In a weak moment I so far
forgot my duty to my king as to pass myself off to my informant as a
United Irishman, in the hope of obtaining information which might enable
me to help him."

"I trust you got it," said his lordship.

"I did not," said I; "the Provincial Directory of Ulster is to deal with
the case."

Lord Edward stopped short.

"You don't mean--" began he, and stopped.

"I mean that I love Maurice Gorman's daughter--a hopeless quest
perhaps--but the prize--"

"The most charming lady in Ireland," said he. "Your name is Barry, I
believe?"

"Barry Gallagher, my lord."

"Are you a kinsman of Tim Gallagher of Fanad?"

"Twin-brother. Is he alive then?" and in my eagerness I seized his
lordship's arm.

He did not resent the liberty at all.

"He is, and is a trusty member of our society, as I hope you will be
even yet."

"Pardon me," said I; "had Tim been dead, I promised him to fight for
Ireland. As it is, I am bound to my king."

"Well," said he, with a shrug, "that is no concern of mine. As to your
spying on our meeting--all's fair in love and war. You will, no doubt,
make use of what you have heard against us."

"That I certainly shall not do," said I. "I am a poor man, but I am at
least a gentleman. To protect the lady I love I shall certainly try;
but to betray those whose gallantry and chivalry have spared me to do
it, I certainly shall not. Besides, apart from my obligations to you, I
am already sworn to secrecy." And I told him how I had once been forced
to take the oath of the society, and had already got the length of
pledging myself to secrecy before a happy diversion saved me from the
rest.

"Well, Gallagher," said he, stopping short and extending his hand with
that engaging smile which, rebel as he was, knit my soul to him, "I do
not say but, were I in your shoes, I should feel compelled to act as you
do. It is a delicate position. When we meet again it may be with drawn
swords. Meanwhile, luck go with your wooing, and may it turn out as
happy as my own."

This kindness quite humbled and abashed me. I had been guilty of
meanness and disloyalty, and this noble way of passing it over took all
the conceit out of me.

I returned crestfallen, with slow steps, to the captain's hotel. Even
the news of Tim's safety failed to inspirit me. "The most charming lady
in Ireland," were the words that rang in my ears; and who was I--common
seaman, sneak, and cadger--to aspire t