"On the word of a gentleman, they left my house an hour ago.
Believe me, sir, they did.I will swear to you if you need.""I believe Mr.Leigh of Chapel's word without oaths.Whither are they gone?""Nay, sir--how can I tell? They are--they are, as I may say, fled, sir; escaped.""With your connivance; at least with your son's.Where are they gone?""As I live, I do not know."
Mr.Leigh--is this possible? Can you add untruth to that treason from the punishment of which I am trying to shield you?"Poor Mr.Leigh burst into tears.
"Oh! my God! my God! is it come to this? Over and above having the fear and anxiety of keeping these black rascals in my house, and having to stop their villainous mouths every minute, for fear they should hang me and themselves, I am to be called a traitor and a liar in my old age, and that, too, by Richard Grenville! Would God I had never been born! Would God I had no soul to be saved, and I'd just go and drown care in drink, and let the queen and the Pope fight it out their own way!" And the poor old man sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands, and then leaped up again.
"Bless my heart! Excuse me, Sir Richard--to sit down and leave you standing.'S life, sir, sorrow is making a hawbuck of me.Sit down, my dear sir! my worshipful sir! or rather come with me into my room, and hear a poor wretched man's story, for I swear before God the men are fled; and my poor boy Eustace is not home either, and the groom tells me that his devil of a cousin has broken his jaw for him; and his mother is all but mad this hour past.Good lack! good lack!""He nearly murdered his angel of a cousin, sir! " said Sir Richard, severely.
"What, sir? They never told me."
"He had stabbed his cousin Frank three times, sir, before Amyas, who is as noble a lad as walks God's earth, struck him down.And in defence of what, forsooth, did he play the ruffian and the swashbuckler, but to bring home to your house this letter, sir, which you shall hear at your leisure, the moment I have taken order about your priests." And walking out of the house he went round and called to Cary to come to him.
"The birds are flown, Will," whispered he."There is but one chance for us, and that is Marsland Mouth.If they are trying to take boat there, you may be yet in time.If they are gone inland we can do nothing till we raise the hue and cry to-morrow."And Will galloped off over the downs toward Marsland, while Sir Richard ceremoniously walked in again, and professed himself ready and happy to have the honor of an audience in Mr.Leigh's private chamber.And as we know pretty well already what was to be discussed therein, we had better go over to Marsland Mouth, and, if possible, arrive there before Will Cary: seeing that he arrived hot and swearing, half an hour too late.
Note.--I have shrunk somewhat from giving these and other sketches (true and accurate as I believe them to be) of Ireland during Elizabeth's reign, when the tyranny and lawlessness of the feudal chiefs had reduced the island to such a state of weakness and barbarism, that it was absolutely necessary for England either to crush the Norman-Irish nobility, and organize some sort of law and order, or to leave Ireland an easy prey to the Spaniards, or any other nation which should go to war with us.The work was done--clumsily rather than cruelly; but wrongs were inflicted, and avenged by fresh wrongs, and those by fresh again.May the memory of them perish forever! It has been reserved for this age, and for the liberal policy of this age, to see the last ebullitions of Celtic excitability die out harmless and ashamed of itself, and to find that the Irishman, when he is brought as a soldier under the regenerative influence of law, discipline, self-respect, and loyalty, can prove himself a worthy rival of the more stern Norse-Saxon warrior.God grant that the military brotherhood between Irish and English, which is the special glory of the present war, may be the germ of a brotherhood industrial, political, and hereafter, perhaps, religious also; and that not merely the corpses of heroes, but the feuds and wrongs which have parted them for centuries, may lie buried, once and forever, in the noble graves of Alma and Inkerman.
