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They with whom I associated cared but little for these things. There were but two or three Irish in the regiment, and they had long since lost all their nationality in the wear and tear of the service; so that I heard nothing of what occupied the public mind, and lived on, in the very midst of the threatening hurricane, in a calm as deep as death itself.

I had seen neither Barton nor Basset since the day of my leave-taking; and, stranger still, never could meet with Darby, who seemed to have deserted Dublin. The wreck of the party he belonged to seemed now effectually accomplished, and the prospect of Irish independence was lost, as it seemed, forever.

I was sitting one evening in the window of Bubbleton’s quarters, thinking over these things; not without self-reproach for the life I was leading, so utterly adverse to the principles I had laid down for my guidance. I thought of poor De Meudon, and all his ambitious dreams for my success, and I felt my cheek flush with shame for my base desertion of the cause to which, with his dying breath, he devoted me. I brought up in memory those happy evenings as we wandered through the fields, talking over the glorious campaigns of Italy or speculating on the mighty changes we believed yet before us; and then I thought of the reckless orgies in which my present life was passed. I remembered how his full voice would falter when one great name fell from his lips; and with what reverence he touched his chapeau as the word “Bonaparte” escaped from him; and how my heart thrilled to think of an enthusiasm that could light up the dying embers of a broken heart, and make it flash out in vivid brilliancy once more, – and longed to feel as he did.

For the first time for some weeks I found myself alone. Bubbleton was on guard; and though I had promised to join him at supper, I lingered at home to think and ponder over the past, – I scarcely dared to face the future. It was growing dusky. The richly golden arch of an autumn moon could be seen through the hazy mist of that half frost which is at this season the sure harbinger of a hot day on the morrow. The street noises had gradually died away, and save the distant sound of a ballad-singer, whose mournful cadence fell sadly on the ear, I heard nothing.

Without perceiving it, I found myself listening to the doggerel of the minstrel, who, like most of her fellows of the period, was celebrating the means that had been used by Government to carry their favorite measure, – the Union with England. There was, indeed, very little to charm the ear or win the sense, in either the accent or the sentiment of the melody; yet somehow she had contrived to collect a pretty tolerable audience, who moved slowly along with her down the street, and evinced by many an outburst of enthusiasm how thoroughly they relished the pointed allusions of the verse, and how completely they enjoyed the dull satire of the song.

As they approached the barracks, the procession came to a halt, – probably deeming that so valuable a lesson should not be lost to his Majesty’s service; and forming into a circle round the singer, a silence was commanded, when, with that quavering articulation so characteristic of the tribe, and that strange quality of voice that seems to alternate between a high treble and a deep bass, the lady began: —

“Don’t be crowdin’ an me that a way. There it is now, – ye ‘re tearin’ the cloak off the back o’ me! Divil receave the note I ‘ll sing, if ye don’t behave! And look at his honor up there, with a tenpenny bit in the heel of his fist for me. The Lord reward your purty face; ‘t is yourself has the darlin’ blue eyes! Bad scran to yez, ye blaggards! look at my elegant bonnet the way you ‘ve made it!”

“Arrah! rise the tune, and don’t be blarneying the young gentleman,” said a voice from the crowd, – and then added, in a lower but very audible tone, “Them chaps hasn’t a farthin’ beyond their pay, – three and ninepence a day, and find themselves in pipeclay!”

A rude laugh followed this insolent speech; and the ballad-singer, whose delay had only been a ruse to attract a sufficient auditory, then began to a very well-known air:

 
“Come hither, M.P.‘s, and I ‘ll tell
My advice, and I ‘m sure you ‘ll not mock it:
Whoe’er has a country to sell,
Need never want gold in his pocket.
Your brother a bishop shall be;
Yourself – if you only will make a
Voice in our ma-jo-rity —
We’ll make you chief judge In Jamaica.
Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay!”
 

The mob chorus here broke in, and continued with such hearty enthusiasm that I lost the entire of the next verse in the tumult.

 
“Your father, they say, is an ass,
And your mother not noted for knowledge;
But he ‘ll do very well at Madras,
And she shall be provost of college.
Your aunt, lady’s-maid to the Queen;
And Bill, if he ‘ll give up his rakin’,
And not drunk in daytime be seen,
I ‘ll make him a rosy archdeacon.
Tol, lol de rol, tol de rol lay!
 
 
“A jollier set ne’er was seen
Than you ‘ll be, when freed from your callin’;
With an empty house in College Green, —
What an elegant place to play ball in!
Ould Foster stand by with his mace,
He ‘ll do mighty well for a marker;
John Toler – ”
 

“Here ‘s the pollis!” said a gruff voice from the crowd; and the word was repeated from mouth to mouth in every accent of fear and dread; while in an instant all took to flighty – some dashing down obscure lanes and narrow alleys, others running straight onwards towards Dame Street, but all showing the evident apprehension they felt at the approach of these dreaded officials. The ballad’ singer alone did not move, – whether too old or too infirm to trust to speed, or too much terrified to run, I know not; but there she stood, the last cadence of her song still dying on her lips, while the clattering sounds of men advancing rapidly were heard in the distant street.

I know not why, – some strange momentary impulse, half pity, half caprice, moved me to her rescue, and I called out to the sentry, “Let that woman pass in!” She heard the words, and with an activity greater than I could have expected, sprang into the barrack yard, while the police passed eagerly on in vain pursuit of their victims.

I remained motionless in the window-seat, watching the now silent street, when a gentle tap came to my door. I opened it, and there stood the figure of the ballad-singer, her ragged cloak gathered closely across her face with one hand, while with the other she held the bundle of printed songs, her only stock-in-trade.

CHAPTER XIX. THE QUARREL

While I stood gazing at the uncouth and ragged figure before me, she pushed rudely past, and shutting the door behind her, asked, in a low whisper, “Are ye alone?” – and then, without waiting for a reply, threw back the tattered bonnet that covered her head, and removing a wig of long black hair, stared steadfastly at me.

“Do you know me, now?” said the hag, in a voice of almost menacing eagerness.

“What!” cried I, in amazement; “it surely cannot be – Darby, is this really you?”

“Ye may well say it,” replied he, bitterly. – “Ye had time enough to forget me since we met last; and ‘tis thinking twice your grand friends the officers would be, before they ‘d put their necks where mine is now to see you. Read that,” – as he spoke, he threw a ragged and torn piece of printed paper on the table, – “read that, and you ‘ll see there ‘s five hundred pounds of blood money to the man that takes me. Ay, and here I stand this minit in the King’s barrack, and walked fifty-four miles this blessed day just to see you and speak to you once more. Well, well!” He turned away his head while he said this, and wiping a starting tear from his red eyeball, he added, “Master Tom, ‘tis myself would never b’lieve ye done it.”

“Did what?” said I, eagerly. “What have I ever done that you should charge me thus?”

But Darby heard me not; his eyes were fixed on vacancy, and his lips moved rapidly as though he were speaking to himself.

“Ay,” said he, half aloud, “true enough; ‘tis the gentlemen that betrayed us always, – never came good of the cause where they took a part. But you,” – here he turned full round, and grasping my arm, spoke directly to me, “you that I loved better than my own kith and kin, that I thought would one day be a pride and glory to us all; you that I brought over myself to the cause – ”

“And when have I deserted, – when have I betrayed it?”

“When did you desert it?” repeated he, in a tone of mocking irony. “Tell me the day and hour ye came here, tell me the first time ye sat down among the red butchers of King George, and I ‘ll answer ye that. Is it here you ought to be? Is this the home for him that has a heart for Ireland? I never said you betrayed us. Others said it; but I stood to it, ye never did that. But what does it signify? ‘Tis no wonder ye left us; we were poor and humble people; we had nothing at heart but the good cause – ”

“Stop!” cried I, maddened by this taunt. “What could I have done? where was my place?”

“Don’t ask me; if your own heart doesn’t teach thee, how can I? But it’s over now; the day is gone, and I must take to the road again. My heart is lighter since I seen you; and it will be lighter again when I give you this wamin’, – God knows if you ‘ll mind it. You think yourself safe now since you joined the sodgers; you think they trust you, and that Barton’s eye is n’t on ye still. There is n’t a word you say is n’t noted down, – not a man you spake to isn’t watched. You don’t know it; but I know it. There ‘s more go to the gallows in Ireland over their wine, than with the pike in their hands. Take care of your friends, I say.”

“You wrong them. Darby; and you wrong me. Never have I heard from one here a single word that could offend the proudest heart among us.”

“Why would they? what need of it? Ar’n’t we down, down? ar’n’t we hunted like wild beasts? is the roof left to shelter us? dare we walk the roads? dare we say ‘God save ye!’ when we meet, and not be tried for pass words? It ‘s no wonder they pity us; the hardest heart must melt sometimes.”

“As to myself,” said I, – for there was no use in attempting to reason with him further, – “my every wish is with the cause as warmly as on the day we parted. But I look to France – ”

“Ay, and why not? I remember the time your eye flashed and your cheek grew another color when you spoke of that.”

“Yes, Darby,” said I, after a pause; “and I had not been here now, but that the only means I possessed of forwarding myself in the French service are unfortunately lost to me.”

“And what was that?” interrupted he, eagerly.

“Some letters which the poor Captain de Meudon gave me,” said I, endeavoring to seem as much at ease as I could.

Darby stooped down as I spoke, and ripping open the lining of his cloak, produced a small parcel fastened with a cord, saying, “Are these what you mean?”

I opened it with a trembling hand, and to my inexpressible delight, discovered Charles’s letter to the head of the Ecole Polytechnique, together with a letter of credit and two cheques on his banker. The note to his sister was not, however, among them.

“How came you by these papers, Darby?” inquired I, eagerly.

“I found them on the road Barton travelled, the same evening you made your escape from the yeomanry; you remember that? They were soon missed, and an orderly was sent back to search for them. Since that, I ‘ve kept them by me; and it was only yesterday that I thought of bringing them to you, thinking you might know something about them.”

“There ‘s a mark on this one,” said I, still gazing on the paper in my hand; “it looks like blood.”

“If it is, it ‘s mine, then,” said Darby, doggedly. And after a pause, he continued: “The soldier galloped up the very minute I was stooping for the papers. He called out to me to give them up; but I pretended not to hear, and took a long look round to see what way I could escape where his horse could n’t follow me. But he saw what I was at; and the same instant his sabre was in my shoulder, and the blood running hot down my arm. I fell on my knees; but if I did, I took this from my breast” (here he drew forth a long-barrelled rusty pistol), “and shot him through the neck.”

“Was he killed?” said I, in horror at the coolness of the recital.

“Sorrow one o’ me knows. He fell on his horse’s mane, and I saw the beast gallop with him up the road with his arms hanging at each side of the neck. And then I heard a crash, and I saw that he was down, and the horse was dragging him by the stirrup; but the dust soon hid him from my sight. And indeed I was growing weak too; so I crept into the bushes until it was dark, and then got down to Glencree.”

The easy indifference with which he spoke, the tone of coolness in which he narrated this circumstance, thrilled through me far more painfully than the most passionate description; and I stood gazing on him with a feeling of dread that unhappily my features but too plainly indicated. He seemed to know what was passing in my mind; and as if stung by what he deemed my ingratitude for the service he had rendered me, his face grew darkly red, the swollen veins stood out thick and knotted in his forehead, his livid lips quivered, and he said in a thick, guttural voice, —

“Maybe ye think I murdered him?” And then, as I made no answer, he resumed in a different tone: “And faix, ye war n’t long larnin’ their lessons. But hear me now: there never was a traitor to the cause had a happy life or an easy death; there never was one betrayed us but we were revenged on him or his. I don’t think ye ‘re come to that yet; for if I did, by the mortial – ”

As he pronounced the last word, in a tone of the fiercest menace, the sound of many voices talking without, and the noise of a key turning in the lock, broke in upon our colloquy; and Darby had scarcely time to resume his disguise when Bubbleton entered, followed by three of his brother officers, all speaking together, and in accents that evidently betokened their having drunk somewhat freely.

“I tell you, again and again, the diamond wins it But here we are,” cried Bubbleton; “and now for a pack of cards, and let ‘s decide the thing at once.”

“You said you ‘d bet fifty, I think?” drawled out Crofts, who was unquestionably the most sober of the party. “But what have we here?” At this instant his eye fell upon Darby, who had quietly ensconced himself behind the door, and hoped to escape unseen. “Eh, what’s this, I say?”

“What!” cried Bubbleton; “what do I see? A nymph with bright and flowing hair; a hag like Hecuba, by Jove! Tom Burke, my man, how comes the damsel here?”

“‘Tis Kitty, ould Kitty Cole, your honor – The young gentleman was buying a ballad from me, the Heavens prosper him!” said Darby.

“Nothing treasonous, I hope; no disloyal effusion, Tom; no scandal about Queen Elizabeth, my boy, – eh?”

“Come, old lady,” said Cradock, “let’s have the latest novelty of the Liberty.”

“Yes,” said Bubbleton; “strike the harp in praise of – Confound the word!”

“Hang the old crone!” broke in Hilliard. “Here are the cards. The game stands thus: a spade is led, – you ‘ve got none; hearts are trumps.”

“No, you mistake; the diamond’s the trump,” said Cradock.

“I cry halt,” said Crofts, holding up both his hands; “the first thing is, what’s the bet?”

“Anything you like,” cried Bubbleton; “fifty, – a hundred, – five hundred.”

“Be it then five hundred. I take you,” said Crofts, coolly, taking a memorandum book from his pocket.

“No, no,” interposed Hilliard; “Bubbleton, you sha’n’t do any such thing. Five, – ten, – twenty, if you wish; but I ‘ll not stand by at such a wager.”

“Well, then, if twenty be as much as you have got permission to bet,” replied Crofts, insolently, “there’s my stake.” So saying, he threw a note on the table, and looked over at Bubbleton, as if awaiting his doing the same.

I saw my poor friend’s embarrassment, and without stirring from my place, slipped a note into his hand in silence. A squeeze of his fingers replied to me, and the same instant he threw the crumpled piece of paper down, and cried out, “Now for it; decide the point.”

Crofts at once drew his chair to the table, and began with the utmost coolness to arrange the cards; while the others, deeply interested in the point at issue, looked on without speaking. I thought this a good opportunity for Darby to effect his escape, and raising my hand noiselessly, I pointed to the door. Darby, who had been only waiting for the fortunate moment, stole quietly towards it; but while his hand was on the lock, Crofts lifted his eyes towards me, and then throwing them half round, intimated at once that he observed the manoeuvre. The blood suffused my face and temples, and though I saw the door close behind the piper, I could not recover from my embarrassment, or the fear that pressed on me lest Crofts should have penetrated the secret of Darby’s disguise, and augured from the fact something to my discredit.

“The game is now arranged,” said he. “The spade being led here, the second player follows suit; the third, having none, trumps the card, and is overtrumped by the last in play. The trick is lost, therefore, and with it the game.”

“No, no,” interrupted Bubbleton, “you mistake altogether. The diamond, – no, the heart; I mean the – the – What the deuce is it? I say, Cradock, I had it all correct a minute ago; how is it, old fellow?”

“Why, you ‘ve lost, that’s all,” said the other, as he looked intently on the table, and seemed to consider the point.

“Yes, Bubbleton, there’s no doubt about it; you’ve lost. We forgot all about the last player,” said Hilliard.

A violent knocking at the outer door drowned the voices of all within, while a gruff voice shouted out, “Captain Bubbleton, the grand round is coming up Parliament Street.”

Bubbleton snatched up his sword, and dashing through the room, was followed by the others in a roar of laughter, Crofts alone remaining behind, proceeded leisurely to open the folded piece of bank paper that lay before him, while I stood opposite unable to take my eyes from him. Slowly unfolding the note, he flattened it with his hand, and then proceeded to read aloud, —

“Payez au porteur la somme de deux mille livres – ,’

“I beg pardon,” interrupted I. “There’s a mistake there; that belongs to me.”

“I thought as much,” replied Crofts, with a very peculiar smile; “I scarcely supposed my friend Bubbleton had gone so far.”

“There’s the sum, sir,” said I, endeavoring to control my temper, and only eager to regain possession of what would at once have compromised me, if discovered. “This is what Captain Bubbleton lost; twenty pounds, if I mistake not?”

“I must entreat your pardon, sir,” said Crofts, folding up the French billet de hanque, “My wager was not with you, nor can I permit you to pay it. This is at present my property, and remains so until Captain Bubbleton demands it from me.”

I was struck dumb by the manner in which these words were spoken. It was clear to me, that not only he suspected the disguise of the ballad-singer, but that by the discovery of the French note he connected his presence with its being in my possession. Rousing myself for the effort, I said, —

“You force me, sir, to speak of what nothing short of the circumstance could have induced me to allude to. It was I gave Captain Bubbleton that note. I gave it in mistake for this one.”

“I guessed as much, sir,” was the cool answer of Crofts, as he placed the note in his pocket-book and clasped it. “But I cannot permit your candid explanation to alter the determination I have already come to, – even had I not the stronger motive which as an officer in his Majesty’s pay I possess, – to inform the Government, on such infallible evidence, how deeply interested our French neighbors are in our welfare when they supply us with a commodity which report says is scarce enough among themselves.”

“Do not suppose, sir, that your threat – for as such I understand it – has any terror for me. There is, it’s true, another whose safety might be compromised by any step you might take in this affair; but when I tell you that it is one who never did, never could have injured you, and, moreover, that nothing treasonous or disloyal lies beneath your discovery – ”

“You are really taking a vast deal of trouble, Mr. Burke,” said he, stopping me with a cold smile, “which I am forced to say is unnecessary. Your explanation of how this billet de banque came into your possession may be required elsewhere, and will, I am certain, meet with every respect and attention. As for me, an humble captain, with only one principle to sustain me, one clue to guide me, in what I am disposed to consider a question of some importance, I shall certainly ask advice of others better able to direct me.”

“You refuse, then, sir, to restore me what I have assured you is mine?”

“And what I have no doubt whatever you are correct in calling so,” added he, contemptuously.

“And you persist in the refusal?” said I, in a voice which unhappily betrayed more temper than I had yet shown.

“Even so, sir,” said he, moving towards the door.

“In that case,” said I, springing before him, and setting my back against it, you don’t leave this room until in the presence of a third party, – I care not who he be, – I have told you somewhat more of my opinion of you than it is necessary I should say now.

The insulting expression of Crofts’ features changed suddenly as I spoke, the color left his cheek, and he became as pale as death; his eye wandered round the room with an uncertain look, and then was fixed steadfastly on the door, against which I stood firmly planted. At length his face recovered its wonted character, and he said, in a cool, distinct manner, —

“Your difficulties have made you bold, sir.”

“Not more bold than you ‘ll find me whenever you think fit to call on me. But perhaps I am wrong for suggesting a test, which report, at least, says Captain Crofts has little predilection for.”

“Insolent cub!” said he, half drawing his sword from the scabbard, and as hastily replacing it when he perceived that I never moved a muscle in my defence, but stood as if inviting his attack. “Let me pass, sir,” cried he, impetuously; “stand by this instant.”

I made no reply, but crossing my arms on my breast, stared at him firmly as before. He had now advanced within a foot of me, his face purple with passion, and his hands trembling with rage.

“Let me pass, I say!” shouted he, in an accent that boded his passion had completely got the ascendant. At the same instant he seized me by the collar, and fixing his grip firmly in my clothes, prepared to hurl me from the spot.

The moment had now come that for some minutes past I had been expecting, and with my open hand I struck him on the cheek, but so powerfully that he reeled back with the stroke. A yell of rage burst from him, and in an instant his sword leaped from the scabbard, and he darted fiercely at me. I sprang to one side, and the weapon pierced the door and broke off short; still, more than half the blade remained, and with this he flew towards me. One quick glance I gave to look for something which might serve to arm me; and the same moment the sharp steel pierced my side, and I fell backwards with the shock, carrying my antagonist along with me. The struggle was now a dreadful one; for while he endeavored to withdraw the weapon from the wound, my hands were on his throat, and in his strained eyeballs and livid color might be seen that a few seconds more must decide the contest. A sharp pang shot through me. Just then a hot gush of warm blood ran down my side, and I saw above me the shining steel, which he was gradually shortening in his hand before he ventured to strike. A wild cry broke from me; while at the instant, with a crash, the door of the room fell forward, torn from its hinges. A heavy foot approached, and the blow of a strong arm felled Crofts to the earth, where he lay stunned and senseless. In a second I was on my feet. My senses were reeling and uncertain; but I could see that it was Darby who came to my rescue, and who was now binding a sash round my wound to stanch the blood.

“Now for it, – life or death ‘s on it now,” said he, in a low but distinct whisper. “Wipe the blood from your face, and be calm as you can when you’re passing the sentry.”

“Is he – ” I dared not speak the word as I looked on the still motionless body that lay before me.

Darby raised one arm, and as he let it go, it fell heavily on the ground. He stooped down, and placing his lips near the mouth, endeavored to ascertain if he breathed; and then, jumping to his feet, he seized my arm, and, in a tone I shall never forget, he said, “It ‘s over now!”

I tottered back as he spoke. The horrible thought of murder, – the frightful sense of crime, the heaviest, the blackest that can stain the heart of man, – stunned me. My senses reeled; and as I looked on that corpse stretched at my feet, I would have suffered my every bone to be broken on the rack, to see one quiver of life animate its rigid members.

Meanwhile Darby was kneeling down, and seemed to search for something beside the body. “Ah! right! Come now,” said he; “we must be far from this before daybreak. And it ‘s lucky if we We the means to do it.”

I moved onward like one walking ib a dream when horrible images surround him and dreadful thoughts are ever crowding fast; but where, amid all, some glimmering sense of hope sustains him, and he half feels that the terrors will pass away, and his soul be calm and tranquil once more. What is it? what has happened? was the ever-rising question, as I heard Darby groping his way along the dark gallery and the darker stairs.

“Be steady, now,” said he, in a whisper; “we ‘re at the gate.”

“Who comes there?” cried the sentry.

“A friend!” said Darby, in a feigned voice, answering for me, while he dropped behind me.

The heavy bolts were withdrawn, and I felt the cold air of the streets on my cheek.

“Where to, now?” said I, with a dreamy oonsciousness that some place of safety must be sought, without well knowing why or wherefore.

“Lean on me, and don’t speak,” said Darby. “If you can walk as far as the end of the quay, we ‘re all safe.”

I walked on without further questioning, and almost without thought; and though, from time to time, Darby spoke to several persons as we passed, I heard not what they said, nor took any notice of them.