“A man of honour,” said Lord Dunseveric, “would act as you are going to do.” “Farewell, my lord, I go with an easy mind now, if I go to my death, for I have your approval.” “Neal Ward,” said Lord Dunseveric, “I have known you since you were a boy, and I’ve loved you next to my own children. I don’t say you are acting wrongly or dishonourably, but you and your friends are acting foolishly. You cannot win. You and hundreds of innocent people must suffer, and Ireland, Neal, Ireland will come to the worse, to the old subjection, to the old bondage, to the old misery, through your foolishness. I say this, not to dissuade you from going on, for I think that you must go on now, but in order that when you look back on it all afterwards you may remember that there were true friends of Ireland who were not on your side.” Neal bent over Lord Dunseveric’s hand and kissed it solemnly. “I have known two great and good men,” he said. “You, my lord, and one whose name you might count contemptible, James Hope, the weaver, of Templepatrick. I think myself happy that I have had the goodwill of both. And, my lord, I think Ireland the most unhappy country in the world because to-day these two men will be in arms against each other.” He sobbed. Then, lest he should betray more emotion, went quickly from the inn. He found his uncle waiting for him outside the church. “Well, Neal,” he said, “how have you sped? You have a basket; I hope it is full. See here, I have four loaves of bread. The baker man would have denied me. He suspected me, but I had my answer for him. I told him I was groom to a great lord who was staying in the inn. I made free with the name of your friend, Lord Dunseveric. I told him that if he refused my lord the bread he wanted he would hang him for his insolence. I got the bread. For the first time and the last I have been a serving man. Now, back, back as fast as we can go to our hungry comrades.” After they left the town Donald Ward grew grave again.