The day wore over in these sad musings, and by evening, Mark, who had made a wide circuit of the country, arrived at the village of Lucan, where he passed the night. As day was breaking, he was again on the road, directing his steps towards Wicklow, where in the wild district near Blessington, he had acquaintance with several farmers, all sincerely devoted to the “United party.” It was as much to rescue his own character from any false imputations that might be cast on it, as from any hope of learning favourable tidings, that he turned hither. The mountain country, too, promised security for the present, and left him time to think what course he should follow. Mark did not miscalculate the good feeling of the people in this quarter. No success, however triumphant, would have made him one half so popular as his disasters had done. That he had been betrayed, was an appeal stronger than all others to their best affections; and had the deliverance of Ireland depended on his safety, there could not have been greater efforts to provide for it, nor more heartfelt solicitude for his own comfort. He found, too, that the treachery of individuals did not shake general confidence in the success of the plot, so much hope had they of French assistance and co-operation. These expectations were often exaggerated, because the victories of the French armies had been represented as triumphs against which no opposition availed; but they served to keep up national courage; and the theme of all their discourses and their ballads was the same: “The French will do us right.” If Mark did not fully concur in the expectations so confidently formed, he was equally far from feeling disposed to throw any damper on them; and at length, as by daily intercourse these hopes became familiarized to his mind, he ended by a partial belief in that future to which all still looked, undismayed by past reverses: and in this way time rolled on, and the embers of rebellion died not out, but smouldered. CHAPTER XXXV. THE WANDERER'S RETURN