My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 1 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the UnionWingfield, Lewis
History
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 1 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the Union
Wingfield, Lewis
Historical fiction; Ireland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
As they crossed the quadrangle his mentor became wondrous voluble. He
was garrulous as to my lady, and her unfortunate penchant for the
chancellor; talked of Glandore, and all the titled in the land, till
his companion eyed him in indolent surprise. To occupy his attention
was the design of his mentor, for lurking in the shadow of doorways
were certain darkling figures who were not gownsmen; and the little
king's counsel feared lest Terence, if he perceived danger to be
imminent, should be ill-judged enough to retrace his steps and get
mixed up in the misfortunes of his friends.
The spectres allowed the pair to pass, and then, gliding to the door
from which they had issued, left half their number there, whilst the
rest stole through the gateway to the inner court--so as to command
two special windows which were pointed out to them.
Meanwhile the party above, having completed the business of the
evening, prepared itself to be jolly. The story of the proposed
arrest, the vague charge about an informer, were evidently Bugaboos
invented by nurse Curran for the luring away of his junior.
Cassidy, who was in great spirits to-night, and had drank deeply,
demonstrated with the utmost clearness that the fabrication was
absurd. By an old law of Queen Elizabeth (the only pleasant law she
ever made for Ireland), no bumbailiff or importunate creditor might set
his foot within the College-gates. Alma Mater was a sanctuary from
which none might be taken an any account without an order from the
authorities of Trinity, who were too jealous of their rights ever to
grant such order. Moreover, the watch (harmless old women!) were
always friends with the gownsmen--ready to lend a staff or lanthorn,
or feign sleep or assume deafness, just as the frolicsome young
gentlemen should decree. It was quite unlikely that they would witness
any threatening demonstration without instantly giving an alarm, and
even Sirr would think twice before daring an assault upon the inmates
of Trinity without the assistance of the junior dean. Not that the
undergraduates were as bold a body now as when they slew my Lord
Glandore, or so unanimous either, as none knew better than Lord Clare.
Yet they were no cowards, and always ready for a 'blaze.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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