'The fox was very civil to the bird on the tree-branch,' Mr. Curran observed dryly, who with Sara now joined them, 'until the fowl was fool enough to drop his cake! Your lordship is a bad Irishman, we know; but you should not take us for a race of idiots. The people are too quiet. You miss the trenchant articles in Tom Emmett's newspaper. You perceive that even the Orange outrages of Armagh have failed to goad the poor cowed creatures to rebellion. Give them more rope, my lord, and they'll certainly hang themselves--aye, and me too amongst them, I dare say!' Lord Clare coloured slightly, and bit his lip, but answered nothing. 'At a moment when the foe is at our gates,' Curran pursued bitterly--'for the French armament at Brest is surely meant for Ireland--do you strive to unite all parties against a common enemy? No! Look at the scenes which are daily enacted under your auspices in the north. Robbery, rape, and murder; one brother at another brother's throat. Yet I am wrong. We are of one accord on one point. You are uniting us as one man against the conciliation of our animosities and the consolidation of our strength. Alas for Erin! Rent by faction as she is, there is nothing for her but a bridewell or a guard-house--the grinding tyranny of England or the military despotism of France!' Arthur Wolfe, who was always endeavouring to prevent these two from snarling, here interposed, and dragged the irascible little lawyer away. The chancellor, however, fired a parting shot--crying out in a tone of airy innocence: 'On my honour, I know not what you'd have. We give every one as much liberty as possible. Look up at the gallery this moment. Every man in it has a bludgeon or shillalagh--and they're all staring at the box where the ex-prisoners are. I vow they look monstrous dangerous. It's brave of my lord-lieutenant to sit there so quietly!' It was true that all eyes were turned from time to time to that particular box, as though something unusual might be expected to take place. Meanwhile the unconscious lady-lieutenant in the refection-room continued to smirk and bow, highly pleased at the full gathering around her. Stout Madam Gillin panted through the crowd in an amazing turban of coquelicot and gold, distributing hearty handshakes to the right and left; and Norah looked so pretty as she brought up the rear, that the Countess of Glandore's ire was kindled, and she glanced anxiously about for her elder son. He was not present though, for he never would go anywhere where there were high-born young ladies. Mrs. Gillin too was looking out for somebody, and, perceiving Curran, beckoned him with her fan. 'The young man,' she said in an undertone--'you know who I mean--I hear from old Jug that he's mighty annoyed about this Orr case. Indeed it's bad enough i' faith, but don't let him be rash.' 'Terence?' Curran replied; 'I've been expecting him every moment.'