h opinions were
expressed, but Milord was seen whispering to him, 'We're not in a room,
Adair, we're out of doors;' and Mrs. Barton, always anxious to calm
troubled lives, suggested that 'people did not mean all they said.' Mr.
Ryan, however, maintained through it all an attitude of stolid
indifference, the indifference of a man who knows that all must come
back sooner or later to his views.

And presently, although the sting remained, the memory of the wasp that
had stung seemed to be lost. Milord and Mr. Adair engaged in a long and
learned discussion concerning the principles of Liberalism, in the
course of which many allusions were made to the new Coercion Bill,
which, it was now agreed, Mr. Gladstone would, in a few days, lay before
Parliament. The provisions of this Bill were debated. Milord spoke of an
Act that had been in force consequent on the Fenian rising in '69. Mr.
Adair was of opinion that the importance of a new Coercion Act could not
be over-estimated; Mr. Barton declared in favour of a military
expedition--a rapid dash into the heart of Connemara. But the
conversation languished, and in the ever-lengthening silences all found
their thoughts reverting to the idea brutally expressed by Mr. Ryan:
_Yes, they were glad; for if Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke had
not been assassinated, every landowner in the country would have been
murdered._

There was no dancing that evening; and as the night advanced the danger
of the long drive home increased in intensity in the minds of Messrs.
Lynch and Ryan. They sat on either side of Mr. Adair, and it was finally
arranged that they should join their police-forces, and spend the night
at his place. Sir Charles was sleeping at Brookfield; Milord had four
policemen with him; and as all would have to pass his gate, he did not
anticipate that even the Land League would venture to attack thirteen
armed men. Mr. Barton, who saw the picturesque in everything, declared,
when he came back, that they looked like a caravan starting for a
pilgrimage across the desert. After a few further remarks, the ladies
rose to retire; but when Mrs. Barton gave her hand to Lord Kilcarney, he
said, his voice trembling a little:

'I'm afraid I must leave you to-morrow, Mrs. Barton. I shall have to run
over to London to vote in the House of Lords. . .'

Mrs. Barton led the poor little man into the farther corner of the room,
and making a place for him by her side, she said:

'Of cour