ows would have duped, it is enough for me! For myself, whom should
I fear? The plotters whose childish plans were not proof against the
simplest stratagem? The conspirators"--his tone grew more cutting in
its scorn--"who took it in hand to pull down a throne and were routed
by a Sergeant's Guard? The poor puppets who played at a game too high
for them, and, dreaming they were Sarsfields or Montroses, danced in
truth to others' piping? Shall I fear them," he continued, the tail of
his eye on the girl, who, sitting low in her chair, writhed
involuntarily under his words--"poor tools, poor creatures, only a
little less ignorant, only a little more guilty than the clods they
would have led to the crows or the hangman? Is it these I am to fear;
these I am to flee from? God forbid, Ulick Sullivan! I am not the man
to flee from shadows!"

His tone, his manner, the truth of his words--which were intended to
open the girl's eyes, but did in fact increase her burning
resentment--hurt even Uncle Ulick's pride. "Whisht, man," he said
bitterly. "It's plain you're thinking you're master here!"

"I am," Colonel John replied sternly. "I am, and I intend to be. Nor a
day too soon! Where all are children, there is need of a master! Don't
look at me like that, man! And for my cousin, let her hear the truth
for once! Let her know what men who have seen the world think of the
visions, from which she would have awakened in a dungeon, and the poor
fools, her fellow-dupes, under the gibbet! A great rising for a great
cause, if it be real, man, if it be earnest, if it be based on
forethought and some calculation of the chances, God knows I hold it a
fine thing, and a high thing! But the rising of a child with a bladder
against an armed man, a rising that can ruin but cannot help, I know
not whether to call it more silly or more wicked! Man, the devil does
his choicest work through fools, not rogues! And, for certain, he never
found a choicer morsel or fitter instruments than at Morristown
yesterday."

Uncle Ulick swore impatiently. "We may be fools," he growled. "Yet
spare the girl! Spare the girl!"

"What? Spare her the truth?"

"All! Everything!" Uncle Ulick cried, with unusual heat. "Cannot you
see that she at least meant well!"

"Such do the most ill," Colonel John retorted, with sententious
severity. "God forgive them--and her!" He paused for a moment and then,
in a lighter tone, he continued, "As I do. As I do gladly. Only there
m