that he was, she reflected, to pit himself against such men as the
Bishop and the Spanish Admiral! From her window she saw the two walking
in the garden with bent heads, aloof from the yawning crowd, and now
appearing beyond the line of Florence yews, now vanishing behind them.
On which she came near to worshipping them. Had they not brought to
Ireland, to Kerry, to Morristown, the craft and skill in counsel, the
sagacity and courage, which had won for them the favour of foreign
kings, and raised them high in exile? Lacking their guidance, the
movement might have come to nothing, the most enthusiastic must have
wasted their strength. But they were here to inspire, to lead, to
control. Against such men the parlour-captains of Tralee, the
encroaching Pettys, and their like, must fail indeed. And before more
worthy opponents arrived to encounter the patriots, who could say what
battles might not be won, what allies gained?

It was a dream, but a golden dream, and when she descended to the
living-room she still lived in it. The girl's lips quivered as she
kissed the Bishop's hand and received with bent knees his episcopal
blessing. "And on this house, my daughter," he added, "and on this
day!"

"Amen!" she murmured in her heart.

True, breakfast, and the hour after breakfast, gave some pause to her
happiness. The men's nerves were on edge with potheen and excitement,
and they had not been at table five minutes before quarrelling broke
out at the lower end of the board. The Spanish officer who was in
attendance on Cammock came to words, and almost to blows, with one of
the O'Beirnes, who resented the notion that the Admiral's safety was
not sufficiently secured by the Irish about him. The peace was kept
with difficulty, and so much ill-feeling survived the outbreak that
Cammock thought it prudent to remit two-thirds of the sailors to the
ship, and keep the remainder as far as possible in the background.

This was not a promising beginning, where the numbers were already so
scanty that the Bishop wondered in his heart whether his dupes would
dare to pass from words to action. But it was not all. Some one spoke
of Asgill, and of another Justice in the neighbourhood, asserting that
their hearts were with the rising, and that at a later point their aid
might be expected. At once,

"The Evil One's spawn!" cried Sir Donny, rising in his place, and
speaking under the influence of great excitement. "If you're for
dealing with