Colonel Sarsfield more than fulfilled the promise he had made. Seeing that Dorothy had set her heart upon joining her friends in Londonderry, he had accompanied her part of the way himself, and had provided her with an escort for the remainder of her journey. To Gervase he had shown unaffected kindness. He had provided him with a horse and apparel befitting his condition, and at parting had wrung his hand with an appearance of great warmth and friendship.

“It is right, perhaps,” he had said, “that we should be on different sides of this quarrel, but we can part with mutual good-will. I have but one hope and one thought--to see my country once more a nation, great and free. I would that all our people were of one mind, and were striking together for their fatherland. But it is still our curse to be divided--torn and rent by civil feuds. But believe me when I say that Patrick Sarsfield has only one desire on earth, and that is that his country should have her own laws and her own government, and freedom for the meanest. I think I shall meet my fate on the field of battle, but I hope not 131before I have seen that splendid day. Think well of us, Mr. Orme, and though you do your duty on your own side, remember that there are among us those whose cause is sacred in their eyes, and whose country is dearer to them than their lifeblood.”

They never met again, but Gervase felt in after days that there was one man in Ireland who might have saved his cause, had he not been checked by narrow prejudices and the bitter envy of those who did not understand his proud and chivalrous nature. At Limerick that fiery spirit blazed out for a while in all its native strength, but his cause was already doomed.

When Gervase had reached Londonderry in safety, and had seen Dorothy placed under the protection of her aunt, he returned to his old lodgings over a linendraper′s shop in a small house near the Bishop′s-gate.

In the meantime, memorable events had transpired in his absence. The Irish army, breaking through the defences of the Bann, had pressed on toward Londonderry, and having crossed the Finn, had closed upon the city. Colonel Lundy, whether through vacillation and cowardice or from deliberate treachery, had made no effort to oppose their approach, and had done his best to secure the surrender of the city. At the very moment when he was about to carry out his designs, the citizens awakened to his intentions, and took the authority into their own hands. They seized the keys and took possession of the walls; a new government was established in 132the city; the garrison was divided into regiments, and preparations were made to stand a long and stubborn siege.

A great change had taken place in the city and in the spirit of the citizens since Gervase had ridden out of the gate, a fortnight before. The old look of dejection and irresolution had disappeared; one of unbounded enthusiasm and zeal had taken its place. Every able-bodied man carried arms and bore himself like a soldier. Swords clanked on the causeway; rusty muskets had been furbished up, and gentlemen and yeomen alike were filled with the same ardour, and wore the same determined air. Every regiment had its post. On the ramparts the guards were posted at regular intervals; little knots of armed and resolute men were gathered in the great square, and companies were being drilled from morning till night in the Bogside. A spirit of unyielding loyalty filled the air. The paving stones had been raised from the streets and were carried to the walls; blinds had been erected to screen the men on the ramparts. From the grey Cathedral tower two guns looked down on the Waterside, and on every bastion were others ready for use. At the Market house also cannon were planted to sweep the streets. At every gate there was a great gun.

The siege had indeed commenced. Yonder beyond the Foyle lay Lord Lumley′s command, three thousand strong, the white tents catching the last gleam of the sunset as the evening mists crept up the river. At Brookhall and Pennyburn Mill was a strong 133force that shut off communication with Culmore. Away towards St. Johnston′s and Carrigans was the main army of the enemy under Eustace and Ramsay. From the heights of Clooney one could see at long intervals a swift leap of flame, and hear the sullen roar of a great gun breaking on the evening air. All thought of compromise or capitulation was at an end; here the citizens must make their last stand, and show the world how dearly they held their faith and freedom.

At first sight resistance might have seemed a midsummer folly.

On both sides of the river the high ground looked down upon the city, and that within the range of cannon. The streets clomb up the gradual slope toward the square-towered Cathedral; the walls were low and might be easily breached. Still, there were seven thousand men of the imperial race within those walls, and while one stone stood upon another they had sworn to make good their defence.

Gervase was up betimes on the morning following his return. He had seen Colonel Murray the night before at the guard house, whither that gallant soldier had just returned after a hot encounter with the enemy, and had heard from his lips an account of their first skirmish that had taken place that very day. Murray had promised him a vacant cornetcy in his own regiment of horse, and the prospect of plenty of service.

Gervase buckled on his sword after a hasty 134breakfast, his mind full of the hope that a high-spirited young-fellow naturally indulges in at such a time. His imagination had been touched and his heart had been stirred by the peril of the situation. He had caught the joyous enthusiasm of the time, and he whistled merrily a bar of Lillibullero as he went down the crooked stair, and came into the ill-lighted shop. The door was lying open, but the shutters had not been taken down. Trade was not of the briskest of late days, and the stock was somewhat meagre. The varied assortment of wares--linens, broadcloth, and laces--had nearly disappeared, and the little linen-draper, Simon Sproule, was seated with a rueful countenance at his desk, with his ledger spread open before him. So intent was he on the open page that he had not heard Gervase come clanking down the stairs, and it was only when the latter stepped forward and laid his hand on his shoulder, that he raised his head with a startled look. Then he jumped up and held out his hand.

“God bless my soul! I am glad to see you, Mr. Orme; I had never thought to have laid my eyes on you again. It was only on Thursday I was telling Elizabeth--and she′ll bear me out in what I say--that ′twas likely your dust was mingled by this time with the clods of the valley, and we were both grieved to have lost you.”

“I am sure I am much bound to both of you,” Gervase answered, laughing, “but you can see that I look little like a dying man yet; just as much as you look like an honest tradesman.”

135The little man surveyed himself ruefully, and with such solemnity of visage that Gervase could not suppress a smile of amusement. His coat of claret-coloured cloth had given place to a buff jacket which had already seen considerable service on a man larger than himself, and he was encased to the thighs in a pair of jack-boots that gave his nether extremities a very striking appearance. On a stool hard by was a steel head-piece of an antiquated pattern, and leaning against the counter was a musket, the lock of which he had apparently recently been oiling. The bulging forehead with its overhanging tuft of red hair, the nose that providence had carefully tilted up, and the blue eyes that always met you with a look of mild wonder in them, harmonized but ill with his military equipment. He shook his head sadly.

“These are but ill times that we have fallen upon. ′Tis very well, sir, for a young man like yourself whose trade is fighting, to go swaggering up and down with a long sword by your side and a murderous weapon like that in your hand, but for a married man like myself with eight children to his own share, ′tis altogether another matter. But I′m a loyal man and a good Protestant, and I′ll even try to do my duty, hard as it seems, with the best of you.”

“Why, Simon, three weeks ago you were the boldest man in the city, and I remember you made a great speech that was mightily applauded!”

“Ay, but the enemy had not crossed the Bann 136then, and it is a different thing, let me tell you, when the bullets begin to whistle about your head. I was out yesterday, Mr. Orme, and do you know”--here he looked round to see that there was no one within hearing--"I discovered that I was no better than a coward."

“But you stood your ground like a man?”

“Indeed I did no such thing. I dare not tell Elizabeth, but no sooner did I see those devils of Berwick come galloping up, than I even ran like a coward for the walls, and never thought of my duty till I was out of reach of their sword-blades. It was too late to turn back then, had I been so minded. God hath made us all after our own fashion, and he never made me for a soldier.”

“All young soldiers feel like that in their first battle,” said Gervase, with the air of a veteran. “A fortnight hence you will be as bold as a lion. Mistress Sproule will see that you do not flinch, for I think she could carry arms herself.”

“You know my wife, Mr. Orme,” said the little man sadly, “and that is one of my main troubles, for I dare not tell her what I have told you. She must needs know the whole story when I came back last night, and my invention would not serve me better than my yard stick yonder. Do you think, sir, that there will be a great deal of work of the same kind?”

“In faith, Simon, I can give you but little comfort,” said Gervase, half in amusement, half pitying his evident distress; “these are troublous times we are 137living in, and hard knocks are in fashion. You must even pluck up courage and show a stout heart in that buff coat of yours. You′ll come to like the smell of powder by and by, and instead of running you′ll go out to meet them as blithely as the boldest.”

“What I have said I have spoken in confidence, Mr. Orme, and should you have speech with my wife on the matter, I know you will say a word in my favour. But I wish with all my heart we could see the end of our troubles. My trade is even ruined, and there is a list of debts for you that will never return me the value of a penny. Colonel Lundy himself owes me eight pounds sterling, which I do not think he will ever return to discharge.”

“Indeed I do not think he will, and if that were all he owed us the city would be well quit of him. Are you on duty to-day, Simon?”

“I must turn out at twelve o′clock on the Church bastion,” he answered gravely, “and I know not what devil′s work I may have to do before the day is over. But I will take what you have said to heart, sir, and hope for the time when I′ll have a taste for fighting.”

“I′ll be there to see,” said Gervase, smiling, “and should it give you courage, I′ll even blow your brains out should you try to run away.”

As Gervase passed up Bishop′s-gate street, he could not help laughing aloud at the look of consternation depicted on the face of his little landlord, who had been among the loudest and most eloquent 138advocates of resistance while the enemy were at a distance.

The morning was bright and clear, with a warm breath of spring in the air that blew across the river. The streets were alive with men hurrying hither and thither; men who carried every imaginable description of musket and side-arms, and wore the most diverse kinds of defensive armour, but men who looked as if they had a work to do and meant to do it. Four companies of Parker′s regiment of foot he met on their way to the Bogside, and he was struck by their soldierly bearing and the precision and regularity of their march. From the Royal Bastion a great gun was firing slowly, in reply to the cannon of the enemy that spoke iron-lipped from Strong′s orchard on the other side of the river. But what struck him chiefly was that there were neither women nor children abroad; the city looked like a great barrack-yard under arms.

In the Diamond, before the guard-house, he met Colonel Murray in company with Captain Ashe, and Walker, the newly-made governor. Gervase knew the fighting parson of Donaghmore at a glance. The tall, burly figure and frank face full of boldness and resolution spoke of action rather than of study, and the sword that he carried at his side was little in keeping with his clerical calling. As Gervase came up he was engaged in an animated conversation, emphasizing his points with copious gestures and disregarding all interruptions.

“This is the young gentleman of whose adventures 139I have been telling you but now, Governor Walker,” said Murray, placing his hand on his arm as Gervase doffed his beaver.

“I am pleased to meet with you, sir,” said Walker with a fine, pleasant smile. “I learn that your mission miscarried, as I doubt not it was intended it should by those who sent you, and that you alone of your party have returned in safety. We have now, I trust, cleared out the nest of traitors, and brave men can fight without fearing the treachery of their friends. You were of Mountjoy′s regiment, I think?”

Gervase bowed in acquiescence.

“Then, sir, you must show that your Colonel was the only traitor in the regiment, and I do not doubt you will. Our men are eager, but they want discipline. I am no soldier myself, but I have set myself to learn, and we want you gentlemen of the sword to teach us. You were not here for the fight of yesterday?”

“I had not the good fortune.”

“′Tis ever ill fortune, sir, to be in a fight, but being there, ′tis well to strike hard and stand to it. You would then have seen what it is our soldiers lack. Their zeal outran their discretion.”

“And some of them outran the enemy,” added Murray, with a shrug of his shoulders, “but I have no doubt Mr. Orme will do his duty. Have you yet heard anything of Captain Macpherson?”

“Not a word. I fear he has fallen into the hands of the enemy or we should have seen him ere now. 140He is not a man to let the grass grow under his feet.”

“We can ill spare him now, for a stouter soldier I never met, and one with knowledge gathered on half the battle-fields of Europe.”

“Was his heart in the cause?--that is the main thing.”

“You would not ask the question if you knew the man; Cromwell won Naseby with his fellows.”

&............