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Updated: June 6, 2025
Königsmarck was by some mysterious alchemy becoming incorporate with him. The voice which spoke and warned and menaced was as much his as Königsmarck's. The old Count opened the door and heard Wogan muttering to himself as he crouched over the fire. The Count carried a basin of water in his hand and a sponge and some linen. He insisted upon washing Wogan's wounds and dressing them in a simple way.
After several months of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and courage gained him the highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a dangerous manner, and no surgical assistance being within reach he terminated his short but glorious career.
"Is there another picture at her heart?" she asked, and again Wogan was silent. "Whose, then? You will not tell me." It might have been something in Wogan's attitude or face which revealed the truth to her; it might have been her recollection of what the King had said concerning Wogan's enthusiasm; it might have been merely her woman's instinct. But she started and took a step towards Wogan.
"But its shouts will ring across Europe;" and she turned her head to him and said quietly, "The King is still in Spain, is he not?" Wogan's enthusiasm was quenched in alarm. Her voice had rung, for all its quietude, with pride. What if she guessed what he for one would not let his wildest fancy dwell upon? Wogan repeated to himself the resolve which he had made, though with an alteration.
The old man would take alarm; he might punish the offender, but he would none the less surely refuse his consent to Wogan's project. Wogan must keep his lips quite closed and let his antagonists do boldly what they would. And that they were active he found a way to discover. The Countess from this time plied him with kindness.
"For ours, too, for a country's sake;" and he looked northwards towards England. But "for her own sake" was the reason uppermost in his thoughts. But the days passed. The three promised patents came from Rome, and Cardinal Origo unlocked the drawer and joined Wogan's to them. He presented all four at the same time. "The patents carry the titles of 'Excellency," said he.
That last cry wrung Wogan's heart. She turned away from him with the tears brimming in her eyes. It was this conjecture of hers which he had dreaded, which at all costs he must dispel. "Do not believe it!" he exclaimed. "Think! Should I have been at so much pains to refrain from speech, if speech was what I had intended?"
That's the plain truth of the matter." He stood by the table drumming with his fingers in a great agitation. Then his fingers stopped. He had been drumming upon Wogan's sheet of paper, and the writing on the sheet had suddenly attracted his notice. It was writing in unusually regular lines.
"There's Jenny. It was on my account she ventured with us." "That's true," said Wogan; "but we shall put an end to her captivity, now we are safe at Bologna. I have friends here who can serve me so far, I have no doubt." O'Toole was willing to leave the matter in Wogan's hands.
Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine To waste life's longest term away, Would change that glorious dawn of thine, Though darken'd ere its noontide day! Be thine the tree whose dauntless boughs Brave summer's drought and winter's gloom. Rome bound with oak her patriots' brows, As Albyn shadows Wogan's tomb.
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