‘In him is the heart of a woman, combinedWith a heroic life and a governing mind.’
“In the movement on Canada, in 1866, Gen. O’Neill sacrificed a business which, in a few years, would have made him a wealthy man. But he did so without hesitation; for he loved his country, and had pledged his life to her service. With the contingent raised by him in Tennessee, he proceeded to Buffalo, where, finding himself the senior officer, he assumed command of the troops there assembled, and, in obedience to the orders he had received, crossed the Niagara river, at the head of six hundred men, on the night of the 31st of May, and raised the Green Flag once more on the soil of the enemy. On the following evening, receiving information that the British forces were marching against him to the number of five thousand, in two distinct columns, he resolved to fight them in detail, and by a rapid march got between them. On the morning of the 2d of June, at Ridgeway, he struck them under Booker; and, though the enemy out-numbered his forcefour to one, routed them signally. Falling back on his original position at Fort Erie, he there learned that the United States Government had stopped the movement at other points, and arrested its leaders. Under the circumstances, nothing more could be done, at that time; and he was reluctantly obliged to re-cross the Niagara, and surrender to the United States forces. That he only did so under the pressure of necessity, is attested by his offer to the Committee in Buffalo to hold his ground, as his own report of the battle of Ridgeway attests, in which he simply says:
‘But if a movement was going on elsewhere, I was perfectly willing to make the Old Fort a slaughter pen, which I knew it would be the next day if I remained;for I would never have surrendered!’
“At the Cleveland Convention of the Fenian Brotherhood, in September, 1867, General O’Neill was elected a Senator of that body; and having been chosen Vice President on the resignation of that office by James Gibbons, Esq., he succeeded President W.R. Roberts, on the resignation of that gentleman, Dec. 31, 1867.
“We have thus briefly sketched the principal incidents of General O’Neill’s career, and, in conclusion, may venture to say that a more stainless, or meritorious, could scarcely be presented to the public. His whole history incontrovertibly illustrates as noble, determined and daring a character as ever led a brave but enslaved people to victory.
“We could supplement this with various other official documents and accounts, serving, if such were possible, to illustrate still further the proud daring and exalted spirit of this worthy son of an illustrious past; but shall, at this particular point of our story, content ourselves with what has just been said. We might, were we so inclined, introduce, also, various other Irish names that shone forth with unrivalled splendor during the late war, and point to the thousands upon thousands of Irish rank and file that, on numerous fields, piled up ramparts of dead around the glorious flag of the Union; but such would not serve our purpose here, as we are restricted in relation to the task before us; and as the fact of the exploits and the bravery of hosts of our loyal countrymen are known to the government and people of this Republic. Sufficient to say, however, that amongst all those of our race who fought and bled in defence of the North, and the integrity of the Commonwealth, there was not to be found one individual who evinced more profound judgment than he in handling the forces at his command, or more cool daring, or instances of personal bravery, as well as that tremendous and overwhelming dash, which gained for Ney the proud appellation, ‘the bravest of the brave?’ and placed the Marshals of France amongst the foremost in history.
“From out of this fierce civil contest, then, it is obvious from all that we have just said, that Fenianism, in its military aspect, received the largest and most important accessions. At the close of the conflict, thousands upon thousands of veterans joined its standard; and thus, in an incredibly short period, its warlike character became intensified, until, at last, the organization on the American continent loomed up before England with an aspect so threatening and a purpose so apparent, that she instantly set about putting her house in order, and began to glance in the direction of making some cunning, though paltry, concessions to Ireland.
“If, however, the military circles of the Brotherhood were distinguished by the accession of many brave and patriotic soldiers, at the juncture already referred to, the organization, in its civil aspect, was not less fortunate or noticeable. Led triumphantly through some of the most difficult phases of its existence, by such self-sacrificing and noble patriots as Colonel W.R. Roberts, of New York, its late President, and James Gibbons, Esq., of Philadelphia, its present Vice President—than whom two more disinterested and sterling Sons of the Sod do not exist—its basis enlarged and strengthened, we say, by such men as these, and the able and truehearted Senators that surrounded them, the Brotherhood, at the close of the war, was in a condition sufficiently exalted to attract to its centre many of the ablest soldiers who had fought on the side of the Union, and who, with their numerous and respective followings, were ready to evince their love of liberty and republican institutions further, by resuming their swords and striking home for the freedom of poor, down-trodden Ireland, against a tyrant the most infamous that has ever existed, and to whom America owes a debt of vengeance, that, under any circumstances, cannot fail to be one day repaid with tenfold interest.
“And so this grand confraternity of patriots prospered and became the greatest and most powerful that has ever appeared upon the theatre of human existence. To be sure, in a body so numerous and all but ramified throughout every portion of the habitable globe, there have been some unworthy members, who fell before the love of gain, or British gold; but, then, and with pride we say it, taking the gigantic proportions of the organization into consideration, and the temptations to sin which have been so constantly placed before it by that blood-thirsty assassin, England, it stands, by comparison, pre-eminently pure above any other similar revolutionary body that has ever obtained in either hemisphere, or in any age of the world. Up to the present hour, under the protection and guidance of a Divine providence, it has surmounted every difficulty that has beset it. It has outlived whatever of treason or mismanagement obtained in its own bosom; it has survived the cruel calumnies and falsehoods of a traitorous and subsidized press, and the machinations of that dangerous English element that sometimes steals into high places, and which has so often interfered with the true interests of America within her own borders, as well as touching her foreign relations. These and many either untoward influences it has surmounted; until, now, it stands upon a pedestal beyond the reach of danger; not only from its great inherent strength and virtue, but from its all but incomprehensible ubiquity, and positive existence in every land and clime. How futile, then, the efforts of its enemies to crush it either by ungenerous legislation, or through the propagation of falsehood. Fenianism is a power founded upon the immutable principles of truth and justice; and is, therefore, indestructible. Consequently, until it has achieved the grand and holy objects that it has set before it, it must win its way to triumph, step by step, if needs be no matter what the magnitude or the number of the difficulties that beset it.”
Early as Barry was up on the morning following his introduction to the reader, he found Tom and Greaves in the bar-room, discussing one of O’Brien’s favorite decoctions, which was averred to possess the virtue of giving a “fillip” to the lagging appetite, and attuning it to the healthiest possible breakfast pitch. Nicholas, although not addicted to early potations, was prevailed upon to join the party. During, the friendly conversation which accompanied this faithless libation to the Goddess of Health, Greaves observed that while he did not feel himself at liberty to speak freely in the mixed company of the preceding evening, notwithstanding what might have been termed his unfriendly insinuations in relation to Ireland, he was himself a true friend of Irish freedom; and, on all befitting occasions, an humble champion of her total and unequivocal independence of England. Here he produced a letter, from a secret pocket in the lining of his vest, which he handed to Tom for hasty perusal; remarking, at the same time, that he well knew to whom he was submitting it. A hurried glance at the contents induced O’Brien to open his eyes wider than they had been opened for some time, and to regard his companion with an almost bewildered stare!
“Sure enough, it’s his handwritin, and it’s as thrue as the sun,” ejaculated Tom, as he folded up the letter and returned it to the owner, “and it’s a different opinion both Nick and myself had of you last night, although sorry I am for it now; and there’s my hand for you.”
“What’s up now?” retorted Barry, well knowing that O’Brien would never have offered his hand to Greaves, unless there were good reasons for it.
“Nothin’ more,” returned Tom, “beyond that we had formed a wrong opinion of our frind here, last night; for, instead of his bein’ what I was half inclined to take him for, he cannot fail to be other than the right stamp, or he never could have that letther in his pocket.”
“That’s enough for me, Tom,” replied Barry, extending his hand to Greaves, “for whoever you endorse is sure to pass muster, in this place, at least.”
The conversation here became low and confidential; being interrupted only by an occasional customer who dropped in to take his “morning;” until, at last, breakfast was announced, and the soldier and Greaves, taking the hint, were soon snugly seated side by side in the little parlor of the preceding night, at a neat and comfortable table, smoking with some of the good things which so constantly characterized The Harp. O’Brien, from his other avocations, was unable to join them at the moment; so they both conversed freely on the topic that had just commanded their attention in the bar, and which referred to neither more nor less than the intended invasion of Canada by the army of the Irish Republic, then said to be preparing for a descent upon the Provinces, in the neighboring Union. Nicholas was unable to give any definite information upon the matter; as the authorities of the organization in the United States were very reticent regarding it, and Greaves himself appeared but little better informed. Barry, however, expressed the opinion that, if any man in Canada had thorough information on the point, it was Tom; although he himself had no very tangible grounds for making the observation, notwithstanding the strength of his surmises.
“Do you not belong to the organization yourself, and if you do, ought you not to be in possession of some facts on this all-important movement?” rejoined Greaves, “and if you are not a member, surely you are sufficiently true to Ireland to have been informed, to some extent at least, in regard to it, by your friend O’Brien, who is, I learn, a Centre here.”
“Well, strange as it may appear,” returned the other, “I don’t belong to the Brotherhood, not having, yet had an opportunity to join it; and as for Tom, whatever my suspicions may be, I really am unable to say positively that he is in any degree connected with the organization; although I am sensible that his sympathies, like my own, lie in that direction.”
“How is your regiment situated on this point,” remarked Greaves, leisurely breaking an egg and commencing to chip the shell.
“A good many of my way of thinking,” replied the other; “but, as you know, it is necessary to be cautious, as not only is the commanding officer a tartar, but most of the swords and sashes are of the same kidney. The fact of the case is, however, several of our fellows have deserted, and no doubt will join the organization in the States, and render good service to the cause there, in a military point of view.”
“Why don’t you follow their example and do something for your poor, down-trodden country,” said Philip in reply, “seeing that now is the time she needs the service of all her children?”
“There is no necessity for my deserting,” rejoined Barry, “for I have already applied for my discharge, which I expect to receive this very day; so that ere the sun sets, in all probability, I shall be a freeman.”
Greaves became silent here for a few moments, as if revolving something in his mind, when, lifting his head again, he resumed the conversation by asking:
“Are strangers permitted to visit the Fort? If so, I should be very glad to take a peep at it this morning, as I shall have a few boars to spare before I can do any business, or rather before the parties I have come to see will be prepared to meet me.”
“Why, not as a general thing, just now,” returned Nicholas, “but I think you may be able to gain admittance if you are accompanied by me, who will, of course, vouch to the sentry for you.”
“Then if you allow me,” said Greaves, “I shall avail myself of your kind invitation, and cross the bridge with you after we have breakfasted, for I can well imagine that during a period when such rumors are afloat, the Commandant as rather chary of permitting strangers to enter his gates.”
In this strain the conversation flowed until breakfast was ended, when the friends proposed to sally forth from the Harp, and wend their way to the point already mentioned. As Barry was leaving the bar-room, however, Tom whispered something in his ear, which appeared to puzzle him for a moment, but returning a keen glance of recognition, both he and Greaves passed out into the cool, fresh morning-air, and began slowly wending their way to the Fort.
There being as yet no special order about the admission of strangers, Greaves, with Nicholas by his side, passed the sentry without question, and proceeded to the canteen, which, early as it was, showed some signs of life. Here Barry introduced his new acquaintance to many of his comrades; but in such common place terms, as to attract no attention whatever on the part of any person. Being for parade, however, he was obliged to leave his friend in other keeping, for a short period, and so hastened to the barrack-room to prepare himself for his morning duties. During the interval of his absence, Greaves stepped out of the canteen, alone, and learning that the Colonel was speaking to some of the officers near the parade ground, made his way towards where the group was standing, and crossing the path of the Colonel as he was walking towards his quarters, accosted him in a manner which soon arrested the progress and attention of that officer, and brought him to a dead halt. The conversation was brief and rapid, while a slip of paper thrust into the hands of the Colonel, by Greaves, seemed to place both on a strange footing of recognition. So brief was the interview, that it was not observed by any individual in the garrison; and so quickly did Greaves return to the canteen, that his absence was scarcely noticed. Here Barry found him as he had left him, making himself agreeable to the soldiers; being more than liberal in paying for all they drank. As the bugle sounded for parade, he bid our young hero “good bye for the present,” and leaving the Fort, proceeded to retrace his steps towards the town, or city, as it may be called.
When he arrived here, instead of returning to The Harp, he bent his steps in another direction, and entered a hotel that was in every relation the very antipodes of the establishment in which he had passed the night. Here, in every direction, were to be found the traces of an English spirit and blind adhesion to wretched and exploded traditions. In the office hung the portrait of the cruel Queen of England, and that of her defunct consort, whose injustice and pedantry were so snubbed by the illustrious Humboldt. Here, too, were to be seen the likeness of the—iron-hearted, it should have been—Duke, presenting a birth-day present, or something of the sort, to a moonfaced yonker that sat fair and plump upon the knee of its royal mother. In another corner was to be found a representation of the Prince of Wales, for whose head and face the engraver had done infinitely more than nature; while directly opposite stood, in a dark, heavy frame, the one-armed hero of the Nile, who owed so much of his fame to poor Emma Harte—the unfortunate Lady Hamilton, who, after having conferred the most serious benefits upon England, was permitted to starve, with her daughter, in a garret somewhere in or near Calais; while some of the spurious offspring of orange and ballet girls filled many of the highest offices in the land she had so often served.
In this establishment the subject of Fenianism was discussed as a leading topic, in a manner quite different from the style in which it was treated at the Harp. Here no voice was raised in its favor—no word of justification advanced in its behalf. Still, although its importance was ignored ostensibly, there were a nervousness and misgiving about some of those who conversed upon it, which showed that they were ill at ease. There seemed, in addition, to be some vague sense of insecurity preying upon them, which could only have originated in their want of confidence in themselves, or in some person or persons to whom were entrusted the gravest interests of the Province. This was the more obvious, from the fact, that, from time to time, mysterious and half-whispered enquiries were made, in reference to one particular individual, whose state of health or mind seemed at the moment to engross no ordinary share of the attention of the numerous guests that filled the bar or office, for the apartment was used as both.
Greaves listened with open ears to all that transpired, and, after inspecting the hotel register, took up a morning paper and seated himself in an arm-chair at his side. While engaged, as he feigned to be, in perusing the news, although actually endeavoring to catch every whisper that floated around him, he gathered, that, for the week or ten days proceeding, one of the most important functionaries in the Province, who, although a clever man, was sorely addicted to fits of intemperence, was now, while the country was convulsed with gloomy forebodings, regarding Fenianism, again passing through one of his prolonged and fearful drinking bouts, and totally unfit to pay even the slightest attention to the momentous business of his office. Already, it was averred, numerous dispatches, of the most vital moment, were lying unopened upon his table, where they were scattered, wet and stained with wine and debauch, some of them having, as it was urged, been obviously disfigured, in part, for the purpose, perhaps, of lighting cigars; while, pale, wretched and half insane, the miserable creature to whom they were addressed, reclined on a sofa by their side, jabbering to a few bloated boon companions, obscene jests and amusing anecdotes, through which the fire of his own native wit sometimes shot brilliantly, though but for a single moment. This, we say. Greaves gathered from the conversation around him, and as in one or two cases he perceived, on the part of the speakers, scarcely any desire to preserve a tone of secrecy on the subject, he felt pretty much assured, that the case was a bad one indeed, and that the individual who could so far forget his own interests for the sake of the bottle, and who could be tolerated in any position of high trust in the State, while addicted to vices of such a character, not to mention others, thought by the HamiltonQuarterly Reviewto be of a graver nature were that possible, must be sustained by the influence of persons terribly deluded, or creatures vile in their degree in turn, and who, like himself, were regardless of the trust reposed in them by the people. And yet, as Greaves afterwards learned, this same man came to Canada a poor, bare-footed, Scotch lad, with a father whose only fortune was an old fiddle, and that inexorable but praiseworthy characteristic of his country—a determination to collect the bawbees at whatever shrine first presented itself on the shores of the New World. Be this as it may, the daily press of the Province has since verified the correctness of the whispers heard by Greaves, and made public the accusation, that this individual, so recently distinguished by a mark of royal favor, for three weeks previous to the invasion of Canada, was so lost in a whirlpool of the most deplorable intemperance, as to be utterly incapable of opening or attending to the important dispatches which lay scattered and unheeded upon his bedroom table.
When Greaves returned to The Harp, he found O’Brien in a state of great excitement. A soldier, as it appeared, had just arrived from the Fort, with the information that the Colonel, on second consideration, did not find it justifiable to apply for Barry’s discharge, at a moment when the country was threatened with danger; and that, as the regiment should soon be ordered home, as he was assured, he had determined not to recommend any discharges until it had reached England. This intelligence had been conveyed to Nicholas by the Colonel in person, after parade, and in a manner which precluded the slightest hope of its being reversed by any succeeding alteration of opinion on the part of the individual who communicated it. A thunderbolt, had it fallen at the feet of the young soldier, could not have startled or paralyzed him more. He was actually struck dumb by it Here was the chalice dashed from his lips at last. He turned away in despair; but as he was for duty, he was constrained to smother the tumultuous feelings within his breast. When alone, however, and pacing his lonely round with his musket on his shoulder, he had time to measure, with sufficient calmness and accuracy, the length, breadth and depth of the great misfortunes that had befallen him. There was but one course left open to him. He had sought to purchase his discharge and leave the service, without the taint of desertion attaching to his name amongst any of his comrades, although he felt that he was not morally bound to remain in the service of England, for a single moment longer than it served his own private ends. Desertion, then, was the only course left open to him, and he was determined to follow it, upon the first fitting opportunity. Another reason why he would rather have been discharged in the ordinary manner from the service: if he once deserted he should never again, with any degree of security, visit any portion of the British dominions; and as Canada lay so close beside the United States, he would gladly have avoided the inconvenience of being shut out from it, as O’Brien and more than one of his friends resided there. However, there was now no help for it; to England he should never return, and so he disposed of the matter in his own bosom. When relieved of duty, then, and with his purpose fixed firmly in his heart, he once again visited The Harp, where he found Tom and Greaves lamenting over the intelligence of his misfortune, and to whom, in a moment of anxiety and excitement, he disclosed his determination to quit the service, and gain the shores of the neighboring Republic the first favorable moment that presented itself. Tom appeared somewhat agitated if not alarmed; at so serious a disclosure, made with such apparent unconcern; and it was only when Barry remembered the hint of the morning, which O’Brien gave him as he was about proceeding to the garrison, that he, himself, felt that he had perhaps been too incautious and precipitate before a person who, after all, was but a stranger to him, although apparently a kindly one. The cat being out of the bag, however, there was now no help for it; and as Greaves seemed to enter warmly into the project, and even offered to share his purse with Nicholas, if there was any necessity for it, the matter was allowed to rest as it was, and suspicion of Greaves, if any remained in the breast of either the soldier or Tom, was driven into the background, and constrained to remain in abeyance for the time being.
When Barry again returned to his quarters, he freely discussed his disappointment among his comrades, and declared his determination to lay the matter before the Commander-in-Chief, averring, with great earnestness, that he had always done his duty, and that he was not accountable for the state of the country, and should not be called upon to suffer for a condition of things outside and beyond his control, and which he was in no manner instrumental in bringing about. His argument seemed plausible enough, but then what, at any time, his argument, when it ran counter to the desires or intentions of his commanding officer? Therefore, the matter, after having been subjected to due discussion, was allowed to fall asleep in the usual stereotyped style; although as may be supposed, there were one or two breasts, at least, that were kept alive and active by it. Nicholas, believing that any intelligence of his embarrassment on the subject would but perplex and pain Kate, determined not to write to her regarding it, but to be the first to bear her the news himself. As already observed, she had written to him to procure his discharge at the earliest possible moment, and now to learn that his freedom was jeopardized for an indefinite period, involving, in addition, his return to England first, would be a renewal of her old agony. This he was determined to spare her; so, to those of his company in whom he could confide, and who were themselves ripe for any project that would tend to their total disseverment from the flag they so detested, he cautiously communicated his intentions, finding, in return, that more than one of them were on the eve of trying their fortune in the same manner. Soon, then, a sturdy little band had determined to leave the Fort, whatever night Barry should pitch upon; premising, of course, that it should be some one on which he would be on duty, and at a favorable point.
This much arranged, Greaves and Tom were made acquainted with the whole particulars of the plot; the former entering, to all appearance, heart and soul into it, and furthering it in every manner within the limits of his power. In fact, Greaves was actually behaving in a manner which staggered some suspicions still entertained by Tom, notwithstanding the letter to which reference has already been made, for he agreed to assist in forwarding the escape of one of Nicholas’ company that had deserted sometime previously, and was still concealed in the outskirts of the town, in a place known to Barry only, and where he was hemmed in by detectives from his regiment that were continually traversing the city in colored clothes, or stationed as look-outs at certain points in its vicinity. Barry was most anxious that this poor fellow should not be left behind, and as Greaves promised to procure a disguise for him and have him conveyed secretly to Tom’s on the night that the project of leaving the Fort was to be put into execution, Barry, at the request of Greaves, penned a note, which he hastily sealed with a love device well known to the deserter, and which he had himself received at the hands of the beautiful girl of his heart. The note ran thus:—
“Place the fullest confidence in the bearer. Follow his directionsimplicitly. Your fate hangs in the balance. He will lead you towhere we shall meet. In great haste, &c.,“NICHOLAS BARRY.”
This note he handed to Greaves, who immediately consigned it to his pocket-book, and set forth, as he alleged, to reconoitre the hiding place of the soldier, and make such arrangements in his behalf as the necessities of the case required.
As the brief missive just quoted was written in O’Brien’s, and in the presence of Tom himself, when Greaves left the premises, the host with some uneasiness observed:—
“I don’t know how it is, Nick, but somehow or other I cannot divest myself of sartain lurkin suspicions which I have of that man; although there is not a single Irish Nationalist in the city that would not offer him his hand and a glass afther seein the letther that I saw. However, you will remimber that the first night he came I didn’t warm to him, as I tould you, notwithstandin that I had to give up the next mornin. Still, and withal he appears to be actin fair, although I can’t make out exactly what he’s about here. Any way, in for a pinny in for a pound, so we must make the best of it; but, if I find that he is playin foul—well, God Almighty help him, and that’s all I’ll say. However, three nights from this will tell the whole story, and if you all make good your escape, you may take my word for it, I’ll make a clane breast of it to him and ask his pardon into the bargain. I think with you that it was wise not to write to Kate about your throuble and disappointment, or apprise her of your intintion, as it would only agonize the poor craytshure; but should you be foiled and taken, what a dreadful thing it would be for her to hear instead of the intelligence of your freedom, that you were in the depths of a dungeon from which you might have no manes of escape for years!”
Barry absolutely shuddered at the possibility of such adenouementto the scheme that now absorbed his whole mind and soul. Although sensible of the risk he ran, he never paused to regard the peculiar features of the case as presented by his friend; but now that they loomed up before him in such bold and fearful relief, he almost shrank from pushing farther the dangerous project he had undertaken. Yet, there was no other channel through which he could hope to become speedily the husband of the woman he loved; while, if he abandoned it, he might probably be separated from her forever, as he felt convinced, that should an ocean roll once more between them, she would not long survive the calamity. In a moment, then, the faintness of his heart had passed away, and in its stead came the firm resolve to prosecute his design to the death; feeling that imprisonment for any term of years on the shores trodden by the being he adored, was preferable to freedom, such as it was, in a land cut off from her by the trackless desert of the great deep.
Re-assured once more, then, he continued cautiously the preparations for his departure, attending to his duties with his usual assiduity, and still murmuring at the decision of the Colonel. Neither he nor Tom, of course, ever approached the hiding place of the refugee already mentioned, although they managed to hear from him occasionally, and to keep his spirits up. Had either, by day or night, ventured near his retreat, they could scarcely have escaped notice—the one from his soldier’s uniform and the other from his remarkable height and personal appearance; they were, therefore, with all their misgivings, relieved of their embarrassment in this relation, by the generous offer of Greaves, who, as it seemed, had abundance of means at his command to further any project that he might think proper to undertake relative to the escape of the deserter, or those who had now determined to join him.
In this way, then, matters stood on the very evening which was to close in the night selected by the intending fugitives, to put their designs into execution. Everything was ready, and as the clock struck twelve and the streets of the city were partially deserted, a cab rumbled up to the door of The Harp, and Greaves and a stranger, muffled to the eyes, stepping from it, entered the establishment and passed through the bar into Tom’s little parlor. Greaves had kept his faith—the stranger was the deserter!
As might be presumed, from what we have already said regarding Kate McCarthy, from the moment she took up her abode with her relatives at Buffalo, she resumed her industrious habits, and set to work, in real earnest, to add something to whatever young Barry had realized from his own abilities and steady conduct on both sides of the Atlantic; for, since his arrival in Canada, he had plied his pen amongst his comrades, and in other quarters, copying papers and instructing the children of the soldiers where he was stationed. She consequently soon found her little store increased, and her time fully occupied. In music and the earlier branches of English, she had several young pupils; while for some of the fancy millinery stores of the city, she occasionally employed her needle on some of those delicate and exquisite ornaments of female dress which are at once so expensive and attractive. Her labors were, of course, cheered through constant intercourse by letter with Barry; and so the time rolled on up to the very point when Nicholas first applied for his discharge. It may be considered strange, that Barry had not left the service on his first arrival in Canada; but, then, let it be understood, that neither he nor Kate had yet acquired sufficient means with which to begin the world; while both were steadily accumulating a little, slowly but safely; and when, besides, he felt assured, that having the means at his command, he could, at any moment, procure his discharge. We have already said, that owing to his proud and unyielding nature, he was not a favorite with his officers, and that such being the case, he never ‘rose above the ranks; but, then, after all, the most of his superiors had, at times, recourse to his pen and excellent education in various matters connected with the regiment, requiting him for his services handsomely enough; but still at enmity with his Irish blood, and what they feared was, his anti-British tendencies. Such inducements as these, although accompanied with drawbacks, moved him to remain in the service for a longer period than he should have done under other circumstances, and reconciled his lover to an absence which she believed could be terminated at any moment. And so time sped with her, until the eve of the very day, on the night of which Barry and his comrades were to leave the Fort, when returning towards her home in the direction of Black Bock, from the city, just as it began to get dusk, she was met by an over-dressed stranger, who accosting her in a most respectful manner, begged to know if she could direct him to the residence of Miss Kate McCarthy.
After recovering her surprise, and casting a searching glance at her interrogator, she replied, that she was, herself, Miss McCarthy, and begged to know what was his business with her. The man appeared to hesitate, as if not crediting her assertion, and proceeded to say, that he had a message for Miss McCarthy, but that he was led to believe that that lady was a much older person than the one whom he now addressed.
“Possibly,” returned Kate, “there is some other lady of my name here; but if such be the case, I am totally unaware of it. However,” she continued, “as I expect no message from any person of my acquaintance, doubtless I am not the person you seek,” and bowing slightly to the stranger, she turned to pursue her way in the direction of her home.
“I beg your pardon for attempting to delay you,” rejoined the stranger, “but after all, you may be the lady I seek. If you are,” he went on to say, “you will be apt to recognize this token;” holding something in his hand, which he now thrust out towards her.
In an instant, her whole manner altered, her cheeks flushed, and a strange light burned in her eyes, as she exclaimed hurriedly, and while greatly agitated:
“Yes, I am the person; let us walk towards the house. It is but a short distance from where we stand.”
In a few moments, they were both engaged in the most earnest conversation, and evidently entering into some stipulation that was to be carried out without delay. On nearing her residence, however, the stranger expressed his opinion, that it were better that he should return to the city at once, and make some arrangements in connection with the subject of their conversation, whatever that was; enforcing upon her, in the meantime, the most profound secrecy, and the strange necessity, above all things, of not informing any of her friends or relations of the project upon which they had decided.
“Twelve o’clock, at the Lower Ferry, then!” observed the stranger, as he turned his face towards the city.
“Twelve o’clock!” she returned. “No fear! I shall be awaiting you!”
When she entered the house, with a view to concealing her emotions and making some secret preparations for the accomplishment of the sudden project foreshadowed by the words of the stranger, she hastily gained her chamber. When alone, she gazed confused yet enraptured on the unexpected talisman that had been given her, and which she still held firmly in her grasp. Soon, however, becoming more calm, she set about making such arrangements for her midnight tryst as she conceived necessary; upon the completion of which, she penned a few lines to her kind relatives, begging them to make no inquiries after her, as she was safe; although, for reasons afterwards to be explained, she was obliged to leave their roof by stealth, and for the moment in utter darkness as to her destination. She assured them, nevertheless, that although her conduct was for the present suspicious and inexplicable, she was free from any taint of wrong, and was only obeying a voice that would soon justify to the fullest, and before them personally, the step she was now about to take. This note was left upon her bed-room table, where she knew it would be discovered; so, after declining to join the family at tea, on the plea of slight indisposition, she filled a traveling satchel with what necessaries she thought she might require for the few days she presumed she should be absent, and extinguishing her lamp at the hour she usually retired to rest, awaited, alone and in silence, for the clock to strike eleven; at which time she knew the family would have all sought their couch and be sunk in slumber.
From her chamber window she perceived that the lights soon began to disappear from the casements of the few dwellings that were in the immediate vicinity of her habitation, and that the quiet of repose was stealing over the neighborhood. Busied with her own thoughts, and anxious for the future, the time for her departure drew nigh more rapidly than she had anticipated; so, when the last stroke of eleven had died away through the house, she, having previously attired herself for her journey, and secured, about her person, whatever money she possessed, took up her satchel, and cautiously descending the stairs, soon emerged out into the gloomy night, hastily bending her footsteps towards the place of rendezvouz.
Here, besides encountering the individual already introduced to the reader, who was waiting for her, she having had to travel a considerable distance, and it being now close on midnight, she found a second party stationed by the side of a good sized boat, into which all three stepped upon her arrival; the two strangers seizing the oars and striking boldly out for the Canadian side of the river. Although rapid the current at the point of their crossing, so admirably did they manage their craft and lustily did they pull, they did not deviate much from the light on the opposite shore, which seemed to gleam from some cottage window, and which they took as a beacon and guide to their course. In the space of about half an hour, they landed at the point they expected to make, where they found a team waiting, with a lantern so ingeniously fixed in the wagon as to be discernible from the American side of the river only; this being the light by which the two boatmen had steered.
As they all stepped ashore, Kate had a full opportunity of scrutinizing the appearance of the second stranger, who aided her in crossing the river. He was a short, thick-set, heavy man, of a most forbidding aspect, with a huge mouth and a broad, flat nose, without a bridge. He wore a blue flannel shirt and a heavy, short over-coat and slouched hat, and was, taking him all and all, about as villainous a looking specimen of humanity as one could well meet in a day’s walk. Nor was the driver of the wagon into which she now was lifted, a very decided improvement in this relation. He, also, was a most suspicions looking fellow, although civil enough in his way. Kate felt relieved, however, when her earliest acquaintance of the evening took his seat beside her, and when she perceived the man with the blue shirt re-entering the boat and pushing off for the American shore once again.
The driver now having adjusted himself in his place in front of Kate and her polite companion, the whip was laid to the horses, and the party moved briskly along the bank of the river, until they struck into a road which evidently led into the interior of the country. This road they pursued at a slow pace until the first gray streaks of dawn were visible in the eastern horizon; Kate’s companion, from time to time, making such commonplace observations as the necessity of the case required; she supposing that the presence of the driver prevented him from offering her any farther explanation on the subject of her singular adventure. Just as surrounding objects were becoming more distinct, they pulled up before an isolated building, in what appeared to be a country place, and in which, early as it was, there was some person already astir, as was evident from the light which shone from one of the windows.
Here they all alighted and were received at the door of the dwelling by a middle aged woman, with a strip of red silk bound round her head and drawn down over one of her eyes. She was dressed in a plain but neat manner, and exhibited sufficient traits of feminine beauty to recommend her to either sex. The driver was evidently her husband, and no very affectionate one either, if the coarse, cold manner in which he received her welcome could be taken as any indication on this head. However, as Kate was cold and weary, she gladly accepted an invitation to alight and enter the building, where she found a large fire blazing and crackling upon the hearth, in an apartment that was used as a dining-room and kitchen; although the house was a large one and clearly contained many apartments. When seated by the fire, and while the driver was seeing to his horses, her companion, who also seated himself by the warm blaze, informed her that, for the present, she was at the end of her journey—that the driver, his wife and a grown up niece or daughter, were the only inhabitants of the house, and that the place was selected as her retreat for the time being, for reasons that would doubtless be explained to her in due time. Although surprised and mystified at all she had already experienced, she, of course, had not one word to say in opposition to the disposition that had been made of her; for had she not in her bosom the guarantee that all was right; so, professing her willingness to remain in her temporary abode until the period for her release arrived, and promising to be as patient as possible, under the circumstances, she begged the woman of the house to show her to her room, as she needed a few hours rest, to which request her hostess readily acceded, having first, though in vain, endeavored to prevail upon her to take some refreshments after her journey.
The room to which Kate was shown was far from a despicable one, and possessed many articles of furniture infinitely superior to those in the department she had first entered. The floor was carpeted, and the chairs and tables of quite a superior quality; the bed, also, seemed invitingly clean and comfortable, while some excellent books were to be found in a small, neat case, standing in one corner of the apartment. On the table there burned a handsome lamp, and a fire blazed cheerfully in a small, open stove, as though her arrival had been expected and well cared for. When her hostess left her, she examined her chamber door and windows, and found the latter quite secure, while in the lock of the former was a key, one turn of which would cut her off completely from any intrusion whatever. Seating herself beside her lamp, she reviewed rapidly the events of the night, and finding no solution for them, she slowly undressed, and consigning herself to the care of heaven, was soon lost in a calm and refreshing slumber, from which she did not awake until the sun had nearly attained his meridian glory.
When she opened her eyes and collected her scattered senses, she hastily arose, and dressing herself, rang a small bell that lay on her table, and which her hostess desired she should use when she required any attendance. Immediately a gentle tap was heard at her chamber door, upon opening which, a young girl, about sixteen years of age, presented herself with a pitcher of fresh water, begging to know, as she placed it on the wash-stand, at what period she should bring up breakfast; setting about opening the windows as she spoke, and otherwise busying herself in arranging the room. There was something in the appearance of this young creature, that at once enlisted the sympathy and kindly feelings of Kate. Her features were strangely handsome and prepossessing, and her form of the very finest proportions. Her hands, although rough with hard work, were, nevertheless, small and delicately shaped, while her feet, notwithstanding that they were encased in a pair of over-large slippers, were obviously very beautiful. She was tall for her age, and apparently better educated than her seeming condition in life might warrant. But what was most peculiar about her, was an air of sadness, that seemed native to her expressive countenance, and which pervaded her smiles even, with a strange, subduing power, that nearly allied them to gentle tears. Her voice, too, was singularly sweet, low and melodious; while her whole demeanor was so tinged with what might be termed some lone, hidden sorrow, that Kate felt drawn towards her in a manner the most unaccountable. In answer to a query put to her, she said she was not, as was generally supposed, the daughter of the owners of the establishment, but their niece, as she believed; and that she had now been residing in the locality for over five years. That her uncle did a great deal of teaming, and was often from home; and that, in his absence, she and her aunt took care of a small patch of ground that lay at the back of the house. She was almost glad, she said, that the lady had come to stay sometime with them, and hoped that she would allow her to often sit by her and read during the times her uncle would be away; as it might tend to beguile many a weary hour; that is, provided the lady would have to remain any length of time with them.
There was something in all this which seemed to move Kate strangely. The expression “almost glad” sounded curiously in her ears, and awakened in her feelings of a no very pleasurable character. However, she determined, upon so slight an acquaintance, not to push her inquiries further just then; and by way of forming a friendly compact with her attendant, assured her, that so long as she remained in the house, she should always be happy to have her as a companion whenever she could be spared from her domestic duties; and further, that it would afford her the greatest possible pleasure to sit and listen to her, whenever she could find a moment’s time to either read for her or while away a few minutes in friendly conversation. This condescension seemed to light up the face of the interesting young creature with a flush of gratitude the most ardent; and with a lighter step than that with which she had entered the chamber, she tripped away, for the purpose of bringing up the breakfast to which she had already referred.
When Martha, as Kate’s new acquaintance was called, again entered the apartment, she was accompanied by her aunt, who was dressed just as she had been the night before, with the exception that the strip of red silk had been replaced by a purple band of the same material. As the breakfast, which was excellent for a country place, was being placed upon the table, Kate perceived that one side of the woman’s face was discolored, and being moved to make some inquiries regarding the cause, was informed, that while breaking up some kindling wood, a splinter had accidentally struck her face. This went to satisfy her, of course, although she thought the large, black patch which fell down along the cheek was singularly dark and wide to be traceable to the small splinter that the woman asserted to be the cause of it. A strange look from Martha, too, aroused a suspicion that the origin of the disfigurement was not that named; so here the matter rested for the present.
During her repast, she learned from Martha, who remained with her, that the name of the people of the house was Wilson; that they were English, and that the person who had arrived in company with her uncle, who was also English, was called Stephen Smith; but where he resided she was unable to say. This she knew, however, that he made occasional visits to the family, and was sometimes accompanied by a very ill-looking man, who remained a day or two, after having left some boxes or cases in charge of her uncle, who subsequently disposed of them in some manner unknown to her.
“But,” she continued, “I don’t like these men. They always come in the night, and go away in the night, and are ever whispering; you must not, however,” she went on to say, “mention this to either my aunt or my uncle; for, if they should know I had said so much, they would doubtless be very angry with me.”
“Oh!” returned Kate, “you may rely upon it, that whatever you may choose to say in relation to the men in question, or anything else, shall remain in my bosom; for to betray any confidence of the kind, would, in my eyes, be criminal in the last degree.”
“What brought you here, then!—what brought you here!” ejaculated Martha, in an anxious, nervous tone. “There must be something wrong!—some treachery, or I am sure a lady so good and pure as you seem to be, would never cross this threshold.”
Kate, becoming instantly alarmed, broke off suddenly in her repast, and begged the young girl, for Heaven’s sake, to be more explicit.
“I really don’t know what more to say than I have already said,” replied the girl; “but, as I feel drawn towards you by some invisible power, short as our acquaintance has been, I will say, that I fear my uncle’s associates are lawless men, and believe that my aunt knows it, and regrets it, too. But a few nights ago, when Smith came here to make arrangements about your arrival, as I suppose, I heard high words between my relatives after his departure, and, the next morning, found my aunt’s face just as you have seen it. But we dare not say much in opposition to any proposition that my uncle might choose to make in any connection, so violent and brutal is his temper at times. For my own part, however,” she proceeded, “so soon as I can escape from such thraldom and associations, I shall try and make my own way in the world; for my impression is, my uncle has some idea of a union between me and the detestable creature, Smith, who accompanied you here last night, and who, after an hour’s rest, was again driven off by my uncle, doubtless to whatever point he came from.”
This intelligence, as may be supposed, caused poor Kate the greatest possible anxiety; but what had she to fear so long as she took the talisman for her guide? Here there could be no mistake, anyway; for had she not it in her bosom, and was it not fromhim? Still, that there was something perfectly mysterious about the whole affair, she was quite ready to admit; but as she had received the strictest injunctions from Smith not to permit herself to be seen for the present in the vicinity of the place, or outside the dwelling, she determined to obey one to whom no small power in her case had unquestionably been delegated by her lover.
During the day Martha and Kate were frequently together—the poor young girl disclosing her history scrap by scrap, until at last Kate learned that she was in reality an orphan; that both her parents died when she was yet quite young; that her aunt, who was possessed of an excellent education, had been twice married—once to her own mother’s brother, and subsequently to the man whom she now called uncle; that her own parents had been Irish, and that on their death, her real uncle became her guardian and true friend until his death; when, on this second, unfortunate marriage, the affairs of the family becoming hopelessly embarrassed, she and her relatives embarked for America, taking up their abode first in Toronto, and subsequently in the place where they now resided. In addition, she stated that her opportunities of education had been good, and that, somehow or other, since she had crossed the Atlantic, she managed to keep a few choice books about her, and avail herself of the assistance of her aunt, whenever they could, in the absence of her uncle, devote an hour to study or the perusal of some new work.
The small clearing, on the verge of which the house occupied by the Wilsons stood, was surrounded with woods, and no other habitation was to be found in its immediate vicinity. From the morose disposition and suspicious character of the proprietor himself, but few of the neighbors were on visiting terms with the family; so that they might be said to lead a completely sequestered life. From time to time only, an occasional visit was paid him by some one who stood in need of the services of his team; and thus his standing in the neighborhood was that of a suspected or banned man—the general impression being, that he was neither more nor less than a dangerous and daring smuggler, who was constantly engaged in the interests of unprincipled merchants on both sides of the lines. This idea obtained footing from the circumstance that he had been observed returning late one night from the frontier with his wagon laden down with suspicious looking boxes and bales; and from the further fact, that his absences from home were frequently lengthy and mysterious—no one knowing the precise nature of his business, or the points to which his journeys were made so often.
The clearing, itself, was under good cultivation, the spring crops giving fine promise of an abundant harvest. A short distance from the house flowed a beautiful brook, whose murmurs occasionally reached the ears of the inmates; while the thickening foliage of the surrounding groves, as they might be termed, gave shelter to various birds, amongst which might now be heard, at early morn and throughout the day, the clear, round notes of the robin.
“The robin!”—what on earth has, we should like to know, bewitched ornithologists to designate the great, coarse, tuneless bird, that visits us in the earliest dawn of spring, in this far off America, “the robin?” Neither in throat nor plumage is it even a thirty-first cousin of the sweet, timid, little, brown bunch of melody that haunts the hawthorn hedges of Ireland and the sister island, when they are in bloom, or seeks a crumb at the open casement, when winter ruffles all its russet plumes, and sets his chill, white seal on all its stores; We have been often struck with the great dissimilarity between these two namesakes of the feathered kingdom; for never on these transatlantic shores have we heard what might be termed a domestic bird sing a song so sweet as that poured beneath our window in the soft blue haze of an Irish summer evening, by the genuine robin-red-breast, as he sang the daylight down the west, through a sky flushed and flecked with azure, crimson and gold, to such extreme intensity, that the poet or painter might, at the moment, half indulge in the idea, that the sun had fallen into curious ruins upon the verge of the horizon. Oh! the silver thread of such a song, as it flashed and scintillated from that trembling throat! Never shall we forget it, or the land in which it first wound itself around our heart.
But this, we know, is inclined to be sentimental; and as we now have to do with stern realities, we shall resume the chain of our story by saying, that after her first day’s residence with the Wilsons, and finding that the uncle of Martha had no intelligence for her on his return home on the evening or night succeeding the one of her arrival, she expressed her great anxiety to Martha, who now devoted every moment she could spare from her other duties, to the pleasing task of rendering her solitude as agreeable as possible.
On the morning of the second day after her arrival she ventured to ask Wilson if he had any idea of when she was to be relieved from her embarrassing position. In reply to her interrogatory he assured her, that he was quite unable to give her any information on the subject, but was led to believe that she should not be long a prisoner, as he termed it. All he could say in relation to the matter was, that some person, with whose name even he was unacquainted, had secured, through a third party, his services as her host, and engaged the apartment she occupied, and attendance, etc. In addition to this, he observed, carelessly, that he was responsible for her safety until the arrival of those who had delegated to him the right to watch over her and shield her from observation until the proper moment arrived.
To all this Kate made no reply; the thought having just struck her, that Nicholas had perhaps learned of some intended design upon her by Lauder, and that he took this method of transporting her to some point unknown to that person, until he himself could offer her his full and unembarrassed protection. Yet she wondered why it was that he had left her in such dreadful uncertainty, and did not write her explicitly upon the subject Again, she was perplexed at the idea that he was in no position to learn anything of the plots or plans of her rejected suitor, if he entertained any; so that, upon the whole, she was in no very comfortable state of mind when she rejoined Martha whom she had left in her chamber, and whom she now induced to make up a bed upon a sofa and consent to sleep in her apartment during her stay.
Martha, on her part, moved by this token of friendship, and while sitting up late on the very night of the conversation with Wilson, became mysteriously nervous and, through various vague hints and insinuations, so far alarmed Kate at last, that the poor girl implored her new acquaintance to tell her frankly if she knew anything that bore upon her ease, or the reasons for her being so singularly circumstanced.
To this solicitation Martha made no direct reply; but rising cautiously, she stepped lightly towards the chamber door, and opening it softly put out her head into the passage and listened for a few moments. Then gently closing the door, she again noiselessly retraced her steps, and drawing her seat close beside that of Kate, began thus, in a low, trembling voice, in which fear and agitation were distinctly traceable:
“Oh! Miss McCarthy, horrible as the disclosure is, I believe that, instead of a smuggler, which my aunt and I long supposed him to be, my uncle is a robber, or leagued with robbers! This, for the first-time, came to our knowledge last night, after his return from wherever he had been. We had been always accustomed to his bringing here, during the night, mysterious packages; but as he informed us that they were goods for merchants who, as he asserted, resided at some distance, we took him at his word, and when he removed the goods again were, of course, under the firm impression that he carried them to their owners. However, as I have observed, on returning last night, when my aunt and I were assisting him to remove a heavy case from his wagon, while carrying it into the stable to place it under the hay beneath which he invariably concealed such things, my aunt and I perceived that, this time, it was a large trunk that he had brought, and that the lock had given way, disclosing gleams within it, as though it contained some bright objects. He did not notice the circumstance of the fastening having failed, and we did not call his attention to the fact; but permitted him to shake the hay over it as usual. Subsequently, however, my aunt and I referred to the matter, when she, taking advantage of my uncle’s sound slumbers, he having retired to rest before her, went out again and, re-lighting the stable lantern, removed the covering from the lid of the great trunk, and raising it, perceived that it contained many valuable articles of silver and dress; but all evidently old, and huddled together in a manner the most confused. This almost paralysed the poor woman, and as I subsequently inspected the package, on her retiring for the night, I arrived at the conclusion which she had, as she informed me, herself previously adopted; namely, that the goods were stolen, and that Smith was in some way mixed up with the robbery.”
Now, indeed, Kate felt her situation alarming in the truest sense of the term, and sat looking at her companion in speechless horror and amazement. Mystery upon mystery it was; but as the dangers that appeared to surround her, though gloomy, were indistinct, she once more had recourse to her panacea of the token, and seeking her couch with a fervent prayer on her lip, was soon, like her young friend on the sofa, lost in uneasy slumbers.