hem what becomes of the
alliance? Am I not patient? My pan demanded harmonious and brotherly
feelings among all parties. Isn't that what an alliance must depend on?
But Livingstone takes the other tack. To bring about his scheme we shall
all be at each other's throats. Talk of the Kilkenny cats and Donnybrook
fair, begad!"

"I don't wonder you feel so badly," Arthur said, laughing. "But see
here: we're not afraid of Livingstone. We've knocked him out before, and
we can do it again. It will be interesting to go back home, and help to
undo that programme. If you can manage him here, rely on Grahame and me
and a few others in New York, to take the starch out of him at home.
What's all this to do with Ledwith?"

"Nothing," said his lordship with an apology. "But my own trouble seems
bigger than his. We'll get him out, of course. Go and see Livingstone,
and talk to him on the uppish plan. Demand the rights and privileges of
the British subject for our man. You won't get any satisfaction, but a
stiff talk will pave the way for my share in the scheme. You take the
American ground, and I come in on the British ground. We ought to make
him ashamed between us, doncheknow."

Arthur had doubts of that, but no doubt at all that Lord Constantine
owned the finest heart that ever beat in a man. He felt very cheerful at
the thought of shaking up the Minister. Half hopeful of success, curious
to test the strings which move an American Minister at the court of St.
James, anxious about Honora and Owen, he presented himself at
Livingstone's residence by appointment, and received a gracious welcome.
Unknown to themselves, the two men had an attraction for each other.
Fate opposed them strangely. This hour Arthur Dillon stood forth as the
knight of a despised and desperate race, in a bloody turmoil at home,
fighting for a little space on American soil, hopeful but spent with the
labor of upholding its ideals; and Livingstone represented a triumphant
faction in both countries, which, having long made life bitter and
bloody for the Irish, still kept before them the choice of final
destruction or the acceptance of the Puritan gods. To Arthur the
struggle so far seemed but a clever game whose excitement kept sorrow
from eating out his heart. He saw the irony rather than the tragedy of
the contest. It tickled him immensely just now that Puritan faced
Puritan; the new striking at the old for decency's sake; a Protestant
fighting a Protestant in