the same Providence which had so often, as
it were, miraculously preserved us, would, she was confident, not desert
us now." It is the unmistakable accent of the woman. She is quivering as
she sends him forth, but the spirit in her eyes would put a trembling
man to shame--a spirit that her peerless husband matched but no man
could surpass. Her fortitude was to be more terribly tried in the
terrible after-time, when the Cause went down in disaster and Tone had
to answer with his life. No tribute could be so eloquent as the letter
he wrote to her when the last moment had come and his doom was
pronounced: "Adieu, dearest love, I find it impossible to finish this
letter. Give my love to Mary; and, above all, remember you are now the
only parent of our dearest children, and that the best proof you can
give of your affection for me will be to preserve yourself for their
education. God Almighty bless you all." That letter is like Stephens'
speech from the dock, eloquent for what is left unsaid. There is no
wailing for her, least of all for himself, not that their devoted souls
were not on the rack: "As no words can express what I feel for you and
our children, I shall not attempt it; complaint of any kind would be
beneath your courage and mine"--but their souls, that were destined to
suffer, came sublimely through the ordeal. When Tone left his children
as a trust to his wife, he knew from the intimacy of their union what we
learn from the after-event, how that trust might be placed and how
faithfully it would be fulfilled. What a tribute from man to wife! How
that trust was fulfilled is in evidence in every step of the following
years. Remembering Tone's son who survived to write the memoirs was a
child at his father's death, his simple tribute written in manhood is
eloquent in the extreme: "I was brought up by my surviving parent in all
the principles and in all the feelings of my father"--of itself it would
suffice. But we can follow the years between and find moving evidence of
the fulfilment of the trust. We see her devotion to her children and her
proud care to preserve their independence and her own. She puts by
patronage, having a higher title as the widow of a General of France;
and she wins the respect of the great ones of France under the Republic
and the Empire. Lucien Buonaparte, a year after Tone's death, pleaded
before the Council of Five Hundred, in warm and eloquent praise: "If
the services of Tone were not suff