My lords and my ladies, finding Dublin very dull, began to vent their spleen. The chancellor therefore saw that he must break the ice, which had been freezing up too rapidly. He announced, accordingly, that the Castle festivities would not be postponed, as had been intended. The grand ball, usually given on Christmas Eve, would take place a week later instead--no other change would result from the threatening state of affairs. Gentlemen, however, were requested to wear their swords; for all sorts of rumours were abroad, which the executive sincerely hoped were merely the invention of the enemy. How any enemy could be so heartless as to plot and conspire against so angelic an executive, etc., etc., as usual. That the great ball was really to take place, was hailed with universal delight. Everybody knows St. Patrick's hall--its magnificent proportions, the suite of state-rooms to which it leads; the splendid staircases, balconies, lobbies; ideal spots for flirtation--or conspiracy. All parties, patriotic and the reverse, rejoiced at prospect of this _fête_, for several reasons. Sirr and his Battalion of Testimony were becoming so ubiquitous--informers had a way of turning up so unexpectedly--that it grew daily more difficult to hit on a place of meeting secure from their spying presence. Of course only gentlemen and ladies 'to the backbone' could expect to gain admittance to Castle dinners and concerts; but with the St. Patrick balls it was otherwise. These assemblies bore so official a character that respectable citizens of all denominations were certain of receiving an invitation. Lord Clare, aware of this, had made his calculations. The United Irishmen were sure to be there in force; it would not be his fault if they did not flounder into a hole. It was for this ball on New Year's Eve that Norah Gillin had gone forth to purchase ribbons and plumes. It was for this ball that my Lady Glandore had waited--after which she and Miss Wolfe were to start for Donegal, changing their gala-dresses at the first stage upon the road. Sara, who burned to see Robert and hear how his red-hot speech at the debating society had been received, importuned her father with unusual eagerness to take her to this ball. Was his little primrose becoming worldly? he inquired, with a gloomy smile. No, no! Twinkling feet should go with light hearts. Whose hearts might be light at this awful crisis? His girl must stop at home and say her prayers for Erin, and he would soothe himself and her by strains on the violoncello. That instrument was constantly in his hand now, whenever he was at home; and folks trembled as they passed by at night, for sure such dreadful sounds must come from the damned in agony!