At mention of Terence a shade of coldness came over the faces of some of the young men. Cassidy--who was in splendid military garb, which made his stalwart figure look like a modern Mars--had joined them on their entry; and chid them severely now for daring to be suspicious of Mr. Crosbie. 'What matters it,' he asked, 'about his brother's views? Brothers usually take up opinions as diametrically opposed as possible, as though to establish a family balance.' He himself who spoke, whom none would presume to suspect, had angled after Councillor Crosbie as an invaluable accession to their ranks; had angled in vain for long, till the Orr atrocity had roused even him. He, Cassidy, their old boon-companion, who would give his lifeblood for any of them, would go bail for the honesty of Terence. 'His honesty, forsooth! The suspicion was ludicrous. What had he to gain by joining them, in proportion with what he lost? He, an aristocrat, who might be Earl of Glandore to-morrow--his brother being the fighting champion of the Cherokees.' Robert followed suit with grateful glances at Cassidy. 'Their faith had been shaken by Miss Wolfe, than whom there was no patriot more earnest. But they must remember that Miss Wolfe, masculine and shrewd as by whiffs she seemed, was a woman who was, like all women, guided by her heart rather than her head. Terence, for aught he knew, might have been worshipping at some other shrine than hers, which, to a woman's mind, would be quite excuse enough for allowing private malice to trip up public good. Terence had been his (Robert's) friend for years. Aye, and Tom's too. They must beg the members of the Irish Directory to avoid hasty decisions which afterwards they might repent. Terence should have been back ere this, no doubt; but when he did arrive he would show good reason for delay.'