what she would like
him to say. He said that the sight of her handwriting helped him, and
he thought his life would crumble to pieces if she were taken from him.

Ellen had always said he would be a success, and he was a success; he
had begun to feel success revolving about him; he had begun to feel
that he was the centre of things: for everyone listened when he spoke;
his opinion was sought out, and he could see the people looking towards
him for guidance. But there was a little rancour in his heart, as there
always is in a man's heart when he is not speaking his whole heart, for
not more than half of himself was engaged in the battle; he knew that
he had given over half of himself as hostage--half of himself was in
his wife's keeping--and he often wondered if it would break out of her
custody in spite of her vigilance and his vows.

He had told her that though he was no friend of the Church, he was not
an active enemy, and believed that he was speaking the truth. The fight
for free will would have to be fought in Ireland some day, and this
fight was the most vital; but he agreed with her that other fights
would have to be fought and won before the great fight could be
arranged for. The order of the present day was for lesser battles, and
he promised again and again he would not raise the religious question,
and every time he promised his wife his life seemed to vanish; the
lesser battles were necessary. It was the fight for free will that
interested him. But a politician is the man who does the day's work.
And in the autumn he agreed to go to America to speechify and to get
money for the lesser battles. It was said he was the man who could get
the money--what better man could they send than an Irish-American? An
American soldier and a journalist. These obvious remarks were on
everyone's lips, but after speaking everyone paused, for,
notwithstanding Ellen's care, Ned was suspected; the priests had begun
to suspect him, but there was no grounds for opposing him.

He himself was despondent, whereas Ellen was enthusiastic. Her
knowledge of Irish politics enabled her to see that Ned's chance had
come.

"If you succeed in America, you'll come back the first man in Ireland."

"Even so," said Ned, "it would be more natural for you to be sorry that
I am going."

"I cannot be sorry and glad at the same time."

"You will be lonely."

"Very likely; but, Ned, I shall not be looking very well for the next
two months."