While he meditated thus the punch-bowl was emptied, and, as he made a move to refill it, the party broke into knots and resumed the topic which engrossed them. Terence listened to young Robert's views, which, under the auspices of liquor, grew more rosy and more loud. 'I don't mind telling you about it,' the boy was saying, 'for I know that your honour is too fine to allow the smallest hint to be dropped of what I say. The French will come with 15,000 men, and gunpowder, and muskets. Pikeheads are being hammered out of hours on hundreds of village anvils.' 'They will never send 15,000 men,' Terence objected, with a doggedness induced by drink. 'Their coffers are empty. Holland, Switzerland, the Rhine, claim the attention of their arms.' 'If they send but 5,000 the work can be done. You don't believe it? With three hundred as officers to head our own people, we could make an effort.' 'What can a rabble hope to do against a disciplined force?' exclaimed Terence, with animation. 'The French could not spare three hundred officers to this outlying island. Who have you amongst you who could teach a single military man[oe]uvre? Who could save an army from rout if attacked in rear, or judiciously decide upon a line of entrenchment? What a reckless waste of life--a march into the grave!' 'There are cultivated gintlemen who will come forward when they see that we are in earnest,' put in Cassidy slyly; 'lots of them. There is no telling what mines of military genius may be found amongst the high-born. I confess I'd like to know what we really may expect from France. Theobald has been ten months in Paris, is hand and glove they say with General Hoche, and Carnot, the "Organiser of Victory." Strange he should never write.' 'My cousin Doreen has letters from him,' Terence said, in thick accents. 'Maybe she'd tell us if we coaxed her.' Then, rising, he flung wide the shutters and opened the window, through which streamed such a flood of morning light and perfumed air as caused his wits to reel. Cassidy grinned, as he marked the 'us,' and, encouraged by so good a sign, made bold to clap the young patrician upon the shoulder. 'Sure she'd tell you, councillor darlint,' he whispered; 'for she likes you, and I can get nothing serious out of her. Faix! it's the dainty colleen she is!' 'I dare say she would,' returned Terence, while lines of latent humour puckered up the giant's face. Councillor Crosbie's lofty patronage amused him, for, of the two, Mr. Cassidy had seen most of the Abbey during the past year. 'The day is come,' he urged; 'the very hour for a ride. Will ye go and find out something to make our minds aisy, or do ye think Misthress Doreen would be cross wid ye?' Cassidy was taking liberties. Of that Terence felt hazily assured.