“You might sleep in a worse place, Neal. It was here that Wolfe Tone and the men I told you of dined three years ago--and a merry day they had of it. I could wish we had a few of the scraps they left. It’s cold work sleeping in the open on an empty stomach, but we must just cheer each other with Tone’s byword-- “‘’Tis but in vain For soldiers to complain.’” Neal, lying full length on the heather in the warmth of the afternoon sun, dropped off to sleep. He had undergone severe physical exertion, which told on him. He had been through an hour and more of great excitement, which exhausted him far more than the exertion. When he woke the sun had sunk behind the hill, and the air was pleasantly cool. Hope sat beside him, gazing out across the Lough and the town which lay below them. “I’ve been thinking, Neal, of that man Finlay. He was frightened to-day when we were in his house. Now what had he to be frightened about?” “I don’t know,” said Neal, “but I agree with you. The man certainly wasn’t play-acting. He was in real fear.” “I think,” said Hope, “that he was afraid the soldiers would take us and hang us.” “But,” said Neal, “why should he fear that when he has betrayed us?” “The human heart,” said Hope, after a pause, “is a strange thing. The Book tells us that no man is altogether good; no, not one, and that’s true. Never was a truer word. We try, lad, we try, and the grace of God works in us, but there remains the old leaven of evil; ay, it’s there, even in the heart of a saint. Now, it isn’t written, but I think it’s just as true that there’s no man altogether bad. There’s a spark of good somewhere in the worst of us, if we could but get at it. There’s a spark of good in Finlay.” “How can there be?” said Neal, angrily. “The man’s a spy, an informer, a paid liar, a villain that takes gold and perjures himself.” “That’s true, over true. And yet he wanted to save our lives to-day. I tell you the man’s not all bad. There’s something of the grace of God left in him after all.” Neal was not inclined to argue about the matter. He sat silent, watching star after star shine out of the moonless sky. After a long silence Hope spoke again. “There are men among us who mean to take Finlay’s life. I can’t altogether blame them. He deserves to die. But Neal, lad, don’t you have act or part in that. Remember the word,--‘Vengeance is mine and I will repay, saith the Lord.’ If there’s a spark of good in him at all, who are we that we should cut him off from the chance of repentance? ‘The bruised reed shall he not break; the smoking flax shall he not quench.’ Remember that, Neal.” From far down the side of the hill the sound of a woman’s voice reached them faintly. It drew nearer. “That’s some slip of a lassie from off the farms below us,” said Hope. “She’s looking out for some cow that’s strayed.” “She’s singing,” said Neal. “I catch the fall of the tune now and then.”