“We haven’t a minute to lose,” exclaimed my Mentor, all ablaze with excitement. “We shall have to rush out and fight helter-skelter. A surprise has been sprung upon us. Oh! for one week. My brave people will be taken at a disadvantage if we be not up and stirring. Every dexterity will be used to outwit us, every dodge resorted to, bribery especially. We must arrange committees in every town and village to sit _en permanence_ until you are elected. We must have special messengers by the hundred. Ormonde, you will place all your horses at my disposal. North, south, east, and west we must nail the Home-Rule flag to the mast. North, south, east, and west the cry _Pro aris et focis_ must go forth. This is our first genuine election under the ballot. We allowed ourselves to be cozened by false promises when Mr. Gladstone sprung his mine last year, but now the ballot, and free and fearless voting. No more coercion, no more intimidation by landlords, no more bullying or bribing. At last we have a chance of freeing the country from the yoke which has been put upon its neck for centuries, and now we have a chance of letting its voice be heard and to pass a verdict on the Act of Union.” “I _do_ wish Mr. Melton was not in the field against _you_,” almost whispered Mabel as I led her into dinner. There was a something in her tone, like a faint note in melody, that vibrated through me. What was it? Father O’Dowd would only swallow a few mouthfuls of food. “Up, guards, and at them! Eh, Mr. Hawthorne?” “The duke never uttered those words. I can give you exactly what occurred. When Napoleon was advancing at the head of the remnant of his shattered army the duke—” “Excuse me, my dear sir, but I have to marshal an army for _my_ Waterloo. _Animum curis nunc huc, nunc dividit illuc_—this way and that way my anxious mind is turning. Ormonde, you’ll come over to me to-morrow, and be prepared to address a meeting of your constituents. Don’t be later than one o’clock. And now _sans adieux_ all!” And the worthy priest, buttoning up his ulster, sprang upon the car. In vain we implored of him to stay. In vain I asked to be permitted to accompany him. No. “I am all aflame,” he cried. “I go to light a fire that will not be extinguished until the high-sheriff is compelled to declare a Catholic and a Home-Ruler the member for this Orangest of all Orange counties. I feel like one inspired. _Nemo vir magnus sine aliquo afflatu divino unquam fuit._” And with this quotation ringing in our ears Father O’Dowd sped upon his mission out into the night. “An’ so yer goin’ for to be the mimber? Good luck to ye, Masther Fred darlint!” exclaimed Peter O’Brien, who was wild with delight at the intelligence, regarding the election as a foregone conclusion. “I hope so, Peter.” “For to repale the Union, Masther Fred?” “Not quite so fast, Peter.” “Och, murther!” he groaned, with disappointment delineated in every feature. “I thought ye wor for tee-total separation like Dan.”