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"God's curse on Eustace St. Clair, him whom men call the Lord of Dunseveric," said Micah Ward. "Spare your curse," said Neal. "It wasn't Lord Dunseveric who brought the yeomen on us, and what's more, only for Lord Dunseveric you'd be arrested yourself along with the others." "What's that you are saying, Neal?"
I trust your father is in good health, and that all is well at Dunseveric?" Neal, though he had schooled himself beforehand to greet Finlay cordially, shrank back. He felt a violent loathing for the man. It became physically impossible for him to take Finlay's hand in his, to speak smooth words to this hypocrite who inquired of the good health of the very people he had betrayed.
Mark my words, we won. It was the people that carried the day in America. They carried the day in France. What's to hinder us from carrying the day in Ireland, too?" Lord Dunseveric looked at Donald during this speech and kept his eyes fixed upon him for some minutes afterwards. He was considering whether it was worth while replying to this boastful American Irishman.
"And why did you not execute them?" said Micah Ward. "Did I ask you to spare me? Have you come here to be thanked for your mercy? I wish to God you had arrested me." "I assure you," said Lord Dunseveric, "that I expect no thanks, nor do I claim any credit for being merciful. You owe your escape solely to the fact that I happen to be a gentleman.
"No," said Neal, "I'm from Dunseveric, right away in the north of the county." "Ay, are you? Do you mind the old rhyme 'County Antrim, men and horses, County Down for bonny lasses. Maybe your lassie, the one that kissed you, was out of the County Down?" "She was not," said Neal, unguardedly. Peg Macllrea laughed with delight and clapped her hands.
From the gate of Dunseveric House, in the twilight of the short October afternoon, came a young man who seemed to feel no sense of depression or sadness. He strode briskly along the muddy road, swinging his stick in his hand, whistling a merry tune. After a while, for very exuberance of spirits, he broke into song. His voice rang clear through the damp, misty air
There were colonels at the table who wanted to be generals, and generals who wanted commands. There was a feeling that it might have been wiser to speak more civilly to Lord Dunseveric. General Clavering himself broke the silence. "These damned Irishmen are all rebels at heart," he said. "The gentry want their combs cut as much as the croppies.
They shovelled the earth into a heap against the wall and uncovered four cannons. They were wrapped in oily rags, and well preserved, in spite of their damp hiding-place. Lord Dunseveric looked at them carefully. "Ah," he said. "Four of the six-pounders which I bought for my company of volunteer artillery in 1778. I often wondered what had become of them.
He came to a statement of the fact that one, James Finlay, had been enrolled as a United Irishman and admitted to the councils of the local committee. Neal knew James Finlay, and disliked him. Once he had caught him at night in the act of netting salmon in the river. Neal had threatened to hand him over to Lord Dunseveric. The poacher blustered, threatened, and even attempted an attack upon Neal.
Your answer will make no difference to my action; but I should like you to tell me, are the cannon there?" "I do not believe there are any cannon," said Neal; "I never heard of them, or had any reason to suspect their existence." Lord Dunseveric watched him keenly as he replied. Then he said "I believe what you say, of course. If there are cannon there you know nothing of it.
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