve 
 months was confined to a few feet of the deck of a ship. 
 Nor is sitting for hours without stirring, in wet clothes, 
 the best restorer after that exertion." 
 
 " Good heavens ! Eugene, I had completely forgotten 
 
200 THE SHAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 that your clothes were wet. How forgetful of me ! But 
 my whole thoughts were upon the sail, my ears for sounds 
 of danger, my eyes for an approaching enemy." 
 
 " Speak no more of it, Francois ; I had forgotten it 
 myself. Like you, every sense was absorbed in listening 
 and looking for symptoms of danger. We have had a 
 marvellous run of good luck." 
 
 " Marvellous ; there is not," said Francois. " a sail 
 within sight. "We have earned whatever there is in this," 
 
 He produced the valise referred to some hours before, 
 and drew therefrom a flask, which he opened. 
 
 " This is brandy, Eugene, and of the best. The Com- 
 missariat-General who last owned this never expected it 
 would be used by escaping prisoners. Try it. Why, man, 
 you look as if you were swooning. Try this — quickly !" 
 
 Eugene indeed felt as if but little more were needed to 
 stop the action of his heart for ever, so thoroughly weak 
 and exhausted was he. The revivifying liquor, untasted by 
 him for twelve long months, sent a sensation of warmth 
 through every vein and fibre of his body. 
 
 " There, Eugene ; that's better. That brings the 
 colour a little back into your face. Change seats, and I 
 shall take the rudder awhile. But first let me introduce 
 you to my companion : Monsieur MacNevin — an Irishman, 
 escaping from imprisonment like ourselves. And now for 
 some of the grateful brandy." 
 
 The conversation warmed as the skiff sped along in the 
 opening twilight. 
 
 " Now tell me what became of you after our capture, 
 Francois ?" asked Eugene. " I ofien wondered what had 
 happened you." 
 
 " So did I of you. The captain, I, and the two men 
 were transferred to the tender, and brought to Plymouth. 
 There I, being a good French writer, and I suppose being 
 too innocent a youth to possess much guile — was em- 
 ployed in translating French despatches. Captain Philip 
 and his two friends were put on board a man-of-war." 
 
 " How did he turn up to-night ?" 
 
 " His vessel came in last week to refit, in company 
 with, I grieve to say, some of our liners they had captured 
 in a deperate fight off Ushant." 
 
ESCAPING. 207 
 
 " We are never destined to be snccessfnl at sea," said 
 Eagene. 
 
 " I fear not. Some fatality seems to hang over our 
 fleet. Although carrying everything before us on 
 land " 
 
 " Ah ! what of affairs in France ? How goes the 
 tricolor ? What are our armies doing ?" 
 
 "Doing! What a question to ask, Eugene !" 
 
 " My dear Francois, remember I have not heard a word 
 from France, nor from the outer world, for a year and 
 a-half. 
 
 " A year and a-half, Eugene ! Why the map of Europe 
 has been entirely changed during that time." 
 
 " What has happened ? Tell me, Francois ! I'm 
 thirsting for news from France. What has happened ? 
 Where are our armies ?" 
 
 " Armies ! Everywhere ; tramping to victory over every 
 high-road in Europe. Bonaparte " 
 
 "Ay ! Bonaparte. What of him ?" 
 
 "Bonaparte has conquered everywhere. The light of 
 victory has never left his banner. The tricolour with 
 him marches from triumph to triumph. He beat the best 
 Austrian general in Italy, until the great nation bent to 
 her knees to him at Oampo Formio. Castiglione, Bassano, 
 Areola, and Rivoli, are new names inscribed on our banners 
 since you saw them. He has brought the banners of 
 France within sight of the Pyramids." 
 
 " Egypt ! He has not gone there surely !" 
 
 "But he has. Syrian and Egyptian land is ground 
 hallowed to France since the days of Saint Louis." 
 
 "This is marvellous news. What has he done there ?" 
 
 " Won battle after battle over Saracen and Englishman, 
 conquered Malta, and made his name famous to all time." 
 
 "And the fleet, Francois ?" 
 
 "Your arm of the service has sustained many disasters 
 The old nobility that officered it, when they fled as emigres, 
 I greatly fear, bore the naval skill and renown of France, 
 with them. At least the newer race of officers do not 
 bear out its old repute. But the armies have more than 
 made up for this, for their bayonets have carried every- 
 thing before them, everywhere ; and even now Europe 
 
208 THE SHAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 echoes to the tramp of our battalions, as they pass over 
 the frontier to further victories !" 
 
 " This is glorious news, Francois. What of Ireland ? 
 What became of the expedition, or did it ever sail ?" 
 
 " The expedition sailed, but met with immense disaster." 
 
 " To Bantry Bay ?" 
 
 " Yes — to Bantry Bay. The seizure of our little craft 
 prevented the destination of the fleet being altered." 
 
 " And so they sailed ?" 
 
 " Yes, and failed to effect a landing. The weather, so 
 calm for weeks before, broke into a hurricane almost 
 before the ships had cleared the passage of the Yroise, and 
 scattered them completely on the voyage. Not half the 
 expedition turned up at Bantry Bay ; and the ships 
 bearing the ammunition — the powder and firearms and 
 cannon — not at all." 
 
 " That was very unfortunate." 
 
 "Unfortunate!" cried Francois. "That is hardly the 
 word to apply to it. It is shocking, miserable, disastrous. 
 The furies seemed to be in wait for the fleet to sail to set 
 heaven and earth and sea in motion. It had not fairly got 
 into the open sea when the Seduisant " 
 
 " The Seduisant — yes ! I was midshipman once on 
 board of her. What of her ?" 
 
 " Capsized. And the deu.vieme regiment of infantry — 
 one of the finest in the service — was lost in her. Not a 
 man was saved ; not a musket, not a cannon, not an ounce 
 of powder." 
 
 " Good heavens !" 
 
 " You may well exclaim ! The Fates seemed to fight 
 for England — the winds and storms against France." 
 
 "And what of Ireland all this time ?" 
 
 " I can speak but little of Ireland," said Francois. 
 " It is French matters that have passed exclusively through 
 my hands. But our friend here can give you some infor- 
 mation." 
 
 " My information," said MacNevin, who had been 
 listening with much interest to this conversation, " is not 
 very recent. It is many months since I set foot in Ireland 
 — since I was arrested. I and the other prisoners were 
 imprisoned in Fort Augustus, Scotland, whence I escaped 
 
ESCAPING. 209 
 
 some weeks since, and made my way through England to 
 this port." 
 
 " An adventnrons journey !" said Francois gaily. 
 
 " How did yon manage to pass through an enemy's 
 country and not s;et re- arrested ?" asked Eugene. 
 
 " I had little difficulty," said MacNevin. "If it were 
 not for the way I travelled I should probably have been 
 detected and arrested ; but with my violin under my arm 
 I played the entire way. There was but little necessity 
 for explanation with that." 
 
 " Not every one has such a fortunate way for travelling 
 as you MacNevin," said Francois. 
 
 " Yes, I paid my way like a nobleman, without a 
 farthing in my pocket. In return for their largesses I 
 entertained the English boors with such strains as never 
 before entered into their half animal souls — the olden 
 Irish love airs or battle marches — soft with melting 
 passion or thrilling with martial ardour ; and so I passed 
 from the Scottish border right through the length of 
 England until I came here." 
 
 " How did you become acquainted with Francois?" 
 
 "Why, I was perambulating the streets one day, strongly 
 dissatisfied that not the faintest opportunity of escape 
 presented itself, when my eyes happened to rest on his 
 face. In a moment I recognised him, although I had 
 never seen him but once, in the council chamber over Nell 
 Dowling's shop." 
 
 " Why, now I understand," said Eugene warmly. " I 
 could not remember where I saw you before. It was 
 there." 
 
 " I don't remember having seen you " 
 
 " Why, MacNevin— don't you remember ? The l am- 
 bassador ' of whom we have talked so much ?" 
 
 " What !" cried MacNevin. " The ambassador. It 
 cannot be." 
 
 "It is, nevertheless," said Engene, smiling. If 'am- 
 bassador ' you call me." 
 
 " Well, I thought I had a good memory for faces, but I 
 should never have known you, you are so much changed 
 and altered ! It is a good omen of the future that we 
 should have met together again." 
 
210 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 "That is what I am curious to hear," said Eugene — 
 " how you two met." 
 
 " As I told von, I remembered Francois' face, and took 
 opportunity of making myself known to him. He knew 
 Captain Philip, and as we were all anxious to escape, we 
 fixed upon that little skiff of the harbour-snperintendent's 
 that lay "so cosily and invitingly rocking at the harbour 
 mouth. So we stole out last night — never thinking that 
 we should find anyone in the boat before ns — least of 
 all you." 
 
 " You did certainly astonish us," said Francois. " I 
 fairly thought my heart would leap through my mouth 
 when you rose like a dark spirit from the bottom." 
 
 " I had need to be pretty quick. There was not much 
 time for explanation, with your cutlass flashing through 
 the dark." 
 
 " Ay, Eugene," said Francois gravely, "you came pretty 
 near it that time. A second later and our friend the 
 ambassador's dreams of escape were over. If my cutlass 
 failed to do its work, MacNevin's pistol " 
 
 " Well, that would have been a last resource," said the 
 latter. " We should have a thousand pursuers before the 
 echoes of the shot had died away." 
 
 " At any rate," said Eugene with a smile, " between you 
 both I ran a pretty narrow risk for my life. The only one 
 whose hand did not happen to be raised against me was 
 the captain's." 
 
 "Ah, by the v**iy," said Francois regretfully. "I 
 wonder what will become of him." 
 
 " He is in a very dangerous position this moment," said 
 MacNevin. " If the slightest suspicion attaches to him — 
 and I don't see how it can fail to — he will be summarily 
 shot on deck or swung from the yardarm." 
 
 " You see, Eugene," broke in Francois, " we never ex- 
 pected to be forestalled in our possession of the boat, 
 which only carries three." 
 
 " So he sacrificed himself for us." 
 
 " It is only on a par with his whole conduct. I never 
 knew one so unselfish or so self-sacrificing. But see! 
 What is this bearing down on us ?" 
 
 Francois pointed with outstretched hand to where a 
 
ESCAPING. 211 
 
 small fcwo-master came sweeping down upon them at some 
 half a-mile distance. Half cutter, half yacht, she came 
 towards them at tremendous speed, the brass carronade 
 on the poop reflecting the morning rays from its burnished 
 surface. Her enormous sails spread to their full extent 
 and filled with the breeze that had sprung up, were so 
 large and extended in comparison with the diminutive 
 size of the craft, that they made her look like an immense 
 sea-gull. As she came pacing along half on her side, the 
 white cleaving lines of foam swept back from her prow in 
 two lines of glinting light. 
 
 A graceful bird of the sea, her swift motion and magni- 
 ficent spread of sail caused an exclamation of admiration 
 from Eugene. 
 
 " This one is coming to capture us !" broke out MaaNevin. 
 
 " She appears to be coming on business certainly," said 
 Francois, eyeing the approaching craft distrustfully yet 
 intently. 
 
 " She seems to wonder what brings a craft of our size 
 in mid-channel, and is going to satisfy her curiosity," 
 said Eugene. 
 
 " And see !" interrupted Francois, " look yonder on the 
 horizon ! I shall be much surprised if these are not 
 men-of-war." 
 
 "You are right, Francois. They are men-of-war — 
 English line-of-battle ships, too," said Eugene, after a 
 keen survey. 
 
 " And this confounded pinnace," said MaoNevin in 
 much alarm, " is coming from them. What a pity 
 that -" 
 
 "Yon are wrong there; this cutter is French. The 
 English never hang their halyards so ; it is a trick of our 
 sailors, and a bad one — but they will not give it up. Yes 
 — she is French ! But see ! there she comes to speak for 
 herself." 
 
 The cutter glided towards them with the ease and 
 grace of an eagle swooping through the air, to which bird, 
 with its extended wings, her large sails bore no small 
 resemblance. 
 
 " Ohe I AJiauer Jes voiles !" snouted a strange voice 
 from the prow of the pinnace, as she swept past. 
 
212 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " Bien" cried Eugene, in ecstacy at the language in 
 which he was addressed. 
 
 " Qui etes vous," hailed the officer again, as he lifted 
 his cap in salnte. 
 
 " Fran$ais" cried Eugene in response. 
 
 " TJne prison Anglaise." 
 
 " Echappement ?" 
 
 " Oui Vchappement." 
 
 At these words the crowd of curious faces that lined the 
 bulwarks doffed their caps, and an enthusiastic cheer 
 went up from many mouths. 
 
 " Bummuez de voiles et benez a bord" shouted the 
 officer again, with singular sympathy in his tones. 
 
 "That we shall with the greatest possible pleasure," 
 said Eugene, with delighted energy, to his companions, as 
 he heard the request. 
 
 If an archangel had called to Francois, the invitation 
 could have fallen on no more eager ears. The cutter 
 slackened her sail, and the skiff, altering her helm, ran 
 up under her lee. 
 
 In a few minutes all three had clambered on board, the 
 skiff was set adrift, and the cutter once more proceeded 
 on her way. 
 
 "Your name?" asked the officer, who wore the gold 
 epaulettes of the French naval service, but looked quite a 
 youth. 
 
 " Francois Delavigne, sous-lieutenant ; once of General 
 Clarke's staff, and lately a prisoner in England." 
 
 "And yours ?" 
 
 " Edmond MacNevin, Irishman, prisoner of war also in 
 England." 
 
 " Desirous of reaching France P" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " We have a good many of your nation there. You will 
 find many comrades to welcome you. And yours ?" 
 
 "My name is Eugene Lefebre — once of the Republican 
 line-of-battle ship, La Vengeur." 
 
 "What!" cried the young officer, as he started back, 
 dropping in his astonishment the log book in which he 
 was entering the incident and names. " Not Eugene 
 
THE ESCAPE. 213 
 
 Lefebre who was to command the Seduisant under Hoche 
 in the " 
 
 " Yes, Carlo ; and who was midshipman with yon many- 
 years ago in her." 
 
 " Engene ! Eugene !" cried the officer, as he threw 
 himself with French affection and rapturous delight, into 
 the other's arms. " How delighted I am to see you ! 
 How glad to meet you ! We all thought you had been 
 drowned at sea. But how changed you are ! I should 
 never have known you." 
 
 " I am all the better for meeting you, Carlo, in a double 
 sense," Eugene said, when the first burst of delight and 
 greeting was over, " as an old friend and present rescuer. 
 But, Carlo," as he saw his friend about to break forth 
 with a fresh burst of exclamations, " remember that we 
 have been all night at sea in that little skiff, that I have 
 had to swim for my life, and have consequently been sitting 
 in wet clothes all the time." 
 
 " A thousand pardons ! I was so pleased to see you I 
 had not noticed the circumstance. Yes, your dress is wet. 
 Come down to my cabin. But first — do you see these sail 
 yonder ? Can you carry your eye so far ?" ' 
 
 " Yes, we have seen them already." 
 
 " Can you tell me if they are English ?" 
 
 " They certainly are," said Eugene. 
 
 "Not Spanish?" 
 
 **Nb, undoubtedly not." 
 
 " I don't know the rig out of these vessels," said Carlo, 
 " and portion of my business out this morning was to see 
 to what nationality they belonged. We have been ex- 
 pecting our allies, the Spanish fleet, from Cadiz. I half 
 believed these were they. If I had not seen your little 
 boat on the water, and become curious to know what it 
 was, I should probably have run up to them." 
 
 " It would have been a serious business for you if you 
 had, Carlo mon ami; but as they were the means of 
 bringing you out this morning I shall have a greater 
 regard for his Britannic majesty's ships than I ever had 
 before," 
 
 " Here you are, gentlemen," said the vivacious young 
 officer, as they descended into his apartment, " welcome 
 
214 fHE SHAN VAN VOOET. 
 
 once more to French, ground. Oh ; by the way, how yon 
 do shiver, Eugene ; you are thoroughly chilled. Take a 
 glass of this — it is champagne— that will put fresh vigour 
 into your veins ; it must be long since you tasted any. 
 Fill your tumblers, gentlemen, and then into bed. You all 
 seem worn out, and a rest will do you no harm. Nay, 
 not a word," added he, as he saw Eugene about to speak. 
 " I shall tell you no news — no, not a word — until you 
 waken in the harbour of Brest. It would be as much as 
 your life is worth to remain as you are. Come ! Take 
 your tumblers ! the sparkling champagne will make you 
 sleep the more soundly, should you need anything for that 
 purpose — which I doubt. A French captain is monarch 
 on board his vessel, and must be obeyed." 
 
 There was no ignoring the friendly orders of the kind- 
 hearted young officer — thus overflowing with delight at 
 seeing an old friend under such circumstances, and full of 
 frank hospitality — and so having quaffed the reviving 
 wine he poured for them, they turned into their hammocks. 
 
 Eugene was not sorry to get rid of his saturated clothes 
 that clung as tenaciously as if they were glued to him ; 
 and, as sleep closed his eyelids, he felt for the first time 
 for twelve long months the sense of freedom breathing on 
 his forehead, and the heavy, dull sense of imprisonment 
 lifted from his heart. 
 
 In the grateful warmth they were all three soon fast 
 asleep ; and the sun was in the mid-sky, and the pinnace 
 anchored at rest by the Artillery-pier in Brest Harbour, 
 before their slumbers were broken. 
 
 " Are you awake, Eugene ? Are we dreaming, or is it 
 a reality ? Is that the glorious language of France I hear 
 spoken on deck ? Oh ! glory to high Heaven that I hear 
 its music once more instead of the barbarous Saxon jargon ! 
 That language, Eugene, was only meant for speech of 
 savages. Do you hear ?" 
 
 " I hear," said Eugene, drowsily waking. "Is it really 
 actualitv or am I dreaming ?" 
 
 " It is actual and real enough, Eugene," said Francois, 
 jumping up. " There goes a military band playing ' The 
 Marseillaise.' Magnificent strain ! Where could it be 
 conceived but in our glorious France ?" 
 
IN FRANCE. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IN FRANCE. 
 
 Eugene's awakened faculties soon became aware that the 
 pinnace was the centre of nmch attraction. 
 
 The buzz of conversation on deck was distinctly audible 
 through the open windows where their hammocks swung ; 
 and boats were constantly passing with officers whose 
 uniforms showed them to be of high rank. On the whole, 
 it struck him that the arrival of the cutter, for some reason 
 or other, had occasioned considerable furore. 
 
 Which, indeed, was the case. The singular news that 
 the boat had been found in the wide waste of waters — a 
 little waif extruded from the night and sea — with her 
 adventurous passengers, fugitives from the horrors of an 
 English prison ; that two of these fugitives were French 
 officers ; and that one of them was Lefebre, the chosen 
 right-hand man of Hoche in the expedition to Ireland, 
 created such a sensation in Brest, then full of military 
 and naval officers, as could not well be described. 
 
 The news flew like lightning through the town. 
 Eugene was well-known to the officers of the fleet as one 
 of the most promising therein at the time of his sudden 
 disappearance. Why he had disappeared, or how, were 
 matters of which none of them had cognisance ; and, as 
 is usual in times of great excitement and enterprise, he 
 had soon dropped out of men's minds. The world was 
 moving swiftly, great events were in course of accom- 
 plishment, and one man's life was of no more account than 
 a grain of sand on the Bretagne coast. 
 
 But the news that he had escaped from an English 
 prison in which he had been confined ; that he had swum 
 for his life from the hulks ; that he had tempted the 
 dangers of the furious sea that runs in the Channel, until 
 by good providence the tricolor of the Normandie cutter 
 had sheltered him, elevated him at once into the position 
 of a hero of romance. 
 
 •' You have had a fine sleep, gentlemen," said their 
 
'216 THE SHAN VAN YOGHT. 
 
 friend entering, just as the strains of the Marseillaise fell 
 on their ears. 
 
 " Yon have come to anchor, Carlo ?" 
 
 " Anchor ! — yes, hours ago." 
 
 " For heaven's sake," said Francois, " open that window 
 and let me look once more on French land. Let me see 
 the surf breaking on the French shore. Let my eyes 
 behold the tricolor floating once more on the hills of 
 France. Quick ! I tell you, or I shall die. You do not 
 know what it is to be nearly two years absent." 
 
 " Well, Francois," said the officer, laughing, " I think 
 breakfast should be far preferable at present." 
 
 "Nay," said Francois, leaping from his hammock, 
 rushing to the window, and throwing it open, " you don't 
 — you can't — know the delight of seeing France again 
 after two years of imprisonment and home-sickness. Two 
 years ! Think of it ! Yes ! there is France again — thank 
 God I have lived to see it ! How gloriously the water 
 sparkles ! — it never shone like that, Eugene, in that dreary, 
 foggy Plymouth. How exquisitively fresh and clear and 
 picturesque everything looks ! Don't you think so, 
 Eugene?" 
 
 " Beautiful — exquisite — superb !" were the exclamations 
 of Eugene, as the two gazed long and exultantly on the 
 bright and busy scene around them. " Is there anything 
 unusual afoot to-day, Carlo ? for I notice an immense 
 number of officers in full uniform passing and repassing 
 — and the line- of- battle ships are lined with streamers. 
 Has anything unusual occurred ?" 
 
 " Something very unusual has occurred," said Carlo, 
 with quiet gravity 
 
 " Unusual — what ? Has there been a victory some- 
 where ? What news ? Tell us !" asked both officers, 
 turning around from the window. 
 
 " No ; no battle has been fought — that would not 
 occasion the slightest excitement. Triumphs come now 
 as a matter of course. A ball given by our officers in a 
 captured capital to a beaten sovereign and his generals 
 does not occupy an inch of the Moniteur. It is something 
 more than that." 
 
 "What?" 
 
IN FRANCE. 217 
 
 " The wonderful news that three escaping prisoners 
 have been rescued from perfidious Albion — one of them 
 the former captain that was to be of the Seduisant and 
 the future Lord High Admiral of the French fleet." 
 
 " Cease joking, Carlo, and tell us what it means." 
 
 " I assure you I am not joking. It is true what I say. 
 All Brest knows it by this time, and the conquest of 
 Prussia would not create half as much enthusiasm. The 
 deck is crowded with old companions in arms, and with 
 all the high and mighty naval chiefs in harbour — waiting 
 to pay their respects." 
 
 " Come. Be serious. Cease joking, and let us learn 
 the good news there is." 
 
 " I am as serious as the president of a court-martial, 
 Eugene. They are all eager to see you. But if Bonaparte 
 himself were on deck, he must wait until you have break- 
 fasted. Come. There is no particular need for careful 
 toilet. Your clothes are dry, and your breakfast waits." 
 
 The snowy linen and the appetising viands of the 
 breakfast- table were acceptable to the hungry travellers — 
 who, after their rest, were ravenous as wolves. 
 
 The meal once over they went on deck. 
 
 Three battered and scarecrow looking persons they 
 seemed amid the glitter and pomp of the gorgeous uniforms 
 that crowded the pinnace from stem to stern. It was a 
 splendid sight, the crowd of officers — many of them bear- 
 ing the great historic names of France, whose deeds were 
 household words through Europe — their myriad- coloured 
 uniforms making the deck one shifting kaleidoscope — 
 surrounding the three ragged and tattered sea-farers, and 
 doing homage and giving welcome to them as if they 
 were monarchs in all their regal pomp just arrived. 
 
 Nothing could equal the warmth and welcome poured 
 upon them. They were the heroes of the hour. Exhumed 
 after long months out of the prisons and fogs of that 
 barbarous land at the other side of the Channel, they 
 were looked upon by the French officers pretty much as 
 the Spaniards looked upon Columbus when his sea-tossed 
 galleys came back from the mysterious bounds of the 
 unknown ocean into the ports of Spain. 
 
 When the reception was over, and the officers had 
 
218 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 demonstrated tlieir delight and welcome, Eugene and 
 bis two friends were invited to a ball to be improvised in 
 their honour that night in the Hotel de l'Europe. It was 
 necessary, therefore, at once to provide uniforms, for the 
 dress of an escaping convict, whilst interesting at first 
 sight, was hardly fitted for the gaiety and grandeur of an 
 officers' ball, or for mixing with the beauty and fashion 
 that were certain to be present thereat. 
 
 They had hardly dismissed their costumier when a 
 skiff passed under the window where they stood. Its 
 occupant, whose face they did not see, ran swiftly up the 
 ladder and on deck. 
 
 In a moment after a marine tapped at the cabin door 
 and handed in a card. 
 
 It bore the name, " Theobald Wolf Tone, Army of the 
 Sambre and Meuse." 
 
 "Wolfe Tone!" said Eugene eagerly. "Where is 
 he ? Send him in at once." 
 
 'An officer in uniform entered. A little above middle 
 size, slight and agile in form, thin and sallow in face, but 
 with an eye that, at once bright and resolute, bespoke 
 vigour and resolution, and impressed him with an unde- 
 niable character of resolve and determination — the new- 
 comer advanced with outstretched hands. A smile of 
 exceeding warmth lit up his features, and there was no 
 mistaking the thorough welcome he had for the fugitives. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, I am delighted to see you ! Welcome 
 — a thousand times welcome to France again !" 
 
 " How kind of you to come, Tone," said Eugene, as he 
 and Francois grasped a hand each. "How well you are 
 looking ! When did you hear of our arrival ?" 
 
 " About half an hour ago. I just arrived from Havre 
 to find the town ringing with the news. And how are 
 you Francois P How you have grown ! Why, it is 
 colonel of cuirassiers you should be, from your inches." 
 
 " Thank you, Tone. I am all the better for hearing 
 your cheerful words again. But not colonel, please ; I 
 mean to have the marshal's baton yet." 
 
 "Well, the other must come first, Francois. And how 
 are you, Eugene ? Not looking so well as when I last 
 saw you. Good reason for it, "I make no doub* ■•" 
 
IN FRANCE. 219 
 
 " Prison life does not help appearances." 
 
 " ISTo more it does, Eugene. But it might readily have 
 been worse. I had long given you up as lost. What 
 became of you after leaving Dublin p" 
 
 " You heard of our sailing ?" 
 
 " I did — long afterwards. Woe worth the day that 
 your errand failed ! It was a grievous loss to Ireland. 
 But more of that anon. What happened ?" 
 
 " We were not well out of sight of the southern coast 
 of Ireland when we were captured by the British vessel 
 Thunderer." 
 
 "And the Albatross i" 
 
 " Sunk with a cannon shot." 
 
 " Ah me ! We believed it had foundered. And t he 
 captain ?" 
 
 " If not shot or hung since we parted him last night, is 
 in bounding health and spirits." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " On board the Thunderer— refitting at Plymouth.' 
 
 4 ' An invaluable sailor lost to Ireland," said Tone 
 gravely. " And so, Eugene, all the time we thought you 
 had gone to the bottom in the Albatross you were in an 
 English prison. It seems to me as if you had suddenly 
 risen from the depths of the sea, so long I have been 
 accustomed to think you there." 
 
 " And so the expedition sailed, Tone ?" 
 
 '• Unfortunately it did." 
 
 4> And with disastrous ending ?" 
 
 " Most disastrous. Ah, Eugene ! If you had been 
 spared to bear your message to the Directory, what a 
 change there would have been in the destinies of Ireland. 
 Little the millions of Irishmen knew what fortunes for 
 them your vessel bore as she sailed down the Channel." 
 
 " The forces did not even effect a landing ?" 
 
 " No — not even fiat. But the story is too sad and too 
 Long to tell at present. Why ! whom have we here ? 
 What? yon, MaaNevin ! Is it possible, you here too ? 
 Why, it is a perfect gathering of old friends !" 
 
 " You were so busy conversing with my friends that I 
 forebore to introduce myself," said MacXevin, grasping 
 the proffered hand. 
 
220 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " What a shame for yon not to have introdnced your- 
 self !" said Tone, laughing. "I thought yon were in 
 Scotland — in prison, too." 
 
 " There has been a sort of general jail-delivery latterly," 
 said MacNevin drily. " We took French leave, and very 
 properly, as yon will say, seeing that we were coming to 
 France." 
 
 " Broke the bounds also, MacNevin." 
 
 " I fear so. I believe that's the way they would phrase 
 it in England." 
 
 " Probably. And what news from Ireland ?" 
 
 " News ! I have not heard a word these six months. 
 You may well believe I did not make many inquiries 
 during my pilgrimage through England." 
 
 "You haven't heard then ?" said Tone, eagerly. 
 
 " Heard what?" asked all three at once, impressed by 
 Tone's manner that something startling had happened. 
 
 " The insurrection has broken out in Ireland." 
 
 " What !" cried all three together. " Impossible !" 
 
 - 4 The country is up. Lord Edward Fitzgerald has been 
 arrested, and is now, I fear, dying in jail of his wounds. 
 The Wexford men have taken to arms, and " 
 
 " And what of France ?" cried Eugene eagerly. " What 
 is she doing ? What aid is she sending ?" 
 
 " France has not yet sent a man or a gun," said Tone 
 sadly. " The people are fighting unaided — however long 
 or short they may be able to continue the struggle." 
 
 "What are the Directory about ? Why have you not 
 urged them to send aid ?" 
 
 " Urged !" cried Tone. " Urged ! I am weary of 
 urging." 
 
 " And what are they doing ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 " That— and that alone." 
 
 " What do they say ? What reason do they give ?" 
 
 " That they cannot send a large and they will not send 
 a small force." 
 
 " Where are our armies ?" 
 
 " Across the frontiers, or with Bonaparte in Egypt." 
 
 " And our fleets — where are they ?" 
 
IN FRANCE. 221 
 
 " With Bonaparte also." 
 
 •' Damn Bonaparte," said Eugene, impatiently. 
 
 "With all my heart," said Tone; " bnt that will not 
 help us much." 
 
 " Who is admiral here P" 
 
 "Bruix." 
 
 " Our old friend. Will he do nothing P" 
 
 " He can do nothing without orders from the Direc- 
 tory." 
 
 " Who is war minister ?" 
 
 " Kilmaine." 
 
 " What of him ?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 11 Merciful heavens !" said Eugene, in dismay. " This is 
 awful ! Is there no succour whatever ?" 
 
 " I fear not. I am perfectly heart-broken trying to 
 push on matters. With your assistance the business may 
 go faster." 
 
 " Well, Tone, I shall meet Bruix to-night in all proba- 
 bility at the ball. He is under obligations to me for 
 services long ago. I shall see what I can do with him." 
 
 " And I," broke in Francois, " am off for the Minister 
 of War in the morning. I shall see if they will suffer an 
 insurrection that they themselves encouraged and half 
 induced, to be crushed without a trigger being pulled to 
 aid it. It is monstrous." 
 
 " How long would it take to fit an expedition ?" asked 
 Eugene, after a pause in which he was engaged in deep 
 reflection. 
 
 " So much depends upon the number of men and the 
 amount of arms and ammunition forwarded, so much 
 upon the heart and energy thrown into the business, that 
 it would be very difficult to say." 
 
 M How long are the Irish people likely to be able to 
 resist the forces of England." 
 
 " Equally difficult to say. A great deal depends on 
 whether the insurrection is general or only partial. 
 Remember, they have to contend with the whole might of 
 England." 
 
 " Unfortunately, yes. You do not know to what extent 
 the insurrection has spread ?" 
 
222 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 "No, You must remember,' said Tone, "that tha 
 coast is so blockaded now that not a single letter or item 
 of news can reach ns from England or Ireland. This 
 much has reached ns vaguely and indirectly via Ham- 
 burg." 
 
 "I was not aware the blockade was so close." 
 
 " That is so. The English fleet sweeps the coast. Not 
 later than yesterday two of their frigates bore down 
 within cannon-shot of the fortifications at Havre." 
 
 " Communications come readily enough from here to 
 England," said Eugene bitterly. "I know that." 
 
 " They must be traitorous communications, then," said 
 Tone. 
 
 " A very great many of them were. English gold seems 
 very powerful." 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said Carlo, entering, " you have 
 had a long time for discussion. You have some time yet 
 before it will be necessary to go ashore. I vote for a cigar 
 and a glass of Burgundy before dinner. You will dine 
 with us, Tone ?" 
 
 " I have no objection. I came here by request of 
 Admiral Bruix to see him ; but the interview can wait. 
 I had little idea that I should see our lost friends here. By 
 the way, Eugene, are you aware that you were appointed 
 to the command of a frigate in the Irish expedition ?" 
 
 " Yes, Morand de Galles intimated as much in the 
 message Francois brought." 
 
 " Did he tell you the name." 
 
 " No— which was it ?" 
 
 " The Seduisant." 
 
 " I remember her well, T .Vhere is she now ?" 
 
 " At the bottom of the Yroise. She capsized before the 
 fleet was ten hours under weigh." 
 
 " Capsized ! Good heavens ! how was that?" 
 
 " Ran on a sunken rock, going at full speed with all 
 sails set ; capsized, and every man on board — she carried 
 the deuxieme regiment of infantry — went down with her. 
 So that you see your captivity was not altogether an 
 unmixed evil." 
 
 " Well, I am not sure that I should have embraced the 
 alternative I am sorry for the Seduisant — I served as 
 
IN FRANCE. 223 
 
 midshipman on board faer," said Eugene, as he lit a cigar 
 and took a seat. 
 
 The conversation became general. Carlo — and indeed 
 Tone — had much to say about the deeds of the great 
 armies of France ; the campaign of Italy and Holland; 
 the sudden departure of Bonaparte for Egypt, whither 
 the eyes of all France were at present turned with eager 
 interest ; to all of which the three late prisoners listened 
 with intense eagerness. They had been so long shut out 
 from all news that they heard with rapt attention the 
 recitals of the astonishing victories of the French arms. 
 It seemed to them like news from the other world. 
 
 By the time dinner was over and that it was time for 
 them to put on their uniforms for the ball prepared in 
 their honour, they were pretty fully acquainted with 
 French military history for the past two years. 
 
 " How well the marshal's baton would hang at your 
 side, Francois !" said Tone chaffingly, as the tall, slender 
 form of the youth looked to fine advantage in his new 
 uniform. 
 
 " And it shall hang there yet — remember that !" said 
 Francois seriously. " I always told Hoche so, when I 
 was a drummer boy." 
 
 "By the way — Hoche!" said Eugene, "I had quite 
 forgotten to ask for him. How is he P" 
 
 " Dead !" said Tone sorrowfully. 
 
 " Dead !" cried the former with a start. 
 
 " And not on the field with the colours of France around 
 him as he would have wished to die, but of consumption." 
 
 " Then there died a gallant general, and the first of 
 French soldiers," said Francois. 
 
 "And the best friend of Ireland that stood on French 
 ground," said Tone. 
 
 The feeling of sadness that this news evoked gave way 
 to the necessity of preparing to go on shore ; and in a 
 short time the two officers had descended the side of the 
 cutter and put off to the pier. The magnificent hotel 
 standing on the terrace overlooking the harbour was 
 alight with lamps and coloured arches, the reflection of 
 which in the waters of the bay gave an appearance of 
 unique beauty and chequered magnificence thereto, 
 
224 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Tone and MaclSTevin elected to remain on board the 
 cutter and discuss home matters. 
 
 They had nmch to speak of, mnch to think over in 
 regard to things in Ireland ; and Tone felt that it would 
 be almost a desecration of the cause he had at heart to 
 attend festivities in France while his brothers in Ireland 
 were engaged in a life-and- death struggle with English 
 forces — whilst they were pouring out their blood freely 
 in one more gallant stand for liberty. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 CITIZEN CARNOT. 
 
 The ball passed off with great magnificence. 
 
 The enormous banquet hall of the Hotel de l'Europe 
 was arranged for dancing purposes ; it was lit with 
 innumerable coloured lights, and the banners of many 
 nations drooped from its walls. It did not take long to 
 improvise the festivities — Frenchmen are particularly 
 quick at such work ; and, perhaps, from being got up 
 with such excessive speed, more heart than usual was 
 thrown into it to complete its success. 
 
 All the superior officers of both arms of the service 
 were there in full uniform, as also their wives and 
 daughters, looking only as French ladies can, in their 
 wealth of exquisite fashion, good looks, and renowned 
 names. For miles around the local gentry poured into 
 bhe place, until the carriages blocked the streets of the 
 town. 
 
 But regal as was the scene got up in Eugene's honour, 
 brilliant the uniforms, and bright the glitter of golden 
 epaulet and polished scabbard, bewitching the smiles and 
 welcomes bestowed upon him by lady friends and acquain- 
 tances, the gorgeousness and gaiety of the scene soon 
 passed from his mind, and he — as soon as he, with due 
 courtesy to his friends, could — tore himself from the 
 joyousness of the occasion to direct himself to other 
 interests. 
 
CITIZEN GABNOT. 225 
 
 For this purpose he sought out the admiral, whom he 
 found smoking in the conservatory overlooking the bay, 
 and apart from the ball-room. 
 
 " I thought you would come to see me, when you grew 
 weary of dancing," said the admiral gaily, as he embraced 
 his friend. 
 
 "Why did you think so, admiral ?" asked Eugene. 
 
 " Because I fancied you looked a little distraught in 
 the ball-room. I warrant you I can tell you what was in 
 your mind." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Ireland." 
 
 "You are perfectly right," said Eugene laughing. 
 
 " And now, admiral, as you can guess so well, perhaps 
 you can also tell what brought me — independently of 
 the wish to see an old and kind friend — to search you 
 out ?" 
 
 " I can. It is to help on Tone with his wild and 
 Quixotic mission." 
 
 " Wild and Quixotic ! These words from you, admiral !" 
 said Eugene in tones of dismay and disappointment — 
 "from you who sailed with the former expedition." 
 
 " Times have altered since then, Eugene. Then we had 
 a powerful fleet. Bonaparte has taken all that w 7 ith him 
 to Egypt. We have no ships here to spare." 
 
 " We should not want many vessels. Quick-sailing 
 transports to disembark men and muskets and artillery. 
 That is all we need." 
 
 " You forget England is a great naval power. When 
 France prepares to strike her she must not do so with a 
 solitary brigade and a few guns, but with a powerful 
 division of her army and battery upon battery of artillery. 
 And ships innumerable will be necessary to carry these." 
 
 " But we cannot hope to get these. France cannot 
 spare them. It would be worse than idle to delay for or 
 expect them." 
 
 " Wait until Bonaparte returns from his absurd expe- 
 dition to Egypt. It is to him we must look. Thr 
 Directory is effete, moribund — it will do nothing." 
 
 "Until Bonaparte returns !" exclaimed Eugene ir 
 dismay, " That may not be for months, and think hew 
 
226 THE SHAN VAN VOCRT. 
 
 urgent Limes are ! Ireland is in tbe throes of battle 
 Now is the time to send her aid. Even ten thousand 
 men, with fifty thousand stand of arms, sent now from 
 France, will kindle the flame of insurrection from one end 
 of Ireland to the other." 
 
 " It cannot be done, Eugene. I tell you the Directory 
 will not do it." 
 
 " They must," said Eugene vehemently. "The honour 
 of France is concerned. France has through her officers 
 urged the Irish to this effort. It would be an act of 
 national dishonour to abandon them. It is even in the 
 interests of France, military and commercial, to aid them. 
 They are a gallant and martial race of six million people — 
 and would be, if aided to freedom, a powerful ally to 
 France. I tell you now emphatically that Bonaparte has 
 wasted the blood and treasure of France ; has shamed 
 folly by his foolishness — and he will live to say so yet — 
 by striking at England in Egypt instead of in Ireland. 
 England is powerful, as Rome was, in her extremities — 
 her great fleets make her so — but strike her at home at 
 the heart, and she collapses. There is no strength, no 
 vitality there. It is the case of a strong man whose arms 
 can give death-dealing blows, can mock at swords and 
 lances and battle-axes, but a tiny needle driven through 
 his heart paralyses his strength and renders his anus 
 feeble and useless." 
 
 " Well, Eugene, granting all that you soy — and you put 
 it vigorously and well — what can we generals and admirals 
 do ? We are but the machines that carry out the orders 
 of the Directory." 
 
 "You can advise them — urge it on tliem. Admiral, 
 plead the cause of the hapless land struggling for freedom 
 with the dagger of the tyrant at her heart. If you carry 
 out the orders of the Directory, you can also inspire them 
 to give these orders." 
 
 " Well, I cannot say that you have not influenced me, 
 Eugene ; but as I know the difficulty in making the 
 Directory take up a fresh idea, come with me to Paris in 
 the morning. I am going there. I shall give you an 
 introduction to some of the leading members of that body, 
 and it' you with your local knowledge can influence them 
 
CITIZEN CABNOT. 227 
 
 you may reckon on me for ready support. And now tell 
 me something of your adventures in England." 
 
 The conversation was continued, and only broke up 
 when the bustle and stir in the courtyard beneath an- 
 nounced that the ball was terminating, and that the 
 brilliant carriages rolling away, whose flashing lights 
 brightened the streets, were conveying to their homes the 
 fair dames that graced it with their presence. 
 
 Tone and MacJNTevin slept on board the yacht, and were 
 wakened early in the morning by Eugene. 
 
 " Tone, my dear fellow," said the latter cheerfully, " 1 
 am off to Paris with the admiral. I shall see the Minister 
 of the navy. Francois has started already to see Kilniaine. 
 All may come right in a few days. You and MacNevin 
 had better follow as soon as possible. We may want your 
 information in the shape of statistics, and so on. Good- 
 bye. Call for me at the Ministry of Marine. I shall be 
 glad to see Paris again after such a long absence. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 He was gone. 
 
 "Things are beginning to look brighter," paid Tone 
 cheerfully, as they sat at breakfast. " I came to Brest 
 yesterday from Havre with scarcely heart enough, from 
 continued disappointments, to walk the streets. Now I 
 seem to see in the near future the accomplishment of our 
 hopes." 
 
 " If energy, good faith, and enthusiastic bravery can 
 gain success, our cause is in good hands," said MacNevin, 
 " Meantime, as there seems nothing to be done here, I 
 scarcely see what good purpose can be subserved by 
 remaining. I am anxious to see Paris." 
 
 " Very well. We shall start to-day if you wish." 
 
 ' ; I have no objection." 
 
 " What time do you say ?" 
 
 " Any time that suits you will suit me." 
 
 The evening saw them on top of the diligence on their 
 way to Taris. 
 
 Things did not move more swiftly, however. The 
 Directory, as Bruix had said, were slow to move. The 
 power of Bonaparte was overshadowing them, and they 
 hesitated in his absence to make any new motion. Eugene 
 
228 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 plied the Minister of Marine with unceasing supplications. 
 Francois urged General Kilmaine, the War Minister; 
 and Tone was in constant negotiations with both. 
 Inquiry and inquiry was made of him as to the positions, 
 resources, and prospects of success of the Irish insurgents, 
 to which he gave most elaborate returns; but nothing 
 came of it all. 
 
 Meantime, however, the war was raging in Ireland, 
 and no aid was reaching the insurgents. 
 
 While these negotiations were goino- on, the heart was 
 being crushed out of Irishmen — cannon and muskets 
 were only opposed by pikes, and the result could scarcely 
 be doubted. 
 
 Tone was in utter dismay. But to all his energies the 
 inertness of those in authority opposed a victorious resis- 
 tance. 
 
 " Well, Tone, the French nation, or rather its rulers, 
 are strangely altered since I left France, short as the 
 time has been," said Eugene one evening, as Tone and 
 MacNevin visited him at his quarters in the Ministry of 
 Marine. " I cannot put any life into them." 
 
 " Nor I," said Tone despondingly ; they require report 
 after report, return after return, but when these are 
 furnished nothing comes of them." 
 
 " There is no energy in the Directory. There is less 
 evidence of interest in Irish affairs this day than was 
 manifested yet. I would Bonaparte were back. If his 
 vigorous mind caught the idea, what a stir on all sides 
 there would be !" 
 
 " In the present condition of things, and in this do- 
 nothing state of existence," said MacNevin, " I am not 
 quite sure that imprisonment in Scotland were not quite 
 as enjoyable." 
 
 ' ; Well, things are hardly quite as bad as that," said 
 Eugene gaily, " Existence in Paris must have grown 
 very unenjoyable when imprisonment in that land of 
 mists is preferable to it. But we cannot mend matters 
 by talking here — can we ? I am going to Montemartre.' 
 
 " If talking could have mended them they would have 
 been set right long ago," was Tone's response. 
 
 "That beino- so, I vote we have a cigarette and a 
 
CITIZEN GARNOT. 229 
 
 stroll through the streets. Anything to break the cruel 
 monotony of disappointment. We shall be together some 
 distance." 
 
 Agreeing to his proposal, the three friends emerged on 
 the streets. 
 
 The footways were crowded with citizens enjoying the 
 balmy air of an August evening, and Tone wondered, as 
 he looked at the gaiety of all around, and the laughing 
 conversation that rippled along, to think that this was 
 the metropolis of a land that might be said at the moment 
 to be at war with all Europe. 
 
 The windows overhead were thrown open, and clusters 
 of fair faces were chatting thereat and gazing indolently 
 on the moving crowd below. The cafes were bright with 
 the glare of lamps and crowded with customers. Occa- 
 sionally, to give piquancy to the scene, a troop of lancers, 
 with the bannerets of the tricolor at the points of their 
 lances, cantered gaily by, or a squadron of hussars, their 
 jackets of braided gold setting off their smart forms 
 finely, flashed the light of the lamps from their lifted 
 sword-blades. 
 
 " Certainly this does not seem like war," he though fc. 
 " I wonder if the streets of Dublin are gay like these, or 
 its people as light- hearted ?" 
 
 In the midst of these reflections he found that he had 
 lost his friends. However, as he knew the direction in 
 which they intended going, he was not much concerned, 
 feeling certain of meeting them later on. So he strolled 
 carelessly on, taking note of the many strange things that 
 presented themselves to his view, until he found himself 
 in one of the narrow and crooked streets that led from 
 the Boulevards to the Seine. 
 
 " There is a short cut, if I remember aright, in this 
 direction to Montemartre. Eugene and MacNevin will 
 have gone there. I shall try and overtake them. This 
 route will probably bring me in advance of them." 
 
 Tone merely knew the general direction, and, as often 
 happens in great cities, when he got into the network of 
 narrow, unlit, and tortuous streets, he soon lost even that. 
 The bustle and life and light of the great thoroughfares 
 were unknown here. An oil lamp, swung from the 
 
23o THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 corners of the streets, alone showed a glimmer of light in 
 the long, dark alleys, for the dense darkness of a summer's 
 night had fallen on all around. The denizens of these 
 streets seemed to have all long since retired, for there 
 was not a traveller visible. Occasionally, indeed, from 
 narrow conrtways and in some street corners there were 
 lights visible, and brawling voices were heard — betokening 
 where some wine-shops, still open, were the scenes of 
 noisy roystering. But Tone instinctively avoided these ; 
 the Revolution and the subsequent wars had prodnced in 
 the more disreputable haunts of the city a class of 
 characters undesirable to meet. Two years previously 
 Hoche himself narrowly escaped being assassinated in one 
 of the streets at night. Wherefore he kept a safe distance 
 between himself and the dangerous beacons hung out 
 from these places. 
 
 Walking swiftly, he turned from one street to another, 
 trom one court way to another, without seeming to make 
 progress. 
 
 At last the conviction forced itself on him that he had 
 iost his way and was rambling around in a circle. It was 
 long past midnight, and he began to grow considerably 
 uneasy. The hour at which the wine-shops closed was 
 near at hand, and their occupants would soon be turned 
 into the streets — very undesirable parties to make acquain- 
 tance with in the worst quarter of the city, and on a 
 lightless night. 
 
 He felt himself tired with this purposeless walking, and 
 when he got into one of the wider streets stopped irre- 
 solutely to consider what to do. 
 
 His attention was suddenly arrested by a strange series 
 of cries in the distance, at the further end of the street. 
 
 Not at all at his ease, and believing it to be some mid- 
 night brawl, from which the further he withdrew the 
 better, he turned on his heel in the opposite direction. 
 
 The cries increased so quickly and were of such curious 
 import that he could not forbear turning again to look. 
 
 To his surprise two lamps seemed to be hurrying in 
 the distance swiftly towards him. At the same moment 
 the beats of horses hooves came on his ears, sparks of fire 
 seemed to fly from the pavement underneath the lamps 
 
CITIZEN CARNOT. 231 
 
 -and then, almost instantaneouslv, he knew what it 
 
 was 
 
 There was bnt little time for thought. The two 
 thoroughbred horses, in some manner broken loose from 
 their driver, came pacing along the street with the 
 fiery speed that maddened and affrighted animals alone 
 can. 
 
 It was an open carriage, and a lady's form in white was 
 perfectly visible in the dim light, sitting therein in mute 
 terror. A crowd of people, as is usual in such cases, 
 were hurrying as fast as they could in pursuit, their calls 
 and exclamations but making the runaways go at still 
 more terrific pace. 
 
 It would be over in a second. 
 
 The street at its nearer end sloped rapidly and turned 
 a sharp curve. Once there the frail carriage would be 
 smashed instantaneously into matchwood, and the occu- 
 pant hurried into eternity. 
 
 The sparks flew under the horses' feet as they approached, 
 in continuous coruscations ! 
 
 The panting of the flying steeds came distinctly on his 
 ears. They were near enough for him to see the foam 
 that covered their mouths. But no word or cry came 
 from the lips of the occupant in her imminent and deadly 
 peril. She had evidently swooned. 
 
 Tone was no coward. He would not have been engaged 
 on the mission he was, if he had been. Danger always 
 called up with him the excitement of fiery daring ; so step- 
 ping into the road along the centre of which the carriage 
 was flying with the velocity of an arrow, he waited a 
 breathless second until it came up — and, as the smoking 
 breath of the nearest steed was on his face, sprang forward 
 and grasped the reins ! 
 
 It was the veriest risk for life or death ever man took : 
 but his clutch proved successful. He caught the reins 
 near the bit just as the fore legs were in the air, and the 
 uidden check, with his additional weight, brought the 
 nearest horse propelled furiously forward on his head. 
 
 Tone felt himself jerked violently forward ; but in the 
 apace of a heart's beat he was the centre of a confused 
 mass of struggiiag horses and an overturned carriage — 
 
232 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 and then a sudden blow coming on his temple, he grew 
 unconscious ! 
 
 For a little while only, however. 
 
 He felt something- cold on his face, and a voice fell on 
 his ears : 
 
 " That will do, Antoine. You need not bathe his face 
 more. He is recovering. His pulse is coming back." 
 
 " I am delighted to bear that. T would not wish for 
 half the wealth of Paris anything should have happened 
 him," said another. 
 
 " Not one man in every thousand would have essayed 
 that feat," said the first speaker, who held his wrist. 
 
 "And not one in a million would have succeeded," said 
 the other. 
 
 " If he failed he would have known what the secrets of 
 the next world are by this time, and " 
 
 "Is he much injured do you think?" asked a girl's 
 voice in soft musical accents. 
 
 "He can answer for himself by this time," said the 
 first speaker, as he saw Tone open his eyes. " How do 
 you feel ?" 
 
 " I have been a little stunned, I think." 
 
 " So you have. It is well it was no worse. Take some 
 of this." 
 
 He held a glass of brandy to Tone's lips, and the latter 
 feeling very much revived thereafter was helped to his 
 feet. A crowd stood around at a respectful distance. 
 
 "I have to thank you," said the second of the two 
 speakers, " for your brave and successful effort to save 
 this young lady's life- But for you " 
 
 " I hope the lady is safe," said Tone earnestly. 
 
 " She is. But for your gallant heart no power on earth 
 could save her life. But she will record you her thanks 
 by-and-by. Is he able to travel, doctor, do you think ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes. I think so. He has received no serious 
 injury." 
 
 " Then I shall be obliged by your coming with me in 
 this carriage. My own is, as you see, scarcely fit to journey 
 further? Look there !" Looking there, Tone saw some 
 men holding the trembling horses, now shivering with 
 fear at their own mad career, and, near where they were 
 
CITIZEN CARNOT. 233 
 
 standing, the broken carriage. Looking also, as another 
 carriage came up, he noticed intuitively the exceeding 
 deference and respect paid by the assembled crowd to the 
 gentleman who spoke and to the young lady that, pale 
 with her recent fright, hung on his arm. 
 
 "You will do me the favourof coming with me — with ns ?" 
 
 " I will be most obliged," said Tone, who felt himself 
 still dull, unsteady, and confused. 
 
 " Thanks. There Marie. Let me help you in. Now 
 Monsieur let me give you my arm, too — for you seem not 
 over strong yet." 
 
 With a word to the coachman the crowd fell back, and 
 the carriage moved on. 
 
 After a profusion of thanks from the gentleman — and a 
 few words from the young lady — in tones so sweet and 
 silvery and cultured that Tone knew at once they were 
 people of distinguished position — the former said — 
 
 "You are not a Frenchman, I think r" 
 
 " No— not by birth at least," 
 
 " An Englishman r" 
 
 " Well — not quite. An Irishman." 
 
 " Yet you wear the uniform of the French service ?" 
 
 " I do. I am an officer in that sei vice." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " General Bonaparte gave me my commission." 
 
 " Bonaparte — heh ?" said the gentleman, with interest. 
 " Would you pardon me for asking your name ? This 
 young lady," said he laughing, " has a right to know her 
 preserver's name, and I — I have an interest in hearing it." 
 
 " Tone— Theobald Wolfe Tone !" 
 
 " Oh ! I remember now. I am quite familiar with 
 your name. I am doubly glad to meet you. I have read 
 your reports to the Directory with great interest." 
 
 " Read my reports, Monsieur," said Tone with quick 
 uneasiness. " I did not know they were published. They 
 were forwarded by me as secret information." 
 
 " Published ! No, of course not. Why would you 
 think that ?" 
 
 " Pardon me for a moment," said Tone as a thought 
 struck him, " may I have the pleasure of knowing whom 
 I am addressing." 
 
234 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " I thought everyone in Paris," said the gentleman 
 gaily, " knew me— at least every officer. But I see I am 
 not as distinguished as I thought. My name is Carnot — 
 Citizen Carnot." 
 
 Tone sat spell-bound for a moment or two as the 
 famous name fell on his ears. Could this be Citizen 
 Carnot — Carnot the great organizer of victory, whose 
 bright brain and fearless heart had guided the French 
 revolutionary armies to triumph before even they them- 
 selves knew their marvellous and matchless strength ? 
 Whose name was second not even to Bonaparte's own in 
 the French Military Councils, To whom he had so long 
 and so often unavailingly sought for an introduction. 
 The one man of all others in Fiance the most potential 
 for the cause he had at heart ! Could it be really he ? 
 
 " I am extremely glad, Citizen Carnot," said Tone, 
 wakening up from his reverie, with the sense pressing on 
 him of the desirability of making himself more intimate 
 with his distinguished acquaintance, " to have the honour 
 of making myself known to you — even under these un- 
 desirable circumstances. I have been long anxious for a 
 personal interview." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 "Yes. I wished most anxiously to speak with you on 
 public matters — on Irish matters." 
 
 " I could hardly refuse any request to one who has done 
 me such signal service," said Carnot, as he turned a look 
 of intense affection on his daughter. " This is my house," 
 as the carriage stopped — " If you will do me the favour 
 to .accept my hospitality we can talk over matters." 
 
 Tone did not need further invitation— did not need the 
 kind entreaties which the young girl joined to her father'? 
 — to accept the proffered hospitality; and, accordingly 
 with bright spirits and high hopes, which completely 
 banished all sense of pain or dulness, descended from the 
 carriage with them and entered the palace. 
 
 Seated together at table, the impetuous Irishman lost 
 no time in placing before his illustrious host a vivid state- 
 ment of Irish affairs. 
 
 He told him in eloquent words of the downtrodden 
 condition of the Irish people ; how ready they were for 
 
CITIZEN CABNOT. 235 
 
 revolt ; how already a partial insurrection had developed 
 itself; how all that was needed to make it successful was 
 ample and timely aid from France ; and pointed out to 
 him that the heaviest blow that could be struck at England 
 would be in Ireland. 
 
 To all of which Carnot listened with rapt attention. 
 
 " I am sorry, M. Tone," he said, at the conclusion, 
 " that I did not possess this intelligence long ago. I 
 never heard the case so clearly put before. I thoroughly 
 concur in what you say. But we labour under this 
 difficulty : The real ruler of France at present is in Egypt. 
 This is in confidence. The Directory, nominally the 
 governing body, possess no power — none. They cannot 
 — dare not — take any step, least of all one so important 
 as a large expedition to Ireland, in his absence. When 
 
 he comes back Will this insurrection last until 
 
 winter is over ?" 
 
 " It will be crushed out if foreign aid does not arrive, 
 long before winter commences," said Tone, decisively. 
 
 At this moment a gentleman in the uniform of a general 
 officer entered. 
 
 "Welcome, Humbert. I am glad to see you," said 
 Carnot. " You are an early visitor." 
 
 " What is this accident I have heard that has happened 
 you?" asked the visitor. 
 
 " Oh, it is a mere nothing ! I was coming from 
 Augerau's quarters, and just as I was about to step into 
 the carriage, and before the driver was well in his seat, 
 the midnight gun, fired near the horses, startled them and 
 they were off." 
 
 " Who was in the carriage ?" 
 
 u The Citizeness Marie." 
 
 " The dear girl is safe, I trust ?" 
 
 " Yes, thanks to the bravery and fearlessness of this 
 officer. Citizen Tone— General Humbert." 
 
 " We could hardly permit any trouble to befall the 
 organiser of victory yet awhile," said Humbert pleasantly. 
 " I think I have had the pleasure of meeting Citizen Tone 
 before," said he with cordial greeting. 
 
 " Then you are the very officer I want to see this 
 moment. Citizen Tone will tell you his mission himself." 
 
236 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 Which Tone did, dwelling Tipoii every point which he 
 thought would interest and attract one whom he knew to 
 be one of the most rising and energetic of the French 
 generals. 
 
 " What say yon to that, general ? There is a new field 
 for an enterprising commander. What if the baton 
 d'Irelande lay in the future ?" asked Carnot. 
 
 " I would I had ten thousand men to lead, and," said 
 the general, who had caught up Tone's enthusiasm, " I 
 should soon see the tricolor outhung on Irish ground." 
 
 " Precisely what I expected," said Carnot, laughing. 
 " Well, let the matter rest in my hands for a few days, 
 Citizen Tone, and we shall see what can be done. Mean- 
 time, let this be in confidence." 
 
 Leaving the two to discuss other matters, and with a 
 promise to call again, Tone took his leave in high heart 
 that he had succeeded in enlisting the famous senator in 
 the behalf of Ireland. Reaching his apartments, he re- 
 tired to bed and was soon fast asleep, dreaming of Ireland 
 and of the French banners unfurled theron. 
 
 Late in the afternoon he was awoke by Francois, who 
 came in high good humour. 
 
 " Why, Tone," said he, " there has been quite a revolu- 
 tion in our favour to-day. There has been nothing- 
 talked of in the War Office but Ireland. Your reports 
 have been asked for again and again." 
 
 " How does that arise ?" 
 
 " Heaven knows. I don't. Possibly some recent news 
 has come to the Directory from Ireland with which I am 
 unacquainted." 
 
 "And what has been done, Francois ? Is there any result?" 
 
 " That I cannot say, but I am under orders to accom- 
 pany General Humbert to Rochelle. And so are some 
 Irishmen in Paris." 
 
 " This is a sudden movement, Francois." 
 
 " So it is. Everybody is wondering what it means 
 Have you heard anything from Ireland to-day P" 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 "Then I wonder what it can be?" said Francois, 
 gravely. " But at any rate there is no time for wonder- 
 ing or surmising now. We start to-night." 
 
" VENGEANCE IS MINE." 237 
 
 " To-night ?" said Tone, in undisguised amazement. 
 
 " To-night. That's the oddest thing about it — it is so 
 sudden. Take my word for it, Tone, there is something 
 on foot, however it has arisen." 
 
 " I have no doubt there is. What forces are at 
 Rochelle ?" 
 
 " That I cannot answer you. And now there is not a 
 moment to spare. Good-bye !" 
 
 The light step of the young officer, as he descended the 
 stairs, whistling a bar of the " Marseillaise," was in 
 Tone's ears as he rose and dressed. 
 
 " This is marvellously quick work on the part of 
 Citizen Carnot," thought he. <4 It is worthy of the alert- 
 ness of the man who guided the half-trained armies of the 
 revolution to victory. Heaven grant he may not be too 
 hasty this time. But he cannot be. Everything now 
 depends upon speed." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 " VENGEANCE IS MINE." 
 
 The gentleman — Lord Kingston — at the Eagle, in Eustace 
 street, to whom Redmond Barrington so impatiently put 
 his question, " What news ?" leisurely replied : 
 
 " You have not been much about town this afternoon 
 or you would have heard that — but I remember now you 
 have been a complete stranger here lately. And that puts 
 me in mind, was there not some fuss about your singular 
 disappearance, some " 
 
 " My lord, I am very much pressed for time now, and 
 have not much leisure for conversation," said Redmond, 
 rather curtly. " You spoke as if there was some news 
 that concerned me ?" 
 
 "Egad, your absence has not improved your courtesy, 
 Barrington," said Lord Kingston with undisturbed good 
 humour, " but the news does concern you, or I expect it 
 ought. I am surprised you have not heard it." 
 
 " I am awaiting that favour at your lordship's con- 
 
238 THE SHAN VAN VOCUT. 
 
 venience," paid Redmond, who knew of old that the 
 reckless but high-spirited nobleman delighted in retailing 
 a story which had a spice of the personal in it, and there- 
 fore was prepared to put a stay on his own impatience in 
 order to humour him. 
 
 "Egad, Barring ton, the world is changing so much 
 latterly that news of the forenoon is old by evening. 
 Who would have thought of Mortimer " 
 
 " Yes, yes, what of him ?" rapidly inquired Redmond. 
 
 He was about retreating from the gossiping nobleman, 
 as believing that his long-deferred anecdote had no con- 
 nection with or interest for him, and was hastening to 
 other quarters where he might glean some of the intelli- 
 gence he thirsted for. 
 
 But the concluding words of the speaker drew him 
 back to his place as if a pillar of loadstone stood before 
 him. 
 
 " What of Mortimer, my lord ?" he asked again, scarcely 
 giving time to his lordship to continue his narrative. 
 
 " Why, Barrington, you take one's breath away with 
 your hurried manner of questioning. Moi timer, this 
 afternoon " 
 
 "Who speaks of Mortimer?" said a gentleman passing 
 by, whose ear caught the words of his lordship. 
 
 "I, my lord," said Lord Kingston, extending his hand 
 to the new-comer. " I was about telling Barrington 
 of " 
 
 "Barrington !" said the other interruptingly and glanc- 
 ing at Redmond in amazement. "Why, so it is ! Where 
 have you been all the time whilst this work has been 
 going on about you ? Why, we all thought you had been 
 drowned, or murdered, or made away with in some shape 
 or form. Where on earth have you been? But that," 
 said his lordship, " is not exactly the question at present. 
 You can tell me all about that another time. I want your 
 presence immediately." 
 
 "Excuse me a moment, Lord Edward; I wish to hear 
 from Lord Kingston the news of " 
 
 "Nay, nay, not now," said his lordship; "not now. 
 Come with me." And, placing his arm within that of 
 the other, he drew him by force away. 
 
" VENGEANCE IS MINE" 239 
 
 " I !:nve something of importance to tell you, Redmond. 
 Tour sister, Helen Barrington " 
 
 " Yes, yes, what of her ? Where is she ?" broke in Red- 
 mond impetuously, as he stayed his friend in his course, 
 and stood stock-still before him, awaiting an answer. 
 
 ' k Helen was married this morning," said his lordship. 
 
 "Married!" cried Redmond aghast, as he staggered 
 back a step or two. " Married ! To whom ? But I need 
 not ask. Merciful Providence ! that I should have come 
 so late !" 
 
 "Yes, if yon had been here earlier, his life might have 
 been saved, and matters might have been made all right. 
 I am extremely sorry, but I certainly thought he held a 
 keener finger on the trigger. And he had his choice of 
 ground too." 
 
 "Would it be any offence to ask you, my lord," said 
 Redmond, in angry impatience and perplexity, "to speak 
 a little more plainly. What are you referring to ? — foi 
 I know nothing of what you are speaking about ; — and 
 where is Helen ? If she were married this morning, and 
 that you are aware of it, perhaps you can tell me where 
 she is. I tell you the news is to me and to her a matter 
 of the highest moment. Where is Helen ?" 
 
 "Helen Barrington, or Helen Mortimer — as we must 
 call her — is with Lady Pamela at Leinster House, Kildare- 
 street." 
 
 " At Leinster House ! What should have brought her 
 there ? Why did she go there, my lord ? " cried Redmond 
 fiercely, as it seemed to him that the meshes of perplexity 
 were being woven more tangledly around him. " Let me 
 go there at once !" 
 
 " Your question demands an answer, Mr. Barrington," 
 said Lord Edward haughtily, completely misconstruing 
 Redmond's impatience through ignorance of the motives 
 thereof, " and it shall have it. She came to us as the 
 daughter of an old friend, and as one without relative 
 or protector. To whom else should she go on her wedding 
 morning ? There is an old kinship, though you seem tc 
 forget it, between our families, and it was most right and 
 befitting that she, a simple, unbefriended girl, should come 
 to us in the supreme moment of her life." 
 
240 THE SEAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Redmond heard but little of this statement. In the 
 intensity of his anguish he paid no attention to the warm 
 and eloquent words of his lordship, but pressed his hands 
 over his throbbing and beating temples. 
 
 " Mortimer — poor fellow !" — continued his lordship. 
 
 " Ay, what of him P" asked Redmond fiercely — the 
 name wakening him up from his tempest of passion. " Ts 
 he. too, at Leinster House?" 
 
 " Mortimer," said his lordship quietly, overlooking the 
 sneer evident in the latter portion of the question, 
 " Mortimer is not at Leinster House, as I thought you 
 knew already. His eyes shall never see that nor " 
 
 "What has become of him? Where is he?" asked 
 Redmond, now grown almost furious by the repeated 
 delays in getting the desired information. " Half a dozen 
 times already I have asked this question, and failed to get 
 an answer. Once more, where is Mortimer ? I have an 
 account to settle with him that must not be delayed for a 
 moment. Where is he ?" 
 
 " You will settle no account with Mortimer, Redmond, 
 in this world at least ?" 
 
 "Why? Will you be good enough to say why, my 
 lord ?" " 
 
 "Because, Redmond," said his lordship, sinking his 
 voice, and with much kindliness and gentleness of manner, 
 "because — but I am quite unable to explain now. You 
 must come with me, I am quite overpowered." 
 
 " My lord, I shall not stir one pace from this until you 
 answer my question. Where is Mortimer ? Yv r here is 
 the scoundrel ? Is there no friend who will answer my 
 question ? Are all leagued against me ?" 
 
 " Redmond," said Lord Edward in a tone of great 
 emotion, "this is not a moment for " 
 
 " One thing, my lord," said Redmond with savage 
 harshness, "it is not a moment for — it is not a time 
 for trifling with me. Are you prepared to answer, or 
 shall I have to seek the information from others ?" 
 
 " If you will but have patience — and hear me — you — " 
 
 " Patience ! my lord !" exclaimed Redmond, drawing 
 abruptly back a step or two. " Is this a time to preach 
 patience ? My lord, I should have expected that you 
 and yours would have stretched out the right hand of 
 
TEE FRENCH FLEET SAILS. 241 
 
 friendship and protection to my sister; yon have failed ii. 
 that. But I am here now ; and "by my father's sonl ! J 
 shall see that she is protected thongh all the world were 
 leagued with Mortimer. Once more: Where is he?" 
 He was quivering with impatience and passion. The 
 muscles stood out like whip-cord on his forehead. 
 
 Lord Edward Fitzgerald stepped up to him and 
 whispered a single word in his ear. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed Barrington his whole manner 
 changing of a sudden, and falling back a pace or two. 
 
 " True enough, Redmond," said the other with visible 
 marks of astonishment on his face, and in his voice. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 THE FRENCH FLEET SAILS. 
 
 Awaiting further commands from Carnot, Tone spent 
 the next few days in great unrest. Bound by his word 
 to the Director, he was unable to communicate the secret 
 of the recent stir in Irish affairs to Eugene, who was in 
 high delight, but in much bewilderment, over the swift 
 turn which matters had taken. For, whereas before the 
 name of Ireland was not even mentioned, now the name 
 was constantly on the lips of the high officials of the War 
 Office. A hundred surmises were broached as to the 
 cause of the sudden change, but all equally futile, and 
 dismissed after a moment's consideration. For Tone kept 
 carefully locked, even from him, the knowledge he alone 
 carried in his breast. 
 
 They were seated in Tone's apartment discussing affairs 
 one evening shortly after, when the landlady came up with 
 a letter for the latter, which a messenger had brought. It 
 was marked " In haste, and confidential." 
 
 " I wonder who is this from," he said as he glanced 
 at the superscription. " It is unofficial and I am un- 
 acquainted with the handwriting. Here goes, however," 
 he added carelessly, breaking the seal. 
 
 He had read only a few lines, however, when he started 
 up and paced the room. 
 
242 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 11 Why this is wonderful, gentlemen ! This is astound- 
 ing!" he cried excitedly. 
 
 " What is it — what is the news ?" asked, simultaneously. 
 MacNevin and Eugene. 
 
 "Here is the letter — read it," handing the note to the 
 latter. 
 
 " Why, it is from Francois," said Eugene, glancing at 
 the signature. 
 
 " Read it aloud. Let us hear what it says," said 
 MacNevin impatiently. 
 
 " Here it is : — 
 
 [" ' Private.] 
 
 " ' Roclielle, Friday. 
 
 " ' Citizen Tone — This is to inform you that we sail 
 from Rochelle to-morrow for the Irish coast — 1,600 men, 
 with artillery and ammunition. Humbert commands. 
 
 " ' Francois.' " 
 
 MacNevin gave a long whistle, whilst all three looked 
 at one another in much bewilderment and astonishment. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this, gentlemen ? Are the 
 fates playing us a freak of fortune, or is the letter a bogus 
 oner"' 
 
 " The letter is genuine enongh. It is Francois's writing, 
 and he does not usually play pranks — at least not in 
 matters of moment." 
 
 "What do you make of this, Toner"' asked MacNevin 
 again, after a pause. " Is it the work of a good or an evil 
 genius ?" 
 
 " It is difficult to say," said Tone perplexedly. 
 
 " Sixteen hundred men ! They might as well send a 
 corporal's guard. Of what earthly use are sixteen hun- 
 dred men?" insisted MacNevin. 
 
 " It depends upon circumstances. It is a small force 
 no doubt, but if landed on the coast of Wexford or 
 Dublin " 
 
 " I venture to say that is precisely what they will not 
 do," broke in NacNevin impatiently. " And if not they 
 might as well send them to Iceland." 
 
 " Surprising that Francois does not say where they are 
 destined for — what part of the coast," said Eugene. 
 
THE FRENCH FLEET SA TLS. 243 
 
 " Very likely be does not know," said MacXevin 
 irritably. 
 
 " More likely be did not like to run tbe risk of stating 
 in a message coming by band." 
 
 |C It is most tantalising — tbis skeleton intelligence on 
 such a weigbty matter," said Eugene, witb a vexation 
 almost eqnal to tbat of MacXevin. 
 
 '•I would venture a wager," said Tone, "I can guess 
 tbe cause of your annoyance, Eugene." 
 
 " Easily guessed. It is tbe utter want of information," 
 said Eugene. 
 
 " I doubt it." 
 
 " Well, wbat is it ?" 
 
 " Tbat you are not sailing witb tbe expedition yourself." 
 
 " I confess," said Eugene, laughing, " tbere is something 
 of that at foot of it. But they might, at least have offered 
 me command of one of the frigates." 
 
 "There is a higher command awaiting you mayhap." 
 
 " It is not the rank of the appointment I care about. 
 I should rather go as seaman before the mast than be left 
 behind." 
 
 " Do you know what I think ?" said Tone, after a few 
 minutes' pause. 
 
 "No. Wbat?" 
 
 " This expedition is but tbe forerunner of a larger one 
 — a mere decoy-duck to distract attention." 
 
 " Perhaps so. I hope in heaven it may be so." 
 
 " You will find it is. It is out of the question to think 
 that the Directory would have dispatched sucb a force on 
 sucb a mission." 
 
 M But they might at least let us know what they were 
 *\oing. Who should they consult but us ?" 
 
 " What character does Humbert bear ?" 
 
 " Excellent. A skilful, intrepid general. If circum- 
 stances are favourable, be will give a good account of 
 treble his number." 
 
 " If it be not too late " 
 
 " Hallo !" interrupted MacXevin, who had risen, and 
 was standing at the window looking down on tbe street. 
 " Here comes a hussar with a dispatch for one or other 
 of you, gentlemeu." 
 
244 TEE SHAN VAN VOCRT. 
 
 " So there is," said Eugene, walking to the window 
 also, and looking down. " An orderly from the War 
 Office. His message may throw some light on the 
 business." 
 
 " A letter for Citizen Tone," said the landlady, entering 
 with a large official letter in her hands. 
 
 "Well, Tone— what is it? Who is it from?" asked 
 MacNevin, as that gentleman broke the seal and read it. 
 
 " It is from Carnot — Citizen Carnot." 
 
 " From Carnot !" exclaimed both. 
 
 " That's the writer's name " 
 
 " For heaven's sake what does he say ? The Directory 
 must be pretty much in earnest," said Eugene, " when he 
 writes." 
 
 " He wishes to see me immediately," said Tone, handing 
 him the letter. 
 
 ( ' It is laconic enough. It is in his handwriting, how- 
 ever. Citizen Carnot does not waste words, no more than 
 powder and shot." 
 
 " He used these latter to some advantage," commented 
 Tone, as he proceeded to arrange his toilet. 
 
 " Yes, he managed to make the most of his bullets in 
 the early days of the revolution. He bad not much am- 
 munition — nor men either — to throw away." 
 
 " What can he have to say ?" queried MacNevin. " I 
 hope it may be that ten thousand men are being mobilised 
 at Havre for embarkation." 
 
 M Heaven knows." 
 
 " Well, the mystery will be soon out," said Eugene. 
 " Meantime do not keep us too long in suspense, Tone. 
 Come back as soon as the interview is over." 
 
 "Nothing worries me like suspense," said MacNevin. 
 " I vote we have a cigar and a glass of Burgundy to while 
 away the time." 
 
 " Here are both — at your service," said Tone. " And 
 now for Citizen Carnot. Pray heaven he may maintain 
 his old character as organiser of victory this one time." 
 
 Arrived at the war office, in the Hotel Louvre, Tone 
 presented his card. He was quickly admitted, and ushered 
 along corridor after corridor until he was shown into an 
 ante- chamber, magnificently furnished, and filled witb 
 
THE FRENCH FLEET SAILS. 245 
 
 generals in full uniform and other high officers awaiting 
 au interview. 
 
 Tone, under other circumstances, would have been more 
 or less embarrassed at the distinguished company in which 
 he found himself — generals, ministers of state, foreign 
 ambassadors, naval officers of high rank, all in glittering 
 uniforms and with their insignia of rank. Here was an 
 eastern ambassador with quaint fez and burnouse, and 
 diamond star sparkling on his breast. There a distin- 
 guished general who had clutched honour, position, and 
 renown from the ranks by desperate valour, as his empty 
 sleeve well attested. Standing at the fire-place, in deep 
 conversation with the Russian Ambassador, was one 
 whose name and fame were European, but whose ending 
 was to be so ignoble and terrible — the general who carried 
 his army safely in their famous retreat through the Black 
 Forest — Moreau. And many others then undistinguished, 
 but who were afterwards to fill Europe with their fame 
 and their deeds of prowess. 
 
 But a passing glance at some of the more prominent 
 and renowned was all that Tone vouchsafed. Personal 
 matters were pressing at his heart and absorbed his 
 whole thoughts. What project was on foot ? Was there 
 really a determination to send sufficient aid to Ireland ? 
 and, if so, when, from where, and how ! 
 
 Whilst these questions were revolving themselves in his 
 head the door leading from the ante-chamber was flung 
 open and a herald cried : 
 
 " Citizen Tone !" 
 
 The animated conversation at once ceased, and for a 
 moment Tone, so filled was he with his own thoughts, 
 doubted the name that was called. 
 
 kk Citizen Tone !" the herald called again. 
 
 Tone presented himself as the others fell back. 
 
 The herald beckoned him forward. 
 
 Passing the door, which closed after him, Tone entered 
 the inner ante-chamber, and thence into a richly furnished 
 room, where, under the soft light of a chandelier, sat at a 
 round table, covered with maps and papers, two gentlemen 
 — one in uniform, the other not. 
 
 The latter was Carnot, who with warm courtesy stood 
 up to welcome his visitor. 
 
246 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " You see I have noi> forgotten yon, Citizen Tone," he 
 said, pointing to a map of Ireland that lay on the table. 
 " We have been discussing Irish matters, and we want 
 your assistance and opinion." 
 
 He paused. Tone bowed. 
 
 " This is General Hardy." 
 
 Tone saluted the general. He had never seen him 
 before, but was well acquainted with his name. 
 
 " It is right to tell you, Citizen Tone, that there sails 
 this day for the Irish coast, an expedition under General 
 Humbert, whom you met with me last time. He is an 
 able and energetic officer. The expedition is a small one, 
 and the general sails for the western coast." 
 
 " The western coast !" repeated Tone disappointedly. 
 
 " Yes ; I should indeed have asked for your advice pre- 
 viously, but that the business here is so multifarious, and 
 I was unfortunately unacquainted until this evening with 
 your address. The reason it was dispatched there is this 
 — I find from recent reports that have reached us from 
 Ireland via Hamburg, that it is along the eastern coast " 
 — laying his finger on the maritime counties of Leinster — 
 "that the war of insurrection rages. Further, I find that 
 the insurgents are being severely pressed. To make a 
 diversion in their favour by causing the withdrawal of the 
 royal troops, and to excite revolt in a district which seems 
 quiescent at present, I have directed them to land here " 
 — pointing to Killala Bay — " where there seems to be a 
 capacious harbour and good anchorage. What do you 
 think of the project ?" 
 
 " I think it is ably designed," said Tone, much struck 
 with the reasoning. 
 
 " I am glad to have your approbation." 
 
 "But," said Tone, hesitating, "but it is a very small 
 force — small to send on such an important mission." 
 
 " I anticipated that observation. General Humbert 
 brings with him but an advance guard. More could not 
 be done in the extreme haste. General Hardy is under 
 orders to sail as soon as ever he can from Brest with three 
 thousand men, and effect a further lodgment on the 
 northern shores — somewhere here," pointing to Loagh 
 S willy. And General Kilmaine is to mobilise a further 
 
THE FRENCH FLEET SAILS. 247 
 
 corps, as soon as may be, of some ten thousand men to 
 effect a landing on the eastern coast as near the metropolis 
 as possible. What think you now P" 
 
 '• I think you have assured the independence of Ireland," 
 said Tone, whilst his heart beat rapidly and exultantly at 
 this magnificent intelligence. 
 
 "If there be staying power in your nation they shall 
 get sufficient help." 
 
 " If there be," thought Tone, with a choking feel in bis 
 throat as the dread possibility occurred to him of the 
 revolt being crushed out before even the first of these 
 detachments could arrive. 
 
 " By the way, there is a young naval officer recently 
 escaped from England. Do you know him P" 
 
 " Citizen Eugene Lefebre." 
 
 " Yes ; he is a good officer I am told, and knows much 
 about Ireland. Do you know where be is to be found *?" 
 
 " I have only just parted from him." 
 
 " Very good. Tell him to report at once to Admiral 
 Bompart, who will command the fleet. It will sail from 
 Brest or from Camaret. Meantime — I suppose you would 
 wish to go, too ?" 
 
 "Go!" said Tone earnestly. :< For two years I have 
 been longing, yearning for the day to come." 
 
 " I see !" said Carnot, smiling. " You Irishmen, are all 
 so enthusiastic ! You will, in that case, place yourself 
 under General Hardy's orders. You will have your present 
 rank. The expedition will sail as soon as ready. Report 
 to General Hardy in the morning. Good-bye ! I am 
 sorry I cannot discuss the matter further with you, but 
 there is a large number of people waiting for audience. 
 Once more — good-bye, and success to the Irish cause !" 
 
 "Well, Citizen Tone — for I suppose Carnot has imbued 
 yon with thoroughly republican notions by this time, if 
 you did not possess them before," said Eugene, on his 
 return. " What news ? What says the brain-carrier of 
 the French nation ?" 
 
 "The news is capital,'' said Tone, paring the end of a 
 cigar, as he prepared himself for a long smoke and char 
 in the highest of good humour. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. We have had such a recurrence 
 
248 TEE SHAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 of calamitoas information that a rift in the clouds is ruosi 
 opportune. The expedition has sailed P" 
 
 "It has." 
 
 " Where for ?" 
 
 " The Irish coast." 
 
 " And with what intention ? What does he think it 
 will do ?" 
 
 " Keep the insurrection alive until a large force sails." 
 
 " Right. Citizen Carnot — though my family is under 
 but scant obligation to him — is a right vigorous worker 
 for all that." 
 
 " Do you know him, then ?" 
 
 "I might say he knows me anonymously." 
 
 "A rather indistinct knowledge, is it not ?" 
 
 " I don't know that I could express the acquaintance 
 more aptly But that is of no consequence at present, 
 for » 
 
 " On the contrary, it is of consequence." 
 
 "Ah, how?" 
 
 "He made inquiries about you." 
 
 " He did — eh ?" exclaimed Eugene, suddenly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What did he say ?" 
 
 "That you were a capable officer, knew Ireland well, 
 and requested you to report at once to Bompart — who is 
 to be admiral of the next fleet." 
 
 "Oh, that's all— is it?" 
 
 " That's all. The information seemed to alarm you." 
 
 "Why, so it did, Tone. It is only the recurrence of an 
 old sensation." 
 
 " It is the first time I knew you were subject to alarms." 
 
 " Why, my good friend, when one has lived for months 
 —indeed I might say for years — with the dread of the 
 guillotine on him, he is apt to be readily startled. I 
 remember a time when a call, ' Midshipman Lefebre is 
 wanted on deck,' seemed to be forerunner of a journey to 
 the Place de la Greve, and an introduction to Dr 
 Guillotine." 
 
 "You were not an aristocrat — were you?" asked Tone 
 chaffingly, as he threw himself into an arm-chair and lit 
 his cisrar. 
 
THE FRENCH FLEET SAILS. 249 
 
 " I dare say they would readily impeach me as one 
 then — rightly or wrongly. And so I am to report to 
 Bompart ?" 
 
 " Yes. Do yon. know him P" 
 
 " Perfectly. I sailed with him to the Indies, where he 
 knocked to pieces the English fleet, with two line-of-battle 
 ships and two frigates. I remember the battle as if it 
 were a thing of yesterday. Soil ought. We ran out a 
 broken mast from our vessel, La Vengeur, to the British 
 74, and our fellows raced like wild cats along it in their 
 bare feet, and boarded and captured the Englishman. I 
 wish you saw the scene on that deck when in the middle 
 of the smoke that canopied the ships, our men leaped in. 
 I fancy tougher work was never set to Frenchmen. It 
 was cut and thrust of cutlass at close quarters, and I 
 wager you more men died in that quarter of an- hour's 
 fight than ever died in the same size of space before or 
 since. Yes, Bompart is not likely to pull down his colours 
 without just and sufficient cause." 
 
 " Were you one of the boarders, Eugene ?" asked 
 MacNevin, whose interest had been aroused by the 
 speaker's words. 
 
 " I was second on the mast, and first to leap on board. 
 De Fournieux, a brother middy, was first to race along the 
 mast — they guillotined his father, a naval captain, in Paris, 
 a few days before, but the poor lad never heard of it — 
 and, a bullet striking him, he fell, before I could grasp 
 him, between the two vessels. This mark will serve as 
 rememberance of it (he pointed to the cicatrice on his 
 temple), for an Englishman's cutlass left it there on that 
 occasion." 
 
 "What experience of the world and of life you sailors 
 must have !" was the admiring comment of MacNevin. 
 
 " It was no pleasant experience, I assure you. With 
 the very atmosphere of France saturated with suspicion 
 of treachery, with every French mind electrical with 
 dread of betrayal, it was no joke to lose a battle or a ship. 
 Courtmartials made short work of defeated admirals, and 
 every man, gentle or simple, on board was bound to do 
 whatever lay in him to win victory. I tell you men valued 
 their lives at little moment in these days. But we have 
 
250 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 been rambling away from the subject. When am I to 
 report ?" 
 
 " In the morning." 
 
 " But Bompart is in the Bay of Camaret/' 
 
 " Yon will have to travel thither without delay.*' 
 
 " Well, thank heaven I am on active duty once more. 
 Continued idleness here were nearly as bad as being on 
 board the British hulks. And now, having heard this 
 joyful news, I think I shall retire. I shall sleep more 
 soundly to-night than I have done for a long time ; the 
 murmurs of the sea on the Irish coast will be in my ears." 
 
 " I wish it were really and actually in mine," said 
 Tone. " It is odd that whilst everything was uncertain 
 and changeful, I was strong in hope, but now that every- 
 thing looks promising I begin to feel chokeful of unrest 
 and uncertainty." 
 
 " The result of too much anxiety, dear Tone. It is a 
 feeling you should banish. When men have done their 
 best they should leave the rest to Providence. It is not 
 in man to control the future." 
 
 " Shall we see you again ?" asked MacNevin, as Eugene 
 prepared to depart. 
 
 " I fancy not. I have some calls to make and some 
 little business to transact in the morning, and the diligence 
 starts early." 
 
 " We shall see you at Camaiet, then." 
 
 " And the sooner the better. I wager you Bompart. 
 loses no time if Hardy does not. What a beautiful 
 moonlight night — how bright and silver-like the moon- 
 beams fall on the carpet ! Good-bye." 
 
 chapter xx :: 
 
 THE STORM. 
 
 Without delay Tone reported himself to Hardy. 
 
 Thenceforward his time was fully taken up in aiding 
 his chief in the details of the expedition, acting constantly 
 as the general's secretary. It was only then he began to 
 
THE STOBM. 25) 
 
 see some of the difficulties in connection with the fitting 
 out of an armed force of the kind 
 
 So many things had to be arranged, so many matters to 
 be provided for. There was the selection of the regiments 
 best fitted for irregnlar warfare, such as that in Ireland 
 might chance to be ; the gathering together of these from 
 the different divisions with which they were brigaded 
 through France ; the selection of suitable artillery ; the 
 packing up of cannon-balls and powder and fire-arms and 
 bullets ; the storing away of thousands of muskets, and 
 carbines, and spears, and swords ; the selection of horses 
 and accoutrements and the proper storing of them — in a 
 word, the embarkation of three thousand men. The 
 number might look small on paper, but before they were 
 ready the impatient Irishman had full time to see what 
 responsibilities attached to the proper carriage and pro- 
 visioning of even that number closely packed for some 
 weeks on board a limited number of ships, and in the face 
 of an enemy vigilant and all powerful at sea. 
 
 V\ r ith superhuman energy he worked both night and 
 clay to hurry the expedition. His heart lay with the 
 gallant men in Wexford and elsewhere making an un- 
 availing struggle against overwhelming forces, ^o matter 
 likely to affect the expedition's welfare or success was 
 left untouched or unattended to ; and it was with a heart 
 delighted and joyous, but with a body weary and worn, 
 that on the evening of the 19th September, 1798, he dined 
 for the last time with his wife and children and MacNevin, 
 previous to his departure the next day for Camaret, where 
 the fleet was gathered. 
 
 The evening, nathless the sorrow of separation in the 
 morning, was full of pleasure, and all were bright with 
 hope and promise. 
 
 "You will wait for Kilmaine, Maci^evin," he said, as 
 they separated at a late hour. " He holds nine thousand 
 men in reserve to start with as soon as possible after news 
 of our successful landing reaches him." 
 
 4i I should much rather go now." 
 
 " I am sure you w r ould, but Hardy wishes it. And I, 
 loo. The Directory will need some one to consult, and 
 there is no one here so reliable as you." 
 
252 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " In that case," said MaoNevin, disappointedly, " 1 
 suppose I must ; but I do so with great reluctance. I am 
 thirsting to see Ireland again. I am longing to see the 
 green flag at last unfurled on her hills." 
 
 " You will see it in good time, and all the surer that it 
 will lie in your power to hasten Kilmaine's force. You 
 will be the good genius at his elbow to hurry him on. 
 Carnot has given you a commission in his brigade, and 
 attached you as aide-de-camp to his staff." 
 
 " I am obliged to him, but, as far as that is concerned, 
 where Ireland's cause is at stake, I should as freely fight 
 in the ranks. It is not my own honour I look to, but my 
 country's freedom. It has been the solitary star that 
 shone on my life — the one bright hope that beckoned me 
 on," 
 
 "Unless the fates are more than usually unpropitious 
 the hour has struck when her freedom eometh," said 
 Tone enthusiastically, as he parted from his friend. 
 " The sound of French cannon on Irish hills will ring the 
 knell of tyranny, and the flash of the guns will kindle the 
 light of freedom never to be quenched again in her valleys." 
 
 " Heaven send it," said MaoNevin ; and they parted. 
 
 September 18, 1798, Bompart sailed from the Bay of 
 Camaret. The fleet consisted of one first-class line-of- 
 battle ship, The Hoche — so named at Tone's special desire 
 in honour of the dead hero who had so strongly testified 
 his admiration for Ireland and his unaccomplished desire 
 to aid in recovering her freedom — and eight frigates. A 
 reconnaissance by Carlo in his swift sailing pinnace had 
 shown that for some reason — probably because they had 
 gone to the coast of Spain to watch the Spanish fleet — 
 the English vessels were nowhere to be seen. 
 
 The day was beautifully fine as the nine men-of-war 
 spread their sails above the water, attended by an 
 immense crowd of transports. Not a cloud broke the 
 ?lear arch of summer sky, and, save where the favourable 
 breeze disturbed the surface of the water, the azure above 
 was reflected in the brightening sea beneath. 
 
 Taking a long sweep to the westward, the admiral 
 sought to avoid coming in contact with the British fleet 
 
 In this he was successful, but he met a fiercer foe. 
 
THE STORM. 253 
 
 For some days the -fleet sailed on in splendid order, a 
 magnificent sight to behold- 
 
 " If this weather lasts, Eugene," said Tone to his friend, 
 who had been appointed captain of the commander's 
 vessel, " we shall see the headlands of Ulster shortly." 
 
 4 ' Look yonder, Tone. Do yon see that snnset ?" 
 
 He pointed to the west, where, on the far edge of the 
 distant horizon, there rose above the rim of the Atlantic a 
 black mass of clonds, the edges of which were tnrned into 
 fiery redness by the beams of the sinking snn, and so 
 made the centre to look of pitch blackness. 
 
 It was a weird sight to see, and so Tone thonght. 
 
 " Have yon ever seen the like of that before, Tone ?" 
 
 " I don't think I have. It is very remarkable." 
 
 " It is something more than remarkable. It is dan- 
 gerons." 
 
 " Indications of a storm ?" 
 
 "I never saw snch a snnset as that," said Engene 
 gravely, " bnt one, and that was in the East Indies. I 
 shall long remember it." 
 
 " Preceding a storm ?" 
 
 " Preceding snch a storm as rarely sweeps the surface 
 of the sea. When it was over, the Orient, a 74 man-of- 
 war, had fonndered with all hands, and the Fnndroyant 
 was high and dry ashore — a complete wreck." 
 
 " I hope there is no occasion to dread anything of the 
 kind now," said Tone anxionsly. 
 
 " I hope so, bnt I donbt it. What think yon, admiral ?" 
 — to Bompart, who had joined them. 
 
 " That is an ill-looking sky, Engene," said the admiral 
 quietly. " It means mischief." 
 
 " Jnst what I have been thinking." 
 
 " It is spreading even now." 
 
 Tone glanced westward. The clond did indeed seem to 
 be spreading, like a funeral pall, its intense blackness 
 over a larger portion of the sky. 
 
 " Eugene, I think it were wiser to signal the fleet to sail 
 in more extended order. Abundance of sea room will be 
 wanting to-night." 
 
 " I quite agree with you, admiral. There is a storm, 
 and a dangerous one, imminent." 
 
254 THE SEAN VAN VOGBT. 
 
 Orders were immediate! y given from the nag-ship for 
 the fleet to sail more widely. The order was immediately 
 obeyed. Most of the captains had already noticed the 
 sinister and threatening clond, and had already anticipated 
 the direction. 
 
 It was surprising — surprising to Eugene even, who had 
 long experience of the sea and storm — to see how rapidly 
 the night fell, how swiftly the dark sky flung its forbidding 
 hue over the water. 
 
 " Look, Tone ! look yonder ! There goes the beginning 
 of heaven's artillery." 
 
 A rift seemed to have formed in the centre of the 
 blackness, from which came, like the glow from a wizard's 
 cauldron, a streak of reddish grey weirdly illuming the 
 water. 
 
 " That is the hurricane, Tone; the lightning will come 
 presently." 
 
 Springing from his side, Eugene issued the necessary 
 instructions to furl the sails and let the ship run under 
 bare poles. 
 
 Whilst they were executing the order Tone watched the 
 wierd light travelling over the surface of the water, which 
 latter seemed to grow grievously disturbed under its 
 influence. 
 
 Suddenly the clouds gathered together, and at once out 
 from their centre a red flash of lightning shot, streaking 
 with sudden fire the black background of sky. At the 
 same time a burst of thunder smote their ears, seeming in 
 its extraordinary violence to peal beside them and to 
 rumble along the atmosphere until it died away in the 
 distant sky. 
 
 " We are in for it now," said Eugene, as the coming 
 grey light rapidly approached. It was the hurricane 
 sweeping along the water, and as it struck them its force 
 would have blown the men off their feet had they not held 
 on to the rigging. 
 
 The vessel keeled over on her side under its influence, 
 and the few topsails that remained unfurled were torn to 
 pieces as if they were made of cotton. 
 
 Thence afterwards it was one continuous storm. 
 
 It was difficult to say whether the ceaseless roar of the 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 255 
 
 wind and waves, the rolling discharges of thnnder, or the 
 ?ed flashes of lightning sweeping in grand relief against 
 the background of pitch-black sky, were the most astound- 
 ing. The great man-of-war rolled and tumbled on the 
 mountain waves as if it were the veriest cockleboat. 
 Except for the flashes of lightning that for a heart's-beat 
 of time lit up deck and mast and top-gallant yards with a 
 fierce glare, they were plunging through sea and atmo- 
 sphere black as Erebus. 
 
 So passed the night — a night of unspeakable horror 
 within the huge unmanageable vessel. The only thing 
 that inspired admiral and captain and seamen with con- 
 fidence was that they had plenty of sea-room. There was 
 but little danger from rocks or a lee coast, and unless she 
 sprung a leak, or a huge gun broke from its fastenings 
 and falling through the hold tore a hole in her bottom, 
 she was sure, owing to the precautions, to weather the 
 storm. 
 
 Day succeeded the terrible night, but the storm abated 
 but little. And when it did it made up in duration for 
 its slight cessation of violence. 
 
 For days heavy head winds continued on a violent sea, 
 and it was so far in advance as the 9th of October when 
 the storm entirely ceased, as it had arisen, at nightfall. 
 
 The admiral and Eugene took the bearings, and declared 
 the vessel some eighty miles off the northern shores of 
 Ireland. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 
 
 Next morning as the rays of the sun tipped the summits 
 of the masts and the sea broke forth into brightness, a 
 whistle came from the masthead, 
 
 "Ahoy! What is it?" shouted in response Admiral 
 Born part, who was standing with Tone and others at the 
 poop. 
 
 In the surge of waters and the noise on deck the words 
 
256 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 came, scarcely heard, or with vague indistinctness on their 
 ears. 
 
 " What does he say ?" inquired Tone eagerly. 
 
 " The fleet, I believe," said Bompart, with a quick 
 glance around. 
 
 "No, I think not," said Tone. "Whatever it was, it 
 was not that." 
 
 " We shall soon know," said the admiral impatiently. 
 Then through his speaking trumpet he shouted aloud : 
 
 " We cannot hear you. Call louder." 
 
 " Land !" came in clear response from the top. 
 
 "Land?" echoed all around in tones cf high delight. 
 Short as their time had been at sea, the soldiers were 
 delighted to find themselves once more near land. 
 
 " Ireland! Beloved land!" cried Tone, as his eyes 
 strained through the circling horizon in front to get a 
 glimpse of the land for which he had worked so earnestly, 
 Find towards which his thoughts had oft so yearningly 
 turned. 
 
 But the sharpest eye could as yet detect no sign of 
 land. The grey white mists of morning, curving over, 
 the brightening surface of waters, hid for the present 
 further view from their eyes. 
 
 Meantime the stately ships, with all sails spread to 
 catch the fresh breeze setting in from the north, ploughed 
 their way through the yielding sea. The foam swept up 
 as they careened over, in the swiftness of their going, to 
 the bulwarks ; and as the early fresh rays of dawn fell 
 upon it they seemed to turn it into green and gold. It 
 was a setting of snow-white pearls in rubies and sea- 
 green amethysts, with here and there a placement of 
 sun- red cornelian. High up, in the great rim of heaven, 
 the white cirrhi were purpling with the fresh rosy beams, 
 and were rapidly vanishing into the deep blue. It 
 was at once a sight enlivening and glorious — one of 
 nature's wondrous masterpieces — and enough to make the 
 human heart leap responsive. A thrill of rejoicing seemed 
 to stir in the hearts of the group of officers gathered on 
 the poop. 
 
 " It is a pleasant augury of our expedition to Ireland," 
 said Bompart, who had often enough seen dawnings at 
 sea, but never anything to equal this 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 257 
 
 "It is magnificent," said General Hardy, as his eye, 
 taking in with one sweep the glowing expanse of sea, fell 
 on the wide space of sails now gorgeously colonred as with 
 the pencil of an old master. 
 
 "It is only a foretaste, gentlemen, of what this land 
 yon are coming to is like," said Tone, exnltantly. 
 
 " So very fair as that ?" asked Bompart, langhingly. 
 
 " Fairer you never saw. Fair in the springtime when 
 the grass grows green, fair in the summer when the hills 
 bask in the sunshine ; but when, in the autumn, the trees 
 grow to brown and golden, sweeter land to look upon there 
 never was." 
 
 "Pity its people did not fight for its freedom, then!" 
 said an old officer, with a half sneer. 
 
 " So it is," said Tone. « They often did, but unfortu- 
 nately they were always cursed with incapable leaders. 
 But now," added he, " their destinies seem to be altered, 
 and the flag of France lifted on their shores or on their 
 hills will give them a new light to victory." 
 
 " If there be any worth in them it assuredly will," said 
 Hardy eagerly. " And talking of shores, is that a cloud 
 I see yonder, rising blue over the grey mists, or is it augur 
 of further storm ? Heavens knows we have had enough 
 of storms." 
 
 " It is not sign of storm," said the admiral. " There is 
 no sign now but that of fine weather. It is — land." 
 
 "Land !" cried a dozen delighted voices in unison, as 
 all eyes turned to that mysterious island — to many of 
 them a terra incognita — which had been so much in their 
 thoughts for the past three weeks. 
 
 "Ireland — Innishowen !" cried Tone, as he looked at 
 the chart to find out their position, and knew from a 
 glance at the map that the peaks now rising bluely from 
 the bosom of the mists were the hills of the peninsula 
 just named. 
 
 Eugene had been standing apart during the conversa- 
 tion, looking at the mists receding before the advancing 
 vessel and steadily disappearing before the morning sun. 
 
 The words fell on his ears with startling effect, arousing 
 him as if with an electric shock, from his reverie. 
 
 " Land — Ireland !" he repeated after them — " where ?" 
 
258 TEE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "Yonder, my dear captain — yonder," said Tone, catch, 
 ing his arm in delight. " Do you not see the cloud-like 
 peaks rising from the sea right to the south ?" 
 
 " I do not see them," said Eugene, his eyes failing him 
 partly because of their eagerness to catch the long looked 
 for objects. 
 
 " Do you see that small boat to the south ?" 
 
 Eugene nodded. 
 
 " Lift your eyes a little above it and see where the sun- 
 rays are just now brightening the bills." 
 
 " I see them ! I see them !" cried Eugene delightedly. 
 " Hurrah for Ireland and Seamore ! At last my eyes are 
 blessed with a glance at its green hills." 
 
 " You seem to be as glad as I am myself," said Tone, 
 laughing at the enthusiasm of his friend. 
 
 " Grlad ! I could not be more entranced if it were a 
 vision of Paradise that fell on my eyes." 
 
 " Yet it is not your native land — nor are you as long 
 from seeing it as I am." 
 
 "Nevertheless," said the captain, "I doubt if anyone 
 could rejoice more at seeing it. It is simply delightful to 
 think that to-day we shall tread on Irish soil, and sleep 
 to-night on Irish ground." 
 
 11 There is an old maxim in Ireland," said Tone, whose 
 first enthusiasm had given way to a fit of depression, " that 
 there is many a slip between the milking of a cow and the 
 tasting of the butter ; and without at all seeking to throw 
 cold water on your high-heartedness, I must confess I am 
 not at all sanguine that we shall." 
 
 "What is there to prevent us ?" 
 
 "Why, for the matter of that, anything — everything. 
 Under any circumstances I am glad to see the shores of 
 Ireland again. But look how we come ! After a 
 disastrous voyage of three weeks rounding the northern 
 seas, we come within sight of Ireland witli one line- of - 
 battle ship and three frigates. Think what an invading 
 force that constitutes ! It is the old story of the Bantry 
 Bay expedition over again." 
 
 " I should not have expected these words from you," 
 said Eugene disappointedly. 
 
 "Nor should I, perhaps, have spoken them. But I 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 259 
 
 cannot conceal the disappointment I feel — and I never 
 realised it so thoroughly as now, when after a long 
 absence my eyes fall on Irish hills again — at the non- 
 success of my efforts on Ireland's behalf. It sinks like a 
 leaden weight at my heart." 
 
 " A smaller force has often worked wonders in other 
 countries." 
 
 " So it has ; but the day has passed for that in Ireland. 
 Four months ago and it would have been different." 
 
 "You are unnecessarily downhearted." 
 
 " Perhaps I am. But I shall not be so any longer," 
 said Tone, with a quiet, sad smile, as his eyes rested on 
 the headlands of Innishowen, now coming gradually 
 nearer and looking beyond measure lovely as the slanting- 
 rays of the morning sun fell on their sides, mantling 
 them with rosy light. " It is not for one who for years 
 has not looked upon his native shore to feel long dis- 
 heartened when such a sight as yonder meets his gaze." 
 
 "Is it not beautiful — superb r" cried Eugene enthusi- 
 astically. "And so the admiral thinks, too; see how 
 intently he is gazing at it. Let us join him." 
 
 "Is it not magnificent, mon admiral /"' said he, when 
 they bad joined the party. 
 
 The commander and several of the officers were gazing 
 through their glasses in the direction of the shore, and 
 Eugene, tapping the former on the shoulder, emphasized 
 his remark. 
 
 " Magnificent, Eugene ? " said the admiral, turning 
 around with a questioning look on his face. 
 
 " The scenery — that noble range of hills rejoicing in 
 the morning sunlight. I fancy there is nothing in the 
 world to surpass it." 
 
 "Oh ! the scenery. It is fine, very fine, now that you 
 draw my attention to it," said Bompart with a smile; 
 " but I confess I was not thinking of that, nor looking at 
 it." 
 
 " There must be something else strange in view ?" said 
 Eugene, becoming querist in turn. 
 
 " There is — something that has greater attraction and 
 interest for us just now than your Irish scenery. Take 
 that glass in your hands, look over the western shoulder 
 
2f50 TEE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 of that liill that fronts yon, and tell me if any object 
 strikes yonr view." 
 
 Eugene took the telescope, and, having adjusted it, 
 glanced in the direction indicated. For some time he 
 gazed in silence, then suddenly lowered the glass and 
 turning round, said : 
 
 " The semaphore." 
 
 " Precisely. It has been working rapidly for the past 
 quarter of an-hour. They are signalling some informa- 
 tion." 
 
 " Can no one read it ?" asked Eugene. 
 
 " Unfortunately no. The book containing the English 
 code of signals was mislaid in the hurry of our despatch." 
 
 " They are signalling our advance ?" 
 
 " They are ; but whether giving warning to forts or to 
 a fleet, we are, owing to the absence of the book, unable to 
 tell." 
 
 There was a pause of some duration, during which the 
 vessel, steering to the west, left the signalling semaphore 
 far behind. 
 
 Standing close in by Malin Head and leaving the little 
 island of Innistrahul to the right, the fair expanse of 
 Lough Swilly began to open out before them. 
 
 Suddenly an exclamation burst from one of the officers 
 as he pointed with outstretched hands in the direction of 
 the Lough. All eyes followed his motion, and as they did 
 a thrill passed through the assembled group. 
 
 For standing down the bay, with close set sails, and 
 with decks apparently cleared for action, was the British 
 fleet. 
 
 Striking and imposing they looked — six sail of the line, 
 one razee ship of sixty guns, and two frigates. 
 
 u That explains the working of the semaphore, gentle- 
 men," said the admiral quietly, as he looked with long 
 and eager glance at the stately liners moving towards the 
 opening of the bay. 
 
 " And ends the expedition," said Tone. 
 
 "I should think so," said Bompart, turning his head 
 around to look at the three frigates, the remnant of his 
 fleet, that sailed some distance behind him. " We are too 
 few to win, and too near to escape." 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 261 
 
 " Small chance of winning with that splendid force of 
 vessels to contend with," said Eugene, glancing with ad- 
 miration at the fleet as it sailed forward in far- extended 
 order. 
 
 " None whatever," bnrst from many officers at the 
 same moment. The fact was palpable to all. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, this is somewhat untoward, though 
 not unexpected. Our frigates behind may escape ; ws 
 cannot. Surrender is out of the question. What shall 
 be done ?" 
 
 11 Fight her while she lasts," said Eugene, and as he 
 spoke a cheer arose from the band of officers assembled, 
 announcing their hearty concurrence in the proposal. 
 
 " I thought that would be about your decision, gentle- 
 men," said the admiral, " and, that being so, I think we 
 had better prepare for business and signal the frigates to 
 make their escape. Their mission here is ended." 
 
 " I fancy their mission anywhere is ended. There is 
 but little chance of their escaping," said Eugene. 
 
 " They must take their chance for that. It would 
 simply be a sacrifice of the soldiers they carry to bring 
 them into action here. Signal the Roise to come near ; 
 we shall transfer to her the line regiment from our own 
 vessel. They would only cumber us during the action, 
 and be needlessly slaughtered." 
 
 The frigate was accordingly signalled to draw near, 
 which she did, and in a very short time the troops on 
 board the Hoche were re-embarked on board the Roise, 
 whilst the officers, sailors, and marines of the former 
 worked with untiring energy to get the vessel into fighting 
 trim. 
 
 When the Roise was about to put off, the admiral 
 walked over to where Tone was standing watching with 
 lonely indifference the transfer of the troops. 
 
 "Another day of evil to Ireland," Tone said, as the 
 former took his arm. 
 
 " It cannot be helped," said the admiral, with deep 
 sympathy for the disappointed patriot. 
 
 "Not now, I daresay," said Tone bitterly. 
 
 " The fates will have it so," said Bompart. " I grieve 
 for your many disappointments-— I assure you I do — but 
 
262 TEE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 there is little use in grieving against what is decreed. 
 And there is but little time f o r talking over the matter 
 just now — or sorrowing over it. Why I come to you is 
 this : To prevent the inevitable sacrifice of these regiments, 
 we are sending them— if we can — back to France. The 
 Boise is a good sailer and will outrun their fastest vessel. 
 She is pretty certain by making a wide sweep to reach 
 France or a friendly Continental port in safety. You 
 must sail in her." 
 
 " I ?" queried Tone, turning sharply round and facing 
 the admiral, his anger at the suggestion showing itself in 
 his pale face and whitening lips. " I ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear Tone. Do not be angry. We are 
 Frenchmen and shall find a soldier's death on the open 
 deck or in the sea ; but you are not called on to do so — 
 for this fight — battle it cannot be called — can avail naught 
 for Ireland. It can only preserve the honour of France 
 and her fleet." 
 
 "And you therefore suggest that I should fly from 
 Ireland, now that I have, after many years' absence, come 
 almost within swimming distance of her shores ?" Tone 
 asked disdainfully. 
 
 " Do not be angry with me, my dear Tone," said the 
 admiral deprecatingly, but with gentle and chivalrous 
 courtesy, as he saw the hot blood rush into the pale face 
 of the speaker. " There stands on the deck of the Hoche 
 to-day none readier to sacrifice his life in a good or brave 
 cause than you. But consider. We fight now for our 
 honour — not for Ireland. Our guns are shotted for tl^ 
 stainless honour of our flag. The expedition is at an end 
 We Frenchmen shall die on the deck, which is still French 
 land, or we shall go down with our vessel. You have no 
 cause in all this — no share in the national honour. You 
 may still hope to work for your country." 
 
 " I have no choice to make," said Tone resolutely, but 
 with a voice that trembled not from sorrow but the 
 anguish of disappointment. " I have come within sight 
 of the shores of Ireland and I shall not fly from them." 
 
 " There is another consideration," said Bompart gravely. 
 " If the Hoche should be captured without being sunk, 
 and that those of her crew living are taken prisoners, 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 2G3 
 
 fchey would be treated as prisoners of war. How would 
 you fare under such circumstances ? I think it right to 
 put this view before you. You shall be tried, possibly — 
 I know these English well — as an Englishman in arms 
 against his country." 
 
 " It matters not. I shall not go from the shores of 
 Ireland now that I am come within view of them, let 
 what will betide. I said I should come in the next expe- 
 dition if but a corporal's guard sailed for Ireland, and I 
 have come, I shall not leave the Hoche — you willing — 
 whilst a plank of her deck holds together or a gun is able 
 to send a bullet to the foe. Your men have come at my 
 solicitation — I shall share their dangers, and, if it be 
 so willed, go beneath the waves with them." 
 
 " Bravely spoken : and right soothing words to hear," 
 said the admiral. " I would our expedition had been more 
 successful, and I can and do sympathise with your dis- 
 appointed hopes and with your struggling land. As it is 
 we can only fight and die together." 
 
 " Bravely spoken — because Tone spoke," said Eugene, 
 coming from behind. " Who would have expected him 
 to have said otherwise ? And mon admiral, you are losing 
 precious time to but little purpose. The fleet are bearing 
 straight for us. Every moment is necessary for prepara- 
 tion. Let the Boise cut her cables and put on all press of 
 sail whilst there is yet time. We shall delay, I hope, any 
 vessel that attempts to follow. We have the power to 
 cripple, if not to conquer, left us yet at any rate." 
 
 " Very well ; give the necessary orders, then, for her to 
 make sail," answered the admiral. 
 
 In a few moments after the Boise had slipped her cable, 
 and with flowing sheets was standing out to sea ; whilst 
 the clangour and din proceeding with greater energy than 
 ever on board the Hoche, showed the unmistakable inten- 
 tion of her men and ofiicers. 
 
 It was a moment of supreme excitement. 
 
 About to be surrounded by several vessels, some of them 
 more powerful, and all equal in strength and armament, 
 there lay before her the chances of being sunk or captured. 
 Hope there was none. Yet no one on board — and Tone 
 watched their movements eagerly — showed the slightest 
 
264 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 symptom of despondency, not to say fear. Their whole 
 anxiety seemed to be to make a bold fight of it, and either 
 to let the vessel go down with the tricolor still flying 
 from her top-mast or leave her shattered hnlk for the 
 enemy to capture. With death staring them palpably 
 and unavoidably in the face, and for a cause not their 
 own, he marvelled to see how from the lowest to the 
 highest all worked with lighthearted energy and gaiety. 
 Had they been preparing their ship for the welcome of 
 some important visitor more pleasant words and more 
 laughing faces could not be heard or seen on board. 
 
 Meantime the English fleet, emerging from the entrance 
 to Lough Swilly, steadily advanced. 
 
 And truly an imposing sight they looked, as, everything 
 having been got ready, the guns loaded and protruded 
 through the port-holes, the shot and shell and powder 
 ready to hand, the officers of the Roche had time to take 
 survey of them. One of them, the Valiant, was a con- 
 siderable distance in advance of the others, and had 
 reached to within a mile or less, when a flag ran up to 
 her top-mast. 
 
 '•A summons to surrender!" burst from many indig- 
 nant voices. 
 
 " It is, indeed," said Bompart. " She shall get a fitting 
 answer." 
 
 He walked over to where, beside a sixty-four pounder, 
 the gunners stood with lighted torches. The Hoche 
 stood broadside to the coming fleet, and the admiral care- 
 fully trained with his own hands the cannon on the 
 summoner. 
 
 Taking the torch from the cannonier, he applied it to 
 the touch-hole. A blinding explosion followed, a volume 
 of white smoke rolled upwards, and the missile went 
 speeding on its way. All eyes were immediately turned 
 on the approaching vessel. 
 
 A cheer went up as they saw it strike the bulwarks, 
 scattering the men around and throwing up a cloud of 
 splinters. It had evidently done considerable harm, and, 
 as they could see through their glasses, created great 
 commotion on board. 
 
 In a moment after the colour just hoisted glided down 
 the rope to the deck and the Valiant held on her way. 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 261 
 
 " That pnts an end to all courtesies for the present," 
 said Eugene laughingly, as the officers quickly departed 
 to take up their different positions, leaving himself, the 
 admiral, and Tone alone. 
 
 " It is pretty clear from their movements they did not 
 expect that," said Bompart, still gazing through his 
 glass. 
 
 " They are preparing to reply to it pretty energetically," 
 said Eugene, as the huge vessel swept to leeward of them, 
 bringing her long broadside of guns fairly abreast. 
 
 " They must have the first salute, then," said the 
 admiral, as placing his trumpet to his mouth, he shouted, 
 " Ready, men ! Train your guns on her ! Fire !" 
 
 Save the cries of the officers repeating the order, the 
 tugging of ropes, and the noise of the shifting guns, 
 there was no response for a minute or two. 
 
 The torches along the vast decks of the Hoche, burning 
 dimly in the garish light of day, seemed, as they moved 
 uneasily, weird and uncanny. 
 
 "How long they are getting ready!" thought Tone, 
 his impatience making the seconds seem hours. " Will 
 they never have done preparing ? The enemy will be 
 ready before them." 
 
 While he was yet considering, a sudden burst of thunder 
 made him start from where he stood ! 
 
 The red light, paling even the daylight, made him 
 close his eyes involuntarily. The white mantle of smoke 
 came in rolling gusts from the deck and from every 
 port- hole in the long length of the vessel's side, until, 
 floating upwards, it formed a vapoury canopy above 
 them, through which the sun shone redly as in a fog. 
 Unheeding of this, however, his first glance when the 
 shock had passed and before yet the enveloping smoke 
 had come, was at the foe. 
 
 The full force of the storm of heavy shot had told. 
 The round bullets had struck her, making gaps in her 
 sides, or splintering their massive planking. 
 
 Others, aimed higher, had struck the bulwarks or 
 Bwept the deck, and one striking the second mast had 
 Bmashed it, and it was, even while he looked, swaying 
 Unsteadily, merely sustained in its position by the ropes 
 hhat conuected it with the others and with the deck. 
 
266 TEE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 The whole thing had taking place in almost the twink 
 ling of an eye, but the havoc wrought was indescribable 
 The vessel, a moment before as trim and neat as if jusi 
 turned from the builder's yard, so clean and new and 
 ordered it looked, had in that short space of time become 
 a scene of almost inextricable wreck and confusion ! 
 
 A shot struck the carriage of one of the deck guns, 
 overturning it and crushing several of the cannoniers that 
 stood beside. A rush of sailors to the relief of their 
 comrades ; a loosening and disorderly falling about of the 
 ropes that held the broken mast ; a scattering of broken 
 timbers around, in the air, and on the deck and the sea, 
 and a crowd of forms tugging at the guns, were the last 
 sights that Tone saw as the blinding smoke gathered over 
 him, shutting the Valiant from his view. 
 
 " That broadside told," said Eugene in his ear, whilst 
 yet the Hoche trembled with the recoil of her guns. 
 
 Tone was about to answer with an earnest affirmative, 
 when a tremendous blow, as of a hundred huge iron 
 mallets, struck the side of their vessel ; and at the same 
 moment a hissing whirlwind swept the deck, tearing 
 through sails, splintering bulwarks, and rattling with 
 sodden sound off their own guns. 
 
 It was the answering broadside from the enemy ! 
 
 And a disastrous one it was. The flash of light, 
 piercing even the sulphurous smoke that canopied them, 
 had scarcely vanished when Tone, looking along the deck 
 as far as it was visible, saw forms prone on it, or sailors 
 staggering to their death. The officer in charge of the 
 gun nearest him lay on his face under the trunnion, his 
 cutlass still held firmly in his hand. Several of the 
 men thereat had been also swept down in the rush of 
 grape ! 
 
 While Tone was watching with eager eyes, wholly 
 oblivious of his own danger, the effects of the enemy's first 
 broadside, and unconsciously wondering at the swiftness 
 with which men are hurled into eternity — how ruthlessly 
 the golden thread of life is snapped ai:d torn by these 
 speeding messengers of death — a rope that had been cut 
 by a bullet fell, striking him on the face and for a 
 moment blinding him. 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 267 
 
 At the same time a hand was laid on his shoulder and 
 Eugene's voice was in his ears : 
 
 " That battery, Tone, has lost its officer. Yon mnst 
 take charge of it." 
 
 He needed no further direction, bnt hurried to his post. 
 The gun was not only unofficered but almost unmanned. 
 
 Stripping off his gold-embroidered uniform, he aided 
 the men to charge and load again, with his own hands 
 ramming home the charge of canister that was to be their 
 next offering to the foe. Thenceforward he knew but 
 little of the work that went on beyond his own gun. 
 Amid an entanglement of cut and fallen ropes, of patches 
 and shreds of torn sails ; amid cries from wounded men, 
 hoarse commands from officers, and frantic cheers from 
 the sailors as a broadside thundered at the enemy ; amid 
 whirlwinds of striking, hissing, tearing, and rending 
 bullets, he fought on, loading and firing, as fast as hands 
 could load and fire, at the unseen enemy — unseen in the 
 canopy of smoke ! 
 
 The continuous roar of thunder that filled the air 
 around ; the furious work that went on on deck ; the 
 hurrying swarthy forms that moved about, carrying 
 powder and shot and shell, dimly seen in the choking 
 cloud of sulphurous smoke — now black and grimy, save 
 when a lurid flash from the belching cannon illumined it 
 — rendered the scene a very Pandemonium. But he heard 
 none of it. His whole thoughts and energies were given 
 to the work at his hand. It was only when Eugene, lay- 
 ing hold of the cannon, said : 
 
 " This gun is too hot for further firing. You must let 
 it cool," that his attention was withdrawn from the work 
 in hand. 
 
 He turned to speak to Eugene, but the latter had 
 vanished. 
 
 " Boarders forward ! Cutlasses to the front !" 
 
 The command, shouted in Eugene's well-known voice, 
 directed his attention to the other side of the vessel, from 
 <vhich the order proceeded ; and turning to look there a 
 strange sight met his eyes. 
 
 The tall masts and rigging of a huge vessel raised 
 themselves in the air beside the Roche. 
 
258 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 Across the ribbed and torn bulwarks of the latter 
 grappling irons had been thrown from the strange vessel ; 
 a rough passage of planks had been pnshed across ; and at 
 this moment a crowd of barefooted sailors, with gleaming 
 cutlasses in their hands, were hurrying therealong or 
 jumping therefrom on to the deck. 
 
 So extremely quick was the movement, so little time 
 did it occupy, that the grapples had hardly been thrown 
 when the planks were pushed across and the English 
 sailors were rushing along them. 
 
 The cry of " Boarders forward " brought leaping to 
 their feet a band of Frenchmen, who, specially detailed 
 for this purpose, had been lying on their faces, axe and 
 cutlass in hand, along the deck beside the bulwarks. In 
 a second they had thrown themselves on the boarders, 
 and a furious hand-to-hand fight commenced ! 
 
 The vigour of the British, or, perhaps, their number, 
 was unequal to the determination and fury of the French, 
 and in a brief space the deck was strewn with the dead, 
 as the cleaving axe dealt them blow after blow. Some 
 were forced by sheer bodily strength across the bulwarks, 
 in deadly wrestling match, whence they fell headlong into 
 the water between the two vessels. Others, there being 
 no other escape from the uplifted axe, vaulted boldly 
 across ! 
 
 It was a terrible scene whilst it lasted ! 
 
 Tone, standing at his gun, looked with something akin 
 to amazement at the sudden and furious combat. The 
 fray ended almost as soon as it had begun ; the grappling 
 irons were unhooked and thrown over ; the end of the 
 boarding plank — with the crowding sailors thereon, unable 
 to advance, unable in the pressure from behind to retreat 
 — was dropped into the sea. 
 
 A cheer went up from the conquerors as once more the 
 thunders of a broadside, poured into the foe at a few feet 
 distance, drowned all other noise and din. 
 
 It was a sorry sight — to behold, after this work of a 
 few minutes, the mangled and cloven forms of the men 
 lately vigorous and full of life, strewing that portion of 
 the deck in every conceivable attitude and position. But 
 the wreathing smoke, with kindly effect, gathered over 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 269 
 
 and veiled the sight — hiding from men's gaze the cruel 
 work of their hands. 
 
 " Bind this np, Tone. That was qnick work — was it 
 not?" 
 
 Eugene was standing beside him, whilst yet Tone was 
 vagnelj gazing through the smoke for him. There was 
 an ugly gash in his right arm where an English cutlass 
 point had gone through it, and it was bleeding fast. 
 
 " Hurry, Tone. The admiral is badly wounded, and I 
 must get his directions whilst he is able to give them. 
 Bind it up with a strip of linen. There! There, that 
 will do." 
 
 " That was a terrible business, Eugene," said Tone, 
 whilst he hastily bound up the wound. 
 
 " It was — short and sharp. There was not much quarter 
 asked for or given. But not different from what has gone 
 on elsewhere in the ship." 
 
 " The English vessels must be greatly damaged ? " 
 queried Tone, as he saw his friend departing, and longed 
 to learn some news of the results of the last two hours' 
 work. 
 
 " They are, but none so badly as ours. She cannot 
 fight or float much longer. The guns are all too heated 
 to fire much more. Scarcely a fourth of our gunners are 
 alive at their guns, and there is five feet of water in the 
 hold. She has been struck several times under water." 
 
 " What do you propose doing ?" 
 
 " Whatever the admiral directs when I report to him. 
 We have done all that men can do. We cannot fight 
 much longer," said Eugene hurriedly. 
 
 " Do you suggest surrender ?" 
 
 " No ; I, for one, will not." 
 
 " If you cannot fight and will not surrender, what other 
 course do you propose ?" 
 
 " Blow her up ! There are a hundred tons of powder 
 yet in her magazines. That torch you hold will send her 
 and half the enemy skyward, once I get the order." 
 
 " You are right. It is the fitting thing to do. For my 
 part there is nothing more to be hoped for or lived for. 
 It would be a fitting and a welcome end to my lost life 
 and endeavours." 
 
270 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 Eugene, his wound partially bound up, hastened away. 
 Meantime, the lull that had accompanied and followed 
 the attack of the boarding party was broken by a fresh 
 outburst of cannonading ; and, as if from all points of the 
 compass, a concentration of artillery fire was poured upon 
 the Hoche without intermission — now from this side, now 
 from that, now from altogether — crashing into her sides, 
 sweeping her decks, tearing through her portholes, killing 
 or maiming the men and disabling the guns. Never- 
 theless, the unwounded of the devoted vessel stood 
 pluckily by their guns, and, when the first fierce storm of 
 the iron whirlwind was over, rapidly charged and shotted 
 them : the battle went on furiously as ever — Tone's bat- 
 tery firing steadily at the flashing portholes of the foe, the 
 only mark they had now to guide their aim by. 
 
 " Captain Lefebre wishes to see you," said a sailor, black 
 and grimy enough to look negro-born, to Tone, just after 
 a six-inch solid shot had carried away the trunnions of 
 his gun, completely disabling it. 
 
 " It is well I am wanted somewhere, for I am wanted 
 here no longer," thought Tone, as he turned away with 
 the messenger. 
 
 Eugene was kneeling on the poop, beside a form lying 
 thereon, whom, as soon as he approached, Tone recognised 
 as the admiral. Some sand- bags piled beside him pro- 
 tected his wounded form from the enemy's bullets. 
 
 " I sent for you, Tone," said Eugene hurriedly and not 
 without some embarrassment, "to acquaint you that in 
 the present ruined and disabled condition of the Hoche it 
 is necessary to surrender." 
 
 " To surrender !" said Tone. 
 
 " The admiral orders it. There are only two courses 
 open. To blow her up, or fight until she sinks or is 
 stormed anew by their boarders. The admiral declares 
 both to be against the rules of war, the ship being no 
 longer tenable or capable of defence." 
 
 " So you propose to surrender? — when ?" asked Tone, 
 with a look of pain and mortification. 
 
 " Immediately," said Eugene, as he raised himself from 
 where he knelt receiving the wounded admiral's directions. 
 " There is nothing else for it. As you are the one 
 
DEFEAT OF TEE EXPEDITION. 271 
 
 mainly concerned with the expedition, the admiral, with 
 his nsnal courtesy, even in his dangerous state, desired 
 that yon should be made acquainted with the necessary 
 and final step." 
 
 Leaving Tone to his reflections, Eugene proceeded to 
 give the necessary directions. 
 
 The guns of the Hoche suddenly ceased firing ; a tiny 
 white flag ran up to the top-gallant yard-arm ; and, 
 as it did so, the great banner of the Tricolor came slowlv 
 down ! 
 
 It had hung all day above the storm-cloud of battle, 
 and as it descended from its proud position, dozens oi 
 gallant men who looked death steadily in the face closed 
 their eyes that they should not see it. But there was 
 never less reason for sorrow. For hours it had hung over 
 a gallant battle against fearful odds, and it was surren- 
 dered if in defeat certainly not in dishonour. 
 
 At once, as if by magic, the firing ceased. A tremendous 
 cheer of exultation burst from the crews of the English 
 men-of-war, and in a few minutes a group of officers 
 passed on board from one of the vessels. 
 
 Eugene advanced to meet them. 
 
 An officer, past middle age, whose breast was covered 
 with stars and decorations, walked forward from the 
 group. 
 
 " I am Sir John Borlase Warren," he said, bowing to 
 Eugene, " admiral of the English fleet." 
 
 " In the stead of our Admiral Bompart, who lies 
 wounded, I have to surrender the line- of -battle ship 
 Hoche, of the French Republican fleet, and my sword." 
 
 " I must decline to take your sword," said the admiral, 
 with a courteous wave of his hand. " You have fought a 
 gallant if a reckless fight, and you shall wear it as 
 becomes a brave and fearless officer. Where is the 
 admiral ?" 
 
 Eugene brought him to where the French admiral lay, 
 whilst the remainder of the English officers scattered 
 themselves through the ship — some to take curious note 
 of the condition she was in after the fiery ordeal to 
 which she had been subjected, others to look after the 
 prisoners and their arms, and not a few, with Quick 
 
272 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 intelligence, to the magazines, for it had been known thai 
 the Hoche carried an immense quantity of powder in her 
 hold. The marvel was that in the terrific bombardment 
 to which she had been subjected it had not been blown np 
 long before. But, having been built into compartments 
 surrounded with tanks of water, any opening made by a 
 bullet only formed the entrance for an inrush of water, 
 which speedily damping the explosive material negatived 
 the effect of the projectile. There was still, however, the 
 tremendous danger that some hand, full of revenge or 
 desperation, might yet blow her as well as the surrounding 
 fleet into mid air. 
 
 But there was no attempt of the kind made, or if any 
 had been in preparation, the measures taken had been 
 sufficiently swift to intercept them. 
 
 All the arrangements for the safety of their prize were 
 carefully made ; and when her gaping wounds were 
 staunched and made water-tight, the fleet, many of the 
 vessels of which were terribly shattered and battered, 
 bearing their prize away, sailed up the open waters of 
 Lough S willy. 
 
 The mellow sun of an Autumn evening, glowing over 
 the hills of Donegal, lit up the broad expanse of lake, and 
 even purpled the blood-stained decks with its streaks of 
 gold. 
 
 It fell upon the black and torn sails of the Hoche, and 
 upon her sides pitted and marked from stem to stern, 
 from bulwark to water-line, with cannon balls. 
 
 Her sails were cut into a thousand shreds ; her ropes 
 hung dangling on the deck, flapping idly in the breeze ; 
 cannon and bullet and splintered shell lay in rough pro- 
 fusion around ; but, most awful sight of all — facing 
 heaven, still and silent, their white teeth and white unclosed 
 eyes looking so strange in contrast with the black and 
 grimy appearance of their hands and faces after hours of 
 cannonading — lay the fallen soldiers and seamen of the 
 gallant Frenchman ! 
 
 Truly against fearful odds never fought vessel more 
 gallantly ; never did Frenchmen, even in the early wars 
 of the Revolution, show such marvellous bravery and 
 contempt for death. Each individual sailor and seaman 
 
DEFEAT OF THE EXPEDITION. 273 
 
 fought with the same reckless bravery and dauntlessness 
 as if the honour of the tricolor and the safety of France 
 depended on himself alone. 
 
 " The last hope of Ireland, Eugene," said Tone, with 
 swelling heart, as, having been taken on board the English 
 vessel, they met among the crowd of officers. 
 
 " The last in our time," said the late captain of the 
 Hoche, " but a man's life is short, whilst that of a nation 
 is long. The years to come will bring it aronnd again." 
 
 " Bnt for ns the day is over," said Tone. 
 
 " I fear it is," said Eugene sympathisingly. 
 
 " Then my future is void. I lived for this and this 
 only." 
 
 " You have the consolation, my dear Tone, that you 
 have done all that man may do. You have done better 
 than command success — you have deserved it. But we 
 cannot control the Fates. God holds all things in the 
 palm of His hands, and has His own wise reasons for 
 what happens. You have still your delightful wife and 
 foung children left you. By-the-by, lest the English 
 might recognise you, would it not be well to disguise 
 yourself in some way ?" 
 
 Tone was but an inattentive listener. His mind, whilst 
 yet his friend spoke, was otherwise employed ; and the 
 far-away-look in his eyes indicated that his thoughts were 
 upon things and objects very distant. 
 
 " Take this cloak, Tone, and v% rap yourself up in it. 
 The evening is growing chilly. It will serve a double 
 purpose." 
 
 While speaking, Eugene took from the broken trunnion 
 of a cannon an English officer's cloak. At that moment the 
 bugle sounded, and a number of officers came hurrying 
 through the group, making arrangements for the landing 
 of the prisoners, and in the confusion separating the two 
 friends. 
 
 A tender came alongside, and Eugene was hurried on 
 board. 
 
 But he saw Tone no more. The breeze from the hills 
 came thin and cold, and he had had nothing to eat since 
 morning. Moreover, his wound was painful, and the loss 
 of blood was making" him feel weak. He wrapped the 
 
274 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 cloak — the cloak lie had proffered Tone — around him, and 
 sitting down on a box of ammunition, laid his arms on 
 the breech of a cannon, his head thereon, and in a few 
 seconds was fast asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 THE CLIFFS OF LOCGII SWILLY. 
 
 " Eugene ! Engene ! — waken up ! — what are you sleeping 
 for ? Waken, I say." 
 
 The words, whispered energetically into his ear, com- 
 bined with the touch of a hand on his shoulder, woke him 
 a little. There was a dim feeling palpable to him that he 
 was being called, but it came so vaguely to his torpid 
 senses that it passed away and he again relapsed into 
 slumber. 
 
 " Confound you, Eugene ! Waken ! Do you know where 
 you are ?" 
 
 The person speaking this time made certain that there 
 should be some result from his words, for he took the half 
 unconscious sleeper, and lifting him in his arms, placed 
 him standing upright on his feet. This had the desired 
 effect. The necessity for physical action drove the torpor 
 and lethargy from his brain, and he was quickly alive to 
 what was going on around him. 
 
 His awakener was muffled up in the long cloak of an 
 English artillery officer. 
 
 " Give me your arm, Eugene, and walk with me." 
 
 A dim perception seemed to come on his thoughts th; t 
 he had heard the voice before, and that the speaker wai 
 quite familiar to him. He was about in some vague way 
 to ask a question thereanent, but the unknown appeared 
 to divine his intention, and said hurriedly : 
 
 " No, not now. Don't open your lips. Keep your 
 cloak well wrapped about you and follow me." 
 
 In the crowd of men and officers passing out they passed 
 out too. But instead of following the crowd that poured 
 along the narrow streets of the fishing village where they 
 
THE CLIFFS OF LOUGH SWILLY. 275 
 
 landed, Eugene's companion, with a quick turn, deflected 
 into a lane where a fisherman was standing, thence into 
 another at right angles thereto, and, before any notice 
 was taken of their departure, were quite out of sight and 
 hearing. 
 
 " Now, Eugene, jump up here," he said, as a car was 
 standing ready yoked. " We must put some miles between 
 us and this without delay. You will not be missed for 
 some time in the confusion, but as soon as you will, sharp 
 search will be made for you. So there's no time to be 
 lost. Don't stay to ask questions. I'm Francois — and 
 that's enough for the present. I shall tell you all later 
 on. We shall be on the highway to France to-morrow 
 afternoon. Come ! jump up !" 
 
 A thrill of delight, even with all his weariness and 
 weakness, passed through Eugene at the prospect of being 
 again free. The delight was compounded with wonder- 
 ment as to how Francois had come there so opportunely — 
 apparently off the enemy's vessel, too. 
 
 But both sensations were effervescent ; chill and cold 
 and deadly sense of weariness rapidly supervened ; and it 
 was almost mechanically that he allowed himself to be 
 helped to his seat by the vigorous arm of his young 
 friend. 
 
 A world of vague dreams grew about him as the words 
 of the latter fell on his ear. 
 
 " Drive rapidly. There is no time for delay.'' 
 The car, with the semi- unconscious occupant encircled 
 in the arms of his young friend, drove quickly out of the 
 village. Fortunately along this side of the lough, and 
 bordering the road along which they passed, thick bushes 
 grew, hiding them from observation — if indeed observa- 
 tion were to be thought of by anyone after the exciting 
 incidents of the day. 
 
 The sun was low down in the skies. The thick bank of 
 clouds in the West had turned to purple and gold a« the 
 desceading orb poured his flood of glory upwards, when 
 they reached the pass of Cranmore. 
 
 It lay along the side of a cliff overhanging the lcugh 
 Far in the distance they could see the fleet lying at anchor 
 dimly, for the darkening eve was beginning to close. But 
 
276 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. - 
 
 Df other sign of living presence or habitation there was 
 none. Save the tall, half-barren cliff that lifted its sum- 
 mit overhead, and the scrubby mass of stunted brushwood 
 hat grew beneath, sloping to the water's edge, there was 
 nothing else to disturb or attract the attention. The road 
 was a narrow ledge cut by unskilled hands along the side 
 of the cliff, and allowed passage but for one vehicle at a 
 time. It was, therefore, necessary to proceed with the 
 greatest care and caution up its steep ascent. 
 
 At this moment a faint noise like unto the tread of hoofs 
 fell on the ear of the young x^renchman. 
 
 Descending from his seat and placing his hand on the 
 horse's bridle, he listened for a moment. 
 
 " Do you hear anything ?" the driver asked, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 "Yes. 1 have been hearing it for some seconds. It is 
 the tramp of cavalry. They are coming in this direction. 
 Drive on quicker — drive as quickly as you can," said 
 Francois with excitement. 
 
 " We cannot go faster in this road unless we go over 
 the cliffs," said the driver; "and the tramping seems to 
 be coming nearer very fast." 
 
 They had ascended the sharp acclivity of a hill whose 
 height, elevating itself over minor obstacles, looked down 
 on the road by which they had come. There was no 
 intervening thing to break the noise arising from below, 
 and therefore the tramp of the advancing horsemen came 
 on their ears with fresh distinctness. 
 
 " They will overtake us in twenty minutes," said the 
 driver decisively. 
 
 " And we cannot stir from this road." 
 
 " With the car, not an inch." 
 
 " What can we do ?" 
 
 " Shelter in the rocks until they pass." 
 
 " But the car will betray us." 
 
 " We must get rid of it." 
 
 "But how?" 
 
 The driver shrugged his shoulders. There was. how- 
 ever, a look of intelligence in his eye which Francois read 
 at once. 
 
 " I believe you are right : t is the only thing possible," 
 
THE CLIFFS OF LOUGH SWILLY. 277 
 
 .said the latter with a quick smile. " Eugene ! Eugene ! 
 I say, awake ! There is not a moment to be lost." 
 
 A hurried and unceremonious shake quickly aroused 
 the slumberer, who — the rest and sleep having much re- 
 freshed him — was more ready to attend to outward cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 " Eh ! Where am I ? Is this you, Francois ? I was 
 dreaming of Seamore." 
 
 " Never mind Seamore — wherever that is," said 
 Francois hurriedly, " and only remember that you are 
 an escaping prisoner, with English cavalry coming swiftly 
 after you." 
 
 "Yes. I remember now," said the late captain of the 
 Hoche, shaking himself free from his stupor and dreams. 
 " Cavalry, did you say — where ?" 
 
 " Listen." 
 
 For a moment they listened ; the hoof-beats on the 
 stony road coming with greater and nearer resonance. 
 
 "We shall be taken, Francois," said Eugene with a 
 shudder. " Is there no means of hurrying forward ?" 
 
 "To go even a yard faster in every half hour would 
 send us over the precipice. We must go along at a snail's 
 pace." 
 
 " What shall we do ? We cannot suffer ourselves to be 
 retaken." 
 
 " Then I'll tell you what we must do. Take to these 
 rocks overhead. They will afford us shelter for a time. 
 It would be quite impossible for them to find us out in the 
 dusk of the evening or in the night." 
 
 " But the vehicle will point out our hiding-place to 
 them at once." 
 
 " We shall hurl it over the cliff, Eugene. It is our 
 only chance. As Augereau hurled his cannon over the 
 precipice of Monterey. It is a good augur in our retreat," 
 said Francois, with a ray of his old gaiety beaming through 
 his smile- 
 
 " Precisely what I thought myself," said Eugene with 
 a faint smile. 
 
 After a short conversation with the driver the horse 
 was unyoked, and, while yet on their ears the tramp of 
 the pursuing horses was growing perilously near, the car 
 
278 THE SHAN VAN V0GH1 
 
 and its accompaniments were by their united aid hurled 
 down the steep embankment. It was a work of little 
 trouble, for no wall or protection bordered the road from 
 the cliff, and the vehicle went tumbling down, carry- 
 ing with it an avalanche of stones and shingle, 
 until it reached the bottom and plunged into the coarse 
 brushwood that grew around the base, burying itself 
 therein. 
 
 The driver, that operation effected, mounted the shaggy 
 pony and galloped forward along the cliff road, whilst 
 Eugene aud Francois, the former helped by the latter, 
 crept up the hill side and sought shelter behind some rocks. 
 
 " This is a queer outcome to the expedition for the 
 freedom of Ireland — is it not P" said Francois as, after 
 recovering themselves from their harried climb, and 
 having gathered their breath, they were free to watch 
 for the coming of their pursuers, and talk in whispered 
 sentences. 
 
 " It is unfortunate," replied Eugene. 
 
 "Unfortunate! It is miserable — disgraceful," said 
 Francois emphatically. " I do not mind my own share in 
 the business, if any honour had resulted from it, or indeed 
 any success at all ; but think of it, Eugene ! to give up the 
 chance of captain of hussars in D'Auvergne's command — 
 and on active service, too — for this business !" 
 
 M It was unfortunate undoubtedly," said Eugene, not 
 anamused at his companion's self-deprecation and disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 "Unfortunate!" exclaimed the other. "Only think 
 of it again ! Look on me hiding here, a fugitive out- 
 cast, behind a rock on the side of a barren mountain, 
 in — I might almost call it — a desert island. And hiding 
 from whom ? from what ? A handful of cavalry that a 
 Centieme hussar would charge single-handed !" 
 
 " You may thank your stars, Francois, if you can con. 
 tinue hiding, and safely continue. There is no dishonour 
 when men have done their best in a good cause. And as 
 to these cavalry pursuing us — they may be few, but, 
 they are as powerful under the circumstances as if they 
 numbered thousands. You may be, and have often 
 proved yourself, daring enough when two armies were 
 
THE CLIFFS OF LOUGH SWILLT. 279 
 
 engaged — but, Francois, the only glory we need hope for 
 now is the glory of escape. Yon don't know," added 
 he with a shudder, "what a supreme glory that is." 
 
 " I have no knowledge of it," said Francois somewhat 
 ironically. 
 
 " None, Francois, none whatever. No language can 
 paint the horrors of the hulks — no imagination conceive 
 the sickening terrors of imprisonment therein. But hush ! 
 here they come !" 
 
 They ceased speaking as the clatter of hoofs above the 
 siony surface of the road came sharply on their ears. In 
 a moment or two a party of dragoons — some nine or ten 
 — came around a corner into view. The dusk had fallen 
 on the hillside, but the bright sheen of the scabbards and 
 the steel trappings of the horses shone clearly enough for 
 all that. 
 
 In single file, for the road was too narrow and danger- 
 ous to admit of aught else, they passed on Their tread 
 could be heard for some short distance, but a projection 
 of the hill suddenly shut them out from view, and the 
 sounds almost as suddenly ceased. 
 
 " They have passed, Francois. Shall we remain here P" 
 asked Eugene, after a space of time during which their 
 ears were strained trying to catch further token of the 
 soldiers' movements. 
 
 " No, I think not. We had better move up higher. 
 They must have seen the car on the cliff from the valley, 
 and will wonder what has become of it. Trust me they 
 will make further search." 
 
 " Well, we had better place ourselves in a position of 
 more safety. The higher up the better. It would be a 
 sorrowful thing after such a chance to see ourselves 
 prisoners again." 
 
 " It would. I have not had such experience as you 
 have had, but I am quite as unwilling to go to one of 
 their prisons. The world is far too beautiful for that, 
 and has, I trust, better things in store for me. Is it 
 painful ?" asked Francois, referring to the wound. 
 
 " It is — very. The cold and the exhaustion have not 
 tended to make it better." 
 
 " Yes, and I completely forgot to provide some refresh- 
 
280 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 ments for you- In my hurry to get away I completely 
 forgot them." 
 
 " If our friends the enemy were gone Lack we should 
 probably meet hospitality here," said Eugene. 
 
 " You may rely upon it we should. Would you be able 
 to climb the hill a little ?" 
 
 " I think so — with your aid. But hush, Francois — did 
 you hear anything P" 
 
 " Only the moving of a curlew through the heath. If 
 you had been as long on the tramp through the mountains 
 as I have been you would know their movement." 
 
 " Perhaps it is. But somehow the least thing startles 
 me this evening. I suppose my nerves are high strung 
 because of my weakness — which puts me in mind to ask 
 you — curiously enough I had forgotten it before," said 
 Eugene, as, leaning on his friend's arm, he left his hiding 
 place and essayed to climb the steep hill, " how it came to 
 pass that you were on the British fleet." 
 
 " It is a long story to tell, Eugene, but for the present 
 it is enough to say that Humbert's small detachment " 
 
 "Ay Humbert, what of him? I had forgotten him 
 too," remarked Eugene, as he paused for a moment. 
 
 " What of him ? Why, what should have been expected 
 if we were not all most inconsiderate and enthusiastic 
 fools. He landed with his two thousand men in a country 
 where the insurrection had been weeks before drowned out 
 in blood. We won a battle at a place — Castlebar, I think, 
 they call it — where we sent ten times our number of 
 British forces flying. But we had no time to drill the raw 
 levies that flocked to our standard ; they had neither 
 arms nor ammunition, nor had we any to give them. We 
 could not with two thousand French soldiers fight the 
 whole British nation, and so we surrendered. I say we 
 as a unit of the invading force, but not having any special 
 reason to love the British prisons more than yourself, I 
 took leave, when we surrendered, to escape. Guided by 
 friendly hands through many perils and dangers, I gained 
 these Northern regions only to be made a prisoner and 
 brought on board their fleet. However, they treated me 
 well — the officers were not bad fellows — but I am glad to 
 be once more free and " 
 
THE CLIFFS OF LOUGH 8 WILLY, 281 
 
 wi Which yon shall not long be!" cried a voice behind 
 them. " Yield yourselves np prisoners, in the King's 
 name !" 
 
 The startling words had scarcely come on their ears 
 when they were seized ; and almost before they were 
 aware of it their hands were secnrely bonnd behind them. 
 
 " Yon have given ns rather a long ride in search of yon, 
 gentlemen," said an officer, stepping forward : " bnt your 
 escape was badly managed, after all. Yon had better 
 come with us, and next time you may have safer chance 
 of success." 
 
 Very little of this half -ironical address fell on the ears 
 of Francois. This sudden seizure when he believed him- 
 self quite secure, paralysed him. Eugene, more hardened 
 to the vicissitudes of warfare, at once accepted the 
 situation. 
 
 The latter simply asked : 
 
 " Where do you take us ?" 
 
 " Back to your friends. It was scarcely fair of you 
 after the trouble you gave us in your first capture, to put 
 ns to the necessity of a second. Bring the prisoners 
 down, men." 
 
 They descended the hill, and reached the road without 
 a further word passing. The sensation of surprise had 
 hardly time to abate with Francois when the sound of 
 horses approaching fell on his ears. Looking in the 
 direction from whence they came, he could see a number 
 of cavalry chargers, most of them without riders, trotting 
 towards them. A sense of dismay fell on his heart, as he 
 thought of his beloved France, and the weary months, if 
 not years, he must pass before he could see it again. 
 
 " It is all the fortune of war, my friend," said the 
 officer, with no unkindness in his tones, as he noticed the 
 passing depression in the young fellow's countenance, 
 " but for the present it is necessary to boot and saddle. 
 There is a long ride from here to Letterkenny, whither 
 your comrades have been sent. We must follow." 
 
 Eugene and Francois were provided with separate 
 horses, the soldiers mounting behind two of their com- 
 rades. In this manner they retraced the road they had 
 so recently come. 
 
282 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " Poor Eugene," thought Francois to himself. 
 
 " Poor Francois," thought Engene. 
 
 Each felt not for himself, bu# for his friend. 
 
 The road widening when they had passed into the 
 valley, the troop quickened into a trot, the two prisoners 
 in the centre and the soldiers before and behind. 
 
 Francois for a moment thought to escape, but, glancing 
 at the bound condition of his friend, and his own equally 
 helpless position, he abandoned the idea almost as soon as 
 it was formed. 
 
 With thoroughly French lightness of heart under diffi- 
 culties, he dispelled the annoyance that at first pressed on 
 him, and rode gaily along. At worst he thought it would 
 be only a question of time until he should see La Belle 
 France again, and in the meantime there was no use in 
 wearing one's self out with hopeless repining. 
 
 It was otherwise, however, with Engene. There were 
 many reasons why a prison life, even for a short time, 
 would be insufferable to him. If it were nothing else, it 
 was the thought of Seamore — the thought of Helen 
 Barrington, and of his sister Alice. 
 
 Two years had passed over since he had heard of them, 
 and what changes these two years might have brought 
 about ! What had become of the former ? Could she 
 have been married to the baronet — the husband and 
 would-be murderer of his Bister! But the thought in 
 itself was torture. He would banish it from his mind. 
 It were ill brooding to think over it. 
 
 To banish the gloomy foreboding that his position gave 
 rise to, he sought to divert his attention by taking note 
 of the surrounding objects. In the bay he tried to make 
 out in the moonlight — now beginning to throw dimly a 
 misty brightness over the waters — the forms of the ships 
 lying silently thereon. 
 
 Turning his eyes from that vague search to the front — 
 a blinding flash met his eyes, and simultaneously a quick 
 sharp report — or rather reports, for they came not all 
 together — smote on his ears ! 
 
 A confused uprearing of the horses in front, a swaying 
 unsteadily of their riders, a loosening- of the reins, a 
 hoarse cry of startled angry voices, followed by another 
 
TO DUBLIN. 283 
 
 flash of iiglit and another burst of sound !■— all occurring 
 in such rapid succession and so unexpectedly that for 
 the moment the whole business was quite incomprehen- 
 sible to him. Not, indeed, that he had power or time to 
 form any opinion on the matter, for, in the backward 
 rush of the horses and the little power of control he had 
 over his own with his manacled hands, he was thrown 
 down in the confusion. He was only cognizant for a 
 moment of a sense of deadly peril from the trampling and 
 rushing steeds, and then a darkness closed over his eyes, 
 and the world of reality vanished from his brain. 
 
 CHAPTER XLTI. 
 
 TO DUBLIN. 
 
 When Sir Trevor Mortimer communicated the intelligence 
 to the soldiers, quartered in the barracks at Wexford, as 
 to where the two fugitives were likely to be found, he 
 wandered about in the narrow streets of which that town 
 is composed until it was time for the mail coach to start. 
 
 There were no superstitious fears now at his heart ; no 
 despairing cry came, borne on the night air, to make him 
 start in terror ; no thought of the precipice on the island 
 with the moaning sea beneath it, came into his brain. It 
 was of Moya's information he thought — of her hurried 
 breathless words. 
 
 Redmond ! Could he really have been there ? Could 
 the mud of the Liffey have given up its dead ? Of 
 Eugene Lef ebre, it was possible enough. But him ! It 
 was impossible. Surely, Moya must have been mistaken ! 
 And yet — could she ? She knew him too well ; knew him 
 so intimately that that, too, was impossible. Unless, in- 
 deed, her own fears or her disordered imagination deceived 
 her. And that other 
 
 " Psha ! the thing was wholly impossible. Old Moya 
 was deceived." With a shudder he turned his thoughts 
 away from the subiect. 
 
284 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 But control his thoughts as he might, and turn thei| 
 in what direction he would, he could not banish the sei« 
 sations of coming danger that pressed at his heart. Thei 
 lay there like the touch of an icy hand, with the strange 
 effect that they sent a burning feel along his veins to his 
 extremities. And force as he might his attention to tha 
 surroundings — to the sleeping streets around him — thev 
 clung closer to him, sending now and then a thrill inta 
 his very brain that promptly recalled his attention to 
 them, 
 
 How long that rift in the sky that betokened dawn was 
 a- coming ! How long even after it had faintly showed, it 
 was until the people in the mail coach-office were up and 
 stirring — how long after that until the mail itself was got 
 ready. A dozen times he visited it, and as often took a 
 circuitous route through the streets until he came to it 
 again — thinking each turn tLat it must have surely started 
 by this time, so long and leaden the minutes seemed to 
 him ; but coming to a fresh surprise each visit to find that 
 but a short time had elapsed since his last, and that there 
 was still no sign of its being got ready. 
 
 But Time, heedless alike of the impatient and the in- 
 dolent, passes along on its unvarying career, and the hour 
 came at last when the coach was ready to start for the 
 metropolis 
 
 He entered, and seated himself in a corner, wrapped 
 his overcoat around him, buried his face in its upturned 
 collar, and prepared to sleep. He had slept none for the 
 past twenty-four hours ; he had had a long and distressing 
 walk into Wexford along the shore and across the fields ; 
 and he would now take the rest of which he stood so 
 much in need. 
 
 But he found himself unable to do so. Perhaps it was 
 the confusion and bustle attending the crowding of the 
 coach with luggage for the long journey, and the settling 
 of the passengers into their places. Perhaps it was that 
 he was overwearied, and the sleep had gone astray upon 
 him. Whatever it was, slumber was not for his eyelids ; 
 the more he shut his face in from the garish light of the 
 morning, the more wide-awake he became — the more the 
 horrid thoughts of the night went flying through his 
 
TO DUBLIN. 285 
 
 train. He pulled aside the collar that concealed his face, 
 8nd sought to interest himself in the bnstle aronnd. 
 
 Passengers were getting in and seating themselves be- 
 side him — trampling the fresh straw under their feet to 
 make it warm and cosy for themselves. Passengers wei*e 
 climbing up on the roof grumbling audibly at the incon- 
 venience caused by the luggage. The yard in which the 
 mail-coach stood was filled with the employes of the hotel 
 in every kind and description of dress and undress, wait- 
 ing to see the mail start. All of these things gave him 
 for the moment some distraction from the rankling un- 
 easiness that filled him ; but an occasional ugly throb at 
 his breast recalled him to himself and to his perplexing 
 forebodements. 
 
 At last everything was ready, and the mail was off. 
 
 Past narrow streets, where there was only room for the 
 conveyance to pass, and in which the closed curtains 
 showed that the sleepers therein had no notion as yet of 
 disturbing themselves from their repose. Past the suburbs, 
 where working men lived, and where the inmates having 
 to be at their work betimes were already astir, as was 
 clearly indicated by the open half-doors and the smoke 
 beginning to arise in spiral wreaths of blue from the 
 chimney-tops. And so out into the country road, where 
 the hedges were commencing to show in the gray light, 
 and to make palpable the webs that the dew of the summer 
 night, just expired, had woven over them — in such delicate 
 tracery as girls' hands in Limerick or Valenciennes had 
 never learned to weave. 
 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer drew the collar of his overcoat 
 over his face once more, and sank back into the corner 
 which he occupied. The air of the interior of the lumber- 
 ing vehicle was growing hot and drowsy — the jolting of 
 the machine was favorable to slumber. Insensibly, as the 
 miles passed over, he fell asleep. And to dream. 
 
 Such dreams ! 
 
 All sorts of wandering and perplexing ideas passed 
 incoherently through his head. 
 
 Finally : he was standing with Helen Barrington on a 
 cliff — oh ! that cliff ! Wnat a shudder it sent through him 
 even in his dream ! — looking over the sea, which washed 
 
286 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 ap to, and under, the base of the rock on which he stood. 
 He feared to look down from the dizzy height on the thin 
 green reach of water beneath which seemed in the great 
 distance to be only a few inches deep, so clear and palpable 
 the shining pebbles gleamed from nnder it. But he did 
 look — mustered np his courage to look ! And what a 
 depth it was down there ! How sheerly the black face of 
 the rock descended, leaving* nothing whatever to break 
 the fall ! What a length of time it would be before one 
 falling could touch rock or water beneath ! Would the 
 life be in one, all the time ? Would the terrific passage 
 through the air frighten the spirit or life out of the falling 
 form long before the descent was accomplished ? He felt 
 dizzy, and the soles of his feet, and the palms of his hands 
 tingled. Helen's hand lay in his, and he was about — 
 — feeling so giddy and terrified — to withdraw a few paces 
 back ; when, suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and 
 — he was pushed over the beetling precipice ! He felt his 
 feet leave the solid earth ; he found himself launched into 
 pure space with nothing but the air beneath him — and 
 destruction. A cry of unutterable agony — a screech 
 begotten of overwhelming dread and despair — burst from 
 his lips ! 
 
 And he awoke ! 
 
 Awoke to find the unreality of his dream ; but also to 
 find that every eye in the coach was fixed upon him. For 
 in the paroxysms of his dream, he had struggled violently, 
 and had thrown the covering from his face, exposing to 
 public view the contortion of the one and the other. 
 Abashed by the crowd of faces turned towards him, and 
 alarmed by the dread that he might have said something 
 that attracted such attention, he quickly muffled himself 
 up again. 
 
 "Are you ill, sir?" a compassionate woman opposite 
 asked . 
 
 He gruffly answered, "No," and shut himself up from 
 further gaze. 
 
 But his rest was broken, and all the old mistrusts and 
 perplexities that had slept whilst he slumbered seemed to 
 have sprung again into renewed vigor with his awaken- 
 ing — like summer flies when the hot dawn comes — and 
 harrassed him unceasingly. 
 
TO DUBLIN. 287 
 
 \Yhatj if Helen should have changed her mind, and not 
 have come ? What, if in her halting and indecision she 
 had again vaccillated and remained at Inch ? The very 
 doubt was terror to him — it meant ruin. Any delay at 
 all — any postponement whatever — meant ruin. 
 
 She had arranged to have started early in the morning. 
 He glanced outwards at the sunlight. He must have 
 slept some considerable time, for the sun was long over the 
 horizon, and the people were all in the fields busily at 
 work at the harvest. She must be on the way now, if — 
 the blood rushed back in affright at the thought — she 
 had not altered her mind. 
 
 The more he let his mind dwell upon all the contin- 
 gencies connected with it the more the possibility of her 
 having done so grew upon him. Grew, indeed, so great 
 that he resolved to get out at the next posting station, 
 and await the coming of her carriage — if come it would 
 at all. Accordingly, when the mail stopped, which it did 
 many miles beyond Inch, and the passengers descended to 
 stretch their legs, and refresh themselves, Sir Trevor 
 Mortimer got down also. 
 
 But he did not enter the posting establishment. He 
 was far too restless and uneasy for that. With an intima- 
 tion to the conductor that he had altered his mind, and 
 would not proceed further for the present, he walked 
 back over the mail coach road by which they had just 
 travelled. 
 
 What a torturing walk it was ! How often his eyes 
 glanced eagerly along the road when it lay straight before 
 him — which it rarely did — for sign of approaching car- 
 riage. But there was none. Had Helen then heard of — 
 heard any evil news concerning him ? If she had not, 
 why was she not on the road ? If she had ■ 
 
 He felt so ill — so tired and jaded, that he was fain to 
 rest on the grassy slope of a hedge by the way. So weak 
 and ill, indeed, was he that for a time his eyes became 
 obscured, and a mist seemed to grow before them. Also, 
 his sense of hearing became deadened. He was in that 
 position when, if he had been a weaker man, or the spirit 
 within him was less potent, he would have swooned. 
 
 As it was he sat in stupor. 
 
288 THE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 Out of which he was roused by the noise of carriage 
 wheels beside him, and a ransical voice, not without a 
 strain of wonderment in it, fell on his ears. 
 
 " Trevor !— Sir Trevor Mortimer !" 
 
 He looked up. The carriage had stopped, and two 
 girls' faces appeared at the window. They were those of 
 Helen Barrington and Kate Howard. 
 
 " You here, Sir Trevor !" said the latter in considerable 
 surprise. 
 
 " Yes," said he brightly, as the unexpected presence of 
 the carriage renewed at once his hopes and bis courage, 
 " the mail was so hot and — so crowded and uncomfortable 
 — that I could not proceed further in it. And I resolved 
 to wait for you. I felt very ill for a time." 
 
 He did not look ill now. On the contrary, he looked 
 blithe and vigorous. He stepped into the carriage, which 
 whirled them all three on the way to Dublin. And 
 whatever powers of pleasing Sir Trevor Mortimer had, or 
 whatever powers of conversation, he certainly did not 
 spare them on the way. 
 
 What with stoppages, changes of horses, and the need- 
 ful rest, it was the following morning when they reached 
 the metropolis. 
 
 As had been arranged between them, Sir Trevor de- 
 scended from the carriage when they entered the city, and 
 proceeded to his quarters in the Castle to prepare himself 
 for the approaching ceremony. There being no one in 
 Seamore to whom Helen could address herself on this 
 momentous occasion, she determined to proceed to Leinster 
 House to place herself under the protection of the Fitz- 
 gerald family who were closely related to hers. It was an 
 unusual way of doing matters, she felt, but Sir Trevor's 
 impatience and importunity were not to be denied. 
 
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 THE WEDDING BREAKFAST. 
 
 To the man nnder sentence of death, reprieve comes with 
 overwhelming sensation ; to the soldier, badly wonnded 
 on the battle-field, the intimation that the wonnd is not 
 mortal brings joy exceeding ; but it is doubtful if either of 
 these can compare with the exultation, the radiant sense of 
 success, that filled the breast of Trevor Mortimer as he 
 stood up at the little breakfast party in Leinster House, 
 when they had returned from the church, to respond to 
 the toast of his health. 
 
 There was a feeling of success— that he had overcome all 
 the thousand nameless perils and dangers that encom- 
 passed him by the sheer force of his own strength of will 
 and resolution. He was like the storm- tossed mariner, 
 who after a long disastrous voyage, and in the teeth of a 
 hurricane, sees his good ship sweeping into the haven- 
 mouth and to safe anchorage. 
 
 He was safe now. Despite all that man could do, he 
 was safe. And it was, therefore, with an exultant heart, 
 and with a radiant countenance, that he stood before the 
 little family group returning thanks. 
 
 " It is the proudest moment of my life," he said — and 
 well he might. " Wedded to one who was my sole and 
 only love '* 
 
 But at this moment a light phaeton drove hurriedly up 
 to the door, and a gentleman, tossing the reins to his 
 servant, descended quickly from it and ascended the 
 steps. 
 
 In a moment more a knock came to the door of the 
 drawing-room. Lord Edward himself went to open it — 
 not caring to have their happiness disturbed by the in- 
 trusion of strangers. But it was only one of the servants 
 
 " Well ?" said the young nobleman rather angrily. 
 
 " A gentleman wants to see your lordship." 
 
290 THE SHAN VAN VOCIIT. 
 
 " I cannot see him. Tell hira T am most particularly 
 engaged. Who is he ?" 
 
 " Sir George Ponsonby, my lord." 
 
 " Oh ! Sir George— eh ? Where is he ?" 
 
 " In the Yellow Room. He is most anxious to see 
 your lordship for a second." 
 
 " I shall see him for a second," said his lordship, closing 
 the door after him carefully, and descended to the apart- 
 ment mentioned. 
 
 " Well, Sir George," said he, shaking hands warmly 
 with the new arrival. " I am glad to see you. You must 
 excuse me if I cannot spare you much time. There is a 
 wedding, at which some friends of yours " 
 
 " It is about that wedding I called to see von, my 
 lord " 
 
 " It is quite a private and hurried affair, else you, Sir 
 George, being, I believe, like myself, a relative of the fair 
 bride, should have been present; but as I said " 
 
 " Present ! my lord ! Then I should have been present 
 
 at one of the greatest acts of scoundrelism that ever 
 
 Do you know that Mortimer is married already, and that 
 his wife is living ?" 
 
 " Hush ! Sir George," said Lord Edward, as he glanced 
 at the excited face of his friend, " these are wild words — 
 and at such a time, too !" 
 
 "But they are true, Lord Edward," said Ponsonby 
 passionately. " Perfectly true ! There never was a baser 
 or more scoundrelly act perpetrated than this ceremony 
 just concluded. It is an outrage upon all that is innocent 
 and " 
 
 " This is too absurd," said the nobleman quietly, 
 attributing these vehement expressions to some cause 
 other than the right one. a I must ask you — I must, 
 indeed — not to make use of such expressions." 
 
 " Do you think I am speaking what is not true, my 
 lord?" said the impetuous baronet, rapidly hastening to 
 that state of temper in which it made little matter to him 
 with whom he quarrelled. 
 
 " Peace, George, peace ! Remember the place and the 
 occasion." 
 
 " But I do remember them. It is because I remember 
 
THE WEDDING BREAKFAST. 291 
 
 them that I am here. But, my lord!" said he pausing, 
 " I see there is no use in further* addressing you on the 
 subject. I must see Helen Barrington myself." 
 
 "You must be aware," said Lord Edward coldly, for 
 his sense of what was decorous and becoming had been 
 grievously outraged, " that Lady Mortimer is not to be 
 disturbed now." 
 
 " Lady Mortimer !" said Ponsonby, with great contempt 
 — the name seeming to call up every sensation of loathing 
 and repugnance he was capable of — " I tell you she is 
 no more Lady Mortimer — though all the clergymen in 
 Dublin assisted at the ceremony — than she is Lady Fitz- 
 gerald or Lady Ponsonby. But I must see her. I shall 
 not leave this house, except by force, until I do. If there 
 be no one else to protect this poor girl, by the Heavens 
 above me ! — I will ! " 
 
 The young nobleman looked at him steadily for a few 
 seconds. Then, impressed by the firmness, the determi- 
 nation, and the passionate resolve thereon, he said: "I 
 think I had better call in Sir Trevor. He has a right to 
 hear this !" 
 
 " Do so, my lord. Bring him here." 
 
 Lord Edward rang the bell. The same servant appeared. 
 Desiring him to whisper Sir Trevor out, he disappeared, 
 and, in a second or two after, the baronet entered the 
 apartment. 
 
 " Sir Trevor," said Lord Edward, carefully closing the 
 door, " I sent for you because I thought it fitting that you 
 should hear what Sir George Ponsonby has to say. Before 
 it goes further, I may say that I am convinced he is 
 mistaken ; but still it is right that you should hear him, 
 and relieve his mind " 
 
 " About that note of hand," said Sir Trevor. "I may 
 acquaint Sir George," said he with ill-concealed haughti- 
 ness and exultance, " that but for my unavoidable absence 
 in the country it would have been paid long since. To- 
 morrow I shall — — ■" 
 
 " You quite mistake, sir," said the baronet, " I did not 
 come here to speak of money matters or gambling debts. 
 I came here, as an Irish gentleman should, to extend the 
 hand of friendship and protection to a young girl who is 
 being cruelly deceived." 
 
292 THE SEAN VAN VOCET, 
 
 " And who may that be ?" 
 
 "The young girl whom you went through the mock 
 ceremony of marriage with this morning." 
 
 " I think there is no need to listen further to the 
 gentleman's rhapsodies," said Sir Trevor, moving away 
 contemptuously towards the door. 
 
 " Nay," said Sir George, intercepting him, and placing 
 his back to it, " no one shall leave the room until I have 
 said what I have to say." 
 
 Sir Trevor Mortimer's face reddened, and the moment 
 after grew very white. It would be difficult to say which 
 hue exhibited the deadlier state of passion or anger. A 
 rapid movement of his hand to his breast pocket, as if he 
 searched for something there — a pistol or a dagger ; but 
 he was in his wedding suit, and there was nothing in it. 
 So he stood still, and — still with singularly white face — 
 listened to the intruder. 
 
 " My lord," said the latter, " it was only last night I 
 learned — how I cannot say now, nor have I time to tell — 
 that this gentleman was already married. It came to me 
 from one who had somehow heard that he was about to wed 
 Helen Barrington, and who knew the whole circumstances 
 and placed the proofs in my hands. Yes, married. To a 
 young French girl, a former visitor of the Barrington's, 
 and a friend. Aided by the ministrations of an old hag, 
 that once " 
 
 Sir George Ponsonby had let his rage get so far the 
 better of him that his voice failed him at this point. 
 Taking advantage of the pause, Trevor Mortimer said 
 with a sneer to which his manner and white face lent an 
 indescribable tone of insult : 
 
 " It is false. This gentleman has been up all night and 
 is dreaming !" 
 
 "It is true, every word of it. True as God is in 
 Heaven !" 
 
 "It is false!" said Sir Trevor, "false as a vile and 
 lying tongue can make it." 
 
 Ponsonby lost all control of himself, perhaps made to 
 do so the more by the coolness and calm demeanour of the 
 other It was a case of cool villainy against honest 
 indignation. 
 
THE WEBBING BREAKFAST. 293 
 
 " Villain and scoundrel, it is true !" he shouted, at the 
 same time as, elevating his arm, he brought the back of 
 his extended hand down with great force on the face of 
 his opponent. 
 
 The blow was strong and scalding, and for a moment 
 stars shone in clusters before Sir Trevor Mortimer's eyes. 
 
 " See this, Lord Edward ! Bear witness to this !" he 
 cried savagely, all his previous coolness totally gone. " He 
 has struck me ! — He has struck me, I say ! I call you to 
 witness he has struck me !" 
 
 " Ponsonby, Ponsonby!" Lord Edward could only saj 
 in dire amazement. 
 
 " I have to apologise to your lordship for my hastiness, 
 and for taking such liberty in your house, my lord," said 
 Ponsonby, who now recovered his coolness. 
 
 " There must be satisfaction for this," said Mortimer, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " You must have it at any moment," said Sir George. 
 " Where shall it be ?— and when ?" 
 
 " This forenoon," said Sir Trevor whilst a gleam of 
 malignant satisfaction shot through his eyes. His face 
 seemed to have grown paler and white, save where Pon- 
 sonby's blow had left it heated and flushed. " By the 
 yew tree in the Park. In an hour's time." 
 
 " I shall be there," said Ponsonby, as he opened the 
 door. " Excuse me, my lord, I did not intend this scene 
 when coming. An revoir." 
 
 And walking gravely down the broad marble stairs, Sir 
 George stepped into his phseston and was whirled away. 
 
 " This is an extraordinary business," said Lord Edward, 
 when their visitor had left. " Of course there is no founda- 
 tion for " 
 
 " My lord, I have no time, as you can understand, for 
 much talking now. Send Sir Laurence Parsons to me, 
 and make apologies to the ladies for my absence. Say 
 Government business, or something of that kind. I shall 
 be back in two hours*" 
 
 Sir Laurence Parsons, who was best man on the occasion, 
 was speedily by his side, and they were soon driving 
 rapidly towards the Park. On the way they stopped 
 for a few minutes at Mortimer's quarters at the Castle, 
 
294 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 whence the latter shortly emerged with a small mahogany 
 case under his arm. 
 
 " Parsons," said he, after they had resumed their rapid 
 journey. " Feel my hand." 
 Parsons took his hand in his. 
 " Is it cold ?" 
 " Yes, quite cold." 
 " Is it firm ?" 
 " As iron." 
 
 " Does it tremble any ?" 
 "No, none at all." 
 
 " That's right," said Sir Trevor, whilst the hurt part of 
 his face grew more flushed, and the other more yellow- 
 white. 
 
 " You will only pink him," said Parsons with a shudder, 
 as he noticed this expression. " In the shoulder or the hip. 
 You will not kill him ?" 
 
 But Sir Trevor, clutching the case as if he would drive 
 thumb and fingers through its mahogany sides, bent over 
 his face to the other, put his white firm lips to his ear, 
 and hissingly whispered : 
 
 " I will. Perdition seize my soul if I don't !" 
 There was no other word spoken, they were driving too 
 fast for that, until they reached the yew tree in the Park. 
 There they found Ponsonby and his friend awaiting them. 
 Unlike the usual formalities in cases of the kind, there 
 were no bows interchanged or words spoken. In an 
 atmosphere so charged with malignant intention and 
 deadly hate as almost to be felt, the preliminaries were 
 arranged, and the two took their places. 
 
 " Parsons," said Sir Mortimer in a whisper, before he 
 stepped to his place, " watch where I shall send the ball. 
 Straight in the centre of his forehead. Keep your eye 
 on it." 
 
 The signal was given, and both parties fired. Parsons' 
 fascinated eyes were upon the spot indicated. As he 
 looked it seemed to him that a shadow had passed — an 
 instantaneous shadow — across it. 
 
 He shut his eyes involuntarily, and as if under a dread- 
 ful spell ; but opened them as quickly before the wreathing 
 smoke had time to ascend and shut out his <?aze. There 
 
IN THE CAVES OF DONEGAL. 295 
 
 was no mark ou Ponsonby's forehead : he stood upright ; 
 but a thick rush of blood from his side temple showed 
 where the bullet had skimmed it. 
 
 Parsons turned towards his friend. He, too, was 
 upright; but the ascending smoke shut out view of his 
 features. 
 
 " Both unhurt," he thought. " I hope it is over now." 
 
 He w T as about to move towards Sir Trevor, who stood 
 stock still where he stood, when, suddenly, he placed his 
 left hand hurriedly on his side ; the smoking pistol fell 
 from his right hand, and after a spasmodic step back- 
 wards he fell, with heavy leaden thud, on the broad of his 
 back. 
 
 Parsons hastily tore open his dress. There was a small 
 blue wound under the nipple of the left breast. 
 
 He then looked at his face — at his eyes. 
 
 " It is all over," he said. " Mortimer is dead." 
 
 It was even so. It was all over. Out through the blue 
 mark Mortimer's life — or soul — or whatever it was -had 
 sped forth : who knew whither ? 
 
 CHAPTER XLIY. 
 
 IN THE CAVES OF DONEGAL. 
 
 " Why, Eugene, I thought you would never come to ?" 
 was the exclamation that fell on his awakening ears. 
 
 ' £ I — where am I ?" was his first astonished question. 
 
 " Here — in very comfortable quarters, and among 
 friends." 
 
 " Thank God !" was his reply. The incidents of his 
 capture were quite fresh in his memory. 
 
 "It is rather an odd place — is it not Francois ?" was 
 his next query. 
 
 " It is. There is no doubt of it. But," said his young 
 friend sententiously, " there might be worse. But we 
 shall have time enough to discuss that. Tell me how 
 do you feel ? You do not feel seriously hurt ?" 
 
 " No I do not feel hurt at all. I have been stunned 
 
296 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 — nothing more. I shall feel quite well presently. Thai 
 rescue — how did it take place, Francois ?" 
 
 " Why, our friend the driver — whom by the way you 
 will see presently, and who happens to be a very influen- 
 tial personage in the neighbourhood — knowing with 
 better sense than we seemed to have had that we should 
 be captured, rode swiftly on, called to his aid some friends 
 in the surrounding glens, and hurrying back by the other 
 side of the hill, intercepted our captors successfully — and 
 here we are !" 
 
 " And where is here, Francois ?" inquired Eugene. 
 
 " Upon my word, further than what you see around 
 you," said Francois laughingly, " I am able to give you 
 very little information." 
 
 " We are underground, seemingly," said Eugene, glanc- 
 ing at the aperture overhead, through which the light 
 came in a sort of trellis work owing to the long ferns and 
 heath bushes that shaded it. 
 
 " We are ; — you are quite right there. So much, and 
 little more, I know myself." 
 
 " Is it a cave, or prison, or what ?" asked Eugene again, 
 taking in with a curious glance the surroundings. 
 
 " It is a cave — a factory." 
 
 " A factory " repeated Eugene, who only understood 
 the expression in its application to the extensive establish- 
 ments in France with which he was acquainted, wherein 
 powder and cannon and shot and shell were manufactured 
 for the use of the revolutionary armies. 
 
 " Yes, a factory. That is, Eugene, probably about the 
 most imposing — if not appropriate — name to give it." 
 
 " And what," inquired Eugene, glancing around him at 
 the rough clay walls apparently dug out of the mountain- 
 side, and the numerous casks which filled its many crevices 
 — diffusing a hot though not unpleasant aroma through the 
 place — " what may be the article they manufacture here ?" 
 
 " Medicine," said Francois, with a gravity that but 
 thinly veiled his light airy pleasantry. 
 
 "Medicine!" echoed Eugene, taking his statement for 
 truth. '' Medicine ! what kind of medicine ?" 
 
 " Medicine, my dear Eugene, that would carry the life 
 back into your heart if you were dying ; that would restore 
 
IN THE CAVES OF DONEGAL. 297 
 
 your spirits though yon wero in the deepest dejection 
 ever mortal man sank to ; that wonld make yon fight the 
 Hoche once more against the whole British forces ? 
 
 "Ah! the Hoche. La pauvre Hoche! Onr nnhappy 
 expedition !" said Engene, sinking back into dejected 
 -reflection. Quickly recovering himself, however, he asked, 
 with a smile which had some of his old airiness in it : 
 " And what, Francois, may be the name of this most 
 potent medicine ? I feel as if I needed some of its aid 
 jnst now." 
 
 "It is called poteen, Engene." 
 
 " Poteen /" said the latter. " What a queer name." 
 
 " It is a qneer name ; bnt everything seems to me to be 
 strange and qneer in this ill-fated land." 
 
 " And here is some of it to taste," said a strange voice, 
 emerging from the gloom of a snbterranean archway, and 
 bearing in his hand a small measnre. 
 
 Engene looked np at the words, and a smile crossed his 
 pallid face as he recognised the friendly featnres of the 
 quondam driver. 
 
 " Take this," said the latter. " Yon will find it do you 
 good after your mishaps. Yon have need of something 
 to refresh yon." 
 
 " It wonld be difficult to refuse anything from your 
 loyal and true hand, my friend," said Eugene gratefully 
 and frankly ; and he took the measure from him. 
 
 He had swallowed but a little of it when a heavy fit 
 of coughing supervened — so heavy that for a moment 
 Francois believed he was choking. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," said the driver. "He will recover 
 presently. It has proved a little too strong for him." 
 
 "Why, Francois," said Eugene, when the fit had sub- 
 sided, " that is brandy." 
 
 " No, not brandy, but a twin brother of it. Drink such 
 as this was never grown in Charente, nor floated down 
 the Garonne. This is the ancient Ambrosia — the nectar 
 of the gods. So, at least, they say here. How do you 
 like it ?" 
 
 " It is very fine." 
 
 " You will find nothing better in Ireland — in the 
 World indeed, I may say — save one place only," said his 
 entertainer, replenishing the tiny measure. 
 
298 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 "And where may that be?" asked Eugene, a3 a sense 
 of reviving strength and health flushed through his veins. 
 
 "In Dublin!" 
 
 "In Dublin! Why I have been there for weeks and 
 have not knowm of it." 
 
 "You were too much, occupied with other matters 
 probably. But it is there. In the west of the city — 
 Marrowbone Lane they call it — is the temple of the gods 
 — distillery, they profanely term it — where they distil 
 spirit to which this, fine as it is, is but as water to 
 sparkling Champagne. Talk of ambrosia or nectar when 
 once you taste that ! It is liquor fit for Paradise." 
 
 " I shall certainly call there, if ever I live to see Dublin 
 again. How long is it in existence F" 
 
 " Since 1750. It was established shortly after the 
 battle of Culloden — where the Scottish chivalry died so 
 gallantly. A gentleman named Jameson, who had been 
 an officer in the King's service there, obtained the know- 
 ledge somehow, started this famous concern, and 
 
 Did better work I fancy," said Eugene 
 laughing indolently, " than in putting the gallant Prince 
 Charlie oif the Throne of Scotland. I wonder he has 
 not rivals ?" 
 
 " So he has, but none can evoke the potent spirit that 
 lies hidden in the waving grain, so well or readily as he ; 
 and " 
 
 "Upon my w T ord," said Ronald impatiently, "it is a 
 very profane discussion we are carrying on, considering 
 that one has only just wakened from the confines of the 
 other world. How do you find yourself, Eugene ?" 
 
 " Well. The little of this I have taken seems warming 
 every vein in my body and strengthening every nerve. 
 I feel quite revived." 
 
 " Take a little more, and I warrant you you will have 
 appetite and strength for a slice of the haunch of deer 
 that is roasting inside. Do you think you could stand 
 up?" 
 
 " With help I could." 
 
 " Then the help is near you. Place your arm unde v 
 him, Ronald, opposite mine. There, lift him now. Why, 
 you are quite strong already," cried Francois gaily, as 
 
IN THE CAVES OF DONEGAL. 299 
 
 Eugene, lifted from his conch of rushes and heath, stood 
 unsteadily on his feet. " A day or two of rest and we 
 shall be ready to seek the friendly shelter of the French 
 colours again." 
 
 " I feel quite refreshed," said Eugene. " I shall be 
 quite well in a short time. How long have I been here ?" 
 
 " Since yester-night. You slept soundly, whether your 
 sleep was refreshing or not. That's the mark of a horse's 
 hoof on your temple. It was well it w;.s no worse. You 
 must forgive the good steed, however, for his master's 
 hand was unable to guide him. He had a ballet through 
 his brain." 
 
 "What became of the soldiers?" asked Eugene in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " We did not stop to inquire," said Francois carelessly, 
 as he directed his friend's footsteps towards an inner 
 cavity, from which the pleasant aroma of roasted venison 
 was now emerging. " Some of them leaped the barrier 
 and escaped ; others lie to this moment, if they have not 
 been removed, in front of it. But, what is more to the 
 purpose, we were carried here by trusty hands, and here 
 we are now." 
 
 " We are under infinite obligations to you," said Eugene, 
 turning to the quondam driver, whose appearance — now 
 that Eugene was able to see him in the light of the lamp 
 burning in the inner apartment of the cave — was quite 
 altered, his dress rich and costly, and his features grave 
 and aristocratic. 
 
 " Obligations 1" cried Francois enthusiastically. " The 
 truth and loyalty shown to us in our need would redeem 
 the dangers of the most unfortunate expedition that ever 
 sailed the seas, and brighten the darkest tide of misfor- 
 tunes that ever encompassed man. We owe our lives to 
 Ronald. Allow me to introduce you : Ronald MacDonald, 
 Captain Eugene Lefebre." 
 
 " You forget, gentlemen," said the stranger thus intro- 
 duced, laughing, " what you have perilled by coming to 
 aid us. I am sorry some gleam of success did not shine 
 on your banners, but that was not your fault." 
 
 " Well, a brighter day may come," said Eugene, with a 
 cheerfulness that he was far from feeling 
 
300 THE SEAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 " I fear not. Indeed I know it will not,'' said the Irish- 
 man sadly — " know it so well that I intend leaving this 
 country for ever. There is no home for true Irishmen in 
 Ireland now." 
 
 " You should come to France with ns," said Francois 
 eagerly. " That is the home for freemen." 
 
 " Precisely what I mean to do," said Ronald, as they 
 took their seats at the dinner-table, which groaned, if not 
 with dainty fare, at least with appetising viands. 
 
 " Then you have decided aright," said Francois de- 
 lightedly. " We shall all sail together. I know what 
 you are thinking of, Eugene," said he, turning from the 
 subject, as he saw his friend's eyes fixed on a fourth seat at 
 present unoccupied. "You are wondering whom that is 
 for?" 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " It is for an old friend, whom you will be glad to see." 
 
 "An old friend, Francois?" said Eugene, whose 
 thoughts immediately referred to Redmond Barrington. 
 
 " Yes, an old friend who " 
 
 " Who is here to answer for himself," said a well-known 
 voice behind Eugene's chair. 
 
 "What! M'Nevin!" said the latter, as that gentleman 
 advanced gaily and shook hands with the invalid. " This 
 is astonishment, truly. How did you manage to come ?" 
 
 " Why, if I might speak in hyperbole, I came on the 
 wings of misfortune. Nothing else would bring a man to 
 this woful land at present." 
 
 " But, hyperbole aside, how did you come ? We left 
 you behind in France." 
 
 " I could not bear the agony of suspense — I could not 
 be away from Ireland when her need was sorest, so I 
 sailed from France some days after Bompart started. 
 Finding on my arrival in Ireland that the revolution was 
 crushed out and that Humbert had surrendered, I made 
 my way here with the intention of warning your fleet 
 that the expedition had been already rendered useless, and 
 that you should turn your helm again for France. But 
 I was too late to be of use — I arrived only to hear the 
 thunders of the bombardment borne in from the sea." 
 
 " Not of no use, certainly," said MacDonald, as he pro- 
 
IN THE CAVES OF DONEGAL. 30] 
 
 reeled to carve the dinner, " for if it had not been for 
 your good advice and strategy we should not have been 
 able to bring our friends away from their captors." 
 
 " So that I am again obliged to you for my freedom," 
 said Eugene, appreciating the information conveyed by 
 the last speaker. 
 
 " Well, it is a long lane that has no turning. Some 
 day," said M'Nevin, anxious to avoid the subject, " you 
 can repay the favour. And now to dinner. These Irish 
 hills, if good for nothing else, are capital for giving an 
 appetite." 
 
 The dinner passed over pleasantly, although Eugene's 
 weakness prevented his doing justice to the excellent 
 haunch of venison and capital grouse set before him. But 
 when it was over, and hot water and tumblers were placed 
 on the table, the disappointing fortunes of war were for- 
 gotten, mirth and gaiety reigned around, light-hearted 
 pleasure beamed on every face, and the conversation was 
 cheerful and animated — as, indeed, might be expected 
 among a quartette whose lives and fortunes had been so 
 changeful and adventurous. 
 
 "You have not yet told me how you came here, 
 Francois," said Eugene. 
 
 " I briefly sketched it out for you, if you remember," said 
 the former. " I told you, I think, that Humbert's force 
 landed safely in Killala Bay ; that we beat the English 
 at Castlebar, where they ran from us at such a rate that 
 not even our cavalry could come up with them ; that the 
 people flocked in thousands to our standard, but that we 
 had no time to drill recruits ; and with all the avail- 
 able forces in Ireland — some thirty or forty thousand — 
 marching on us, resistance, not to say success, had become 
 hopeless. Surrounded on all sides, our little column had 
 to surrender. We beat some ten thousand at Castlebar, 
 but we could not hope to fight the entire British army. 
 I did not choose to become prisoner of war. I had 
 heard enough to make me dislike that. I separated from 
 the officers on the eve of the surrender and took my way 
 towards the North of Ireland — in hopes, like M'Nevin — 
 to save your force from a like disaster. I took all the 
 unfrequented ways, rode across mountains, over rivers. 
 
302 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 through green valleys, everywhere sheltered by the grate- 
 ful and kindly people. My French accent opened a way 
 at once to their hearts ; I never had occasion to tell who 
 or what I was — they seemed to know it instinctively ; 
 and, truly, fugitive soldier in invaded country, flying 
 from its defenders, never met such welcome before- There 
 was no kindness, no hospitality, that they did not lavish 
 upon me. I think I must have been a week or more on 
 my journey northward — guided in this land — to me so 
 strange ! — by the directions of the people, who spared no 
 pains to put me on the right track — when I fell in with a 
 body of men, retainers and friends of — and under com- 
 mand of — Ronald here, who were hurrying southward at 
 the news of the landing. My unlooked-for information 
 made them retrace their steps — probably saved them from 
 useless slaughter — and safe among friends and guides we 
 travelled unceasingly night and day. How much I owe 
 to his good offices I cannot now say." 
 
 " But I thought you were on board the fleet. How " 
 
 " So I was. That adventure was in store for me, too. 
 Wherever there is trouble I am generally into it. Having 
 occasion to pass through the streets of the town— Letter 
 — Letter " 
 
 " Letterkenny," suggested Ronald. 
 
 " Yes, Letterkenny — that is it — through Letterkenny 
 one night, I heard a gentleman speaking in French — in 
 French, Eugene ! Think of the delight of that, after days 
 and weeks of fugitive wandering ! I could hardly believe 
 my ears ! I took an opportunity of speaking to him alone 
 —beyond measure glad to meet a countryman here. Who 
 do you think he was, Eugene ?" 
 
 "I could not say." 
 
 " Well, guess." 
 
 " How could I guess ?" 
 
 " You might well say that. Nor could I. Well— he 
 was the officer in command of the British troops here — 
 one General Levau." 
 
 " In command of the British troops, Francois — non- 
 sense !" 
 
 "If it be nonsense I did not find it so; for, having 
 heard my story, he had me promptly arrested." 
 
TEE ESCAPE. 303 
 
 "Who was he?" 
 
 " One of these emigres — the cnrse of France in every 
 country. However, I should not blame him too much. To 
 gratify his hatred of his native land, he had me brought 
 on board the fleet, on their return, to be witness of the 
 defeat of our vessel, and the debarkation of French 
 prisoners. It was that gave me the opportunity of seeing 
 you. Ronald here did the remainder. But I see you are 
 looking weak and pale. It is time to retire to rest. A 
 sleep will restore you. And now to dream of home and 
 beautiful France." 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE ESCAPE. 
 
 There was much searching after the fugitive officers, a 
 circumstance that the peasantry kept them acquainted 
 with. Often the military parties passed within short 
 distance of their hiding-place ; but the loyalty of their 
 humble friends stood them in good stead, and the secret 
 of their concealment was kept inviolate. Neither were 
 their wants unattended to. The deer from the hillsides, 
 the grouse from the heather, the mutton from the fertile 
 valleys — all were brought by Ronald's friends and tenants 
 at night to their hiding place ; and what with the pure 
 spring water of the hill, mixed with the poteen, their 
 time was passing in an ease and abundance that was 
 strikingly at variance with their late experiences. 
 
 But, as the days rolled by and Eugene's strength 
 gathered and grew, a restlessness to be away again and 
 mingling with the busy world outside came upon all. In 
 especial it came upon him, who, now that his foot was 
 on Irish soil, was tenfold anxious to see Seamore. He 
 spent many an hour of reverie wondering what changes 
 had come thereover Since he last saw it, and how its in- 
 mates had fared. To get away, therefore, had become the 
 leading thought of all. But bow ? 
 
 The answer to this question was a difficult one. 
 
304, TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 The country was covered with troops, and was carefully 
 watched. Strangers would be sure to be detected, and 
 the accents of the Frenchmen would be quite certain to 
 betray them. Even if otherwise, conveyances in these 
 remote places were not to be had easily, and on the whole 
 any chance of reaching Dublin overland, which they had 
 proposed to themselves, was as hopeless as that of reach- 
 ing the moon. 
 
 With the difficulties, however, grew greater their yearn- 
 ing to get away. MacNevin and Francois, finding all 
 hopes of active service in Ireland dead, were panting to 
 leave the country and betake themselves again to France, 
 where great enterprises were in course of preparation. 
 Once there, in the bustle of life and in the excitement of 
 military glory they could afford to forget their fruitless 
 efforts in this unfortunate land. Eugene, as we have seen, 
 was most intent on reaching Dublin. 
 
 There remained, therefore, only one practicable way — 
 that of escaping by sea. 
 
 But that seemed nearly as impossible as the other. The 
 fleet and its captured vessels lay at anchor on the Lough. 
 A guardship watched the entrance thereof, and man-of- 
 war's boats were busily cruising about both by day and 
 by night. 
 
 " I protest I shall go mad if I remain here longer," said 
 Francois one afternoon, after returning from a stolen re- 
 connaisance through the heather, and a view of the fleet 
 that lay so stately on the unruffled waters of the Lough. 
 
 "And I, too," said MacNevin wearily. 
 
 " I must say I share your feelings," said Eugene. " Has 
 no one a mode of getting away to propose ?" 
 
 " I saw a boat drawn up on the beach some distance 
 yonder," said Francois meditatively. 
 
 " A boat ?" said the captain of the Eoche quickly. 
 
 " Yes ; she lies there at present — a four-oared boat, 
 with a lug and foresail furled. One would think she was 
 placed there for us." 
 
 " He should have a strong imagination that would 
 think that under present circumstances," said MacNevin 
 drily. 
 
 " We had better find out something about it, at any 
 
TEE ESCAPE. 305 
 
 rate. 1 should run any risk to get away at present r" 
 said Eugene. * ; Do you know anything of her, Ronald ?" 
 
 u She comes in each night with a searching party — and 
 occasionally in the daylight," answered Ronald. 
 
 " Do they leave her unprotected ?" 
 
 " They do, for a while — at least whilst they are search- 
 ing the cabins on the hill, where they believe you to be 
 hidden." 
 
 " There is a chance for us, gentlemen !" said Eugene, a 
 new hope arising in his breast. 
 
 " It's l™t a small one — if you mea,n of escaping by that 
 means," said Ronald gravely. 
 
 " It is precisely of escaping I am thinking," said Eugene 
 brightly, "and by that means." 
 
 " I am afraid there is but little hope of that. The boat 
 would soon be missed ; and, even if you escaped the other 
 boats in the Lough, the guardship at the mouth of the 
 bay would capture or sink you." 
 
 " I wish we were once in her, that's all." said Francois, 
 breaking in delightedly. " I should be glad to run the 
 chances of escape." 
 
 " And I, too," said MacNevin. " We cannot remain 
 here for ever, and escape seems as feasible now as at any 
 other time. Besides, every day adds to the danger of 
 detection " 
 
 " I say, Ronald," said Eugene, after a moment's think- 
 ing, " what do you think would be our best plan of secur- 
 ing her ? How could we find out when the searching 
 party leave her ?" 
 
 " I wuld not say, her time of coming is so uncertain." 
 
 " I jhall tell you what we can do," said MacXevin, after 
 a long pause, during which each was occupied in devising 
 plans. " We should have intimation conveyed to them 
 that we are sheltering in this neighbourhood. If a trusty 
 friend conveyed to them the information, and appointed 
 a certain time — say, at dark to-morrow evening — to re- 
 peal our whereabouts, we could take advantage of their 
 absence and seize the boat, and be far off before they 
 returned." 
 
 " It is not a bad idea at all," said Francois. 
 
 " What do you say, Eugene ?" 
 
 x 
 
306 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 " If it were well worked, I agree with you. But how 
 is it to be done ? Could jou assist us, Ronald ?" 
 
 " I shall do anything in my power," answered the 
 latter; "but have you considered the danger? It is 
 rushing on certain capture or death — one or other — pro- 
 bably the latter." 
 
 " For my part, I am willing to risk it," said Eugene. 
 
 " And I," said Francois. 
 
 " And I," said MacNevin. 
 
 " If," said Eugene, resuming the subject, " we could 
 have a message conveyed them " 
 
 " If you have made up your minds," said Ronald, " to 
 face the danger, I shall have the matter arranged. You 
 need not trouble yourselves as to that." 
 
 "To-morrow evening, then!" said Francois eagerly. 
 " And hey for la belle France again !" 
 
 " I think it would be better to wait," said Ronald, "for 
 a few weeks, until the fleet moves away and search dies 
 out. Wo shall be ready to run you across to France in 
 one of our boats. It is not the first time we have run 
 from here to Bordeaux." 
 
 " A few weeks, Ronald !" cried Francois impatiently. 
 "j^b well say a few years. Great events are hastening 
 forward in France whilst we lie hiding here. Every day 
 spent is lost and wasted time. For heaven's sake let us 
 have the chance — whatever comes of it." 
 
 " Very well," said Ronald reluctantly ; " to-morrow 
 night be it. And, as this night is to be your last here, I 
 do not think we can do better than enjoy it. So I move 
 we proceed to dinner." 
 
 A smoking salmon was on the table, flanked with a 
 brace of grouse. A haunch of venison smoked on a 
 side table. The prospect of escape added a new zest 
 to the meal, and three happier guests or with lighter 
 hearts seldom dined amid the heath of the Donegal 
 headlands. The sconces affixed to the clay walls gave a 
 quaint light to the apartment, that made the place feel 
 cozy and pleasant ; and when justice had been done to the 
 rough but appetising meal, and their cigars were lit, all 
 four prepared to enjoy their last night amid the heather 
 of Lough Swilly. 
 
TEE ESCAPE. 307 
 
 Anecdote and incident were related. Two of the party, 
 at least, had seen much of the world — much of that 
 portion of it that lay amid battle scenes — amid the tumult 
 of contending armies ; and the stories once heard beside 
 the bivouac fire were retold again. 
 
 The morning rays were beginning to come in through 
 the aperture overhead and to dim the light of the candles 
 when they threw themselves on their beds of dried heath 
 and grass, after a night spent in most interesting and 
 unflagging conversation. They were soon sound asleep, 
 and noon had long passed before they opened their eyes. 
 
 When they did, a storm was raging on the hillside. 
 
 Ronald, with the active habits of the country, was 
 awake and out long before the slumbers of the others had 
 been dispelled. 
 
 He returned some time after they had arisen. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," he said as he entered, " that matter 
 has been arranged. Their searching party, guided by one 
 of our men, will land below us when darkness sets in, and 
 the venture can be made. They feel certain of success 
 this time." 
 
 " It seems to be blowing strongly," said Francois, as 
 the storm of wind and rain blew down the opening. 
 
 "It is blowing a hurricane on the Lough," said Ronald. 
 "A dangerous night, if it does not abate, to put to sea." 
 
 " So much the better," said Eugene cheerfully. " The 
 worse the storm the better for us." 
 
 " Then, if you think so, you had better prepare for the 
 occasion. You will need some arms. Here are some for 
 your use." 
 
 He opened a rough press in the earthen wall, from 
 which he brought some very handsomely-finished silver- 
 mounted pistols and some cutlasses. 
 
 " Why these are some of our own," said Eugene in 
 surprise, as he glanced at the latter. 4< Where did you 
 get them ?" 
 
 " That is a question hardly fair to ask," said Ronald, 
 laughing. "You don't suppose we have no friends on 
 board the fleet?" 
 
 " I trust you have. They were never more wanted than 
 now. And so that is how you got the weapons ?" 
 
308 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " Yes. How do you like them ? Will they answer 
 your purpose ?" 
 
 " They are the very things to suit us. Why, Ronald, 
 you are a magician ?" 
 
 " I am glad you think so. But I shall be still more 
 glad if you have no occasion to need them. And the next 
 thing I should fancy you will want is your dinner. When 
 that is finished, it will be time to start." 
 
 Dinner was soon ready, and the four friends sat down 
 to partake of it. The preparation for the expedition 
 occupied most of their conversation, in the course of 
 which Ronald informed them of his intentions. 
 
 They were to climb down the hill in the dusk, hide 
 behind the shrubbery that covers its shores, and, when 
 the searching party in company with their guide had 
 passed up the hill, they were to seize the boat, put out 
 into the bay, hoist their sails, and trust to heaven for the 
 future. 
 
 Accordingly when the dinner was over, and that they 
 had exhausted a cigar or two, the time bad come for essay- 
 ing the attempt. It was a bold and dangerous effort ; 
 there were many enemies and dangers to be passed ; but 
 in the minds of all it was better to run whatever risks 
 might come than encounter another week's ennui and 
 enforced imprisonment. The chance of adventure, in the 
 mind of more than one, added to the charm of escape 
 rather than subtracted from it. 
 
 Dusk closed in, the shadows of night crept down the 
 hillsides, when, bidding a warm farewell to the humble 
 friends who attended them during their fortnight's rest, 
 the party of four emerged from the cave, and proceeded 
 to descend cautiously the hillside. 
 
 Arrived at the lake-shore, they ensconced themselves 
 under Ronald's direction, in a thick brake hard by the 
 shingly strand in which the boat from the fleet generally 
 pulled up. 
 
 Here they waited, with no little anxiety, the sound of 
 oars on the water. 
 
 An hour and a half of anxious suspense passed over, in 
 which they scarcely dared to whisper to one another. 
 The danger that looked so trifling when they were com 
 
THE ESCAPE. 309 
 
 fortably situated in the shelter of the cave began by 
 degrees to look vastly greater as the moments grew on. 
 
 Finally their ears were gladdened with the noise of 
 voices over the water; the sound -of oars was distinctly 
 heard gradually growing nearer ; and, whilst they listened 
 with suppressed breathing, the boat grated on the shingly 
 shore, the searching party stepped out, the skiff was drawn 
 a little out of the water, and the soldiers commenced 
 climbing the hillside. 
 
 It was blowing hard from the land — from the direction 
 where the party disembarked — and the sounds came with 
 greater distinctness on their listening ears. 
 
 " Have you a light, sergeant ?" The query fell on their 
 ears. " It is so long since I had a smoke that I think a 
 cigar would be of no harm ?" 
 
 " It is the officer who speaks," whispered Ronald. 
 
 " You would find it difficult to get a light in this storm," 
 said the party addressed. 
 
 " If you have your flint and touch-paper I shall be able 
 to manage it. Have you ? For I have forgotten my 
 own." 
 
 " Yes, here they are. But they will be useless. The 
 wind is too strong." 
 
 " Never mind. I shall try it whilst you are ascending 
 the hill. I shall overtake you. There is a brake yonder 
 a good deal sheltered, in which I fancy I shall manage to 
 light it." 
 
 " All right, captain. You will follow us ?" 
 
 "Yes; I shall shortly overtake you." 
 
 The short conversation carried on in a loud voice was 
 clearly enough heard by the anxious listeners. The brake 
 referred to was that wherein they were hidden, and a 
 sudden dread of discovery fell on them. 
 
 " He is coming this way," whispered Ronald, whose 
 ears, more accustomed to the buffetting of storms, could 
 distinguish the steps more accurately. The only sounds 
 that came to the ears of the others were the noise caused 
 by the clambering of the soldiers up the rocky sides of the 
 mountain, and the displacing of loose stones that gradually 
 rolled down the declivity behind. 
 
 Meanwhile, the officer in charge came in their direction, 
 
310 TEE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 where the tangle of the scrub and bushes would give him 
 greater shelter for striking a light, — came, indeed, so near 
 that, as they lay close together, his foot nearly touched 
 him nearest. It was with difficulty they could restrain 
 their breathing. Escape was so near ; and yet so little 
 might effectually preclude its possibility. 
 
 The boat lay almost within hand's reach. A minute 
 or so would, if all things went well, see its sails set, and 
 in the force of the gale blowing send them sweeping up th 
 stormy waters of the Lough. They hey for freedom, and 
 perchance for France ! But now what an awkward con- 
 tretemps ! The slightest movement would betray them, 
 and the slightest call bring their enemies rushing back 
 upon them. ~No wonder they lay with stifled breath, 
 and that they tried even to check the beating of their 
 hearts ! 
 
 The officer, wholly unconscious of the presence of any- 
 one, essayed several times to strike a light with the flint 
 and tinder. But the wind prevented his efforts. The 
 sparks, before they took light on the touch, were rudely 
 blown out by the storm. 
 
 Every effort calmly essayed by him added hours to the 
 lingering anxiety of the fugitives. 
 
 Finally, he succeeded, but at that moment, just as the 
 torch began to take light and burn, an unconscious move- 
 ment on the part of Eugene begotten of his impatience 
 and his high- wrought tension of mind, drew the attention 
 of the officer ! Indeed it could scarcely do otherwise — 
 occurring at his very feet ! 
 
 He stooped down with the lighted touch in his hand 
 to see what occasioned the noise. The light gleaming on 
 the ground disclosed the forms of the fugitives ! 
 
 In a sudden outburst of surprise the officer uplifted 
 himself, the touch dropping from his hands as he did so — 
 uplifted himself to cry aloud to his men now far up the 
 hill! 
 
 It was a moment of dreadful danger. The slightest 
 cry or noise would have brought his men hurrying back 
 down the cliff side. 
 
 Alive to the tremendous necessities of the occasion, 
 Eugene leaped to his feet and placed his hand on the 
 
THE ESCAPE. 311 
 
 month of the surprised officer. In a second after the 
 others were beside him, and without a word being spoken 
 or a cry uttered, the officer w T as gagged wdth a hand- 
 kerchief which prevented him from either stirring or 
 speaking. 
 
 Francois presented a pistol to his ear, the cold muzzle 
 of which gave significant intimation of what was meant, 
 and made the operation less troublesome. 
 
 " Stir hand or foot, utter but the faintest cry, and you 
 are a dead man," whispered Eugene in breathless accents 
 in his ear. "We are escaping piisoners. We shall die 
 before we are taken. Your death is assured if you but 
 breathe a word." 
 
 The manner in which he spoke w r as sufficient token of 
 his earnestness — as it is always where a man feels and 
 means what he says — and the officer taken aback by the 
 suddenness and surprise of the movement, stood still. He 
 had no intention of speaking under the circumstances 
 even if the handkerchief thrust rudely into his mouth 
 permitted him. 
 
 At that moment the whistle of the sergeant on the hill, 
 impatient at the unexpected delay of the officer, was 
 heard. 
 
 " The boat, gentlemen — the boat," whispered Ronald to 
 his comrades. 
 
 The hint was speedily taken. The danger was urgent 
 to all. The slightest sound or alarm would have brought 
 their enemies tumbling back. They hurried the prisoner 
 to where the boat lay, their footsteps on the broken 
 brambles and brushwood making but slight noise. A few 
 vigorous pushes sent the boat into the waters ; and, 
 bringing their prisoner with them, they were speedily 
 launched into the Lough ! 
 
 "Who meddles with the boat? That is the king's 
 boat ! Who dares touch it r" — called from the hill above 
 them in loud tones — assailed their ears. 
 
 Then in a moment after came the call for the officer — ■ 
 " Captain Melville i Captain Melville ! " 
 
 But the officer, fast bound and gagged, made no reply, 
 nor even was he disposed to, with the touch of the cold 
 muzzle of a pistol at his cheek. That they w r ere desperate 
 
312 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 men on a desperate errand there was no need to tell him, 
 and that they carried their lives in their hands. Where- 
 fore no answer came to the call from the cliffs. 
 
 The oars were swiftly fixed in the rowlocks, whilst the 
 surf driven by the storm threatened to overturn the boat, 
 and beat painfully about the ears of the escaping party. 
 A few strokes, uncomfortably noisy as the irons grated in 
 their sockets, sent them out to deeper water ! 
 
 The searching party high above, uneasy at the departure 
 of the boat, and hearing no response from their leader, 
 grew alarmed. A suspicion of treachery fastened on 
 their minds, which was not lessened by the non-appear- 
 ance of their leader. 
 
 Before the boat had gone many perches through the 
 water a rocket shot from the hillside, racing up aloft into 
 the stormy night and bursting into a thousand fragments. 
 
 " That is a signal to the fleet," said Eugene hurriedly, 
 after they had for a moment watcbed its picturesque ascent 
 and extinguishment. 
 
 " And there goes the response," said Ronald, as another, 
 in answer, ascended from the deck of one of the vessels. 
 " We are discovered." 
 
 " Hoist the sail. We must run for it now," said Fran- 
 cois energetically. " Unship the oars. Spread enough 
 sail, and the storm will carry us half way into the Atlantic 
 before they can get ready !" 
 
 Almost as he said it, the oars were removed, placed 
 inside the boat, and whilst the signal roll-call from the 
 fleet came, borne shrilly on their ears on the breast of the 
 wind, the sails were run up and spread. Ronald, best 
 acquainted with the inland waters in which they were 
 sailing, took the rudder ; and they were immediately 
 driving with headlong speed towards the mouth of the 
 Lough, towards the broad waters that formed their ocean 
 pathway to freedom and France. 
 
 It was pitch dark. 
 
 The wind veering blew with hurricane force down from 
 the mountain valleys, and swept as with a tornado the 
 surface of the Lough. The masts creaked and bent as the 
 Btorm, pressing on their sails, nearly buried the prow of the 
 vessel in Mie water. A long streak of phosphorescent 
 
TEE ESCAPE. 813 
 
 foam behind them alone showed a ray of brightness in the 
 thick blackness. 
 
 Save where and alone a slight faint thread of light 
 ascending from the fleet, now rapidly distancing itself 
 from them, showed where a signal was given forth, no 
 light broke on their vision ! 
 
 " This is tremendons going, Eugene," shouted Francois 
 in his friend's ear, for the rushing of the vessel, the howl- 
 ing of the storm, and the straining and the groaning of: 
 the masts, made spoken words nnheard. The boat with 
 the force of the wind and speed sometimes ran on her 
 side until the water surged over. 
 
 " It is. We shall be at sea presently," said Eugene. 
 " This is the mouth of the Lough we are passing through. 
 Somewhere yonder, if we could only make it out through 
 the darkness, the Hoche fought her brave battle." 
 
 " Where is that guardship we were told that hung 
 about here ? I see no light in the black waste of waters," 
 asked MacNevin. 
 
 " Sheltering probably from this storm," said Eugene. 
 "I wish we could do similarly. We shall never stand this 
 wind at sea. This gale comes from the South, and the 
 cliffs by keeping near them might shelter us. Don't you 
 think so ?" added he, turning round and shouting his 
 query into Ronald's ear, where he crouched at the tiller. 
 
 " It is dangerous in this pitch blackness. The coast 
 abounds with rocky islands," returned the latter. 
 
 " But we shall be swept to sea otherwise — blown right 
 out of our course," argued Eugene, " even if we can live 
 through it." 
 
 " Yes," commented MaclSevin, " if this hurricane holds, 
 I fancy we shall be half way to the North Pole before the 
 morning." 
 
 "I think we had better tack round, and 4 run in for 
 shelter under these cliffs, if the boat can wear round in 
 such a storm as this. Do you think she can, Ronald ?" 
 
 " She may." 
 
 " I shall try at any rate." 
 
 "It will need be quick work, then," said Ronald, 
 shouting in his ear. "I have never seen such a storm 
 blow from the South before. Watch me when I shift the 
 helm and let the mainsail go, else we are lost." 
 
314 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 They had left the region of black and swelling waves, 
 and emerged into a sea of broken, white, and tossing snrf . 
 Far as the eye conld reach the hissing foam npheaved — 
 forming a striking contrast with the leaden darkness 
 around and above. The wind descending from the high 
 headlands struck the water here, and with great violence 
 tore its surface into spray. 
 
 " We shall never be able to tack round here. We shall 
 capsize first," was Eugene's thought as he stood by the 
 mainsail, and a gust of wind nearly swept him over- 
 board. 
 
 The mainsail was so taut with the force of the storm 
 that it stood against his hand as if made of steel. At the 
 moment the prow of the boat plunging forward tore 
 through a surf-laden wave, completely burying herself 
 therein and well nigh filling with water. 
 
 " Another like that, Eugene, and we are lost ! The boat 
 is already half full. See how she staggers more than sails 
 through the water." 
 
 " I see that, Francois. We must go round at all hazards. 
 Tell Ronald I am standing by the sail. Let him shift the 
 rudder next lull, and I shall let go." 
 
 There was not much distance wherein to carry the 
 order, yet Francois, what with the difficulty of crossing 
 the seats in the dark and the danger of being blown over- 
 board while standing up, was some time in moving to where 
 Ronald sat at the helm. 
 
 " Ronald, we are in great danger." 
 
 Ronald with a motion of his head assented. 
 
 " Eugene intends letting go at the next lull. Can you 
 shift the helm at the same time ? We must get into 
 still water." 
 
 " Unless done at the same time we shall drown," said 
 Ronald, as a huge wave struck against the side of the 
 boat ; but a motion of the helm rapid as lightning placed 
 her so that the wave skimmed by, its white crest gleaming 
 strangely against the dark background. 
 
 "Now!" shouted Ronald, and at the moment shifted 
 the helm. 
 
 Instantaneously Eugene let go the sail, which cracked 
 with the force of a thousand whips ; a huge wave burst 
 over the vessel; all held their breaths for a moment of 
 
THE ESCAPE. 315 
 
 dreadful suspense ; the boat swept around on Iier side, 
 and almost immediately was gliding peacefully in quiet 
 waters. Save and except the quantity of sea she had 
 shipped, the dangerous movement was swiftly and safely 
 performed. 
 
 " Thank God !" burst with one accord from all hearts. 
 A moment's hesitation in the breast of the steerer or 
 him who stood at the sail would have plunged them into 
 the drowning waters — into eternity ! 
 
 " Well, Francois," said Eugene, " I think we shall long 
 remember our parting from Lough S willy." 
 
 " I fancy so ; though we can be scarcely said to have 
 got quite clear away yet." 
 
 " You are wet, I suppose ?" said Ronald. 
 
 " Wet !" said Francois. " I am thoroughly drenched." 
 
 "For the matter of that, so are we all," said Mac- 
 Nevin. 
 
 " Then I suppose this will be acceptable. It was 
 fortunate I thought of bringing it," said Ronald, pro- 
 ducing a flask. 
 
 " It was never more needed," said MacNevin emphati- 
 cally, as Ronald handed it around. " You might be called 
 the beneficent genii of the Donegal cave." 
 
 The grateful liquor seemed to create a new spirit within 
 the breast of all ; and even the imprisoned officer, who 
 had run all the dangers af their perilous trip without the 
 attendant excitement of escape, felt that the generous 
 drink had given him new heart and life. 
 
 " Hallo," cried Francois, who was looking ahead through 
 the blackness as the boat glided smoothly along in the 
 shelter of the high cliffs, " we appear to be perilously near 
 land. There is a something rising up here to the 
 right which seems to me to be like it !" 
 
 *' I wish it were," said Ronald, "and that we could 
 have an hour's rest ashore if only to stretch one's legs. I 
 am perfectly crippled with sitting here." 
 
 "Where is the land, Francois ? I cannot see it," said 
 Eugene, who had gained his side, and was peering with 
 him through the darkness. 
 
 " Yonder it is; and, lo ! there seems a light on it, too," 
 cried Francois, indicating the position of the supposed cliff. 
 
316 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 Eugene looked for a moment in the direction, then 
 suddenly left his side with an exclamation of surprise 
 which startled Francois, and hurried to the tiller. 
 
 " Ronald," said he, " shift the helm. Quick, man ! put 
 her head to the North or we are lost !" 
 
 " What ! to the North ? — to the open sea again ?" 
 
 " Yes, at once — or we are undone ?" 
 
 " Why, what is the matter ?" cried Ronald, who believed 
 that his companion had lost his senses, or that the small 
 quantity of poteen he had taken had had some effect on 
 his brain. 
 
 " The guardship is ahead of us ! We are running 
 directly under her bows. £ee !" 
 
 Looking, Bonald saw the huge hulk of the ship looming 
 vaguely upon them from the darkness, and right in their 
 front. She was sheltering under bare poles in the security 
 of the beetling headlands, and, save her swaying and toss- 
 ing on the troubled surface of the water, was perfectly 
 noiseless and quiet. The movements of their own boat 
 through the water and the conversation that had been 
 carried on had attracted the attention of the watch on her 
 deck ; and whilst Ronald looked, a second light made its 
 appearance, defining clearly enough her previously vague 
 form. 
 
 A muttered malediction came from Ronald, who was far 
 from expecting this incident. The next moment a move- 
 ment of the tiller sent the little boat at a strong angle to 
 her former course, and not a moment too soon, for they 
 were almost running against the huge sides of the guard- 
 ship, the contact with which would inevitably have cap- 
 sized them, and the suction of the water have drawn 
 them under her keel. 
 
 A breathless silence fell on all on board, as the sails, 
 fluttering with the altered course of the boat, speedily 
 filled again with the wind. All eyes were cast on the 
 vague form above them and the lights moving high up as in 
 some solitary watch tower. A bugle came on their ears. 
 
 " That is a signal for us to come around to them," said 
 Ronald, bending forward to his companions. 
 
 " They will wait for us a while," whispered Francois 
 gaily. " This is an unreasonable time for visiting " 
 
TEE ESCAPE. 317 
 
 " Yes, I think they will have to travel pretty far to 
 converse with ns," said MacNevin. 
 
 " I fancy they are going to speak to us in anothei way. 
 There is a porthole thrown open." 
 
 " So there is !" said Franeois= 
 
 A porthole did indeed disclose through the darkness its 
 ominous light — which was qnickly shaded, however, as 
 a gnn was ran ont and depressed in their direction. 
 
 " Hnsh ! — not a word ! " said Eugene impressively. 
 " They are guided only by the noise of onr voices, and are 
 going to fire at random in this direction." 
 
 The noise of the boat rushing through the water was 
 the only sound save the roaring of the storm, as they held 
 their breath in suspense for the first shot. 
 
 It was not long in coming. A sudden violent flash of 
 red light, that died out as suddenly as it appeared, a thud 
 as of several substances striking the surface of the water 
 near, and a shower of spray was dashed over them! 
 Following came the boom of the gun, and the cloud of 
 white smoke lifted itself spirally through the darkness 
 and lazily disappeared. 
 
 " That was a narrow escape !" whispered Eugene. " A 
 little more elevation and there was an end of our 
 attempt." 
 
 " We are not quite done with them yet — hush ! " said 
 Francois, as the lights once more glimmered in the little 
 window-like port-hole. A second time the sharp lightning 
 flash pierced the darkness, the howl of the wind gave 
 way to the heavy, dull boom of the big gun, and a shower 
 of grape sweeping overhead — some even piercing the sails 
 — struck the water in advance of them. 
 
 " This is coming too close," said Ronald from his place 
 at the helm. " I shall run her Nor'-East to get out of 
 reach of that gun. Stand by to answer the helm ! " 
 
 " I am ready. Call when !" said Eugene, taking his 
 stand at his place, sail-rope in hand. 
 
 "IN T ow!" 
 
 " Now, be it !" cried the former, loosing his hold; and 
 immediately the boat was spinning along on her new 
 course. A third discbarge of grape struck the sea a long 
 way behind 
 
318 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 " We are ont of range of that gun," said Mac^Tevin. 
 ' Let us hope they may not send a boat after ns." 
 
 " They will scarcely tempt this night of storm. The 
 chances are they have taken us for a smuggling vessel, 
 taking advantage of this gale to make a favourable 
 venture, and will not think us worthy of the trouble. 
 Meanwhile we had better creep along the coast until 
 morning breaks, when the gale out at sea may moderate." 
 
 Thus Ronald. 
 
 Through the darkness of the night they kept their 
 silent way until in the distant east there appeared a 
 cold, grey breadth of daylight. As it grew stronger 
 and the hills along the shore began to have their sides 
 tipped with brightness, a singular scene presented itself. 
 The sea, inshore in the shelter of the cliffs, was still as a 
 mill-pond; but further out, where the headlands failed to 
 protect it, and where the wind had power to strike i1\ 
 it was, far as the eye could reach, one sheet of surf and 
 foam. 
 
 A marvellous sight! and seemed as if the surface 
 of the tossing sea had been suddenly overlaid with a 
 mantle of snow. On the edge of the horizon, a vessel 
 caught in the storm of the night, could be seen 
 heavily labouring and helplessly tumbling in the trough 
 of the foaming sea. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," said MacNevin, as the high cliffs of 
 the Giant's Causeway came on their sight, M it is pretty 
 nearly time for us to shape our course. Which way shall 
 we steer?" 
 
 " For the coast of Scotland, I suggest," said Ronald. 
 " We shall find friends there who will aid us to escape." 
 
 " And run a further chance of capture, or at least of 
 detention from France," exclaimed Francois, whose breast 
 was glowing with the hope of shortly reaching his native 
 country. " Certainly not. What say you, Eugene ?" 
 
 " Why, as for me," said Eugene, M I should wish to 
 remain in Ireland some time longer. I have pressing 
 business to arrange." 
 
 " It would be perfectly impossible for you to do so at 
 present," said Ronald. " We could not land you any 
 place where you would not be certain of capture." 
 
THE ESCAPE. 319 
 
 " Why not proceed down the Channel, and maVe straight 
 for France?" suggested Francois. 
 
 " Because yon would be certain to be captured before 
 you could reach mid- Channel," returned Ronald. " I vote 
 that we steer for Scotland. I have friends in every harbour 
 along the coast. We can then suit our own different 
 purposes, and choose our own modes of departure." 
 
 " I think that is the best plan," said MacNevin. 
 " I don't see how escape is practicable any other way." 
 
 Eugene thought so, too, particularly as once there he 
 was within easy reach of the Irish coast. Francois being 
 in a hopeless minority, was obliged to consent, though 
 with manifest reluctance ; and, having put their prisoner 
 ashore, they turned the boat's head to the North-east, 
 intending to reach the coast of Scotland by rounding 
 Rathlin Island. 
 
 In a short time the shores of the Northern coast were 
 fast receding from them. 
 
 " Good-bye, Ireland !" said MacNevin, as the tall bluffs 
 of the Giant's Causeway, with its wondrous architecture 
 —Nature's own handiwork — began to grow cloud-like. 
 " Your hills appear to me for tbe last time. I would I 
 left you under happier circumstances." 
 
 "Good-bye, Ireland!" cried Francois gaily. "I had 
 hoped to win my marshal's baton on your green plains, 
 but Fate has willed it otherwise." 
 
 " All hopes are not lost yet," broke in Eugene cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 " They are — completely," said MacNevin emphatically. 
 
 " The Directory may " 
 
 " The Directory will never do anything more — and if 
 they did it would come too late. They could not galvanize 
 this broken, dispirited, and defeated land into fresh life. 
 No ; I shall never look on Irish shore, or stream, or hill- 
 side again. I feel that with the strength of prophecy. 
 The gates of eternity shall unroll themselves to me, and 
 the wonderful land that is beyond them appear, before I 
 shall see this land again. Good-bye, dear Ireland !' And 
 now for the hills of Scotland ! " 
 
 He spoke with deep feeling ; and a sense of dejection 
 and disappointment was palpable in his words. 
 
320 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 As he concluded, all eyes turned in the direction in 
 which they were steering, when suddenly an exclamation 
 burst from them ! 
 
 For — tossing and tumbling in the water, so close to 
 them that every pulley and block in her rigging could be 
 distinctly seen, was a large three-masted vessel. Their 
 exclamations were caused by the suddenness with which 
 she had appeared to their gaze. 
 
 If she had risen out of the water the effect could not 
 have been more startling. 
 
 " Where has she come from ?" asked Francois in amaze- 
 ment. " She was certainly not here the last time when 
 I looked." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Ronald, " that she has suddenly 
 started out of the water. But stay ! this must be the 
 vessel we saw earlier. The mist had hidden her." 
 
 " She is in a bad way, at any rate," said Eugene, scan- 
 ning her intently " There seems to be no one working 
 her. Her sails hang loosely, as you see, and her rudder is 
 untended. She is abandoned." 
 
 " Strange she should be abandoned," said Ronald, " for 
 she seems to be all right. Her masts are standing, and she 
 is too high out of the sea to be water-logged. It seems 
 extraordinary. Let us board her." 
 
 " And possibly fall into the danger we are flying from," 
 said MacNevin. 
 
 "There is no fear of that," said Eugene decisively; 
 " that is not an English-rigged vessel. She is more of 
 the American style." 
 
 "Yes," broke in Ronald, "and look yonder, there is a 
 remnant of a flag flying. That flag is American. Sue 
 must have been beating up the Channel all night. Unless 
 some aid is given her she will bear down on the rocks 
 around Rathlin and be smashed to pieces in an hour or 
 less." 
 
 While they were thus discussing the derelict, the vessel 
 still continued to pitch and flounder, lifting herself un- 
 steadily on the top of a wave and lumberingly descending 
 again into the trough of the sea, whilst the sails, or rather 
 the remnants of them, flew out in every direction as the 
 wind, catching in the folds, got power over them. But 
 
THE ESCAPE. 321 
 
 there was no sign of human beings on board, nor anything 
 to indicate their presence. 
 
 It was a weird sight to see the vessel uninjured, yei 
 thus derelict and abandoned, driving along helplessly at 
 the mercy of wind and wave, no one knowing whence 
 she had come, or what strange story she had brought out 
 of the night and storm. 
 
 " I agree with you, Ronald. I think we should board 
 her. There is something curious about her. What sa^v 
 you gentlemen ?" 
 
 " I think so," said Ronald. 
 
 "And I," said Francois. 
 
 " Very well, gentlemen. I have no objection," said 
 MacNevin, rather reluctantly. 
 
 They turned the prow of their boat in her direction, 
 and ran under her side to leeward. A rope descending 
 from her bulwarks was swinging unsteadily, anon high in 
 the air and again descending into the water. 
 
 Eugene caught it, and, with the dexterity of an active 
 sailor, swung himself on deck. 
 
 After the lapse of some moments, during which those 
 in the boat awaited with some anxiety his coming, he re- 
 appeared over the bulwarks and let down a rope-ladder. 
 
 His face was very white, asd there was a strange look 
 on it which they did not fail to xsotice. 
 
 " There is something curious within this vessel," said 
 Francois, as, catching hold of the ladder, he rapidly 
 mounted on deck, whither, after fastening the boat, he 
 was quickly followed by the others. 
 
 "What is it, Eugene?" asked MacrTevin. " What's 
 amiss ? What's wrong with the vessel ? " 
 
 " Come below," said Eugene, with, as he turned to 
 descend the companion ladder, something like affright 
 in his voice. 
 
 His friends followed him, wondering at ais manner. 
 They entered the cabin, and a strange sight met their eyes. 
 
 A number of bodies lay aronnd dead, and dead for some 
 time, for the senses of the spectators gave sufficient 
 evidence that decomposition had set in. 
 
 The blood scarcely yet dried on the floor, and the gashed 
 faces and arms of the fallen, showed that a terrible struggle 
 
322 THE SEAN VAN VOGET. 
 
 had taken place. The pistols and cutlasses that had fallen 
 from the hands of the combatants lay in disorder aronnd, 
 where the tossing and pitching of the ship had flung them. 
 
 " There has been terrible work here," was the com- 
 mentary of MacNevin as he looked in surprised silence 
 on the evidences around. 
 
 " What conld it have been ?" whispered Francois, as 
 the four in the gloom of the cabin stood for a moment 
 surveying the scene before them. 
 
 " A mutiny, I fancy," said Eugene. 
 
 " Robbed and plundered by pirates," suggested Ronalch 
 
 " Nay, I think not. She is an American vessel ; look 
 here !" and pointing to the name over the hatchment he 
 showed her Boston origin. "Besides, if it were an attack 
 by pirates it is not here but on deck the dead would be 
 found." 
 
 " What shall we do ? The vessel is driving forward 
 towards the rocks dangerously fast," said Ronald. 
 
 "We must explore a little more, and see what it all 
 comes to. A few minutes will suffice." 
 
 " Eugene! Ronald ! come here ! " cried Francois, in a 
 second after, from one of the sleeping berths leading oil' 
 the cabin, to which he had gained entrance. " Come here ! — 
 quickly!" 
 
 Entering where the call came from, they were some 
 time before, in the darkness, they could plainly see around 
 them. Then they noticed that two men lay bound securely, 
 and tied in a sitting posture to the bunk. A gag was in 
 the mouth of each, and as they lay back, their shoulders 
 against the partition, they appeared to be dead. 
 
 "They are not dead — there's life in them still!" said 
 Eugene, in reply to a whisper from Francois, as he felt 
 their pulses. " Find a light some one, until we unbind 
 them. And some one also see if there be any stimu- 
 lant in the cabin. Their lives may depend upon instant 
 attention." 
 
 Francois was fortunate enough to find a light. There 
 
 was not much difficulty in obtaining stimulants either, for 
 
 place was but little disturbed. Whatever was the 
 
 origin or cause of the quarrel it seemed clear that ordinary 
 
 robbery or plunder hod nothing to do with it. 
 
THE ESCAPE. 323 
 
 In a moment the cords that bound the two insensible 
 forms were cut, and carefully a few drops of brandy were 
 poured between their lips. Little by little the quantity was 
 increased until the action of the pulse gave Eugene token 
 of a movement towards strength and recovery. 
 
 " Francois," whispered Eugene, " have you ever seen 
 that face before ?" 
 
 " Let me see. Hold the light a little nearer. Let it fall 
 over his face. Why, Eugene, it is " 
 
 " Who ?" 
 
 " Our old captain." 
 
 " The very same. I could not for a moment remember 
 Your recognition confirms my own impression." 
 
 " I thought he was on board the British fleet ?" 
 
 " What could have brought him here ?" 
 
 " Heaven alone knows." 
 
 " If he recovers we shall soon know. Meantime, 
 Francois, we shall leave you to take care of them. The 
 ship needs minding, too, and it will take us all our time 
 to fix the helm and shift the sails. Thank Heaven, the 
 storm is abating a little." 
 
 It was fortunate that two men so skilful as Eugene and 
 Ronald had come on board, for the vessel had got into the 
 race of waters that with swift current bear down from 
 the North Channel on the iron rocks of Rathlin. What 
 with the treacherous current, added to the storm of the 
 night, and the heavy gale still blowing from the South, 
 she was driving with blind speed towards the pitiless 
 rocks. 
 
 An hour, or even half an hour would place her where 
 human aid would be unavailing. 
 
 "There is no time to be lost here, Ronald," said Eugene, 
 as they reached the deck and took in the surroundings. 
 
 "None," said the other emphatically. 
 
 " Shall we be able to wear her round P" 
 
 " We must try. Some of the sails are still good. Unless 
 we can — and immediately — we shall never set foot on 
 French or Irish soil again. We are among the breakers." 
 
 " We must wear her round. We cannot abandon her." 
 
 " You could not even if you would. No small boat 
 would last a minute in this boiling surge." 
 
324 THE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 " Very well, Ronald. Help me to tie this helm ; the 
 villains have let it sway loose. Stretch the mainsail 
 whilst I rnn aloft and clew up the top yards. You 
 had better stand at the helm, MacNevin, and see that it 
 does not shift. Keep it hard a port. We may weather 
 the terrible danger yet. But it will need all our efforts." 
 
 Whilst Ronald braced up the mainsail that had been 
 fluttering about with every movement of the ship, Eugene 
 mounted swiftly aloft, and spreading out some sails, and 
 making them taut, clewed and fastened up others. 
 
 It was wonderfully quick action, but the hands at work 
 were gifted with the skill derived from long experience ; 
 and precisely as a horse, galloping loose with trailing 
 reins, finding himself caught and with a hard hand in 
 command, goes steadily forward in a fixed direction, so in 
 space of a few minutes ander the guidance of the two 
 active hands at work, the ship ceased her tossing and 
 tumbling, and plunged steadily forward over the waves 
 that had so lately made her their sport. Nothing to 
 MacNevin's unpractised eye showed more the marvellous 
 power of men's hands and intelligence than the sudden- 
 ness with which the huge ship obeyed their will, and, 
 abandoning her former helplessness, sprang forward as if 
 gifted with new life and energy. 
 
 But the danger was still imminent! Before the vessel's 
 head could be brought around, what with the engulphing 
 whirlpool and the driving wind, she was forced to make a 
 curve that brought her perilously near to the iron rocks 
 over which they could see the surf beating — the white 
 foam in striking contrast with their black and jagged 
 peaks. Eugene remained aloft to make the necessary 
 changes of sail, occasionally motioning his directions to 
 Ronald, who stood lower down ; and the helmsman 
 looking at the white faces and active forms of both 
 ready to let go or clew-up as the instant demanded, 
 could see by their nervous movements that the danger 
 was imminent and deadly. 
 
 After a time the ship curved round her head to the 
 open sea, and leaving the black rocks to her left— so near 
 that the rush of the surf over them came distinctly on 
 their ears — headed like a panting steed forward. There 
 
THE ESCAPE. 325 
 
 was no tossing in the trongh of the waves now, as, with 
 sails taut to the hardness of sheet-iron, she rode buoyantly 
 over them. 
 
 Once safe, Eugene and MacNevin, leaving Ronald at 
 the helm, proceeded downwards to where the captain lay. 
 The stimulant had produced its effect, and the latter was 
 not only sufficiently recovered to be able to recognise 
 Francois, but to speak. 
 
 The greeting between himself and Eugene was most 
 cordial. 
 
 " Of all the places in the world the last I should expect 
 to see you in — and the last of all circumstances. How 
 did it come about ? I am impatient to hear it," asked the 
 latter. 
 
 " It is easily enough told," said the captain when his 
 strength had sufficiently recovered. " The Thunderer 
 when refitted was sent to cruise off: the coast of Canada. 
 I deserted at Quebec and came to Boston. There I met 
 some Irishmen whom I knew years before — men who 
 loved their old land, and were ready to make sacrifices 
 for her. They raised funds — they were all of high position 
 and opulence — to purchase this vessel, and to load her 
 with firearms and ammunition for the cause of Ireland." 
 
 " With firearms and ammunition ?" 
 
 " Yes, the hold is stored from keel to undercleck with 
 them at present. But she carried something as good or 
 better — large funds for the support of the Irish cause — 
 for the army in the field." 
 
 The captain paused, partly with emotion and partly 
 with regret. 
 
 " But what has happened — what means this terrible 
 scene outside?" asked Eugene, impatient for an explanation. 
 
 " The gold was too much temptation for some of our 
 crew. We shipped at Boston — for we found it difficult to 
 get hands — part of the crew of an English slaver which 
 had been seized there." 
 
 " And they attempted to rob you ?" 
 
 " They did — more than attempted. They succeeded. 
 Decoying the rest of the crew into the cabin with a false 
 cry of fire, they fell upon them unexpectedly with cut- 
 lasses and pistol-shots until they overpowered them." 
 
326 THE SEAN VAN VOOHT. 
 
 " That explains the sight ontside ?" 
 
 " That explains it," said the captain. 
 
 " And they bore off the gold ?" 
 
 " They took all the treasure with them." 
 
 " I wonder that they did not kill you also." 
 
 " They intended worse ; they left ns to die, to bear all 
 the agonies of knowing that the vessel was driving to 
 destruction without power to alter or guide her course, 
 and to die a living death, as we have been during the past 
 eight and forty hours." 
 
 " Where did this take place?" 
 
 " At the entrance to the Channel." 
 
 " And you have been beating up the Channel in this 
 manner all the time ?" 
 
 " We have been pitching and tossing — driving hither 
 and thither — in all the fury of last night's storm. And 
 what a hurricane it was ! It seemed to me before I grew 
 unconscious, as if the spirits of all that ever were drowned 
 at sea were whistling and shrieking in the rigging and on 
 deck." 
 
 " It was the wind tearing through the ropes and sails." 
 
 " Perhaps it was ; but the sounds were not like that. I 
 should know the shrieking of the wind after twenty years 
 at sea, but the cries and wails that were around us all 
 night were not like that. Where are we now ?" 
 
 " North of Antrim — off the North coast of Ireland." 
 
 " We must have been driven with great speed." 
 
 " The gale of last night was not likely to let a ship rest 
 on the waters," said Eugene. 
 
 " That is true. Singular how we steered clear of the 
 shore on either side, to reach this far safely. Which puts 
 me in mind to ask what brings you here — what good luck 
 brought you on board ?" 
 
 " The extraordinary chances of war. But I shall tell 
 you again. We have other more pressing matters now 
 on hands." 
 
 " One word — how goes the insurre^ flft n in Ireland ?" 
 
 " Over — over for our lifetime. Crushes ^at— drowned 
 out in blood." 
 
 " And Tone ?" 
 
 u A prisoner." 
 
THE ESCAPE. 327 
 
 " And— the rest ?" 
 
 " Dead — or in prison. Some on the gibbet, some in the 
 jail. Don't ask me further about them. It is the cruellest 
 story of brave hearts crushed and bright hopes disap- 
 pointed that ever dimmed the page of history. The very 
 fates seemed to fight against this hapless land." 
 
 " And that is the end?" 
 
 " That is the end — in our time." 
 
 " I can hardly believe it," said the captain, lying back 
 wearily and disappointedly, " A nation's life and liberties 
 cannot be trampled out so summarily. A further effort 
 will be made." 
 
 4 ' I wish I could hope with yon. but I cannot. "We 
 shall talk these matters over again. Meantime it is 
 necessary something should be done with the ship. 
 Where do jou propose going ?" 
 
 " Under the circumstances, now, I do not know." 
 
 " Then we had better sail for France." 
 
 " Are you going there ?" 
 
 " Yes, I think so. At least some of us are." 
 
 " Then I suppose it is the best thing to do." 
 
 " We had better run up the American flag. The one 
 flying is tattered to pieces. Have you another ?" 
 
 " You will find one in the locker to the right," said the 
 captain. " I shall be able to go about myself presently." 
 
 " There is no need until you grow stronger. But," said 
 Eugene, as he stepped to the door and the sight outside 
 presented itself again to his view, " it will be necessary 
 to get rid of these bodies. They had better be hove over- 
 board as soon as possible. Who were they." 
 
 " Irish- Americans. Poor fellows ! it was not here, noi 
 in that way, they expected to die." 
 
 " Coming over in the cause ? " 
 
 " Aye ; with high hopes, poor fellows, for Ireland and 
 themselves." 
 
 " Well, they will never set foot on its shores now. But 
 for their cause we shall give them fitting burial. It is 
 not the first time I made the shroud for dead messmates 
 —killed in gallant action, however, and not by aa 
 assassin's cutlass. Have you got canvas ?" 
 
 You will find all the necessary matters in the lock«r." 
 
328 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 The sun was high in the sky, brightening the troubled 
 snrface of the sea with a flood of glorious light, and the 
 three-master, with all the sails they conld muster set, was 
 bearing gallantly down the Channel over the course where 
 she had been tossed and tumbled by the hurricane, when, 
 over the side, shrouded in canvas, a cannon ball sewn in 
 at the feet, the bodies of the dead men were committed to 
 the deep ! 
 
 It was a sad sight. 
 
 The senseless forms, rendered more gloomy from being 
 completely shrouded, let down feet foremost, with tender 
 and reverent hands, sank swiftly out of sight — the weight 
 of iron attached bringing them down. It was weird to 
 see them disappear in the dark waters for evermore from 
 the sunlight overhead. 
 
 Where they had been born, on what Irish hillside or 
 valley their cradles had been rocked, why they had left 
 Ireland, and what their varying fortunes had been in the 
 far-off land, were things wholly unknown. Possibly eyes 
 wept and hearts mourned for their absence; but even of this 
 no one knew. They had come hoping to strike a blow for 
 the freedom of the land that bore them ; they had come, 
 as the captain said, with high hopes ; but the end was 
 thus. Till the day when the sea gives up its dead, and 
 the "history of each one is written in words of fire that all 
 gathered mankind shall read, their names and the story 
 of their lives were blotted out with the waters that closed 
 over them as they sank swiftly out of sight ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLV1. 
 
 AN OLD STORY RE-TOLD. 
 
 There was a gloom over the faces of all as the last of the 
 forms sank in the waves. But there was little time for 
 sorrow. They were short-handed in the vessel, and it 
 required all their attention to repair the sails and to 
 supply new ones from the ship's stores for those that 
 >* storm had torn to &hred« 
 
AN OLD STORY RE-TOLD. 829 
 
 " If we keep on at this rate," said Francois exultingly, 
 " we shall not be long until we see France." 
 
 " I am not going to France, Francois — at least not 
 directly," replied Engene, as they both looked over the 
 bulwarks towards the Irish shores. 
 
 " What !" cried the astonished youth. " Not coming 
 to France ! What do you mean to do ?" 
 
 " To land on Irish soil again, Francois,' 5 said Eugene, 
 amused at his young friend's surprise. 
 
 " What for ? A soldier's sword is needed there no 
 more." 
 
 " I am going to pay a visit, Francois — a long- promised 
 visit, and a long deferred one." 
 
 " But your friends — those gentlemen we met that night 
 — they are all dead or in prison, you have told me." 
 
 " So they are, Francois ; but there are other friends 
 whom I wish to see — indeed, whom I must see. You re- 
 member the night we drove to the boat ?" 
 
 " Well. Capital reason I have to remember it." 
 
 " And the visit I paid ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Francois, I mean to visit there to-night again if God 
 gives me strength and life." 
 
 " But you will be arrested, Eugene. MacNevin tells us 
 that a reign of terror exists in Dublin — that the jails are 
 full, and the battlements of the bridges decked with rebels' 
 heads. Is not that so, MacNevin ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have seen them myself," said MacNevin, who 
 had joined them. 
 
 " Hear that, Eugene ! See the dangers you run." 
 
 " It does not matter. It is my destiny to go there — 
 and I shall. Not all the terrors of an English prison 
 could dissuade me." 
 
 " It is an unwise intention, M. Lefebre," said MacNevin 
 gravely. " I am an Irishman myself, and yet I never in- 
 tend to place my foot on the soil of that land again, dearly 
 as I love it. It is no place now for a free man. And 
 why you with your high command in the French service, 
 with your youth and the brilliant prospect opening before 
 
 you " 
 
 " Why I should choose to do so you cannot under- 
 
330 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 stand?" broke in Eugene. "Well, I cannot fully 
 explain, but go I must. Do you know what day this 
 is, Francois ?" 
 
 " A curious question to ask. It is the last day of 
 October." 
 
 " So it is, Francois. It is a night when spirits are 
 abroad and the dead leave their graves, and they call it in 
 Ireland, Hallowe'en. Twenty-five years ago on this night 
 a French man-of-war was wrecked in a storm on this 
 coast. Not a French soldier or sailor lived to tell the talc 
 but one — her captain. He held a name remarkable in 
 France ; but fate brought him to the Irish shore that 
 Hallowe'en night, a quarter of a century ago. He pre- 
 sented himself — a waif that destiny bore from the wave 
 and storm — at a gentleman's mansion, and whilst — as the 
 story was told me — the family were enjoying themselves. 
 It was a night of storm and wind — something like last 
 night — and the appearance of the ha If- drowned sailor 
 washed ashore from the vanished ship was not a little 
 calculated to alarm them. It was, however, a dear, fair 
 girl who was the most terrified and frightened at his un- 
 bidden appearance, and who afterwards became his wife — 
 and — and my mother." 
 
 The speaker's voice trembled with emotion, and for a 
 time he ceased whilst his eyes sought out the ranges of 
 cloudlike tints on the rim of the horizon — the faint far 
 off hills of Ireland. 
 
 ' ; I never knew before," said Francois, in low, serious 
 tones, " that you had Irish blood in your veins. I do 
 not wonder now you were so fond of Ireland." 
 
 " Nor should I have told you now, Francois, but that 
 an unwonted softness is in my heart. Perhaps it is the 
 poor fellows who have gone to their low bed in the deep 
 waters — forgotten and unknown — that have caused it. 
 But for the last hour or so I have been thinking — of what 
 lo you think r" 
 
 " Heaven knows, Eugene — in your adventurous life 
 there must be so many events to think of!" 
 
 " Not of any of them. I was thinking of my mother's 
 grave." 
 
 " But that, my dear Eugene," said Francois, the tears 
 
AN OLD STORY RE-TOLD. 331 
 
 welling sympathetically into his eyes, " should be rather 
 the reason why you should visit France." 
 
 " She is buried in Ireland, Francois — her grave is in 
 Irish soil." 
 
 " Ah ! How sad — away fiom dear France," said Francois, 
 with a feeling of deep regret in his voice — for to him 
 absence from his own country, living or dead, seemed the 
 acme of all grief and sorrow. 
 
 "Well, perhaps, not sad after all," said Eugene, an 
 airy smile breaking through his previously grave and 
 serious, if not depressed, face, as the enthusiastic love of 
 his young friend for France exhibited itself somewhat 
 irrationally in this remark. " Her rest may be as peace- 
 ful under Irish grass and under Irish sunlight as else- 
 where. I hope to see it, however, before I see France." 
 
 " After all, if you will permit me to urge it," said 
 MacNevin gently, "that is not a reason strong enough to 
 make you peril your safety and freedom by landing now 
 on Irish soil." 
 
 " Quite right, MacXevin," urged Francois earnestly ; 
 " there is no feeling of reverence for the dead that can 
 justify danger to the living. I myself should like to 
 see " 
 
 " I am sure you would, Francois — anyone that was 
 dear to you ; and I shall be sworn, considerations of danger 
 would not deter you. But I did not finish my story. As 
 twenty-five years ago a half-drowned sailor presented 
 himself before the merry group in the mansion I spoke 
 of, so two years ago on this very evening, I myself, heaven 
 knows without any intention of following, or even know- 
 ledge of the precedent, presented myself there, with equally 
 alarming effects." 
 
 " Ah ! Citizen Lefebre, I see !" said Francois gaily. 
 " There is a fair girl in this story, too. Well, in that case, 
 sorry as I am and shall be for your absence, I cannot have 
 the heart to urge you to remain with us." 
 
 The news of Eugene's intention spread quickly among 
 the little party, to whom it came with infinite regret, but 
 there was no altering his decision. 
 
 Indeed, he felt himself powerless to do so. The yearn- 
 ing within him to see Seamore again — to see even the 
 
332 THE SEAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 lights burning in its windows, nmch less those so dear to 
 him within walls — was too powerful for him to control. 
 Dangers, imprisonment, death itself would not stay him 
 in his intention. 
 
 The ship's head was altered, and as the dusk was closing 
 and the lamps began to appear on the distant coast, Eugene 
 put out from the ship's side in a small punt belonging to 
 her. 
 
 " Good-bye, Francois," cried Eugene. " We shall meet 
 again. Good-bye, all !" 
 
 " Good-bye, Eugene," responded Francois. 
 
 " Good-bye, M. Lefebre ! Farewell, Ireland ! I shall 
 see your fair shores never-more!" said MacNevin. 
 " Trampled and crushed, but fair and thrice beloved land, 
 farewell — for ever farewell !" 
 
 The vessel's prow was turned seaward, and in a short 
 time a tiny speck on the distant waters showed where 
 their gallant friend was pursuing his solitary way to that 
 land which the others were, indeed, destined never more 
 to see. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 THE DEATH OF TONE. 
 
 Eugene landed at the basin at Ringsend, and, mooring his 
 little skiff to one of the rings that depended from the 
 granite blocks that formed it, leaped lightly to the quay, 
 and took his way along the South wall to the city. 
 
 The dusk had fallen, and the lamps began to appear by 
 ones and twos ; lights grew in the shops as he walked 
 swiftly along; and here and there a flickering gleam 
 showed where, on the black surface of the river, vessels 
 were anchored. 
 
 There was no vehicle to be had in this half -abandonee 
 fishing village where he had landed, and he could not 
 expect to find a jingle nearer than the heart of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 This was in no sense a disappointment to him ; rather 
 he was glad of the opportunity of a walk ; it was a 
 
THE DEATH OF TONE. 333 
 
 novelty, and a refreshing one, to him who had been so 
 long cooped np within the narrow limits of a man-of-war 
 or the still more confined boundaries of a cave on the 
 Donegal highlands ; and so he stepped out briskly and 
 faced for Sackville-street. 
 
 His heart was light and his spirits high. True, the 
 dreams of fame and honour to be won on Irish soil were 
 over ; the bright visions that danced before his eyes for 
 years past had vanished suddenly into the gloomy land 
 where the ghosts of things that might have been, but are 
 not, wander in grim and uncouth shape. The high hopes 
 of the day when, amid the thunders of French cannon, 
 the flashing of French sabres, the charges of French 
 cuirassiers, and the rolling volleys of French musketeers, 
 the banner of a liberated Ireland should be unfurled amid 
 the smoke of victory, were gone like last year's snow, 
 never to return. 
 
 But what of all that ? He had done his best ; he had 
 laboured zealously to change his dreams into realities, to 
 turn his hopes into assured prophecies ; he had done all 
 that his right hand found to do to aid in the good cause ; 
 but the fates had been against him. The fortunes of war 
 lay doggedly with the enemy. Chivalrous impulse, gallant 
 effort, high-hearted enterprise, all had been enlisted in the 
 grand cause of freedom, but with non-success. What 
 brave hearts could do had been done. Where, therefore, 
 was the use of repining ? 
 
 "No chains so unworthy to bind thee 
 As those of a vain regret." 
 
 Eugene may not have thought these things in this order, 
 as with swift pace he proceeded on his way, but they 
 alternated in his mind with other matters. He was too 
 much of a Frenchman to burthen himself with unavailing 
 regrets ; he had fought the good fight and had been 
 worsted ; and he began to look upon the past as if it had 
 never existed — as if it were but the hateful memory of 
 a fevered and disordered dream. 
 
 In doing this he had' — besides his light-hearted mer- 
 curial nature — a powerful aid. And that was the bright 
 eves and fair face of Helen Barrington. In the happiness 
 
334 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 of soon seeing her, of having his soul gladdened with a 
 glance at the glory of her rare handsomeness, of hearing 
 her musical voice come in welcoming tones to his ears, 
 like angel sounds from Paradise, disappointment and 
 sorrow, imprisonment, exile, the prison-hulk, and the 
 storm-tossed ship, all the memories of the past, faded 
 from his mind — vanished as the dark things of the night 
 vanish before the first gleams of the rising sun. 
 
 Curiously enough, no thought of Sir Trevor Mortimer 
 obtruded itself to disturb his delighted anticipations. 
 
 His mind was filled with radiant visions of her. How 
 would she look ? Was her face as fair, her eyes as bright 
 as when last he saw her ? Had she ever thought of him 
 in all his time of imprisonment, his escape, and his stay in 
 France ? Did a remembrance of him cross her mind 
 what time the Hoclie tossed and tumbled on the stormy 
 waste of waters, with the warring sea beneath, the hur- 
 ricane around, and the black sky streaked with lurid 
 lightning above ? Did a prayer for him come from her 
 lips, mayhap, what time the thunders of the British fleet 
 were turned on the gallant ship, and the red line of fire 
 from her guns daunt lessly replied to the foe ? Did that 
 invisible spell that connects loving hearts, though miles of 
 land and sea lie between, that carries the sudden throb of 
 danger or the soft thrill of joy — mysterious but certain 
 current ! — bear to her sudden sinking of heart during the 
 long hours when the overmatched Hoclie fought her foes, 
 until her decks were strewn with her gallant dead and 
 her scuppers ran with blood, and the smoke of their guns 
 ascended until it arched the Donegal hills, ten miles 
 away ? 
 
 Ah, the Hoclie ! And Tone ? 
 
 He had somehow forgotten Tone of late, and he paused 
 in wonderment at himself and his forgetfulness. What 
 had become of him ? Brave and enthusiastic Irishman ! 
 How did his true and faithful heart bear the 
 
 A hand was quietly laid on his shoulder — not so quietly, 
 however, but that it made him start in its suddenness 
 and unexpectedness. His mind was so occupied with its 
 train of thoughts — so high-wrought — that this interrup- 
 tion came upon him with startling effect. 
 
THE DEATH OF TONE. 335 
 
 He was passing by an inn, whose lighted window flung 
 the glare of its lamps full on his face. 
 
 "Lefebre!" 
 
 " Yes, I am he," said Eugene quickly, turning around 
 to see his accoster, and for the moment believing it was 
 Tone himself who spoke ; but a glance undeceived him. 
 
 " I knew your face, though I saw it but once." 
 
 " I don't remember," said Eugene disconcertedly, 
 "having seen you before." 
 
 " You have, nevertheless." 
 
 " Pardon me, but where ?" 
 
 " You remember the meeting in " 
 
 " The night I left for France ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Perfectly." 
 
 " I was one of those present that night." 
 
 " I am glad to meet you again." said Eugene with ready 
 courtesy extending his hand, though, indeed, now that 
 the cause was lost beyond hope of recovery or recall, he 
 would have preferred not meeting any of his former 
 acquaintances. It could no good, it interfered with his 
 present intentions, and every moment was valuable to 
 him. He had ventured on Irish ground again for a special 
 business, and that carried out or otherwise, the colours of 
 France beckoned to him from afar. 
 
 Perhaps something of this shone in his face a second 
 after his greeting, for the stranger apologetically said : 
 
 " Excuse me for addressing and delaying y^u. I know 
 your mission and your anxiety as well as if you told me, 
 and respect both. JSTor would I stay your course, but that 
 I know you would be glad to know something of your 
 former companion — Tone." 
 
 "Tone!" cried Eugene quickly. "What of him? I 
 was thinking of him when you interrupted me. Where 
 is he? What of him?" 
 
 " Come with me," said the stranger softly ; and forth- 
 with he led the way into the house, followed by Eugene. 
 
 The latter was quite surprised to see the number of 
 men that were gathered at the bar drinking ; and still 
 more surprised when the sudden opening of a door at the 
 end disclosed a large room crowded with people. 
 
336 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 The stranger passed into a little apartment shut off 
 from the rest of the shoj) by a small door and a red 
 curtain hung from a brass bar at the top. 
 
 " About Tone ?" said Eugene anxiously, as the stranger 
 stood still for a second or two after entering, apparently 
 revolving some thought in his mind. 
 
 " Tone, M. Lefebre, is in prison in the city." 
 
 " In this city— in Dublin ?" 
 
 " Yes ; he was brought here from the North — where he 
 was taken prisoner." 
 
 " But he will be liberated ?" 
 
 " I fear not." 
 
 " He is a prisoner of war." 
 
 " I fear not." 
 
 " He is a commissioned officer in the French service." 
 
 " Even so, it will not avail. ' 
 
 " Not avail !" cried Eugene perplexedly. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " The English Government won't recognise that. Thej 
 look upon him as a rebel, taken with arms in his hands, 
 as hundreds and thousands have been within the last foiiT 
 months. The fate meted out to them they will mete ou 
 to him." 
 
 '•What is that?" 
 
 " Death — death on the scaffold." 
 
 "No! It cannot be possible! Dishonouring death .n 
 the scaffold ! It is impossible !" 
 
 " It may be a dishonouring death in your land," said 
 the stranger ; " it is not here. It is the shrine at which 
 for many a year the bravest and most gallant of Irish 
 hearts have offered up their lives for the freedom of their 
 comntry. But that is not to the point. Honouring or 
 dishonouring, that is the doom intended for him." 
 
 " Bonaparte will interfere — the First Consul will pre- 
 vent it." 
 
 " He has interfered. He has threatened to take sum- 
 mary vengeance on the English officers in his prisons if 
 Tone's life be sacrificed. But to no use. He may shoot 
 them by the dozen, the score, the hundred if he likes. A 
 stroke of the pen at the War ( ! f)ice can create successors 
 
THE DEATH OF TONE. 337 
 
 to them. But Tone's life will not be the more safe. They 
 would rather lose a general battle than spare his life. 
 Well they might." 
 
 " Are you certain of this ? Do you speak with certain 
 knowledge r" asked Eugene, in great anxiety and per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " With certainty itself. He has been tried by court- 
 martial and sentenced. The workmen are engaged for the 
 past few days erecting the scaffold outside his cell win- 
 dow. Every stroke of the hammer falls on his ear as 
 distinctly as my words do on yours." 
 
 " My God ! Can nothing be done ? Can no effort be 
 
 made to save him ? Is there no way that " 
 
 " An effort," said the stranger, sinking his voice to the 
 lowest whisper, " will be made — to-night ! The gates 
 will be forced in a few hours from hence, and he shall 
 walk forth a free man, or he shall be buried in the ruins 
 of the prison." 
 
 " Good," said Eugene heartily, and his heaving breast 
 and quickened breathing showed his anxiety and his 
 interest. " How is it to be done ?" 
 " You saw all these men here ?" 
 " Yes, I saw them." 
 
 " They are a portion of the men deputed for the pur- 
 pose. Resolute men and true, every one of them. Each 
 carries a dagger and a pistol. They are only one of 
 several groups detailed for the purpose." 
 
 " How do you propose to effect it ?" asked Eugene, 
 who listened with an eager and throbbing heart to the 
 statement. 
 
 11 A barrel of powder, or two, or three — or more if the 
 need be — will be exploded under the walls. We shall 
 rush in through the breach made and overpower the 
 guards. We shall force the prison and free him, though 
 every man here piled his dead body under its battle- 
 ments." 
 
 " Good !" said the young Frenchman, in high approval. 
 " I shall be one of the party. Unfortunately I am un- 
 armed." 
 
 " I knew you would," said the stranger, grasping his 
 hand enthusiastically. "From the moment I saw you. T 
 
338 THE SIIAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 knew you were destined for his liberation. I saw yon 
 passing along the quays. I thought it was yon. I fol- 
 lowed you until, in the light, I made belief a certainty. 
 You shall take command." 
 
 " I ? Nay; I am unknown here." 
 
 " It matters not. Our men will have more confidence 
 if they know a French officer leads them. It will be a 
 second taking of the Bastile. Do you accept ?" 
 
 " If you wish it, certainly. I shall never risk my life 
 in a worthier cause." 
 
 " Very well. In an hour or less the news will be known 
 at every meeting-centre in the city. Don't fear defeat. 
 As I said before, our men will pile their dead bodies under 
 the wall of the prison or he walks a free man. Newgate 
 will be a heap of smoking ruins or he sleeps in safety to« 
 night." 
 
 " Reckon on me. I have perilled my life often enough 
 for France and freedom. I may now give it for my 
 friend — and sach a friend ! So brave, so noble, so self- 
 sacrificing, and so chivalrous! Yes; I shall willingly 
 take the command ; prouder no man need pine to have." 
 
 " Settled, then. Nothing further need be said." 
 
 " When do you propose to attack ?" 
 
 " At midnight. The men will gather silently from all 
 quarters. The signal — the explosion of the powder and 
 the breaching of the wall. After that, pistol-bullet, cold 
 steel, and resolute hearts. " 
 
 "Three good aids," said the Frenchman approvingly, 
 " before which prison- walls and barred gates are as things 
 of nought." 
 
 " So your people found it at any rate," said the stranger 
 gaily. "Bub you must be weary and tired. I am dis- 
 playing but poor hospitality. Will you permit me ? 
 Unpretending as the place looks, you can be well catered 
 for. Not even in the city by the Garonne will you find 
 brandy to match that these cellars can produce. Come 
 up stairs. We shall be alone there." 
 
 The repast provided for the hungry traveller did not 
 belie the encomiums passed upon the hostelry by the 
 stranger. Eugene did it ample justice, listening intently 
 meanwhile to the information convovod *« him by his 
 
THE DEATH OF TONE. 339 
 
 companion as to the course events had taken in the 
 metropolis and Leinster daring the past six months. He 
 was surprised to learn that most of the men whom he met 
 the night he left for France — whose hearts beat high then 
 with the golden hope of liberty and freedom — had perished 
 in the prison or on the scaffold. The light of their lives 
 had gone out as the hopes of the nation nickered and died 
 — drowned in blood. 
 
 There was a pause at the conclusion of the information 
 — each being engaged with his own sad thoughts. 
 
 Finally Eugene said : 
 
 " You know Seamore ? — the Barringtons of Seamore ?" 
 
 The stranger nodded assent. 
 
 " Redmond Barrington ?" 
 
 The stranger again assented. 
 
 " Perhaps you could tell me — I may not have the 
 opportunity of hearing again — in this world at least " 
 
 A hurried rap came to the door. 
 
 The stranger went softly and opened it. 
 
 " Oh ! is that you, Luke ?" said he. " Come in; none 
 here but friends." 
 
 The new comer entered, a curious look on his face. 
 
 And as he did — a curious look grew also into Eugene's 
 eyes — but not of the same character. For, whereas the 
 expression on the new comer's face was that of horror and 
 surprise, that on Lefebre's was compounded of recognition 
 and pleasure. 
 
 " What is it, Luke?" said Eugene's companion, as he 
 took notice of this expression. " There must be some bad 
 news. Y^hatisit?" 
 
 The new comer muttered some words which Eugene 
 failed to hear. 
 
 "What!" cried his companion, in great astonishment. 
 " Dead ! Who said so ? When did you hear it ?" 
 
 The reply was again lost on Eugene's ears. 
 
 "My God! It is murder — pure murder! It is the 
 fate of Oliver Bond over again. Done to death by a 
 cowardly hand in the silence and solitude of the prison 
 cell. Oh, me ! that such deeds should be permitted by 
 Heaven!" 
 
 " What is the news ?" asked Eugene, advancing towards 
 
340 TEE SEAN VAN VOCET. 
 
 them, struck bj the look of dismay and horror that 
 covered his companion's face. " Any news from France ?" 
 
 " Oh, M. Lefebre ! snch news — such shocking news !" 
 
 " From France ?" cried Eugene, whose mind reverted 
 there at once. 
 
 " Oh, no ! From " 
 
 " Seamore ?" cried Eugene again, filled with fres\, 
 apprehensions of he knew not what. In truth, the look 
 of trouble and horror on his companion's face had now 
 reflected itself in his own heart, and a hundred evil fore- 
 bodings were crowding therein. 
 
 "The news is from — Tone !" said his companion huskily. 
 
 " Tone !" ejaculated Eugene. "What of him — what of 
 him ? Has he escaped ?" 
 
 " He has," said his companion in a broken voice — 
 " escaped from further troubles in this world. They have 
 murdered him !" 
 
 " What !" cried Eugene, who scarcely believed ho heard 
 aright. 
 
 "It is true enough, M. Lefebre. Tone will never see 
 the sun rise above the hills of Ireland again. He is dead." 
 
 " Dead ! How did it happen ? of his wound ?" 
 
 " Of wounds surely — but of wounds the assassin gave 
 him in the darkness and silence of the prison cell. They 
 have put out the report that he has caused his own death. 
 It is the old, old story — old as Irish history and Saxon 
 conquest — the poison cup and the midnight dagger for 
 those they fear." 
 
 " But is it really true ?" asked Eugene doubtingly. 
 
 " True enough," said the new comer ; " see here !" 
 
 Looking at the official bulletin which he produced, 
 published in an extra issue of the evening paper, Eugene 
 saw that it announced the death of Theobald Wolf Tone 
 in the prison cell by his own hand. 
 
 " By his own hand !" said Eugene's companion in a 
 burst of rage and sorrow. " By the hand of the midnight 
 assassin in the silence of the dungeon ! That is how it 
 was ! They have compassed his death and avoided the 
 vengeance of Bonaparte at one and the same time. Oh, 
 robbers and assassins ! From the days of Mullaghmast 
 to the prefeRot, iae race is the same. The poisoned wine 
 
THE DEATH OF TONE. 341 
 
 bowl and the secret skien for those whom they fear. As 
 it is now, so it will be in future when a foe arises ever 
 whom England fears — really fears ! Ireland ! Ireland ! 
 will thy day-star never rise !" 
 
 This news, corroborated as it was subseqnently by other 
 reliable visitors and friends, pnt an end to the efforts in- 
 tended for his liberation, and the assembled men secretly 
 and silently departed for their various homes. 
 
 With a heart heavy with sorrow for his friend's un- 
 timely ending, Eugene prepared to depart too. There 
 was no further need for his service. The patriotic soul 
 of the gallant and chivalrous Irishman was where nor 
 Saxon guile nor treachery could reach it, and there was 
 nothing further to be done. 
 
 " You do not remember me. I suppose ?" asked he of 
 the new comer. 
 
 The latter, filled with deep dejection and astonishment 
 at the news whereof he was the bearer, had never once 
 looked at the third party in the apartment. He lifted his 
 eyes to his face now at the question addressed him, and, 
 as he did so, the gleam of recognition that shone in his 
 questioner's eyes flashed out from his own, and he fell 
 back a pace or two. 
 
 " Eugene Lefebre !" he exclaimed. 
 
 " It is I, indeed, Luke, and delighted to see you. How 
 are all in Seamore ?" 
 
 "Oh, M. Lefebre!" said Luke, in his astonishment 
 unheeding the latter' s question, " where have you been 
 through all these troubled times in Ireland ? Where did 
 you come from ? Or, can I believe my eyes that it is you 
 that's in it." 
 
 " It is I, indeed, Luke. And where I have been it 
 would be too long to tell. How is Helen Barrington, and 
 all in Seamore r"' 
 
 " I am going there now," said Luke. " I have not been 
 there for months." 
 
 " So am I," said Eugene. " We shall be together." 
 
 " You had better disguise yourselves a little then," 
 said Eugene's entertainer, "these are not times when 
 strangers can pass through Dublin without danger or 
 without detection." 
 
342 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 So saying, he produced for the 11 two large overcoats, 
 similar to those worn by the 3 \ernen, and which, he 
 assured them, would be a sufficien disguise. 
 
 "I am sorry," he said, as they prepared to depart, 
 " you do not carry more cheering news with you. The 
 stars have fought against us — the fates have been on the 
 side of the Saxon again. I can only wish you a happier 
 and a more successful career in France than you have had 
 in this crushed and bleeding land. Good bye." 
 
 " I should wish to know your name," said Eugene, as 
 he put forth his hand to his late companion. " One who 
 was prepared to risk his life for his friend as you were — 
 — his name and memory is worth preserving." 
 
 " My name," said his companion, as he warmly shook 
 the proffered hand, "is Dvvyer — Michael Dwyer of the 
 Wicklow hills!" 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 RETURNED ! 
 
 We pass over the incidents that succeeded the return of 
 Redmond. Fall of interest or otherwise, the years move 
 by with slow and steady succession. Old Time takes little 
 heed of human passions, loves, or sufferings, and turns 
 his wheel with perfect indifference as to what fate his 
 annual circle may have for the dwellers upon earth. To 
 some it may bring happy hearts, love, pleasure, and de- 
 light; to others it may bring wrinkled faces, whitening 
 hair, corroding cares, and dim eyes. It is all one to 
 him, however ; he turns with ceaseless and unvarying 
 monotony, and the years pass on by slow and steady 
 succession into the depths of the vanished past. 
 
 Wherefore it was that two years passed over Seamore 
 since our last presence there, and Hallow Eve night of the 
 year 1798 had come. Much changes had come over the 
 land in the interim, and Seamore showed palpably enough 
 that changes had come to it likewise. 
 
 For the old gathering had departed. The spacious 
 
RETURNED. 343 
 
 kitchen that we have seen fall of pleasant faces in the 
 opening chapters of our story was nearly empty. The 
 logs burned, no ckrabt, with undiminished brightness on 
 the hearth ; but they shone on no row of laughing faces, 
 anr the shadows they threw on the walls were weird, 
 gr .cesque, and mocking in their very grotesqueness. 
 
 " An'. Grannie honey," said Norah, for they alone sat 
 at the fire, the others having departed to their beds, leav- 
 ing the two to continue their conversation in whispers. 
 " wasn't it quare that he never turned up ? Who would 
 have thought that goin' out for a walk, after parting 
 with Redmond, we should never lay eyes upon him again. 
 What could have happened him F" 
 
 " I don't know, Norah," said the old woman, crying 
 feebly, as she pursued her wonted task of knitting, the 
 tears falling on her ball of worsted as she did so. " Maybe 
 the waves swept him away an' drowned him. Who 
 knows ? Who can tell ?" 
 
 " I'll engage they didn't," said Norah. " Eugene 
 Lefebre was not likely to lose himself that way. But I'll 
 tell you what happened him. The sojers caught him, and 
 they aither shot or hung the poor young fellow. That's 
 what happened. An' faix it was no wan or two or three 
 that was there to do it — for it's little his brave heart and 
 strong arm would care for half a dozen ov 'em — no more 
 nor Luke, poor fellow !" 
 
 The sudden twist in Norah's thoughts from the young 
 gentleman of whom she was first speaking to Luke had 
 the effect of bringing the tears into her eyes also. 
 
 " Ay, Luke, poor fellow! I wonder where is he now," 
 said the old housekeeper, whose sympathetic heart beat 
 strongly for Norah's troubles. 
 
 " Wherever he is, there is not many like him," said 
 Norah, throwing a fresh log on the fire to shadow its 
 brightness and hide her tears. " The heart in his body 
 was sound an' thrue, an' wherever he goes there's no wan 
 need be ashamed of him." 
 
 " An' why did he go, Norah asthore ?— you never told 
 me that." 
 
 " He was hiding in Wicklow," said Norah, now giving 
 full vent to her sorrow, "after the battle of Arklow — 
 
344 THE SHAN VAN VOCHT. 
 
 he got a ballet in the breast there, Grannie honey, an' 
 a thrust from a sojer's sword ; bnt he was gettin' all 
 right, an' I was mindin' him, an' he was in safe hidin', 
 nntil that unlucky ring turned np again." 
 
 " Anan, honey ?" queried the old woman, not under 
 standing. 
 
 " Ay, Grannie, the ring Eugene gave me the night he 
 went away. I don't know what was the reason of id, but 
 I never could bring myself to tell him how I came by it. 
 I am sorry now I didn't ; but I thought then he had no 
 right to be inquirin' or misdoubtin' me, and it pleased 
 me to keep the mysthery over him But, Grannie dear, 
 who would have thought it ? Because I wouldn't tell 
 him, he left the house, wounded and ill as he was, athout 
 savin' a word to anyone, one mornin', and sailed from 
 Arklow to France — just when all danger was over to 
 him." 
 
 The girl's tears fell bitterly now, and without restraint. 
 
 " Norah, aroon, machree," said the^)ld woman, " Eugene 
 brought throuble to you, as well as to everyone else. It 
 was the sad an' sorrowful time this night two years that 
 he came to Seamore. He brought the curse with him, my 
 dear — he brought the curse with him." 
 
 " I don't know, now, why you should say that, Grannie," 
 said Norah, with a girl's chivalrousness, taking the part 
 of the absent one. In truth, when Norah bethought her 
 of the handsome foreigner, his courteous ways, his frank 
 smile, and his airy good humour, the old housekeeper's 
 words grated on her, and her kindly heart yearned to the 
 lost visitor. " I don't know why you should say that. 
 There couldn't be bad luck around or near him ; for, if 
 all we're told is true, it's the very height of good luck 
 should be where his light step, handsome eyes, and merry 
 laugh were. An', Grannie," continued she, drying he? 
 eyes and sinking her voice, " wasn't it well for Miss Helen 
 — God forgive me ! — I never can call her the other name ! 
 — that he came, or how would she be now? The wife of 
 another's husband. And how would that dear girl his 
 sister be, if he hadn't come ? There are two — an' between 
 you an' me, Grannie, you'll find it hard to match them for 
 handsome and wir<™*ig girls — that his coming saved. 
 
RETURNED. 345 
 
 Think you, would they be as happy as they are now at 
 Seam ore if he hadn't come ? An'," said Norah, the tears 
 growing into her eyes again, "if he was the means of 
 putting between Luke and myself, it was not his fault but 
 my own. I could have aisily explained an' settled it all if 
 I had sense — but I hadn't. An' the young misthress, I'm 
 sure an' certain she'll never forget the handsome " 
 
 " Norah, aroon," said the old woman, finishing her 
 knitting and tying stocking- needles and all up in a roll, as 
 she prepared to raise her bent form from her seat, " there's 
 the clock striking twelve. Everyone in the house has the 
 first sleep over now. We ought to be in bed long ago." 
 
 " They're not all in bed," said Norah, unwilling to dry 
 up the flood of gentle reminiscence and regrets that were 
 welling up into her affectionate breast. " Miss Helen nor 
 the young ladies haven't gone to bed yet, for I can hear 
 them talkin' in " 
 
 "Hush!" said the old woman mterruptingly, "there's 
 someone near the door' There's some people in the 
 orchard !" She held up the stocking in her extended 
 hand as a warning for silence. 
 
 " There's nobody," said Norah. " It's the ladies up- 
 stairs you hear talking in their bedroom You can hear 
 them down the chimney wall." 
 
 " There's somebody comin' through the orchard, Norah." 
 
 " No. It's Miss Helen that's comin' down. She has not 
 gone to bed yet. I hear her footstep. Here she is!" con- 
 tinued Norah, as the young lady entered the kitchen. 
 
 " I was wondering if you remembered, Grannie dear," 
 said Helen, as she glided softly in, and seated herself 
 between them, "this night two years; and I came down 
 to talk with you for a few minutes, my dear old " 
 
 The old woman with a motion of her stocking beckoned 
 back the embrace about to be bestowed on her. 
 
 But her warning of silence was quickly broken in 
 upon as the wicket gate into the orchard was suddenly 
 slammed to, the latch of the kitchen door lifted, and twc 
 men heavily muffled up entered. 
 
 It was the time when midnight visits were the law of 
 the land, and no family, however respectable, was safe 
 trom militarv intruders. 
 
3*6 THE SHAN VAN VOGHT. 
 
 Before the sudden shudder of alarm that seized the 
 girl had time to take effect in a scream or otherwise, one 
 of the strangers had dropped his outer covering and stood 
 revealed in his true presence. 
 
 " Eugene !" was the astonished cry that came to Helen's 
 lips as her eyes fell on his face, and her cheeks grew ashy 
 white. 
 
 If Norah were inclined to cry aloud — which, judging 
 from her trembling lips and eyes, it is more than probable 
 she was — any efforts in that direction were completely 
 rendered abortive by the overwhelming squeeze which 
 Luke Mahon gave her when he caught her, which he 
 quickly did, in his arms. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We shall not weary our readers over the joyousness of 
 the meeting in Seamore that night, nor of the narrative 
 which Eugene gave of his adventures for the past two 
 years. 
 
 Neither shall we attempt to tell the resumption of old 
 loves that took place. 
 
 Nor anything further. 
 
 Only this : That shortly after, in the drawing-room of 
 Seamore there stood one Sunday morning quite a number 
 of people. The priest had finished saying Mass, and 
 seemed about to perform a further office. A quiet family 
 group apparently, but none the less one impressed with 
 the unmistakeable signs of high standing and worth 
 
 The priest says — his Spanish accent betrayed him ae 
 having studied in Valladollid or Coimbra : — 
 
 11 ' I, Eugene Lefebre' — say the words after me — ' I 
 Eugene Lefebre' " — 
 
 " Nay, nay, good father," said the young Frenchman 
 courteously, bowing most respectfully. " Not Eugene 
 Lefebre, but — Henri Prince de Joinville." 
 
 "Prince de Joinville!" said the priest in amazement. 
 
CONCLUSION. 347 
 
 He had learned the extraordinary reverence paid to that 
 august name in the Peninsula and in France. Who had 
 not? 
 
 " It is even so, reverend father. The proofs are here — 
 have lain here" — pointing to the cabinet — " undisturbed 
 for twenty years. I am indeed, as was my nnhappy 
 father before me, Prince de Joinville. That title has 
 been in abeyance for years, bnt I am here to offer 
 it, with my heart, to her who is to share its perils 
 with me If I have brought trouble and sorrow, if my 
 father brought trouble and sorrow before me, the fault 
 was not his and is not mine — it is fate. It is the unhappy 
 fortune that has always attached itself to the Bourbons. 
 In that fortune, however, I am quite prepared to take my 
 part. Nor shall the beautiful girl that stands beside me 
 as my bride regret to share it with me." 
 
 What further might have been said I don't know, but 
 a gentle touch on Engene's arm from Norah recalled him 
 to the fact that there were other ceremonies than that in 
 which he took part to be performed that morning. " I 
 suppose," said Norah in her pleasant way afterwards, 
 " Eugene thought there was nobody but Helen and him- 
 self in the world, but Luke an' I had a notion to the 
 
 differ, and so had Redmond and Kate Howard." 
 # * * # # 
 
 High up in the roll of famous French dignitaries, on 
 that proud escutcheon whereon kingly hands have graven 
 their uames, may be seen inscribed the name of Helen 
 Barrington. There are people, no doubt, who will dis- 
 believe this story ; but there are stranger things in heaven 
 and on earth than are dreamt of in philosophy : and it 
 is true in history and in fact that in the veins of the 
 legitimate kings of France runs, with all the freshness of 
 latter times, the blood of an Irish girl — the heiress of the 
 Barrmgtons of Seamore. 
 
 TEE END. 
 
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